The Irish

To others of my people....

Have a safe and happy St. Patrick's Day.

Stephen

Cranberries in March

Still here, just busy. She wanted baked turkey, with dressing and gravy. I am but her humble servant and as I type the bird is in the oven. She asked about cranberries....so I walked to the garage freezer and brought forth the red goodness. The cranberry sauce chills. Guess we'll have a holiday dish in March.

I aim to please.

The winds of today have forced me inside. I cannot paint under these conditions. So once again my Coleman stove restoration has been delayed, well almost, I did clean and polish a few minor fittings and screws and shot a layer of primer on each. If I can remember I'll snap a few pictures. The stove body is completely disassemble and primed...not much to show. 

Time to baste the bird, and read..see 'ya later.

Stephen

Jars of Blue and Green

Today we together made a huge pot of vegetable soup. She diced the potatoes as I browned the ground beef and chopped the onions. She smashed and diced the garlic and together we both took turns stirring the pot and the result was a very tasty but huge pot of soup. Even with two large bowls  for dinner we have far too much for us to refrigerate and feel safe it'll keep before we have completed the entire pot. Waste bugs me.

So, tomorrow I will break out the 'ole All American and a few Mason jars of blue and green and can the remaining soup. Besides, I need the practice. Along with Ball's Blue Book I shall also use Jackie Clay's excellent book on home canning for reference. I don't trust myself to remember every little step in the canning process, as you too shouldn't.

I'm sure we'll have at least three if not four quarts when the job is completed. As I said, I should can far more often. It's fun, and to a degree, an artful science. Besides, a stocked larder of home cooked and processed canned food gives great satisfaction.

If you consider yourself a survivalist (or Prepper) and haven't as yet set flame to canner - sorry, you're still in the minor leagues. Do yourself a favor and give it a try. If you are experienced please remember to hit the reference books for a refresher course, unless you're in Jackie Clay's realm. 

Stephen

Jackboots

I hate to post news, but -

This just sucks.

How long before they order gallons of tattoo ink and tell us to stretch out our arms.

Stephen

Dirty Girl

I hate a dirty handgun. This little beauty came in today covered in grime.

Her barrel was black as the bottom of a coal digger's butt.

Each cylinder required about twenty passes.

.32 S&W Safety Hammerless, 2nd Model circa 1902-1906.

Isn't that nickel finish purty...the little Lemon Squeezer is in fine shape and as soon as I find a box of ammo we'll take a walk, hand in hand.

Stephen

City Boy Sports

This dude, "I need to shove off. Can't miss the Gators."

He hops from foot to foot, all bouncy and stuff. Gotta be fifty if he's a day old. Flannel shirt, jeans. Wants to sell me his Ruger Blackhawk in .357; problem is he failed to bring the firearm. Told him I will not offer a price sight unseen. Also reminded him he'd need to give me his price. Didn't like that...'tuff.

I'm dreaming its a three screw. He's not a member of our club. He's a 'ball' fan, which borders on wussy. Sorry if you fall in the same crack but that's just me. Nothing personal so don't drop off the follower list...matter fact I'd like two more...so get with it.

Him, "I just love those boys." See what I mean....ball fans are strange. I give him a look, then, "You know, if firearms were incorporated into all forms of ball sports it would make it an interesting game."

"Ah, get out of here...."

"Really, just think about it. When the sides shift, say when the defense takes the court or field, they arrive on stage packing sidearms. Then, anytime said ball is in the air, the defense is given the chance to shoot the silly piece of rubber or pigskin flat. Just imagine the excitement."

Him, flushed face. Panties in a wad. Said, "Oh my God, that isn't safe."

I'm telling 'ya, wussies, metro-sexual. All of 'em.

(Sorry, I'm in a foul mood.)

Stephen

Me, the Owl

I should grow feathers and talons and join the friggin owls on the limb. Here it is three-thirty in the friggin morning and I'm still awake. Just sat the Kindle down and I'm on my second glass of cold milk. Aside here - next gallon of milk I buy will be the full fat, bring on the cream, real milk. I'm sick of this watery pale white stuff.

I'm this close to downing a full bottle of sleep medication. Took one earlier...nothing, nada. Might as well eat candy. I expected to open my business between eight and nine...what, five hours from now. I'm telling 'ya, if I find sleep between now and then...it isn't gonna happen. Damn, I hate late middle age.

Well...just look at me. I've written a rant.

Excuse me. I've another chapter to read.

Oh, I've replied to your most kind comments. You can thank me in the morning, ah wait....never mind.

Stephen