Are You Ready

Get your candles, Coleman lanterns, and kerosene for those great old Hurricane lamps. If you own a generator is the tank full. Check your fuel reserves. Fill the potable water barrel. If you need me to remind you of your personal safety then you've stumbled upon the wrong blog.

It'll be here, soon.

In my humble opinion one of these days the attackers will achieve their goal.

Stephen

Mrs. Campbell's Beretta

She'd phoned, said, "I'll be there, shortly."

"Yes, Ma'am." You never argue with Mrs. Campbell.

I'd expected her call. Over the last few months she's sold me several of her late husbands toys. Her husband's name was Percy. Nice fella. Percy checked out, intelligence intact, in his late eighties. He and I got along well. Percy spoke several languages, none fluent, and had a deep abiding love for literature, especially science fiction. Percy also enjoyed firearms.

Mrs. Campbell, his wife of over fifty years, did not.

Mrs. Campbell stands four foot nothing. She's a tiny little booger with coiffed hair and deep green eyes, slim. She'd never step from her home without the best dressed award around her neck. Today she wore yellow. A necklace of pearls, and a diamond to envy. Mrs. Campbell, for eighty odd years of youth, is a cutie pie. If I were twenty years older I'd ask her out. Well, maybe once.

Mrs. Campbell entered the building...."Well, are you ready?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

She places a thick padded envelope in my hands. It has heft. I like heft. Inside I find a plastic bag, tightly bound. I remove the plastic bag and after a few cuts of knife I find a sweet Pietro Beretta Gardone V-T in .380. By the date code I guessed an early 1960 model. (It later proved 1966.)

I goofed and said, "Nice."

"Oh, really. Good. How much will you pay me?"

I stalled. "Did this belong to Percy?" She took a seat. I joined her. She turns to me and said, "Where's your book. Let's find out how much its worth."

See what I mean. I goofed.

Again with the stall. "I didn't know he carried a Beretta." There was a holster in the bag. Her, "He didn't. I did."

Flash back several months - After his death she'd drive to the shop and ask me to step outside and remove this, in her words, 'thing' or 'things' from her vehicle. She proclaimed a pure hatred for firearms. I'd always purchase her things. Old Savage this, Winchester that....Fudd stuff. She'd really gotten my attention when she said this nice pistol belonged to her.

Mrs. Campbell's Beretta.

 
So, me, "I thought you hated firearms."

"I do. Hate 'em with a passion. They hurt people."

"And yet....you."

"Well, a lady must protect herself and Percy taught me how to shoot. He insisted, even when I dropped it each time I pulled the trigger. Stupid thing is loud."

Mrs. Campbell is a hoot. After a few minutes we settled upon a price. Then, she reached over and gave my upper thigh a good squeeze. I laughed. She stood, all four foot nothing of loveliness, said goodbye, and drifted like a flower towards her car.

Just before the door closed she yelled, "Soon as I find those old things I'll be back."

"What things?"

"You know, those things. The things you put into the gun - bullets."


Stephen

Sunshine and Bird Song

Here I sit, stranded with tax preps, while outside it's all sunshine and birdsong. I must admit, Spring in North Florida is quite exceptional.

Headway has been made.

My desk.

Excuse me while I return to the 'ole grindstone.

Stephen

Roy Rogers

I have pen and pad in hand and a pile of fluttery paper slips to total and categorize. So while I'm otherwise occupied please enjoy the show.

Until we meet again...

Stephen 

BENGAY to You Too

I often overhear people say, "I ache all over." Well, duh. When I have body aches and pain I just hurt, all over is just a given, and at present I ache, ah - all over. So there. It's time for a tube of BENGAY.

After a long night and deep sleep I was awakened to a flash jump into the future. You see, the silly government, in all its omnipotence has once again taken our lives, and time, and flushed away the winter season and slapped us into the dead of summer. I hate it. In our youth winter slowly became spring which gently gave us the extended hours of long summer nights filled with fireflies and dirty bare feet.

It's time to put this silliness to rest.

Anyhow, I spent six hours out in the garage hard at work on my current restoration project and now, oh Nelly, tonight I shall pay for my lost youth.   

Sadly tomorrow I must knuckle down and try and finish our taxes, if only because somewhere out there in the wilds of Detroit a liberal needs its Obama phone.

Hey, how many of you remember Roy Rogers? Good. Now, what was the name of his sidekicks Jeep?

You are now excused....

Stephen

The Scent of Saffron

Homemade saffron infused rice pilaf, fresh broccoli steamed with chicken stock and butter seasoned on the high side with egg washed and floured sauteed filets. My special sauce- just placed to simmer, of sweet onion and garlic with more than a touch of butter, garlic, and balsamic vinegar and wine, reduced until thick enough to coat the devil's tail.

That, is what's for dinner.

Ya'll come...

Stephen

Storage Ammunition and Rust

Do yourself a favor and dig into your ammo stores and give it a check, especially if its steel cased. Fella walked in this morning and sold me his CZ54 with spare magazines and three boxes of 7.62x25 which he said had been in a storage unit for thirty years.

1953 production run of 7..62x25, rusted.

After we concluded our business I took the ammo into my office and opened the boxes to find the mess pictured in the above photograph. Don't panic if you find the same. I just striped the rounds from those silly stripper clips and gave each round a rubdown with fine steel wool.

The filled stripper clips had been stored in the original Soviet block cardboard boxes, dated 1953. Paper screams moisture. Locked inside a storage locker sans climate control ranks high on my list of 'not very bright.'

The ammunition will function just fine. But, if the rust isn't addressed it will eat thru the casing - word to the wise.

Since I don't need, nor want, the stripper clips I'll ignore their rust and chunk 'em. The individual rounds will be cleaned and placed inside dry storage containers with a rust inhibitor.

Ammunition is precious. These three little boxes only held ninety-five rounds. But when you consider the price per round in today's market - any loss, at least to me, is criminal.

So please, check it, don't waste it.

Stephen