I don't know if Todd the Blogger made it to the range this weekend, but I did. That's one of the benefits of not being married - don't have to ask if you can go out to play.
Anyway, there was a nice breeze, and the range wasn't crowded at all. Expended about a hundred rounds of .22 LR, practicing until I could get 6 for 6 on the falling plates. After a couple of strings shooting with my left eye closed, I switched to right eye closed. Unfortunately, the Ruger Standard just would not comply today, as the best I could do with it was 5 of 6.
(Empty chamber flags - weedeater line and flourescent duct tape - required by the range when the shooter is greater than arm's length from his/her firearms)
Oldest son says, and I generally agree, that the Single Six is my most accurate .22 handgun (having the longest sight radius), but today I really enjoyed the High Standard HD Military (resting on the sandbags) the most.
After wrapping up on the falling plates, I wanted to check out a little .243 poodle shooter. The guy I'd bought it from had provided a coffee can full of loaded ammo from necked down mil-surp .308 brass. While I would normally be a bit skeptical about shooting someone else's reloads, he had dutifully documented his load data (which I checked on a respected loading manual and found to be within spec), and on inspection of the rounds, I could see that the requisite care had been taken (chamfering the case mouths, turning down the necks, and annealing the shoulders).
Anyway, I was actually pretty pleased with this five shot group (100 yds.), as the Weaver K-4's resolution on this [25 yd handgun] target with my old eyes was probably about as good as could be expected. With a 9x or higher glass, I firmly believe I could cover five holes with a half-dollar (technically, I can cover this group with half of a paper dollar). I think the flyer was the first shot.
My next task is to come up with some powder-puff, light recoil loads for a certain 10 year old, who's been asking me when we can go hog hunting.
I mighta had the Buddy L or Tonka version of this as a kid. Here it is all grown up:
I would like a motorcycle (Suzi V-Strom or Kawi KLR, or a KTM). But this would probably make more sense. If the one on the right were white and blue, it would look like my old Hot Wheels Jack Rabbit:
I've always liked the Jeep CJ-8 (Scrambler). Here's one, ready to hit the lake for some deer-skiing:
Yes, that is a life-size deer effigy standing in the back, with skis.
Now, I've got no venison beef with a buck deer going all anthropomorphic, donning a Hawaiian shirt, and heading out to PK or Eagle Mountain Lake to shake off the rut of the work week and hang 10 (or 8 or six points). But you know we must live in a toxic culture when some of the anthropomorphic bucks are subscribing to Queer Deer Monthly or Bluebuck and cross-dressing:
More retail observations: After my class last night, I went to the big orange box to check out some things. In my book, they've never been known for being super customer friendly - not hostile, but generally not around when you need them. Last night, no fewer than 8 associates spoke to me and asked if they could help me find anything.
Change in training/tactics?
I was still dressed in shirt/tie from my workday - wonder if that had an influence?
Also stopped at Kohl's. Just a few steps inside, the store, or at least floor, manager greets me "Hello Don, can we help you find anything?"
Yeah, I'd left my nametag from class on. About ten minutes later, he spots me again, "Still finding everything OK, Don?".
Alright, I'm a big fan of Dale Carnegie, too - let's not overdo it, dude.
Do you suppose the 4077's medevac drivers trained at Wolters?
The answer, unfortunately, is no. It didn't become a helo training facility until 1956.
Kill the wabbit, kill the wabbit!:
And rounding out our rotorcraft troika, word reaches our S116's newsdesk that Angelina has gifted Brad with a helicopter, make unknown, for their place in the south of France. Maybe she's not so useless as I had thought.
Wonder if she can make a sammich, though...
Spotted a campaign sign for former NBC5 reporter Grant Stinchfield on the way to work this morning, which is kinda odd, since my office is not really near the 24th Texas District.
How in the world do you get name recognition when your name is ... Grant Stinchfield?
Not for sure, but I think he went to the same school as I did.
If I'd had the money, or could have made a reasonable living from it, I would have bought this hardware store and its inventory years ago:
That place was like a time capsule. I'll bet that when they auctioned the inventory, there was hardware that'd been in there nearly a hundred years: wagon parts, water pump handles, butter churns.
Oh, I missed the most important reason I'd like to get an Android Tablet device: So that I can mo-bile blog - like Roger DaltreyPete Townsend or Walker Railey.
Well, maybe not Walker Railey.
Hay now! I thought hauling hay was backbreaking work when I was a kid - but these bales? It'd take Paul Bunyans to load it up on a flatbed:
The cuttings I've been seeing have looked pretty good. Of course, it's not summer yet.
I'm not happy with Ranjit and Chad again. I paid my phone bill again, on time, and got a confirmation email and text, thanking me for my payment.
Today I got a text reminding me to pay my bill by yesterday. Idjits!
I understand large scale remittance processing systems - but this is ridiculous.
Here's a nice picture of the TMS Condo Clubhouse pool:
I don't suppose that's Mr. Romney's real first name?
Last week I was north of Bowie, stopped at the pet cemetery to 'visit' my pups.
When it's my time, heck, they could put me by the curb in a Hefty bag. But, for whatever reason, it's comforting/cathartic for me to have a place to go commune with them.
It's not unusual to see ad hoc roadside shrines. This is much more than that:
Had lunch today at my favorite Asian fast food place, Rice Express. Since I've changed territories, I don't get over there much anymore. I think the manager there is a good marketer. When I walked in, he asked "Where've you been?"
Now, I was never really a 'regular' there - maybe once a month or three weeks, in the day. But feeling like you're recognized is a powerful thing - kinda like going to 'Cheers'.
And when I signed the debit card slip - there's a 'tip' line. Who tips at a fast food place?
In this case, I did. Not a lot, on account of it being a fast food place, but if they'd treated me like any other dirtbag off the street, it'd been nothing. Like I said, good marketing.
The red sauce at a Chinese place - Is that Dexron or Mercon?
I am an Apple-phobe. Don't get me wrong - they've got some cool products - I just don't want to be locked into the whole Apple-think hegemony. But I'm thinking I'd like a tablet.
If circumstances come together, I'd like to get something more than an e-reader, like maybe the Samsung Galaxy Tab 7.0 - to websurf, Bible research, e-magazines, and archive reference materials for the coming Zombie Apocalypse.
For people who think the SmartForTwo is just too much car:
A month or so ago, I was driving into the setting sun when a car splashed muddy water on my windshield. As I ran the wipers, I found that the washer fluid line had ruptured, and it made a streaky, nearly opaque, mess.
I pulled into a 7-11 gas station in Southlake, lifted the wipers off the glass, and washed the windshield. Daughter got out to watch. Then it occurred to me to lift the hood to confirm that the washer line had ruptured.
Crunch! It seems that the brilliant engineers at FoMoCo created a situation where the wiper blades contact the hood if you open it while the wipers are off the glass. Daughter started to ask me a question.
"[Daughter], please get back in the car" were the words, not loud or angrily, but not entirely concealing my frustration at having done something bonehead stupid. She got back in the car, I closed the hood, and we drove the rest of the way home.
As we got out of the car at the house, she asked me, "At the gas station, did I do something wrong?"
If her mother and I did anything right, we instilled a sense of straightforwardness in her to be direct enough to ask the question.
"No, you didn't do anything wrong at all - I was frustrated because I did something dumb. Thank you for asking, and allowing me to explain myself."
How many times are our words or actions interpreted in a way we don't intend? I am thankful to God my Daughter has the courage to ask for clarification if she doesn't understand something. (We subsequently had a conversation of that very subject.)
Pleeeze, y'all pick up yore trash around the rock or it'll git tore down:
I didn't get a picture, but the oddest thing I saw today was a guy in an electric wheelchair, cruising along the curb apron on East Hubbard in Mineral Wells (by the Whataburger) - talking on his cellphone. At least he wasn't texting.
Of course, I also couldn't help but wonder: Is the gerund/present participle form of the verb HoverRound called HoveringRound, or HoverRounding?
This looks kinda like fun, huh?
A colleague from my previous work emailed me telling me she liked a forwarded message I'd sent, and: "I waved at you last week. I'm the one in the black Corvette convertible
that meets you on ---- ----- Parkway on occasion.
This is not-a-good. I mean, I understand maybe Jarhead would not notice a hawt (albeit married) blonde in a Corvette convertible waving at him, on account of he's busy watching for Adam LambertAdam Levine (or Adam Ant, Adam West or Adam-12) to give him a 'Hey, Sailor!' shout out. But not me.
I'm losing it in my old age.
Lakeside Baptist Church message: Forbidden fruit creates many jams.
I'm going to bed tonight without the melatonin - because I don't want to become a melatonin addict.
Not that it would have meant anything to me, one way or the other. A gal at work, we'll call her W3, has a gay brother-in-law who she says does a heckuva job cutting hair. I don't assume gay dudes are after me any more than I assume hawt women long to bear my children.
If a guy were cutting my hair, I'd probably assume he was gay, though, unless he was Floyd the Barber - and who knows, Floyd & Gomer mighta had somethin' goin' on...
BTW, I'm not in favor of the gay marriage - to me it's like calling an apple an orange in the name of 'equality'. They're not the same. Just because a subset of the population wants to call apples oranges, doesn't make it so. Shared healthcare & retirement benefits - no problem - let the government and employers handle the details and contract forms. And let's get government out of the marriage business.
I do find it weird that with all the important issues in the world: Potential Euro Zone collapse, the world's ninth largest economy (Gov. Moonbeam's CA) imploding, unemployment, Iran vs. Israel - all subjects on which the current administration is clueless and impotent - that BHO thinks he has a game winner with the GM issue. Just strange.
OK, enough of the gay. Moving on.
W2 told me I needed a haircut. I knew that already.
Recently, Todd the Blogger asked me if I knew anything about the 'prepper' movement.
Though I attended prep school, I have to admit I'm not too much up to speed on the prepper/survival. He has a link on his blog to the Survival Blog, which looks like a good read.
And hopefully, we will have a good discussion on the subject sometime soon.
Didn't get to fix the weedeater or weld the chipper/shredder, but did mow the lawn and run the leaf blower.
The garlic chicken & zucchini spaghetti sauce I made over the weekend was excellent.
Took Sienna for a brisk walk this evening - she walking - me riding my bike (though not dragging her).
We cut across the local police department parking lot, where two police cruisers (a sedan and an SUV) with full flashing lights, had an Expedition pulled over (this is a police lot, mind you) and were barking orders at the driver and the passenger. The driver was out of the vehicle, hands over his head. The passenger in the vehicle, mouthing off at the officers.
We didn't linger there long, though it seemed a strange place to pull over a suspect (given that the lot has an entry 'gate' like a railroad crossing.
Can't quite figure out why Jay Leno is so enamored of Wanda Sykes - that woman is just annoying to me.
In the '60s or '70s, people timed their LSD use to coincide with the Wizard of Oz, or the Pink Floyd laser light show.
I've never used drugs, but per el Chupacabra's advice, I did take my melatonin tablet earlier tonight so I'm not groggy in the morning. We'll see.
I am going to be training some employees from another office. Can you imagine? Trusting me to train people?
Desperate times/desperate measures, I suppose.
On the return bike trip, the cop car flashing lights were off, and the cops had the suspects surrounded. A woman was standing at a distance, near where we passed.
"For real, or training exercise", I asked her.
"Explorer Scouts - they practice with the officers every Tuesday night."
The weekend weather was great, but it didn't last.
The weekend, or the weather.
Almost overslept this morning after taking two melatonin tablets before bedtime. But, I felt well-rested, albeit a bit sluggish mentally. (Please, no comments.)
Looks like I'm gonna have to turn in my 'man card'. I sewed a button on a shirt yesterday, prepared meals for this week, did two loads of laundry, and then ironed six shirts. I haven't ironed multiple shirts since 1988. At this rate, I'll be making my own sammiches.
Oh, wait, I already do.
Today was a fun lunch at the Genghis Grill. One of my work colleagues is leaving, so we had a little going-away lunch for her, attended by about a half-dozen others, plus Todd the Blogger and Dew.
On the way back to the office, the woman who is leaving (identified as W2 in a prior post) and I identified a strategy for me to meet the woman I mentioned from church (she agrees with El Chupacabra's advice to act decisively).
I finally re-lamped the front porch light today, but had had enough domesticity for awhile, and took 5 other shirts to the cleaners for pressing.
Tomorrow I'm gonna try to regain some of my manliness by fixing the recoil start on the weedeater and welding a repair on the chipper/shredder.
From a recent Upper Room email message, almost seems like a story Todd the Blogger might tell:
YEARS AGO at a retreat one of the women told us a story that changed my
spiritual life. I have so often told and written about this story. She had rescued an abandoned, frightened young dog who had not only been
abused, but also half drowned. He desperately needed cleansing and medication
for his wounds, but not until she began to lower him into the warm tub did she
realize how terrified he was of water. His abusers had tried to kill him that
way. He screamed and fought, his whole body a solid mass of fear. Very quickly
realizing that there was only one way to reach him through his panic, she
stripped to her underwear and got into the water with him along with all the
fleas, dirt, and blood from them both. She held him, stroking him gently,
quietly talking to him until he began slowly to relax. Then the deep cleansing
could begin. I know of no better story of the Incarnation and the way God deals with our
fear, our wounds, our hardened defenses.
It was nice to get a break from the run-up to summer temperatures.
I'm still sore from a bike riding mishap last Saturday - rode through the post office drop off lane, and casually dropped a letter in the box with my right hand. As it teetered in the opening, I turned to see if it would drop in or out.
At the same time the handlebars got crooked, and I reflexively gripped with my left hand - the front brake.
I started to go over the handlebars, but ended up somehow in a crumpled heap after hitting my chest on the end of the handlebar, and scraping my knee on the pavement (at the time I thought I might have shattered it). The chest part's (about 2" in from my armpit) still a bit tender, as well as my upper left femur. I think it'd been decades since my last bike wreck.
No bruises, though. Have never easily bruised.
And the letter, in case you wondered? After asking if I was OK, Daughter put it in the box.
It was a premium payment authorization for life insurance.
Consumer Corner - This week's recommendations: Lysol Max Coverage Toilet Bowl cleaner (gets up under the rim). Power House Ultra Oxygen Bathroom Cleaner (blue foam spray turns white after it's clean). Both available at Dollar Tree.
Good thing the Decatur lawyer doesn't have an "i" in his name:
I wish I'd gone to Wal-Mart or Target about six weeks ago for a large trash bin, cut a slot in the top, labeled it "USPS - Unsolicited Political Mailers", and parked it next to my regular mailbox.
Heck, if the tsar of czars gets re-elected in November, it won't matter who got voted for in May.
Consumer Pan - Casa Rica Tortillas from Wal-Mart. Flour tortillas that are all stuck together don't work well for burritos and quesadillas. I tried nuking them to get them unstuck, with generally poor results.
Would you buy a used car from someone named Don?
May, or may not, be actual owner:
Hey, it was a natural for a Henley reference.
If you are a single man, and work with women, do not discuss women with them. After describing my church's Cinco de Mayo themed service to a couple of such, the following conversation ensued:
W1: "Are there any single women at your church?" Me:"Well, there was an attractive gal seated next to me." W2: "Did you get her phone number?" Me: "Uh, no, it was church - I got her first name when we did introductions, but I couldn't read her last name when she filled out the attendance card." W1: "You could call the church office and ask them." Me: "I think that might be considered 'stalking'." W2 (who's always scolding me for ogling younger women, even if I'm not really ogling them): "Was she age appropriate?" Me:"Yeah, roundabouts, maybe 42-48; she had on a label that indicated she had a child in one of the kids' programs." W2: "See, what you do is go up to her and say "I see we both have children in the ____ program - would you like to go have coffee after church"?"
Though I do hope to see the same woman at this weekend's service.
I drove with the radio/CD player off for most of my out-of-office work this week, hoping God might use the quiet time to drop some nuggets o' wisdom on me.
If I ever get married again, will spend more quiet time listening to God (will do that anyway), and will also listen to my wife more.
An excerpt from My Thanksgiving:
And I don't mind saying that I still love it all I wallowed in the springtime Now I'm welcoming the fall For every moment of joy Every hour of fear For every winding road that brought me here For every breath, for every day of living This is my Thanksgiving
For everyone who helped me start And for everything that broke my heart For every breath, for every day of living This is my Thanksgiving
I finally visited Wizard Wells this week - I can die happy:
It's not every Sunday morning that you go to church and have chips and salsa (or guacamole), non-alcoholic margaritas, and the praise band jamming an instrumental La Bamba as congregants file into the room.
But it's Cinco de Mayo weekend. And this is no ordinary church.
I'll be glad when the election season is over. I'm tired of seeing signs and all the junk mail.
Is Matthew McConaughey doing all the radio voiceovers these days?
Ugly cannon, but interesting mailbox:
I don't think Spring lasted long enough.
I retract any negative comments I may or may not have made on Todd the Blogger's blog about Glocks having no soul. I saw it the other say after lunch at the Jeep Burger place in Bridgeport. It's a very nice gun.
He needs to get out and shoot it, though.
Sometimes the country comes to town:
Think maybe they were giving these away with Happy Meals?:
Collect the whole set!
Marine. 2nd Amendment supporter. Ron Paul supporter. Don't mess: