Duh...

No post today or yesterday for that matter. It's tax time.

In between customers, tax preps, and an online novel I just haven't time to post...I know, it's a sorry excuse but it's all I have at the moment.

Stephen

I Know

I haven't posted in two days, sorry.

The construction outside my shop is giving me fits. The noise is awful. The workers are busy with the installation of new water transfer and distribution lines. As they lay the pipes one team moves in and compacts the soil by vibration...which in turn shakes my building. The vibrations are so bad it shook light bulbs from overhead fixtures. Imagine how I feel.

I complained to Sweet Wife. She said, "Honey, unload your gun."

Light bulbs aren't cheap. This construction project has cost my business in more ways than just the loss of light bulbs. I'm sick of it.

*****

I did not watch the Super Bowl. I read. Many, here, have asked why I don't like ball sports. My standard reply is something like, 'it's boring,' or 'don't know,' but really in truth, well, I just don't find it interesting.

I've always felt field sports, in any form, would be far more interesting and fun if only firearms were introduced to the game. Until then, I'll read, thank you very much indeed.

*****

An old timer just came in and asked for assistance. He'd just purchased, through private sale, a new to him Para P-12 .45. He removed the handgun from its case and demonstrated the fact he could not slide nor lock his handgun. The poor man grunted and turned red in the face from the effort. He's seventy-five, a Marine, and I knew the fact he'd asked for help was both humbling and humiliating.

The springs on P-12's are strong; its a small framed firearm and it indeed takes some effort to slide and lock. I noticed he had small hands and used only his forefinger and thumb of his left hand. I corrected his grip and told to push down with his right hand. After fifteen or twenty minutes we had success.

It's fun to watch a man swell with pride. I think he walked out on a cloud of air; big smile on his face. Bless him, so far he's made my day.

Today, if you run across (or into) an older Marine shake his hand or throw him a man hug. They've earned it.



Until later,

Stephen
 

Kitchen Time

Every year at this time I make my famous (insert silly smiley face here) Irish kick-ass salsa. Its deadly to all wimps, wussies, democritters, the very young and elderly alike. It takes me a good two hours of construction.

This afternoon, after I closed the shop, I ran to several markets for the ingredients. I'm finicky about my fresh vegetables. So, I arrived home with a truck load of bags, and the makings of a fish dinner.

No, I will not detail a list or recipe...sorry, it's mine. Suffice to say I make a base and include a small portion of fresh ingredients into the base, and then smack it to death in a blender. This base is poured into a very large bowl and then I chop and add fresh vegetables. Tomatoes, bell pepper, cilantro, onion, and various peppers. I also include salt, black pepper, Tabasco sauce, and the seed of one of the fresh vegetables. Guess which.

The salsa must be thick. I then refrigerate over night, and this step is very important...overnight. The salsa will thicken, almost congeal. When a chip is dipped into the sauce and released it should stand without tipping over.

Above, the birth.

And, finished. Cover with plastic wrap, after you adjust the seasoning, and chill over night. If you like that silly football game scheduled for tomorrow evening, this and a cold beverage of your choice should keep you entertained when the game disappoints.


Your taste may vary but I appreciate Nacho Cheese chips with mine...my wife like those tasteless plain chips - but then again she's from Georgia.

*****

I had a hankering for fish. I satisfied my craving.

Preps...btw, the bottle of Yellow Tail was on sale. Not bad. But, they use those silly plastic 'corks.'

I sauteed the fish, after a dip in egg wash and seasoned flour, in olive oil and butter. As the fish sang its happy song I placed a batch of fresh asparagus in a bit of olive oil and butter with a dash of white wine vinegar and placed pot of grits to fire. For you Yankees that's fine ground corn. Try it.

After I plated the fish I made a simple wine and butter sauce with shallots and garlic with a dash of Balsamic vinegar. I reduced the sauce by half. If you have a cardiologist on speed dial forget the butter as I use full stick...real butter.

Dinner is scheduled for 1800 hours...hurry.

Stephen

For Bob

I was chastised for my lack of knife photos by our good friend, Bob. So, here you are Bob.

Please excuse my awful photography. I still use a Blackberry.

I collect 'Old Timer' USA made knives...I'm far from rabid in my hobby (I have about two gazillion hobbies) but once in a great while I 'get a bug' to buy.  Here are three that fell into my lap of recent.

Above: See, Bob, focus is awful. Anyhow, this is the first model year (1962) of the Schrade-Walden Old Timer 15OT. As you well know, Schrade dropped the Walden in 1973. If you find an Old Timer with the Schrade-Walden brand, grab it. Please don't droll. Oh, carbon steel.

Above, the top is an Improved Muskrat 77OT. She's nothing special but she's mine. The bottom is my daily pocket knife carry, a little three blade 34OT, razor sharp. Well, heck, all my knives are razor sharp. I hate dull tools.

The Muskrat open. Distinctive by its almost equal blades. See the metal stain, I love it as it reflects the blades carbon steel. Hate stainless. Even though 'stainless' means the blade 'stains less.'

Here the Sharp Finger cased. The old leather has a wonderful scent. She's sharp enough to cut one's soul.

My other daily, outside the pocket, carry. A Benchmade Mel Pardue 154CM.

There you are, Bob.

Stephen

I Hate

The first of the month. I've spent all morning writing checks. Settling accounts rates right up there with dentist visits with me.

At least I had an hour or so visit with, Duke, this morning to break the boredom. We discussed current events, spoke of guns (the survivalist variety) and I proudly flashed him a couple of my new knife purchases, and the coffee was good and hot.

I returned from the bank where I gave over a bundle of cash to cover all the checks I wrote. Filled my trucks tank while I was out, as they say, killed two birds with one stone. Seventy five friggin dollars worth of petroleum. Ah, for the days of ten cent a gallon gasoline. Those were surely the days, my friends.

Now, please excuse me. I believe I'll dive back into an online novel. Make believe zombies help ease the strain of the constant noise of the construction just beyond my door.

Be careful out there...

Stephen

Awful, Just Awful

As is our habit, when we work late, we dine out. Tonight we decided to try a new Italian place. I ordered chicken cacciatore and an appetizer of fresh water mussels.

By far the worst meal I've ordered in years. Both the mussels and pasta were so over salted I couldn't eat either.

A few minutes after our meals arrived the chef walked out and asked if we were, basically, satisfied with our food. I mentioned the mussels and pasta were over salted. Sweet Wife agreed.

Now get this, the chef said it was impossible. He had not added salt to the dishes. I said sorry, but he was wrong and to taste the mussel sauce. He dipped a piece of my bread then said, it's fine. Argued with me.

The chef neither asked if I'd like a replacement nor did he offer a discount or adjustment to our bill. We were his only customers.

Ask me if I'll return.

Stephen

Bits & Pieces

The construction workers have returned in force. I should just flip the closed sign and drive home. At least this time around they were kind enough to allow traffic to reach my building. As all traffic has been diverted, perhaps I should find a local night club and hire their off duty pole dancers. I'd have them dress skimpy and stand out front in this cold wind and wave to the passing motorists.

Then again the cost of their services would easily nullify any profit. 

*****

Our weather has finally turned cool. Windy as all get out. I like it.

I have a camping trip planned next month. We hope all members of 'The Group' attend. I hope to bottle this weather and release it the night of just after our fire is laid and lit. I hate to camp in warm weather.

If, and it's a big if, the weather cooperates on this future camping trip, I plan to pack my little .410 and do a bit of squirrel hunting. Don't say it. I hear you...shotgun for squirrels. Yes. This dense Florida brush requires it...that's my excuse and I plan to stick with it. You young punks with your baby fresh eyes...

*****

I have a contract with a fire extinguisher service. Once a year, as required by law, they arrive at the shop and take my extinguisher out to their service vehicle and brush the dust off, attach a new tag, and return and charge me darn near fifty dollars for three minutes of their time.

They just arrived.

As much as I hate to pay for this service, guess what happens when the state inspector knocks on my door and the little tag hasn't been properly stamped. Another form of tax at gun point.

Pure rip off.

*****

Here's an old expression - 'just got a hair up my butt.' Google that one. Anyway, with the high volume of noise outside, I thought, hey, target practice.

 Loaded a few CB shorts, stepped out back and placed target and had a few minutes of fun. Kinda nice. Took a cup of coffee and grabbed an old plastic chair and just popped, pop, pop. The squirrels hid.

Talk about breaking a few laws...

Firing a gun within city limits is a big no-no, but I know the locals just think it's area democritters exchanging fire.

I'm a bad boy.

See you later, and hey, be careful out there.

Stephen