So Punkin's stomach has been sounding like something from "Alien" is going to pop out any minute. And I was in front of her when she suddenly leaned forward. And for some reason I reached out, hands together, palms up, as if to catch something.
I did. Her breakfast.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Blatant Racism
Two sexual predators. One charged with assault, one celebrated in the Democrat Party, even the key note speaker at their last convention.
Thursday, December 24, 2015
Monday, December 21, 2015
Saturday, December 19, 2015
BRAVO!
I'm posting from a cell phone, so I apologize for the lack of detail. But that whole one finger typing thing...
You may have heard about the school distrinct in Kentucky that decided that "A Charlie Brown Christmas" play could only be performed if the actual references to the religious reasons for the season were left out. I don't know about you folks, but the part of the original that I remember best is the part where Linus recites the Bible passage that explains it all.
This came about because one, count 'em, one, person complained. Instead of doing the decent thing and just not going to or allowing their child to participate in the play, they whined. And the powers that be, completely ignoring the part of the Constitution that says that there can be no interference with the free exercise of religion, put their jackboots down.
But this time the parents stomped back. And when the play reached the point where all that horrifying religion comes in but had been barred, they were ready. And they stepped up and read the passage aloud as a group.
Bravo and bravo and bravo again!
You can read the story at http://www.weaselzippers.us/246282-parents-read-bible-verses-cut-from-charlie-brown-christmas-school-play/, including a video that I couldn't figure out how to imbed from my phone.
You may have heard about the school distrinct in Kentucky that decided that "A Charlie Brown Christmas" play could only be performed if the actual references to the religious reasons for the season were left out. I don't know about you folks, but the part of the original that I remember best is the part where Linus recites the Bible passage that explains it all.
This came about because one, count 'em, one, person complained. Instead of doing the decent thing and just not going to or allowing their child to participate in the play, they whined. And the powers that be, completely ignoring the part of the Constitution that says that there can be no interference with the free exercise of religion, put their jackboots down.
But this time the parents stomped back. And when the play reached the point where all that horrifying religion comes in but had been barred, they were ready. And they stepped up and read the passage aloud as a group.
Bravo and bravo and bravo again!
You can read the story at http://www.weaselzippers.us/246282-parents-read-bible-verses-cut-from-charlie-brown-christmas-school-play/, including a video that I couldn't figure out how to imbed from my phone.
Friday, December 18, 2015
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
Have I Mentioned...
...that I LOVE THIS GUN!?
I needed gas. I live in the eastern panhandle of West Virginia. I don't know why the stupid is so strong here but we are still paying $2.15 - $2.25 here. But slide just south into Virginia and you can get it for $1.79 for cash. AND in order to do that you have to drive right past the shooting range. Well, alrighty then.
The Baretta has a loooooonnnnngggg trigger pull in double action. And I need to get the feel of that - in a self defense situation that first shot is going to be the most important. I put a target out at just short of 25 yards and started working on the first magazine of ammo. At some point I realized that the four others on the line were watching me. And when I finished and stepped back, one of them said to me "I'm NEVER coming to your house uninvited."
In some recent post I said that some days are diamond and some days are rust.
Today was diamond.
I needed gas. I live in the eastern panhandle of West Virginia. I don't know why the stupid is so strong here but we are still paying $2.15 - $2.25 here. But slide just south into Virginia and you can get it for $1.79 for cash. AND in order to do that you have to drive right past the shooting range. Well, alrighty then.
The Baretta has a loooooonnnnngggg trigger pull in double action. And I need to get the feel of that - in a self defense situation that first shot is going to be the most important. I put a target out at just short of 25 yards and started working on the first magazine of ammo. At some point I realized that the four others on the line were watching me. And when I finished and stepped back, one of them said to me "I'm NEVER coming to your house uninvited."
In some recent post I said that some days are diamond and some days are rust.
Today was diamond.
Monday, December 14, 2015
But I digress...
Do you ever have those weird nights where, at least at first, you only fall partially asleep? Not like the times you thrash around wide awake, but more of a limbo where you aren't there and you aren't here either. Been having trouble with that the last few nights. And then there was music... Huh? When I got awake enough to focus I realized that it was the theme from "Downton Abbey", which I had been watching before bed. I had closed the laptop, which generally sends everything into sleep mode, but apparently the computer woke up for a couple minutes. It stopped, but that was a bit freaky and not conducive to easily going off into slumber land immediately after.
But I digress.
This is really about my new used Beretta 92S. How to put it succinctly? Oh, yeah - I LOVE THIS GUN!
Purchased for under $340 from Southern Ohio Guns International, it arrived in beautiful condition. There isn't a working part of it that doesn't slide or click smoothly. Because it is an Italian import, I had to go to the proof marks near the trigger to track down the date of manufacture:
The original Beretta 92 was introduced in 1976. The "S" series was developed in 1978 in response to law enforcement requirements and was then adopted by Italian police and military. The "BU" inside the little box means a 2004 birthday for this particular gun.
It's a full sized and substantial gun, a little over 2 lbs unloaded, and it carries 15 rounds of 9 mm. There's a couple things I'll have to get used to. First, having a de-cocker. I commented about that to my daughter and she replied "Talk to Loreena Bobbit." Took me a minute... Anyway, I remember to de-cock the gun after I rack the first round but tend to forget to flip it back up before I holster the gun. The other is the placement of the magazine release, which is at the base and back of the grip on one side. I'm used to having it on the upper part of the grip near the thumb, but apparently the Europeans don't like to just drop their mags.
The double action is heavy for me - at first I thought it would take some work to get my hands strong enough to fire it double action. But a few timed trials on Saturday showed me that although I'm rocky with that first shot I can do it and clear the plates fairly quickly. I just need to get used to it.
So I'm very happy.
But I digress.
This is really about my new used Beretta 92S. How to put it succinctly? Oh, yeah - I LOVE THIS GUN!
Purchased for under $340 from Southern Ohio Guns International, it arrived in beautiful condition. There isn't a working part of it that doesn't slide or click smoothly. Because it is an Italian import, I had to go to the proof marks near the trigger to track down the date of manufacture:
The original Beretta 92 was introduced in 1976. The "S" series was developed in 1978 in response to law enforcement requirements and was then adopted by Italian police and military. The "BU" inside the little box means a 2004 birthday for this particular gun.
It's a full sized and substantial gun, a little over 2 lbs unloaded, and it carries 15 rounds of 9 mm. There's a couple things I'll have to get used to. First, having a de-cocker. I commented about that to my daughter and she replied "Talk to Loreena Bobbit." Took me a minute... Anyway, I remember to de-cock the gun after I rack the first round but tend to forget to flip it back up before I holster the gun. The other is the placement of the magazine release, which is at the base and back of the grip on one side. I'm used to having it on the upper part of the grip near the thumb, but apparently the Europeans don't like to just drop their mags.
The double action is heavy for me - at first I thought it would take some work to get my hands strong enough to fire it double action. But a few timed trials on Saturday showed me that although I'm rocky with that first shot I can do it and clear the plates fairly quickly. I just need to get used to it.
So I'm very happy.
Sunday, December 6, 2015
And Then The Day Went To Shite
Yesterday was a pretty December day, crisp but warm enough that I could take off my jacket to shoot. Which was just what Murphy's Law and I did. I in particular wanted to get out and try my new Beretta 92S, which I picked up Friday evening. Then lunch and me home to pick up the mess I made in the TV room when I wrapped and packed up the out-of-state Christmas presents so I could get them in the mail. And to clean guns in front of Netflix.
All was well until I stepped out on the porch to feed the outside cats and saw one of them, Greybie, go into a seizure. I knew immediately what was happening - Blu had them later in life.
Greybie is just one of many examples of why I often dislike humans - an abandoned sweetheart of a cat that just wants a lap to sleep in, full of happy purrs for ear scratches. When he first showed up a few months ago he alternated houses and one neighbor accidentally trapped him while trying to trap a feral, so she just took him and had him fixed while she had him. After that he took up residence on my porch, happy for my company when I sat with my coffee in the morning when the weather allowed.
Unfortunately, because Blackberry has so many problems and is so elderly, I don't feel I can bring any more cats in the house right now. I don't fell I can add that stress to her life.
I can't give the outdoor cats the same care the indoor ones get, but if I see something wrong I take them in. About a month ago I realized that Greybie's face had swollen a lot. So I shoved him in a carrier and took him to the emergency vet, to be told that he had an oral cancer. There is a fairly new medication on the market that is injected directly into a tumor, and often causes a tumor to attack itself and basically rot itself away. It's a Hail Mary treatment, but we tried it. I took him back for the second injection as well as antibiotics for his gums, and he seemed to be doing well. The swelling had gone out of his face and he had a good appetite. Until the last couple days - I noticed he wasn't eating all his food. And then the seizure. Which pretty much said that the tumor had spread to his brain. While an x-ray was useless because it wouldn't have been able to see through the skull, there were other signs, and the vet agreed that I was probably right. So I held him and cuddled him and apologized for the assholes who didn't appreciate him, who didn't let him be their loving lap cat but turned him out instead, as he purred and then slipped away.
You will take up a collection for me, right? The one I'm going to need for bail if I ever catch someone dumping an animal up here. Because I've had to have three put to sleep because of irresponsible idiots, and I'm getting tired of bearing both the financial and emotional burden of people that I like way less than I like cats and dogs.
All was well until I stepped out on the porch to feed the outside cats and saw one of them, Greybie, go into a seizure. I knew immediately what was happening - Blu had them later in life.
Greybie is just one of many examples of why I often dislike humans - an abandoned sweetheart of a cat that just wants a lap to sleep in, full of happy purrs for ear scratches. When he first showed up a few months ago he alternated houses and one neighbor accidentally trapped him while trying to trap a feral, so she just took him and had him fixed while she had him. After that he took up residence on my porch, happy for my company when I sat with my coffee in the morning when the weather allowed.
Unfortunately, because Blackberry has so many problems and is so elderly, I don't feel I can bring any more cats in the house right now. I don't fell I can add that stress to her life.
I can't give the outdoor cats the same care the indoor ones get, but if I see something wrong I take them in. About a month ago I realized that Greybie's face had swollen a lot. So I shoved him in a carrier and took him to the emergency vet, to be told that he had an oral cancer. There is a fairly new medication on the market that is injected directly into a tumor, and often causes a tumor to attack itself and basically rot itself away. It's a Hail Mary treatment, but we tried it. I took him back for the second injection as well as antibiotics for his gums, and he seemed to be doing well. The swelling had gone out of his face and he had a good appetite. Until the last couple days - I noticed he wasn't eating all his food. And then the seizure. Which pretty much said that the tumor had spread to his brain. While an x-ray was useless because it wouldn't have been able to see through the skull, there were other signs, and the vet agreed that I was probably right. So I held him and cuddled him and apologized for the assholes who didn't appreciate him, who didn't let him be their loving lap cat but turned him out instead, as he purred and then slipped away.
You will take up a collection for me, right? The one I'm going to need for bail if I ever catch someone dumping an animal up here. Because I've had to have three put to sleep because of irresponsible idiots, and I'm getting tired of bearing both the financial and emotional burden of people that I like way less than I like cats and dogs.
Saturday, December 5, 2015
I'm NRA You Hate I Am
With thanks to buzzamonkey for permission to use:
I’m NRA You Hate, I Am
—apologies to Herman’s Hermits, and “I’m Henry the Eighth, I Am”
I’m NRA you hate, I am
NRA you hate, I am, I am
I own guns and I want to buy more
You keep asking what I need ‘em for
But thanks to the Second Amendment (Amendment!)
It’s none of your business what I need (Indeed!)
Whether for sport or personal defendment
NRA you hate I a-a-a-a-am
NRA you hate I am
Second verse, same as the first!
A little bit louder, and a little bit worse!
I’m NRA you hate, I am
NRA you hate, I am, I am
I own guns and I want to buy more
You keep asking what I need ‘em for
But thanks to the Second Amendment (Amendment!)
It’s none of your business what I need (Indeed!)
Whether for sport or personal defendment
NRA you hate I a-a-a-a-am
NRA you hate I am
For the younger folks, here's the tune itself:
I’m NRA You Hate, I Am
—apologies to Herman’s Hermits, and “I’m Henry the Eighth, I Am”
I’m NRA you hate, I am
NRA you hate, I am, I am
I own guns and I want to buy more
You keep asking what I need ‘em for
But thanks to the Second Amendment (Amendment!)
It’s none of your business what I need (Indeed!)
Whether for sport or personal defendment
NRA you hate I a-a-a-a-am
NRA you hate I am
Second verse, same as the first!
A little bit louder, and a little bit worse!
I’m NRA you hate, I am
NRA you hate, I am, I am
I own guns and I want to buy more
You keep asking what I need ‘em for
But thanks to the Second Amendment (Amendment!)
It’s none of your business what I need (Indeed!)
Whether for sport or personal defendment
NRA you hate I a-a-a-a-am
NRA you hate I am
For the younger folks, here's the tune itself:
Friday, December 4, 2015
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Sigh...
I went out to dinner with a friend....
Scooter now has assumed the mantle once worn by Blu - Destructo Kitty.
Monday, November 30, 2015
Taurus Ultra-Lite For Sale
Like new condition - it has only been fired a few times. Takes .38 Special ammo as well as .38 +P. Asking $325.
Sunday, November 29, 2015
Coal In His Stocking...
Is what he's going to get. Somebody has spent most of the afternoon in time out, shut in a bedroom...
Now I'm afraid to go to bed tonight...
Now I'm afraid to go to bed tonight...
Thursday, November 26, 2015
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Comparison: Baretta 92 and Fabrique Nationale Hi-Power
Somewhere along the way it morphed from self-defense shooting to an interest in accuracy. A desire to group tightly and punch the center right out of the target. Well, OK, wanting to look at others on the range and think "Nah nah na nah na I shoot better than you!". But let that go... I work with my carry piece virtually every week trying to get as close to that as I can. But, of course, there's only so much you can ask of a short-barreled self defense carry gun. It's made for more close up shooting. I'll keep working on it, but the chances of my punching the center out of a target at 25 yards with a gun that has a 3.5 inch barrel is probably not real good. I just figure the more I practice and use that as my goal the more likely that in a SHTF moment my muscles will know what to do when the rest of me is going "WHAT THE HELL?!"
I sold the Glock 19 on because I realized that I was never going to shoot well with it. The grip, the trigger, and my small hands meant that I always felt like I was squishing things around after every shot, trying to get a better grip. Not as bad as the day I was sweating like crazy and my first gun sort of popped out of my hands like I was trying to grab a fish, but once I started shooting other guns I realized that it just didn't feel right.
Anyway. Murphy's Law is not one to not stoke a burgeoning gun addiction, so he's been good enough to lend me some guns to try. Which is good - again, small hands, short arms, need to find right fit, which means handle the gun and stores don't tend to let you take their merchandise out for a trial at the range. So he lent me two 9 mm guns to compare: a Beretta 92 and a Fabrique Nationale/Browning Hi-Power.
First discovery was not so much a discovery so I knew to just keep at it - dadgum slides on unfamiliar guns. It's not just hand strength, but also just getting the feel of how you need to hold and pull in order to rack the slide. And I have at least learned to drop the magazine out if it's fighting back. Seems a simple thing, but each gun is different and I have to work for a bit to find just the right grip and stress point to make it lock back. It made life much easier once I realized I might have to mess around a bit to get the feel of each gun.
First up was last week - the Beretta 92. Originally designed in 1972, a version of it is now the official military side arm. A search on the serial number turned up a manufacture date of 1988 for this one, which formally lived with the New Orleans PD. According to the ever useful Wikipedia:
We got along very, very well, even with the large grips.
That was at maybe 15 to 18 yards - I was about 3/4 of the way back on the 25 yard range at 340 Defense for those that know that range.
Then I had to wait a while because the stars weren't aligning for pistol work.
But they matched up today for a short run to the range with the Baretta and another in tow - a Fabrique National (or Browning) Hi-Power. It's wiki entry says it started production in 1935 and:
This one's serial number says it was made in 1989. Not as big as the 92, it's still a substantial pre-polymer gun. I noticed one thing in particular - more muzzle flip than the 92. I need to do more digging, because the stats I find for both guns right now are for current models, but I'd be interested in the weight difference.
And I don't have any pics from today. For one, it was unpleasantly crowded. I suppose people are off for Thanksgiving. I did well to get a target out, let alone run down and get a picture. For the other, ya know the John Denver song that says some days are diamond and some days are rust? Today was rust. There was an impermeable dome over the plate a good deal of the time. I shot the daylights out of an area starting about where you see the tops of my fingers in the first pic all the way around the bottom at about that same hand width. Yeah, I killed the bad guy but yeesh. And because it was crowded I couldn't start closer and work back - I had to shoot the full 25 yards. Ah well, another day. Everybody please go back to work and let me practice in peace. Although I was somewhat entertained by the guys next to me who had some sort of sooper dooper whizbangy laser sight on their pistol. "It's the gun it's the gun the sights are off." Partner takes gun and knocks the plates down one by one. "The sights are not off. I hit dead center every time I shoot it." First guy tries again and doesn't shoot dooky. "It's the gun it's the gun the sights are off."
The verdict right now - I like the 92 a bit better than the the Hi-Power. On these specific examples I like the trigger on the 92 better than the one on the Hi-Power, but I realize triggers are changeable. I liked the 92 well enough that when Someone-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named forwarded me a link for a heckofa price on one I grabbed it. I didn't get more than 30 rounds through the Hi-Power today though. It deserves further contemplation.
And now I have to go back to trusty Google and find out how to strip and clean these guys.
I sold the Glock 19 on because I realized that I was never going to shoot well with it. The grip, the trigger, and my small hands meant that I always felt like I was squishing things around after every shot, trying to get a better grip. Not as bad as the day I was sweating like crazy and my first gun sort of popped out of my hands like I was trying to grab a fish, but once I started shooting other guns I realized that it just didn't feel right.
Anyway. Murphy's Law is not one to not stoke a burgeoning gun addiction, so he's been good enough to lend me some guns to try. Which is good - again, small hands, short arms, need to find right fit, which means handle the gun and stores don't tend to let you take their merchandise out for a trial at the range. So he lent me two 9 mm guns to compare: a Beretta 92 and a Fabrique Nationale/Browning Hi-Power.
First discovery was not so much a discovery so I knew to just keep at it - dadgum slides on unfamiliar guns. It's not just hand strength, but also just getting the feel of how you need to hold and pull in order to rack the slide. And I have at least learned to drop the magazine out if it's fighting back. Seems a simple thing, but each gun is different and I have to work for a bit to find just the right grip and stress point to make it lock back. It made life much easier once I realized I might have to mess around a bit to get the feel of each gun.
First up was last week - the Beretta 92. Originally designed in 1972, a version of it is now the official military side arm. A search on the serial number turned up a manufacture date of 1988 for this one, which formally lived with the New Orleans PD. According to the ever useful Wikipedia:
In the 1970s every branch of the U.S. Armed Forces except the U. S. Air Force carried the .45 ACP M1911 pistol. USAF opted to use .38 special revolvers, which were also carried by some criminal investigation/military police organizations, USAF strategic missile (ICBM) officer crews, and by military flight crew members across all the services when serving in combat zones or when engaged in nuclear weapons duties.
The Department of Defense then decided to synchronize the weapons of all five branches of U.S. forces. The ground combat branches of the services found this decision highly contentious, but was meant to eliminate the need to buy replacements for worn out M1911 frames and to establish a common NATO pistol round to simplify logistics in case of war with the Soviet Union in Europe. In 1979 the Joint Service Small Arms Program began searching for a replacement for the venerable M1911, and the 9×19mm Parabellum round was selected for compliance with the NATO Standardization Agreement(STANAG). In 1980, the Beretta 92S-1 design was chosen over entries from Colt, Smith & Weson, Walther, the Star M28, and various Fabrique Nationale and Heckler & Koch models.It's a real gun. Not polymer - steel. Heavy and very solid feeling. One thing I found interesting is the open slide design:
We got along very, very well, even with the large grips.
That was at maybe 15 to 18 yards - I was about 3/4 of the way back on the 25 yard range at 340 Defense for those that know that range.
Then I had to wait a while because the stars weren't aligning for pistol work.
But they matched up today for a short run to the range with the Baretta and another in tow - a Fabrique National (or Browning) Hi-Power. It's wiki entry says it started production in 1935 and:
The Browning Hi-Power was designed in response to a French military requirement for a new service pistol, the Grand Rendement (French for "High Yield"), or alternatively Grande Puissance (literally "high power"). The French military's requirements were that the arm should be compact, have a capacity of at least 10 rounds, a magazine disconnect device, an external hammer, a positive safety, be robust and simple to disassemble and re-assemble, and be capable of killing a man at 50 meters; this last criterion was seen to demand a caliber of 9 mm or larger, a bullet mass of around 8 grams (123.5 grains), and a muzzle velocity of 350 m/s (1148 ft/s). It was to accomplish all of this at a weight not exceeding 1 kg (2.2 lb).
FN commissioned John Browning to design a new military sidearm conforming to this specification. Browning had previously sold the rights to his successful M1911 U.S. Army automatic pistol to Colt's Patent Firearms, and was therefore forced to design an entirely new pistol while working around the M1911 patents. Browning built two different prototypes for the project in Utah and filed the patent for this pistol in the United States on June 28, 1923, granted on February 22, 1927. One was a simple blowback design, while the other was operated with a locked-breech recoil system. Both prototypes utilized the new staggered magazine design (by designer Dieudonné Saive) to increase capacity without unduly increasing the pistol's grip size or magazine length.Interesting note: "Hi-Power" doesn't mean high power. It refers to the ability to carry more ammo in the magazine.
This one's serial number says it was made in 1989. Not as big as the 92, it's still a substantial pre-polymer gun. I noticed one thing in particular - more muzzle flip than the 92. I need to do more digging, because the stats I find for both guns right now are for current models, but I'd be interested in the weight difference.
92 top, Hi-Power bottom |
The verdict right now - I like the 92 a bit better than the the Hi-Power. On these specific examples I like the trigger on the 92 better than the one on the Hi-Power, but I realize triggers are changeable. I liked the 92 well enough that when Someone-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named forwarded me a link for a heckofa price on one I grabbed it. I didn't get more than 30 rounds through the Hi-Power today though. It deserves further contemplation.
And now I have to go back to trusty Google and find out how to strip and clean these guys.
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Just When You Think...
...it might be OK that we made sure that the French don't have to speak German...
I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure that on December 8, 1941, we didn't give a rat's rear end about any agreement we may have had about Japanese immigration.
I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure that on December 8, 1941, we didn't give a rat's rear end about any agreement we may have had about Japanese immigration.
Monday, November 16, 2015
Sunday, November 15, 2015
Appleseed!
(*Disclaimer - All photos from here on are stolen from the Project Appleseed West Virginia Facebook page. I was way too busy to take photos.)
Some of us local folks were signed up to go last month, but the heavens opened and it bucketed and bucketed and bucketed. We could have fished in the Izzak Walton League pond and shot on the rifle range at the same time. I laid my gear out in preparation, but was not unhappy when the cancellation e-mail came through.
Yesterday was a better. Colder, and blustery, but nothing layering couldn't deal with. Although I lost contact with my nose periodically, depending on what the clouds were doing.
I have rifles. I have shot them. But not with a great deal of knowledge of what I was doing or of the proper hows. As a consequence, I haven't been able to shoot worth dooky. So I needed training.
An aside here. I'm older. Murphy's Law has teased me with the title "Granny Oakley." I kinda like that - I've thought of changing my blog name to that. But I did start this hobby late in life, and because of that, my muscles are new to shooting positions. I didn't realize that regular yoga was a prerequisite for proper rifle form. I'm only sort of kidding. I suspect I'm not the only one of the older participants who is sore and tired today. On the other hand, half the class was under 18, and considerably more flexible. Gumby-girl in the blue and white jacket below is firing while bracing her elbows on the ground instead of on her knees.
It took just one of the position change drills to make it clear that I needed to stay on the ground if I actually wanted time to fire...
Lots of demonstrations -
And personal assistance when needed -
Ironically, this training came the day after the horror of Paris. The completely expected and predictable horror that occurred in a disarmed country whose citizens have placed "diversity" above the lives and well being of of their children. As have many in the US. But there is hope here. This was half the firing line yesterday.
And some of those kids are doggone good.
Friday, November 13, 2015
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
It Was a Perfect Day...
...for reading, reloading, cleaning the bathroom - well, OK, there's NEVER a perfect day for cleaning the bathroom. Grey, rainy, Fallish. So after reading for a while, I moved to the work bench. Only to find that my digital scale has decided that things weigh random numbers and that "zero" means 0.2 or 0.6 or whatever it decides to throw out at any given time. Putting in new batteries didn't fix it. Well, OK, I've got a couple thousand rounds of 9 mm that need to be resized, so I'll do that instead. About a hundred rounds in this happened:
It's a 9 mm shell, but it is royally and truly jammed - I may have to get Murphy's Law to get it out for me because I can't budge it.
I've only got about 100 pistol primers left because I forgot to order more - I wonder what will happen if I turn on the TV and start seating them?
Thursday, November 5, 2015
I'm Terrified
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
And Then...
...Murphy's Law's single action .45 totally humiliated me. The broad side of a barn could have danced by and I wouldn't have been able to hit it.
Monday, November 2, 2015
Yup.
Me and the new repro revolver are going to get along just fine, yes we are.
Hopefully weather will allow for back to range with rifles this week. I did some quick calculations - this range membership is expensive but I've spent enough time there over the last year to save more than $700 over the hourly charge.
Hopefully weather will allow for back to range with rifles this week. I did some quick calculations - this range membership is expensive but I've spent enough time there over the last year to save more than $700 over the hourly charge.
Saturday, October 31, 2015
That Whole Mind - Body Connection
I retired 11 months ago. I never understood those who held on into their 70s because they didn't know what they'd do without their job. I never had a problem visualizing that - work was getting in the way of my real life.
There was a serious background issue with that - by the time I retired I hated my job. Every minute of it. When I started 35 years before, we had been the exact opposite of a stereotypical government office, and it had been an agency that went full bore and merrily in opposition from the moment of its inception in 1807. The mission was our driving force, and we were allowed free reign to accomplish it. Sometimes we flew under the "don't get caught" umbrella, true, but that just drove us on. We solved computer problems that had never been solved before. We built whatever we couldn't buy in order to accomplish the task. We carried equipment up mountains, worked in the middle of the night if that was what was required, cussed computers in the early days of computer processing. We were a family. And we were proud.
And then, somewhere along the way, we started sliding into bureaucracy. We ended up with a director who is not a leader, just a wonk. Who then started surrounding herself with wonks in management positions. And the focus went from the mission to crossed "t"s and dotted "i"s. The director allowed the deputies to treat staff with appalling disrespect. By the time I left, the focus seemd less on the mission, but on attitudes that put into place the requirement that we sign in and out on three separate forms each day - one digital and two paper. Sounds like a small thing, I know. But that reflected an attitude that drove decades of collective institutional memory out the door in about 3 year's time as a lot of us threw up our hands and gave up. We were too old and too aware of the agency's amazing history to put up with its descent into stereotype. We had worked too hard, seen too many great things done. And we tended to be disinclined to be treated like naughty children who could only be contained by threats and verbal smacks.
Anyway. When I left I was miserable and did not let the door hit me in the behind. I had zero regrets about retiring.
The one tie I kept was my bank account at the credit union in the office complex. I've been able to do everything online, so that hasn't been a problem, and it seemed like too much trouble to change everything over to a bank up here. Except I got a check recently that was more than they allow you to deposit through their mobile banking app. So I put together a loop of errands and headed down to the old office in the big city.
The closer I got the worse I felt. I drove the same route, parked in the same garage. Walked the same streets to get there. And by the time I got there I was in a full-blown panic attack. Sweating palms, heart racing, a sense of not getting enough oxygen. I kept telling myself "It's not like they're going to come out and drag you back into the office." But that didn't work. It only took me a total of about 20 minutes between the time I left my SUV and the time I got back to it but by the time I got out of the credit union office I felt like throwing up. It didn't start to get better until I was well on my way back towards home.
Not rational. And a pretty clear indication of what a bad situation can do to you physically even when you aren't aware of how it's working on you. I knew I was unhappy. I said I hated my job and that I had to retire or I'd end up in jail for throwing some bureaucrat out of an 8th floor window. I just didn't realize how truly ferocious my feelings about it were until this week.
There was a serious background issue with that - by the time I retired I hated my job. Every minute of it. When I started 35 years before, we had been the exact opposite of a stereotypical government office, and it had been an agency that went full bore and merrily in opposition from the moment of its inception in 1807. The mission was our driving force, and we were allowed free reign to accomplish it. Sometimes we flew under the "don't get caught" umbrella, true, but that just drove us on. We solved computer problems that had never been solved before. We built whatever we couldn't buy in order to accomplish the task. We carried equipment up mountains, worked in the middle of the night if that was what was required, cussed computers in the early days of computer processing. We were a family. And we were proud.
And then, somewhere along the way, we started sliding into bureaucracy. We ended up with a director who is not a leader, just a wonk. Who then started surrounding herself with wonks in management positions. And the focus went from the mission to crossed "t"s and dotted "i"s. The director allowed the deputies to treat staff with appalling disrespect. By the time I left, the focus seemd less on the mission, but on attitudes that put into place the requirement that we sign in and out on three separate forms each day - one digital and two paper. Sounds like a small thing, I know. But that reflected an attitude that drove decades of collective institutional memory out the door in about 3 year's time as a lot of us threw up our hands and gave up. We were too old and too aware of the agency's amazing history to put up with its descent into stereotype. We had worked too hard, seen too many great things done. And we tended to be disinclined to be treated like naughty children who could only be contained by threats and verbal smacks.
Anyway. When I left I was miserable and did not let the door hit me in the behind. I had zero regrets about retiring.
The one tie I kept was my bank account at the credit union in the office complex. I've been able to do everything online, so that hasn't been a problem, and it seemed like too much trouble to change everything over to a bank up here. Except I got a check recently that was more than they allow you to deposit through their mobile banking app. So I put together a loop of errands and headed down to the old office in the big city.
The closer I got the worse I felt. I drove the same route, parked in the same garage. Walked the same streets to get there. And by the time I got there I was in a full-blown panic attack. Sweating palms, heart racing, a sense of not getting enough oxygen. I kept telling myself "It's not like they're going to come out and drag you back into the office." But that didn't work. It only took me a total of about 20 minutes between the time I left my SUV and the time I got back to it but by the time I got out of the credit union office I felt like throwing up. It didn't start to get better until I was well on my way back towards home.
Not rational. And a pretty clear indication of what a bad situation can do to you physically even when you aren't aware of how it's working on you. I knew I was unhappy. I said I hated my job and that I had to retire or I'd end up in jail for throwing some bureaucrat out of an 8th floor window. I just didn't realize how truly ferocious my feelings about it were until this week.
Friday, October 30, 2015
Finally!
I had hoped I would be able to pick it up in time for the (great fun) blog shoot, but stupid laws kill the immediate gratification buzz. I bought it in Virginia but I live in West Virginia. So it had to be shipped to someone in West Virginia who has an FFL.
An aside on this idiot law: The shop in VA can run exactly the same check as anybody with an FFL makes in any other state. They do so for VA residents. As is the usual with idiot gun laws, the only person this law interferes with is someone who abides by the laws. And it really causes one to think seriously about only buying guns person to person for cash in order to avoid the nuisance factor. It prevents ZERO crimes.
Anyway, there was miscommunication on miscommunication, but I was finally able to pick it up today. And I'll give you 3 guesses as to where I went immediately after.
It's a repro, of course, a Uberti Stallion in .38 Special. Also called a "pocket revolver" - um, no, my pockets ain't that big. Some things to learn - at one point I had to read the instructions to find out how to eject the spent shells. Going have to get used to that one by one load and eject thing as well as learning to pull the hammer waaaay back in order to go into full cock. Shoots nice, though, and it's an interesting feel to compare against my Kahr CW 9.
It's a powerful addiction, isn't it? While out and about today I saw this:
Heh. I won't buy pink, but I do love purple. And it's so darned CUTE. Yeah, I know...
An aside on this idiot law: The shop in VA can run exactly the same check as anybody with an FFL makes in any other state. They do so for VA residents. As is the usual with idiot gun laws, the only person this law interferes with is someone who abides by the laws. And it really causes one to think seriously about only buying guns person to person for cash in order to avoid the nuisance factor. It prevents ZERO crimes.
Anyway, there was miscommunication on miscommunication, but I was finally able to pick it up today. And I'll give you 3 guesses as to where I went immediately after.
It's a repro, of course, a Uberti Stallion in .38 Special. Also called a "pocket revolver" - um, no, my pockets ain't that big. Some things to learn - at one point I had to read the instructions to find out how to eject the spent shells. Going have to get used to that one by one load and eject thing as well as learning to pull the hammer waaaay back in order to go into full cock. Shoots nice, though, and it's an interesting feel to compare against my Kahr CW 9.
It's a powerful addiction, isn't it? While out and about today I saw this:
Heh. I won't buy pink, but I do love purple. And it's so darned CUTE. Yeah, I know...
Friday, October 23, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Glock 19, Gen 3
For sale. I plan on bring it to the blog shoot this Saturday if anyone would like to contemplate buying it or knows someone who might like to buy it.
It has some wear, but I've tried to keep it clean. Which is pretty easy - Glock has made a gun that has few parts and will eat pretty much anything you give it. It will take a licking and keep on ticking...ok, I'm showing my age with that.
I've just finally realized, after working with the single stack 9 of the Kahr, that the grip on the 19 is just too chunky for me. I can't shoot well with it. My hands are too small for the grip. I'm sorta sad about it but it's really not even worth me playing with it for grins and giggles. There are just too many guns out there that fit me better.
It comes with a good Blackhawk carbon fiber holster and a couple magazines. And a some fond memories because it was the second gun I bought and I've learned with it.
It has some wear, but I've tried to keep it clean. Which is pretty easy - Glock has made a gun that has few parts and will eat pretty much anything you give it. It will take a licking and keep on ticking...ok, I'm showing my age with that.
I've just finally realized, after working with the single stack 9 of the Kahr, that the grip on the 19 is just too chunky for me. I can't shoot well with it. My hands are too small for the grip. I'm sorta sad about it but it's really not even worth me playing with it for grins and giggles. There are just too many guns out there that fit me better.
It comes with a good Blackhawk carbon fiber holster and a couple magazines. And a some fond memories because it was the second gun I bought and I've learned with it.
Monday, October 19, 2015
Friday, October 16, 2015
Laugh-Out-Loud Funny
And not. Because there are so many whose heads will be bouncing up and down in agreement and those people breed and vote.
The governor of Virginia has decided to make his state safer by outlawing open carry in government buildings. Yeah, that'll do it - making a potential killer carry concealed instead of open will stop a mass killing in its tracks.
The governor of Virginia has decided to make his state safer by outlawing open carry in government buildings. Yeah, that'll do it - making a potential killer carry concealed instead of open will stop a mass killing in its tracks.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Happy Birthday to Me
Well, OK, today isn't my birthday. But the mortgage company was balancing its escrow books and lo and behold I have been paying too much and they sent me a check for the overpay. And although I can't indulge completely, I can indulge a little bit. Guns are like potato chips. And pets. You can't have just one. And I don't have nearly enough. So...
.38 sp from Taylors and Co. down in VA. A Ubertti. Was hoping to get a .38/.357 but the bigger frame for that causes me to have to reach awkwardly in order to cock each time, which in turn causes me to shift the gun each time. Since it's a single shot - nah. It's a grins and giggles gun. It doesn't have to put plate-sized holes in zombies.
And because I bought it in VA, I couldn't walk out with it. Has to be transferred to an FFL up here. Sigh. Puts a damper on the whole instant gratification thing.
.38 sp from Taylors and Co. down in VA. A Ubertti. Was hoping to get a .38/.357 but the bigger frame for that causes me to have to reach awkwardly in order to cock each time, which in turn causes me to shift the gun each time. Since it's a single shot - nah. It's a grins and giggles gun. It doesn't have to put plate-sized holes in zombies.
And because I bought it in VA, I couldn't walk out with it. Has to be transferred to an FFL up here. Sigh. Puts a damper on the whole instant gratification thing.
Monday, October 5, 2015
Monday, September 28, 2015
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Well, I'm Dumber Than That
One of my ideas for our family reunion is to get us out on the web so that we can share memories, photos, and information and to provide something for folks doing genealogy to ping off of. Maybe even inspire cousins, kissin' or otherwise, to join us. Although there are free sites that even provide some tools to build a standard web site, it seemed the quickest way for a non-web person like me would be through Facebook. So I got myself one of these.
Turns out that I'm even dumber than the folks this book was written for. Sigh. So I've been sort of just stumbling around. First discovery - Facebook doesn't allow for the posting of documents. Oh, great. You can get around it by posting IMAGES of documents, but one of the things I wanted to provide was resources that were searchable. Double sigh. Oh, well, plodding on.
And of course I wanted to give out the URL at the Reunion but the site isn't yet eligible for a "vanity", or shortened, address. So I had to print out this: https://www.facebook.com/Whetsell-Felton-Reunion-The-Face-of-the-Past-the-Present-and-the-Future-1627633847507692/timeline/ .
But at least a few cousins have found me.
Turns out that I'm even dumber than the folks this book was written for. Sigh. So I've been sort of just stumbling around. First discovery - Facebook doesn't allow for the posting of documents. Oh, great. You can get around it by posting IMAGES of documents, but one of the things I wanted to provide was resources that were searchable. Double sigh. Oh, well, plodding on.
And of course I wanted to give out the URL at the Reunion but the site isn't yet eligible for a "vanity", or shortened, address. So I had to print out this: https://www.facebook.com/Whetsell-Felton-Reunion-The-Face-of-the-Past-the-Present-and-the-Future-1627633847507692/timeline/ .
But at least a few cousins have found me.
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