Trapped In Purgatory

I closed my business this afternoon and made my way home with the thought of a nice afternoon nap. Silly me. Sweet Wife had other plans.

I begged, said please at least six times, went the bent knee routine. Offered to give a back rub of any duration. Tried a bribe...nothing worked.

I was 'volunteered' as bodyguard for her shopping trip to the 'fancy' upscale mall well the hell and gone over yonder on the other side of the city. Shopping, just shoot me now. Then, she explained why she wanted me to ride shotgun. I changed my attitude and mind.

Seems last evening two local armed democritters jumped, beat and robbed a nice lady in the parking garage of the 'upscale' mall. She was airlifted to the hospital...and my Sweet Wife watched the local news coverage and even though she is licensed and has been trained by me refused to shop alone. I don't blame her...besides, now I had a chance to go hunting...could be fun.

No boogers approached us....I stood around, waited. Nada. She said, "Well, would you approach you."

So, I was trapped in Purgatory. All - darn - afternoon. My feet began to hurt. I complained as there was nothing, nothing at all to shoot. She bought me a lemonade.

I did sneak away for a moment and purchased her some boots for Christmas...some brand called 'Uggs.' Expensive little suckers.

Above, she's has me on a leash as she shops for Little Bit and Sport Model. I stood behind with her six covered.

You'd think the locals would at least come out and play....

Next time I'll call my friend Duke, maybe between the two of us we can scare up some fun.


Stephen

Long Nights

My nights of late are long. Sleep and I aren't friends these days. I refuse medication for a mere brief and light caress of sleep's momentary peace.

I type this as the clock moves a few seconds beyond five a.m., my second cup of coffee is bitter. I'll schedule this waste of words to post later this morning; my promise of a post - even one as sorry as this effort.

On a happier note my son took Little Bit to visit Santa. I was shocked. Needless to say Little Bit loved it. Here is a picture from his cell phone....not the best quality, but proof none the less.

Seems Santa makes rounds at local car shows.....

Cool here this morning. No wind of which to speak. I need to burn a few pounds of gun powder. Alas, another day at my little business.

I'll see you nice folks later this evening, God willing.

Take care.

Stephen

Do You Feel Sorry For Yourself....

If so read this story. Children are my Achilles Heel.

Stephen

Why I Carry A Gun

Please, remove the children from the room, turn the volume down if you are at work. This, is why I always have a handgun on my belt and a battle rifle in my truck.

Take Notes:

Get it...

H/T PISSED & Billy Bob.

Stephen

Little Bit Has A Twin

Melts my heart...

All children should have an AR under the Christmas tree this year.

Stephen

Standing By to Stand By

I came in this morning, after I dropped off Little Bit, to write a nice long note. During our ride Little Bit asked me a very serious question.

Sadly, I haven't the time, and if truth be known, the will to write of the conversation since I should give it due consideration.

I'm tired. My sleep isn't all that peaceful to begin with, and business (thank God) has increased proportionally with the Christmas music and hung Holly.

The reason I'm able to post this note, you ask - my door is locked and I'm still at work on my first cup of coffee. So, please bear with me for a few weeks.

I will make an attempt, as time allows, to post little items as the day wears on, no promises. I must admit, Little Bit's question chews at me; I should write it before the conversation fades. Nothing bad, just a serious question from a rather serious little girl. I have taken a few written notes.

Take care.

Stephen

The Decoys

I'm busy working when the man, a customer, just lolly gagging around, looks up at my old decoys and then, "What 'ya asking for 'dem ducks?"

I've been here before and as I've answered many times, said, "They're not for sale."

They are old and they've been with me for most of my adult life. One doesn't sell one's arm.

Even though I'd turned my back to him and moved on, he hadn't, tried again.

"Ah, come one, everything has its price."

"I'm sorry, Bubba, the decoys are not for sale. Period." Thinking - get it.

And then, "Tell 'ya what. My Dad is a big collector of ducks like those there....and,"

Before he finished I turned back and looked him in the eyes, hard. Said, "Listen, once more, they are not for sale." Kinda loud this time.

They've moved cross country with me. The first I purchased was the beautiful Pintail. She's dressed nicely, I think, hand carved from California redwood. At the time, in my early twenties, I thought I'd become a collector of hand shaped decoys.

I've always had a thing about antiques, especially outdoor sports collectibles. Back then, in the early seventies when the earth was still fairly fresh for me and life held possibilities after the war, my young wife and I cruised the antique shops. We had a goal - to own our own, and we did in time achieve our goal.

I began with decoys. Unfortunately my timing was awful. The sporting world went gaga over Mason decoys which spread like a cancer to other sporting bird imitations. The prices went crazy...the auction houses jumped on the band wagon and before I knew what had hit me the price for a good condition Mason went five figures.

Anyway, over the years I'd find an old decoy here and there and if I could afford it, purchased it for my tiny collection. Like the old canvas Mallard on the far right of the above picture. She's sewn carefully of waxed cord, stuffed with Lord knows what material. The tiny Buffle Head between the tan Eastern Seaboard and the Mallard is shaded a flat green, and I'd not part with her for all the tea in China.

My hard headed customer tried again with -

"Tell 'ya what I'll give you a hundred dollars for that pretty one right there."

It was time to shut this down. I sighed, turned and bent forward and as nicely as possible said,

"See this Pintail," I pointed. "I'll take five thousand, cash, gold or silver."

He walked away.

How does one place a price on a lifetime of memories.

Stephen