Indian Uprising

Oh, this, is just beautiful. Wonder what the great one will have to say....

Just strikes me as funny.

Stephen

Bits & Pieces

I like this magazine cover. It has a lot going for it, a reflection of time, and a pantry full of canned goods. The magazine isn't bad reading either.

If you bloggers haven't tried Google Chrome, do so. It seems to me (and I'm no expert) that it loads graphics on my blog a heck of a lot easier than Firefox.

An old customer came in today and he appeared worse for wear. After a few minutes he related how he'd lost his job and home. He and his family are now living in a shipping container. You've seen those large metal boxes used for shipping junk from China, like that.  His brother-in-law set one in his backyard for this poor man and his family (wife and three small children) to live in while they try and regain some sense of order and dignity back into their lives. If this isn't a reflection of the times in which we now live, give me a better example.

Please, get ready. Store some rice and dried beans and canned meat. Get out of debt. I know, easier said than done, but try. Remember, there is a big difference between a need and want. Get those fifty pounds bags of flour and sugar. Stock your shelves with canned vegetables, water is a must. Got protection? A handgun, rifle, shotgun, .22 critter getter and a stack of ammunition? Time is precious and I'm sorely afraid were rapidly nearing the end, and before you know it your federal reserve notes will be worthless. Give it some thought, please.

Take care,

Stephen

Squirrel Hunting - From My Garage

It's still early for squirrel hunting but I have the itch. As a teen I loved to rise before the light of day and sneak into the deep oaks and ease near the creek bottom. I'd find an old oak and snuggle my back to a hollow of its roots and wait, content.

Within a half hour the routine of the deep woods returned. I'd sit and take in the deep musty odor of acorn mast and pine sap, the song of birds, and the whisper of the gentle Autumn wind. Always they came, the squirrels. Wild tasty bundles to be returned to a bed of my mother's gravy and biscuits.

But, times have changed. Now I hunt from my garage.

My home is covered by trees; live oaks, hickory and two very large pines. Of course my neighbors have trees too. This is important, because they supply the squirrels. Love my neighbors.

It all began by accident. One late Fall afternoon I was sitting in my garage taking a break from some silly labor, enjoying a cigar when movement in my neighbor's tree caught my attention. This tree is large, huge, its limbs if cut and planted would make a fine tree too. Six or seven grays were fighting. They ran this way and that and I said to myself, "Self, get your rifle."

My squirrel rifle is a Marlin model 39 Golden, a .22. Its deadly accurate. (I can hear the screams of the liberals and girly boys, oh my God, he's shooting from his garage in the city) deal with it. Anyway, I walked to my reloading bench and grabbed a box of .22 short CB caps.  I settled back in my chair and waited.

I am careful, I limit my shots to certain zones of the tree. I keep in mind the background and hold my shots to a thirty foot section of the trunk of the oak. Oak is hard. CB Caps are weak. At sixty feet they will cleanly kill a squirrel and I seldom if ever take a shot at that range. Usually the kill zone is twenty feet. I hang the tails. I suppose one could say Ragnar Benson has colored my life with his writings. I'm a bad boy...

My Marlin's magazine tube will hold twenty five to thirty rounds of the little .22 CB's. I seldom need that many  to fill a my needs. In an afternoon or morning of 'hunting' I can take five or six squirrels. Keep in mind these are city squirrels, these critters wear clogs and drink bird bath water; wussies.

You ask, aren't you afraid of the rifle's report....no, for the first few days of my fun, Sweet Wife had no idea I'd been shooting local squirrels from my garage. Our garage is adjacent to our home's family room; one thin wall, and she didn't hear a single pop. The sound is almost completely contained within the garage. I shoot and wait. I allow the citified victim to rest under the tree while I wait for their friends to join them. When I've taken as many shots as I feel has sufficiently thinned the herd, I then gather and clean my harvest. Nothing is wasted.

After cleaning, throw these little beauties in a pan of bacon fat and fry. Take them out and make gravy, return the squirrels and simmer. Serve over rice or pasta. Then, run out and slap 'ya mamma for feeding you so poorly all your life.

Try it, but don't tell them it was me that got you into trouble.  Hey, obey the game laws of your state, and wait until Fall, after all, we'd civilized.

When you get your first kill, take it and have a nice mount made for the wife. She'll love you for it.

Stephen

Tech Question: Help

I have a problem. As I'm a analog guy living in a digital world, I have a little problem way over my head.  Last evening when it was time for me to enter my receipts into my QuickBooks program a box appeared.

(quote)
QuickBooks has a problem in reading this registration file. You need to ask your system administrator to REMOVE this file and re-install QuickBooks.

c:\Programdata\common files\Intuit\QuickBooks\qbregistration.dat

(end quote)

Problem is I cannot find this file. Even if I did I hate to think of the results if I attempted file removal. What worries me is the thought of losing six months to a year of my financial records. This sucks.

Any ideas?

Stephen

It's The Little Things

When I drive her to school she reads to me in her little lilting voice. This morning it was Strawberry Shortcake. My mind was on the marshlands of the river; I watch for hawks, take in the cloud formations, dream of a day off.

"Papa."

"What, Honey."

"You're cheating."

I refocus on my task and glance over at her. I smile, kinda confused, and, "What do you mean, Sweetheart, I don't cheat."

"You are now 'cause you're at four five."

Guess I put on a face not unlike a dog with a face full of quills. Little Bit laughed.

She reads to me every morning from her stash of library books. Yesterday it was Barbie, tomorrow, well, who knows. Either way I listen and marvel at how quickly she has learned. She has a beautiful voice and tends to finish each word on a high note; distinctive and pretty. Objective, aren't I.

I asked her what she meant by four five. Her, "Papa, you're cheating 'cause the sign says four zero."

Oh.

I was over, but not by much. "Honey, Papa isn't cheating. I just fudge a little."

She puts her book away, zips her backpack, and turns from me and takes in the scenery. This is a sure sign she's angry with me.

I brake for a traffic light. "Little Bit."

Silence.

Again, "Little Bit."

"Papa, you cheat and you always tell me not to cheat and Nana tells me not to cheat," Long breath, "And isn't cheating like telling a lie?"

 "Yes, Little Bit, when you cheat it is like telling a lie. But, Papa isn't cheating. I'm just pacing the traffic."

She doesn't buy it. She turns in her seat and gives me her 'look.' Then, "Papa, it's wrong. My teacher told us we should always obey the laws. The sign says four zero and you go way fast." (verbatim)

She has me. I'm chastised. Picture me applying my brakes....

A few minutes later over breakfast she's smiling and happy while kicking butt on a wall mounted video game at 'Ole MacDonald's. Her smile lights my life.

She later forgave me for doing forty five. Tomorrow I shall be very careful.

Stephen

Quick Note

Tuesday is my Monday, if that makes sense to you good people. So, I'm busy. I will try and write and post something worth reading later today, God willing.

First thing this morning I came in and, all by my little self, configured a wireless router for my business. Gosh golly gee.....is was kinda simple. Surprised me. Now I can download books to my Kinda here at the office, 'da heck with MacDonalds.

With interruptions from work I'm three hours into this simple note. Later.

Stephen

Bits & Pieces

Hello, My Friends...it's been a busy weekend. A few days ago we purchased a new television. One of those fancy newfangled critters, flat and wide with all the geegaws and gadgets.  Our son said we were living in the stone age with our old tube television; guess he had a point.

So here it sits atop our nice oak entertainment center, a shiny new thing full of digital blood and pixels and wireless internet bringing us the pretty people in all their pimpled high definition glory. Only took the Dish Network geeks three hours to install the new black box this morning. I even made them coffee. Three hours, did I mention that little fact...three hours. All to remove one little black box and install a new dish on my roof and program our new television. One more time; three hours. Great day in the morning.

They leave and I can't figure this darn thing out to save my soul. Call them. What, they ask. Felt like shooting the damn thing. Finally I believe I have a handle on it. Sure is a pretty picture though.

Now I have a pile of old equipment and our old television to sit on the street tonight. Bet it doesn't take some scrap dealer twenty minutes to take it. Mean as I am though I cut the cords from each box and the television. I save them. Hey, you never know when they'll come in handy. Yes, I'm weird.

Ping...

As it's a Monday and my official day off, and as I have used my day off for once, I hopefully will be able to pick up Little Bit from school this afternoon. I'll spoil her with a fastfood meal. Her father hates it when I buy her 'bad' food. See me smile.

Gotta run. Pork chops tonight. I'll see you, my friends, tomorrow. Good night.

Stephen