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

Cold Rain

Currently...

Just outside the back door of my shop.

Stephen

The Crew

As you well know my shop fronts a busy street. I keep two benches outside for old timers to cop a squat. Early mornings the benches are rubbed smooth by school children as they wait for their buses. Scene set.

I'm kinda grouchy of an early morning especially when I've had less than two cups of coffee. The wee hours provide my quiet time. This morning I'm deep into intellectual thought gathering duties when four of the middle sized boogers begin to take space on the bench directly in front of my office. They get, loud. I'm patient, after all they're children, half-pint adults and this ruckus is to be expected.

Five minutes, ten, enough. I step outside and put on a hard face. The four of them sit straight. Me, "Gentlemen. I really need your guys to cut out the screams and yells. If not you'll be required to wait at the street corner. Got it."

Smartbutt number one, "Why?"

I lied, "Because I'm on the telephone."

Same critter, "I don't be see a phone. Where 'ya phone?"

Takes me a second or two to translate into English. Then, "Oh, it's a landline. An old fashioned telephone"

Booger number two decides he needs attention, "What 'dat mean?"

They were serious, so I said, "Step inside." All four rush into the shop and I pointed towards one of my old and now obsolete communication devices. Products of Western Electric. Both with push button dialing systems.

Booger number one, "Is 'dat really you phone?" (Verbatim, no 'r' on your.) Big squeal of laughter. He continued, "Hey, man, where you be buy 'dis?"

"The flea market." All four yell with laughter. Then I said, "You outta see the pictures I take with it." Truthfully, I thought they'd pee their pants with laughter.

Some days I feel so damn old.

Stephen





   

Come to Papa

I have a big weakness for Old Pour silver....and this is a nice piece.

Don't even think about it.....I mean it.

Stephen