Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Quick, Like a Fox

Stuff to do....

Like an idiot I ran off and forgot a handgun I'd sold yesterday. Younger man walked into the shop and asked if I had any 'cowboy' pistols. Said yes but only one and it was in my safe at the house. He insisted I take his cash, sight unseen, with the request I hump the firearm to the shop today.

Told him, "Fine. It'll be here tomorrow."

It's tomorrow, er, today, and his revolver isn't.

Me, all red-faced, filled with shame. So, please excuse me while I drive back home and get this boy's Zombie Apocalypse weapon.


Tuesday, December 30, 2014


Do you hear the crows? The sun strains to break our darkness and with this slight light the crows caw and squeal and now I hear a flock of geese, I'm sure, ready for a river landing.

The dawn is peaceful, isn't it.

Take an adventure, move outside with your cup of coffee.

See 'ya later.


Monday, December 29, 2014

A Regulated Ripoff

I hate insurance. Yeah, yeah, I know - when you need insurance it can sure save your bacon but trust me I've paid far more than I've ever used. Still, I hate it. Insurance, in all its forms is still a darn ripoff, a frigging regulated ripoff.

So it was with wonder and surprise when I came home to find my lovely wife on the computer and cell with our new home owners insurance company - USAA. Bless their pea picking hearts they just saved us a bundle. Seems State Farm wanted to increase our policy, again, by several hundred dollars. Enough is enough.

State Farm can kiss my lily white butt.


Sunday, December 28, 2014

Just Stuff

Our hickory tree sheds its yellow leaves and it's warm here, fog rolls off the river like smoke and I've a headache, so there.

The television streams soft music. Herself roams room to room in search of lost sweaters. She hid them last year and now wants them restored to her deeply packed walk-in closet - an area most inaccessible because the clutter of shoe boxes and miscellaneous stuff bars the door, and above all hangs three of my rifles on homemade pegs. I'm sneaky that way...headache and all.

I just came back inside from a task in the garage. I thought if I puttered around out there this pain would vanish. What a joke of an idea. So, I continue to suck down ice water and wait.

Late yesterday, in southern Georgia, I held children, sweet little boogers, and accepted their kisses and hugs, and for the first time in months felt love and warmth. Nieces and nephews are worth their weight in gold. Their grandmother, my baby sister, has cancer. Stage four. Even so she smiled and glowed in their warmth. She is so frail.

I tried to stay outdoors with the other men. 

Like country boys everywhere, we talked, smoked, and told grand lies. It was nice under the clear sky of stars and cool wind. I did try and listen. But with the trees and moss and the faint scent of wood smoke and the whistle of trains, I was just too damn distracted to listen to stories of missed shots and local sightings of turkey and deer. There were endless questions of, 'Is this a good caliber for deer,' or 'Stephen what is this rifle worth.'

I'm sick of it. All of it. My soul needs a vacation.

Hence, my four month absence from this blog. And, yours.


The text came late Christmas night. It read in part, 'Thank you for their Christmas gifts. This is killing me too, so I think we'll try and find a local park for a visit. I want my children to know their grandmother again....if it's okay with you...'

As per the norm of the last three years we'd bagged the grandchildren's gifts, drove to their home and I slipped from the car and, like a thief in the night, sat the bag on their front porch. I knocked and we drove away. Sad to our bones.

The text gave hope.

I told her, "Do it."

We wait. If it happens I'll stand in the background and pray.


Friday, December 26, 2014

Shall We All Bow Our Heads

She has decided an escort is necessary for a day of pure torture. In mere moments we leave for the celebration of Boxing Day. Pray for me.

It will be a long day indeed.