Stuff In The Truck

When I arrived home this evening I backed my truck into the drive and removed all the clutter from its interior. Tomorrow morning my mechanic will drop by the shop and drive it away for a few minor repairs. In preparation for his arrival I had much to remove.

So, out came three hand guns, two rifles, several full ammo cans of .45, .40, 9 mm ammunition, a case of frag grenades, two rocket launchers and six anti-personnel mines. Six or seven different brands and types of knives, my get-home bag and more hats than I could count.

I then searched under the back seat and grabbed my tool bag and two bottle jacks. I left the bottled water, the jerked boars head and its now yellowed tusk. I locked my flashlight in the console along with my winter gloves. The spare tent and rain gear went into the garage too. Thieves love tents and rain jackets. I then remembered the ax and my Hi-Lift jack. I like and trust my mechanic, but why place temptation before him.

While digging among the debris I found an old bag of Little Bit's candy...trash can. I'll keep the three 1911 magazines I pinched from Duke's range bag....he'll never miss them.

My truck should ride six inches higher tomorrow morning, and for sure, I'll feel naked as I drive to the shop.

Okay, I lied. I only have four grenades, and one rocket launcher. Sheesh, some people just can't take a joke.




Stephen

Bits & Pieces

I was dead to the world. Sleep is good, especially since it took me forever to reach rim. Far back, way down in my subconscious, I hear, "Honey, please. Do you have a flashlight?"

My dream responds, "Sure. I always sleep with a flashlight." She yells back, "Please Honey, wake up."

Oh.

Seems Sweet Wife washed her hair this morning. In our master bathroom we have this built-in vanity and mirror where she sits to dry her hair. She also uses an small electric heater (what is it with women and heat) but fails to turn the sucker off when she uses the hairdryer. The circuit fails.

Lovely Sweet Wife runs to the garage and tries, in the darkness, to flip the breaker back to hot. She mistakenly hits the main. Total blackout.

I'm at work an hour early.

*****

This morning I shot an armadillo. I hate 'em with a passion. They undermine my deck and generally make a mess of my backyard. When I noticed the booger it was using its front legs to gather and pull hickory leaves for its nest. It would gather the leaves then use reverse to pull the bundle under my deck.

I eased outside with an old Rossi .22 pump and gave it two rounds. The rifle was loaded with CB caps. It flopped and flipped for a few moments but in the end...

DRT.

Like I said, hate 'em.

*****

Yesterday a fella walks into the shop. He hands me a nice Ruger LC9 and says, "It won't work. Its a piece of sh*t. You want it?"

Me, "What's the problem?"

"The trigger won't work."

I insert the magazine. Slap back the slide and pull the trigger. Snap.

Him, all red faced, "Oh. What did 'ya do?"

"Just inserted the magazine."

I reached to give back his handgun. He refused to take it. Then, "You want it? I don't like it, and besides the governments gonna take 'em all back."

Debate wasn't necessary. The Lord offered me a kiss and I wasn't about to say no.

I made a ridiculous offer and he, without hesitation, accepted.

Later, as is my habit, I went online and ordered two spare magazines. The cost of the magazines far exceeded the price of the handgun.

I smiled all afternoon.

*****

I normally take my first cup of coffee outside the shop. I like to soak in the cool fresh air and listen to crows cuss, and I like to watch the children as they march towards school. They're a lively lot, five little boogers.

This morning, "Hey, Mr. Stephen." I wave.

There are three girls and two boys, most African-American. As they draw near one little girl separates from the pack. She stops before me and points and, "You gots a bad cup. I's gonna be tells my teacher 'cause you's gots 'dat bad cup."

Blink, blink. She was right, of course, my coffee cup has several images of Glock handguns.

I suppose I'd slapped a questioning expression on my face because another little boy explains..."Mr. Stephen dat dare cups be has guns on it. Guns be bad. Teacher tells us da' be's bad 'tings."

As they moved away I yelled, "Teacher's wrong. Guns are good."

They ran.

I so miss the days when a student was able to drive to school with the back window rack filled with rifle and shotguns. 


Stephen

A Gray Day and Bacon

Earlier I mentioned a pork roast awaited my attention. I've since placed her to bed. She's a small roast, a lean pork loin, and will make us very happy later this evening.

As far as preparation we first begin with, of course, bacon. Just a few slices, cut into thirds, and allowed to render.

If you are afraid of bacon (leave now) olive oil is acceptable. As the bacon sizzles put a hitch into your britches and prep an onion and more than a few cloves of garlic. Remember, my roast is a baby so I only used one large onion, and as you chop, don't forget the bacon. If it burns you'll be required to move to some ungodly place, like New York City.

When bacon has given all its wonderful fat remove and sit aside.

Now, break out the flour and season the roast to your taste. I use the basics, salt, pepper and Cajun spices.

Now brown the roast. Take your time, be patient. You want all sides caramelized.

Don't forget the sides and ends of the roast.

Boring stuff, huh. I know, but I'm bored. Anyway, as the roast takes on its tan, grab some small potatoes, wash and quarter. Find a few carrots and place them on standby, and mushrooms if you have a few hidden away in the back of the fridge. Grab the stock and get ready.

After the roast has finished set it aside. At this point you should remove the excess fat - leave about three tablespoons and add your chopped onions, and after a bit, the garlic. Caramelize, or at least give them enough time to  clarify.

Note, seldom, if ever, do I use a high flame. The gas setting is normally kept below medium. If you use electric (sorry about that) I can't help you with your heat settings but keep the heat under control. Burnt bacon fat lends an awful taste to your meal.

When the onion mixture has finished its dance add a bit of flour. It's time to make a light roux. Increase the flame and stir like a madman. It will thicken. When your roux has the consistency of glue pour in about two cups of stock and again stir like crazy...please don't burn. As far as stock, use what's available but try and keep it on the light side. Chicken or vegetable will suffice. Beef stocks richness tends to overpower the light flavors of pork, so if you are stuck with beef stock cut it with water.

Now, add back the bacon (go ahead a eat one piece of meat candy if you wish) and the pork roast. Pour the potatoes and carrots around its edges and top with the mushrooms. If you have a rosemary plant, dash outside and cut a couple of sprigs, it works well with the roast. Boost the flame and bring the pot to a boil. Reduce to a simmer (I lower the flame and use a simmer plate) and wait a few hours.

There, she's all snug in her bed. 

Serve with your favorite side dishes. A sweet pork loin sure makes a gray day bright.

*****

When Sweet Wife arrived home from church this morning she walked into the kitchen and stood and watched me prep the meal. She even pinched a piece of my bacon. I asked if she'd enjoyed the service.

"Yes, we had the Last Supper."

Me, "Huh?"

We then went on to have a great debate. I asked why she thought she'd had, 'The Last Supper,' and being the smart ass I am mentioned perhaps she meant breakfast. I ducked.

I said, perhaps you meant Communion. She said no the church's handout indeed referred to the act as The Last Supper.

 

I then said (remember above self-description) maybe they'd served dinner. She then reached for a wooden spoon...I did not move quickly enough...it hurt.

Okay, all joking aside, did she win the argument? I believe the Lord's Supper and Communion are one and the same. I just think Communion is easy on the ears...I mean, come on, to serve supper an hour after breakfast.

You decide.

*****

Late last night (I don't sleep very well) I flipped through the offerings of NetFlix and came upon a show titled, 'Foyle's War.'  Before I knew what had happened it was well after zero dark thirty. This is a very well written show and I (as Sally Field said) like it. Period piece. Give it a try.

Stephen




  




 

Sunday

I promise to return as soon as possible. Aside from the fact I can't seem to unlock my frozen and rusty creative side, the ever mundane schedule of life has a firm grip on my tail.

Please excuse me while I step into the kitchen. A nice pork roast needs my attention.

Stephen

Thanks and Welcome

I have two new friends to welcome aboard. It's been awhile since I've had a hit on the 'ole follower button so it's with a big smile I thank and welcome my new friends, Kelly of Happy Hollow Homestead, and Amy Morgan.

My friends I promise to respond to your comments. My replies sometimes take a few hours, and in rare cases, days, but bet on it, I will not forget you.

Again, thanks and welcome. You are now among friends.

Stephen

Mr. President

For your sake you should read, this.

That is all.

H/T, Mad Ogre

Edit, as of 0933: Well, well, well, I guess I'm a target - additional news.

Stephen

Later, maybe

First day back and I've paper work stacked knee deep....please excuse me for a wee bit.

In the meantime take a gander at my grandchildren...second photo arrived. The little booger on the right is Sport Model, he's just a bit over two. Of course, my Little Bit is on the left. We really haven't had a chance to bond with our grandson...maybe in time.

Later.

Stephen