Dinner

Now I ask, what is not to like with this dish. Picture from Deep South Dish, listed on my sidebar.





Fresh asparagus spears, wrapped in bacon & cooked in a spicy brown sugar butter sauce.

Free Ammo

A few days ago a nice guy walks in and hands me a fifty round box of new nine mil ammo, he asked, "want this?" Said, "sure, how much?"
"Free," he replied.
Now I'm telling you folks, if hadn't thought I'd lose my dude membership I'd have given him a kiss right on his ugly hairy lips.
Ammo is precious.

Stephen 

Bits and Pieces

It’s really busy here at work today with Father’s Day this weekend. So, I thought I’d write a few bits and pieces in between work.

We have forty (according to the news reports) wild fires in our surrounding area. The smoke is so thick I could not see across the river this morning. Last night when I stepped outside my home ash was falling like snow, very strange.  The afternoon thunderstorms help, when we get them – they start new fires.

On the morning ride to work I had NPR on the radio. Yes, I listen to the idiots, so sue me. Anyway they were doing one of their ‘organic farm’ stories. Most of the dialog was, as they say, going in one ear and out the other, when the interviewer said, “This would be a great place to hunker down during the apocalypse.” Darn near chocked on my coffee. Now I’m telling ‘ya folks, if NPR is airing such statements what chance do you give the ‘great one’ of re-election.

It takes me the better part of the morning, and sometimes all afternoon, to read my daily blog list. Granted a few I just give a glace, but for the most part I read all new entries. Over the last few weeks I’ve added some new finds.  Isn’t it interesting how they become old friends rather quickly. I plan to write a post sometime soon and list a few that have become addictive to me. My blog roll is a work under construction. Please, take a look and give them a try.

I need an injection of ‘geek.’  Perhaps I should hire a pretty young thing to come in and give me lessons on computer ‘stuff.’ I’m sure Sweet Wife wouldn’t mind a bit. I’ll ask her. I’d be sure and hire one with granny glasses and a lisp.

If your city or town newspaper is in as sad a condition as ours, I feel for you. I’ve been an avid reader all my life and the morning (and in the old days, afternoon) newspaper figured high on my list. Remember the days when the morning paper could be heard landing on the lawn from inside your home. Now, ours flutters not unlike it’s be gifted with butterfly wings.

On the radio just now I hear Rush and friends have now released their own brand of bottled tea. What’s next, a Rush Limbaugh endorsement of tampons; let’s plug the hole of mediocrity.

Hey, gotta run. Please take care out there and be aware of your surroundings.

A Generation Lost

The usual morning crowd had gathered with their cups of coffee and morning politics. I had been too busy to notice the old man had been driven to the shop by his granddaughter. A strange occurrence as he was, even in his late eighties, an independent old cuss.

We had been friends for many years. It had been quite some time since I'd last seen him, and was a little embarrassed with myself when I couldn't remember how long it had been. He had changed. He seemed frail and bent, time worn. His face had, as Hemingway had once written, the appearance of a death mask.

He came in and mingled, shook a few hands, asked if I'd please get him a cup of coffee, said, "Sure," then, "Any new items to show and tell?"

"Not today", he replied.

We had nicknamed him, Mayor. You've met the type; knows everything that happens in your small town or neighborhood. Has all the local news and gossip worth spreading, respected by all.

Now, prior to that morning if I had asked if he had 'items' to show he'd set a grin on his face and excuse himself and walk back out to his car. He'd always, and I mean always, walk in first before bringing in his items, mostly firearms. Once told me it wasn't his habit to just walk into a business with a gun in tow as it might scare any women and children, if they were present, said it was tacky, and after all, he was gentleman. And he continued, it would show lack of respect to me the business owner, made sense to me.

The Mayor was a veteran of the Second World War, served in the Pacific, highly decorated. Though you wouldn't know it by looking at him, he was very well educated, a civil engineer, well read, and an avid collector of fine firearms. He tended towards the military versions, historic pieces when he could find them but wasn't above sneaking in a piece of hunting hardware if it had the lines and grace and a piece of fine walnut attached.

His speech patterns came across like an inbreed hillbilly, the juxtaposition was scary. A dapper old man that spoke like he'd just ridden out of the Smokey Mountains but who would drop lines of Shakespeare at a moment's notice.

It'd go like this; he'd walk in with a nice Russian AK-47, one of the older models, and I'd caress it as he put a grin on his face, him waiting. I say it, "what 'ya asking for it?" I mean, we're talking milled steel receiver here.

He'd answer in his normal laid back cat eating poop grin, "Isn't for sale, boy." Called me boy.

Or, his prize of the day might be a nice FBI issued Smith 19-3 chambered in .357, a sweet deeply blued baby with a Pachmar grip installed on the original stocks. Again, I'd asked the price. He'd reply, "Now, Boy, if the Good Lord saw fit to place this nice piece of handgun in my hands why in the world do you think I'd allow you to take it away, hell, you don't have enough money to buy my gun." Like that.

And so it would go. A Springfield M1, or a Greener double once used for driven grouse in Great Britain, perhaps pre-64 Model 70 Winchester; one never knew. His collection was extensive. He never sold, never. Lord knows I tried.

That last day; he mingled and chatted and when he was finally ready to leave he walked over and gently took my right hand in his and with his left placed a large coin in it. I can remember his hands were soft and warm, like old tanned leather, yet firm. He glanced up, smiled and said, "For you, remember me."

That's when I knew.

It was a 1929 Silver dollar. Nice old piece. It now sits in my safe, its worth now measured in memories.

Stephen

 

 

 

Sick

Sorry. My whole family is sick today, a virus. Try and see tomorrow. At least we have rain, not that I can enjoy it.

First of Many

Wireless connection has been achieved.  With whom, heck if I know.

Advice Taken

Took my own advice this afternoon and purchased a new laptop. It'll take me a while to become familiar with it, tiny keyboard and all. Dell. The company is awful proud of these boogers too. I keep reaching for the mouse.

The weather here in North Florida is awful hot, 94 degrees last I checked. There are several forest fires locally and the smoke is thick and arid.

It's time for me to take this new creature and teach myself how to connect to wireless.
See you tomorrow, my friends.