Mondays. Made of fail, they are.
Starts with The Wifey coming into the bedroom at 0530 to tell me that her car won't start. I told her to take my truck (read: let me go back to sleep at all costs). It took getting jumped off by my buddy, who luckily was dropping his kid off at a daycare that's near my neighborhood.
Then, on the way in to drop it off at the dealer to get it fixed, my service writer tells me that they're short-handed today, and couldn't get to it until tomorrow. I grumbled, but went along anyway. What else was I gonna do?
Icing on the Failcake? Right after lunch, and with absolutely no warning signs whatsoever, the motherboard on my company laptop completely took a shit. Thing runs great, and dies right there. Kaput.
*sigh*
Is it Tuesday yet?
tweaker
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Glowing Coals and Burning Animal Flesh
I love grilling. I really do. For a lot of reasons, actually. I will list them now, because I didn't put together a post on my shiny new (to me) Tundra, or a really good restaurant I ate at recently. So this will have to do for now.
-I love the idea of cooking over an open flame. I have both a gas grill ('...propane, and propane accessories...') and a 22" charcoal kettle (lump charcoal only. No briquettes for me, thankyouverymuch). Don't ask which is my favorite; I love them equally. The gas is more or less ready right now, but I can smoke mo betta with the coal pit.
-I love grilled food. It always tastes good provided you don't burn the living shit out of it. Red meat, white meat, seafood, vegetables; it matters not. A skillet will not add flavor. An oven will not add flavor. A grill will most certainly add flavor.
-I love to eat dead animals. It just so happens that grilling is just about the easiest way (for me) to transform the dead animal into food. A little seasoning and some pounding with Thor's Kitchen Hammer, and I can have a boneless, skinless chicken breast ready to go with damn-near anything.
-It is another excuse to open-carry outdoors. I'm not a dick about open-carry. Srsly, I'm not. But I also don't cover my firearm when I'm on my own property. My neighbors know me and know I carry, and I live in a neighborhood with four police officers and at least one sheriff's deputy, so I'm really not worried about some high-speed, low-drag rookie spear-tackling me because I'm mowing my lawn with a pistol on my hip. Course, my grills are in my backyard, so it's a non-issue, but I do feel a degree of liberation when I OC outside my house. It's like walking around naked. Just the feeling of open air on my, uhhhh... pistol?
-My kid is glued to me when I grill. It's one of the few times when she just wants to hang out and be there. She chills out - because she knows the grill is FIRE and that's not something to get wound up around - in her chair and relaxes. And she also tells me that my steaks are the best steaks EVAR. What guy wouldn't like that kind of ego-maintenance?
-It's one of the few reasons I like to be outside. I don't know what happened to me as I got older, but I really prefer to be indoors doing indoor things these days. That's a stark contrast from my childhood, when I had to be threatened with a horrible screaming death (h/t Tam) before I would come inside. I'm starting to prefer outdoor shooting ranges, too. It's weird.
There's probably a few more reasons, but these are the ones that really stand out to me.
Oh, so last night it was the USDA Prime Top Sirloin (holy SHIT that was a good steak, BTW) on the gas grill. Tonight was indirect-grilled skirt steak for fajitas, and for added yum I pan-seared some marinated shrimp for that last taco. I eated pretty good this weekend!
Sadly, as much as I would like to grill those seasoned chicken leg quarters I got yesterday, the weather-dude calls for some serious rain, accompanied by some serious cold and damn-serious wind for the next two days, so I'll be working out dinner somehow in the kitchen for a couple days. Oh, well. I've got something to look forward to.
tweaker
-I love the idea of cooking over an open flame. I have both a gas grill ('...propane, and propane accessories...') and a 22" charcoal kettle (lump charcoal only. No briquettes for me, thankyouverymuch). Don't ask which is my favorite; I love them equally. The gas is more or less ready right now, but I can smoke mo betta with the coal pit.
-I love grilled food. It always tastes good provided you don't burn the living shit out of it. Red meat, white meat, seafood, vegetables; it matters not. A skillet will not add flavor. An oven will not add flavor. A grill will most certainly add flavor.
-I love to eat dead animals. It just so happens that grilling is just about the easiest way (for me) to transform the dead animal into food. A little seasoning and some pounding with Thor's Kitchen Hammer, and I can have a boneless, skinless chicken breast ready to go with damn-near anything.
-It is another excuse to open-carry outdoors. I'm not a dick about open-carry. Srsly, I'm not. But I also don't cover my firearm when I'm on my own property. My neighbors know me and know I carry, and I live in a neighborhood with four police officers and at least one sheriff's deputy, so I'm really not worried about some high-speed, low-drag rookie spear-tackling me because I'm mowing my lawn with a pistol on my hip. Course, my grills are in my backyard, so it's a non-issue, but I do feel a degree of liberation when I OC outside my house. It's like walking around naked. Just the feeling of open air on my, uhhhh... pistol?
-My kid is glued to me when I grill. It's one of the few times when she just wants to hang out and be there. She chills out - because she knows the grill is FIRE and that's not something to get wound up around - in her chair and relaxes. And she also tells me that my steaks are the best steaks EVAR. What guy wouldn't like that kind of ego-maintenance?
-It's one of the few reasons I like to be outside. I don't know what happened to me as I got older, but I really prefer to be indoors doing indoor things these days. That's a stark contrast from my childhood, when I had to be threatened with a horrible screaming death (h/t Tam) before I would come inside. I'm starting to prefer outdoor shooting ranges, too. It's weird.
There's probably a few more reasons, but these are the ones that really stand out to me.
Oh, so last night it was the USDA Prime Top Sirloin (holy SHIT that was a good steak, BTW) on the gas grill. Tonight was indirect-grilled skirt steak for fajitas, and for added yum I pan-seared some marinated shrimp for that last taco. I eated pretty good this weekend!
Sadly, as much as I would like to grill those seasoned chicken leg quarters I got yesterday, the weather-dude calls for some serious rain, accompanied by some serious cold and damn-serious wind for the next two days, so I'll be working out dinner somehow in the kitchen for a couple days. Oh, well. I've got something to look forward to.
tweaker
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Shooting Stuff
So, on a total whim The Wifey asks me this morning if the range is open today. I told her that I was sure it was, so we set about the task of getting things ready. She'd already procured a babysitter (Grandma and Grandpa) for the entire afternoon. Rock.
Primary duty was to get 200 rounds through what's soon to be The Little Girl's pink Crickett rifle. We both needed to run our carry guns, so 200 rounds of 9mm came along for my Px4 and her Baby Eagle. We brought the two Mossbergs (my 12ga and her 20ga Bantam that she hadn't fired yet) and plenty of shells.
We arrived at a busy range - it is Saturday, after all - and decided to do the .22 first. Bummer, though, that even rimfire rifles are no longer allowed on the 25-yard section of the pistol range ever since they covered the pistol range. So off to the 50-yard rifle tables we went.
I took the first twenty or so rounds, and then attempted a handoff to The Wifey, who promptly turned me down. She apparently had no interest in shooting that (or any other) rifle. I told her that if she was going to be involved in The Little Girl shooting it then she was gonna have to shoot it, too. She hesistated, but she did it anyway. It's a pain in the ass for an adult to shoot that little thing (especially my big ass), but after a few rounds something happened. I could see it written all over her face. She was enjoying herself. We only had about 150 rounds, and I wasn't about to attempt to stop at Bass Pro Shops on the way, so we did 150.
She shot over half.
After that, we made our way to the pistol range. I started to set up on a 7-yard lane, but there were these four Thugs (tats, baggy clothes, one of 'em even had a Tec-9. Srsly) crowding up, so we moved to the 25-yard mark. We actually enjoyed that pretty good, and The Wifey had a significant boost in confidence since all her shots were on the paper. Of her 100 rounds, I did 15. She probably had 60-70 inside the 7-ring, with the remaining fliers still hitting paper. She loved it.
I, of course, one-holed each and every one of my 80 shots (she did 20) through the Px4. Dead in the middle of the bulls-eye. You believe me, right? Hello? *tap-tap* Is this thing on?
Actually, my groups were tight, but most of them were 1-3 inches left of the bulls-eye. It was frustrating, too, because I couldn't seem to correct. I needs mo practice.
Then we went to the shotguns. I did the first five shells on her 20ga. That thing is definitely made for little folks. The length of pull was waaaaay to short for me, and it was killing my shoulder to shoot it. I then went over the operations of a pump gun one last time and stood by while she loaded. I told her everything I could think of. I made no bones about the recoil, which I thought was pretty damn hard for a 20ga. Turns out I was right, judging by how her mouth was agape from the pain in her shoulder. I tried to make sure she had the butt of the gun in the right spot on her shoulder, but to be honest at that point I did not know. She did two more rounds and put it down.
I did a couple more sets of five and went back to see if I could get her on the line again. She had little interest, but one of the guys that worked there asked if she'd tried shooting from the hip. I figured maybe it'd get her used to the recoil and thus help her figure out how to manage it, so we did. Unfortunately, I failed to mention that that particular technique requires a pretty tight grip on the shooting hand, and when she pulled the trigger the gun scooted back and the Mossberg safety scraped up her thumb. She was done.
And all because she had a lousy teacher. I felt horrible. Still do.
I finished off the second box of 25, and moved to my 12ga, which needed some shells through it. It was New To Me, so I knew it was proven, I just wanted to make sure. I also wanted to put some 00-buckshot through it since I'd never done that before. It didn't take me too long, and I knew The Wifey had had enough, so I decided to call it a day.
*sigh*
On the way home, she told me that she was done with shotguns - at least for now - but not to worry about it. She fell head-over-heels in love with the rifle shooting. She had a lot of fun and a huge boost of confidence on the pistol range, but the rifle shooting really piqued her interest. Now we're in the market for a bolt-action .22. I'm thinking one of these is in order. We'll see.
All said, it really was a good range day. A novice pistol shooter got some confidence, a new rifle shooter was born, and an extremely rookie teacher learned that being wrong can hurt.
Then we came home, bought a USDA Prime Sirloin, and I grilled it.
Today was a good day.
tweaker
Primary duty was to get 200 rounds through what's soon to be The Little Girl's pink Crickett rifle. We both needed to run our carry guns, so 200 rounds of 9mm came along for my Px4 and her Baby Eagle. We brought the two Mossbergs (my 12ga and her 20ga Bantam that she hadn't fired yet) and plenty of shells.
We arrived at a busy range - it is Saturday, after all - and decided to do the .22 first. Bummer, though, that even rimfire rifles are no longer allowed on the 25-yard section of the pistol range ever since they covered the pistol range. So off to the 50-yard rifle tables we went.
I took the first twenty or so rounds, and then attempted a handoff to The Wifey, who promptly turned me down. She apparently had no interest in shooting that (or any other) rifle. I told her that if she was going to be involved in The Little Girl shooting it then she was gonna have to shoot it, too. She hesistated, but she did it anyway. It's a pain in the ass for an adult to shoot that little thing (especially my big ass), but after a few rounds something happened. I could see it written all over her face. She was enjoying herself. We only had about 150 rounds, and I wasn't about to attempt to stop at Bass Pro Shops on the way, so we did 150.
She shot over half.
After that, we made our way to the pistol range. I started to set up on a 7-yard lane, but there were these four Thugs (tats, baggy clothes, one of 'em even had a Tec-9. Srsly) crowding up, so we moved to the 25-yard mark. We actually enjoyed that pretty good, and The Wifey had a significant boost in confidence since all her shots were on the paper. Of her 100 rounds, I did 15. She probably had 60-70 inside the 7-ring, with the remaining fliers still hitting paper. She loved it.
I, of course, one-holed each and every one of my 80 shots (she did 20) through the Px4. Dead in the middle of the bulls-eye. You believe me, right? Hello? *tap-tap* Is this thing on?
Actually, my groups were tight, but most of them were 1-3 inches left of the bulls-eye. It was frustrating, too, because I couldn't seem to correct. I needs mo practice.
Then we went to the shotguns. I did the first five shells on her 20ga. That thing is definitely made for little folks. The length of pull was waaaaay to short for me, and it was killing my shoulder to shoot it. I then went over the operations of a pump gun one last time and stood by while she loaded. I told her everything I could think of. I made no bones about the recoil, which I thought was pretty damn hard for a 20ga. Turns out I was right, judging by how her mouth was agape from the pain in her shoulder. I tried to make sure she had the butt of the gun in the right spot on her shoulder, but to be honest at that point I did not know. She did two more rounds and put it down.
I did a couple more sets of five and went back to see if I could get her on the line again. She had little interest, but one of the guys that worked there asked if she'd tried shooting from the hip. I figured maybe it'd get her used to the recoil and thus help her figure out how to manage it, so we did. Unfortunately, I failed to mention that that particular technique requires a pretty tight grip on the shooting hand, and when she pulled the trigger the gun scooted back and the Mossberg safety scraped up her thumb. She was done.
And all because she had a lousy teacher. I felt horrible. Still do.
I finished off the second box of 25, and moved to my 12ga, which needed some shells through it. It was New To Me, so I knew it was proven, I just wanted to make sure. I also wanted to put some 00-buckshot through it since I'd never done that before. It didn't take me too long, and I knew The Wifey had had enough, so I decided to call it a day.
*sigh*
On the way home, she told me that she was done with shotguns - at least for now - but not to worry about it. She fell head-over-heels in love with the rifle shooting. She had a lot of fun and a huge boost of confidence on the pistol range, but the rifle shooting really piqued her interest. Now we're in the market for a bolt-action .22. I'm thinking one of these is in order. We'll see.
All said, it really was a good range day. A novice pistol shooter got some confidence, a new rifle shooter was born, and an extremely rookie teacher learned that being wrong can hurt.
Then we came home, bought a USDA Prime Sirloin, and I grilled it.
Today was a good day.
tweaker
Friday, November 27, 2009
Venturing Into Mordor
No, I'm not going to California (no offense, Dirtcrashr;) or Walley World.
I've got to go into San Antonio today. I ordered The Wifey's big Christmas Present online, but it was significantly cheaper to pick it up locally than it would have been to have it shipped. I ordered said gift last Sunday night, when the store was already closed. Work has been insane all week long (up through Wednesday), so I couldn't go then.
Stores are closed on Thanksgiving.
That leaves today. Black-damn-Friday...
...and on that note, some funny. With language.
tweaker
I've got to go into San Antonio today. I ordered The Wifey's big Christmas Present online, but it was significantly cheaper to pick it up locally than it would have been to have it shipped. I ordered said gift last Sunday night, when the store was already closed. Work has been insane all week long (up through Wednesday), so I couldn't go then.
Stores are closed on Thanksgiving.
That leaves today. Black-damn-Friday...
...and on that note, some funny. With language.
tweaker
Thursday, November 26, 2009
November Delta*
*ND, as in Negligent Discharge. I was scrolling through the Gunblogs and was prompted to post after reading this one over at Miss X's place. It was the following statement that really did me in:
You will have a negligent discharge some day. Col. Cooper went to a lot of trouble figure out how to limit the damage. Please pay attention.
The Four Rules are holy. Learn them. Respect them. Know them. Any new shooters that I take out learn all about them, and I don't (deliberately) shoot with anyone who doesn't know them.
Miss X has put it in terms similar to the one rule all motorcyclists face. There are two types of riders: those who have laid a bike down, and those who will. I suppose she's right. I would like to think not; after all, I keep my finger off the trigger of my friggin Dewalt cordless tools until I'm ready to pull it, and if I'm walking with one it's always pointed down (always a safe direction with a DRILL, mind you). I'm worse with guns. My 6-year old can recited the Four Rules and even explain each one. She'd better, or she gets no gun for Christmas.
But, I suppose Miss X is right. I've ND'ed, too, sad as I am to admit it. And it couldn't have been with a .22 target pistol or something. No, it was with a snubbie .357 Smith in an indoor range. Surprise! A few years ago my brother and I were shooting .38 and .357 from his Model 60(?). I first shot .38, and it was very easy to shoot. I then loaded a cylinder full of 158 gr. JHP (it's what we got for Christmas) and took what would be my first shot with a Magnum caliber. The muzzle flash was impressive, the flames that shot out from the cylinder gap were much larger, and the sound that echoed through that indoor range stopped every shooter on the line. You couldn't have removed the smile from my face with a belt sander. However...
If my first shot was transcendental, it was my second shot that slammed my spirit right back into reality. See, I don't own revolvers, so I do not know revolvers. I didn't know how to learn to appreciate the Smith and Wesson double-action trigger. What I knew was Boom Equals KICKASS!, and I wanted that again. So I went for Round Two by reaching my right thumb back for the hammer to set a single-action shot, all the while my right forefinger happily in the trigger guard. I'd say it wasn't on the trigger, but it didn't matter much. To set that hammer all the way back, you kinda have to squeeze right as it sets on the sear. Kinda squeeze + finger in trigger guard = Earth-Shattering KaBOOM!
I ignored Rules 1 (all guns are always loaded) and 3 (keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot), and let slip 158 grains of Magnum destruction. The very outer edge of that paper target will never be the same; more importantly, neither will I. I broke the rules and had an ND in the best imaginable circumstances, and because I held the muzzle downrange - as opposed to kicking it up towards the ceiling like so many tend to - the bullet went to the end of the range and into a pile of shredded tires, just like they're supposed to.
I have no bullet wounds. I have no person's lost life on my conscience. No holes in my walls, either. But I negligently let a round slip, and I'll never forget it. I got off easy. Don't assume you will. Learn the Four Rules of Guns Safety, and obey them!
tweaker
You will have a negligent discharge some day. Col. Cooper went to a lot of trouble figure out how to limit the damage. Please pay attention.
The Four Rules are holy. Learn them. Respect them. Know them. Any new shooters that I take out learn all about them, and I don't (deliberately) shoot with anyone who doesn't know them.
Miss X has put it in terms similar to the one rule all motorcyclists face. There are two types of riders: those who have laid a bike down, and those who will. I suppose she's right. I would like to think not; after all, I keep my finger off the trigger of my friggin Dewalt cordless tools until I'm ready to pull it, and if I'm walking with one it's always pointed down (always a safe direction with a DRILL, mind you). I'm worse with guns. My 6-year old can recited the Four Rules and even explain each one. She'd better, or she gets no gun for Christmas.
But, I suppose Miss X is right. I've ND'ed, too, sad as I am to admit it. And it couldn't have been with a .22 target pistol or something. No, it was with a snubbie .357 Smith in an indoor range. Surprise! A few years ago my brother and I were shooting .38 and .357 from his Model 60(?). I first shot .38, and it was very easy to shoot. I then loaded a cylinder full of 158 gr. JHP (it's what we got for Christmas) and took what would be my first shot with a Magnum caliber. The muzzle flash was impressive, the flames that shot out from the cylinder gap were much larger, and the sound that echoed through that indoor range stopped every shooter on the line. You couldn't have removed the smile from my face with a belt sander. However...
If my first shot was transcendental, it was my second shot that slammed my spirit right back into reality. See, I don't own revolvers, so I do not know revolvers. I didn't know how to learn to appreciate the Smith and Wesson double-action trigger. What I knew was Boom Equals KICKASS!, and I wanted that again. So I went for Round Two by reaching my right thumb back for the hammer to set a single-action shot, all the while my right forefinger happily in the trigger guard. I'd say it wasn't on the trigger, but it didn't matter much. To set that hammer all the way back, you kinda have to squeeze right as it sets on the sear. Kinda squeeze + finger in trigger guard = Earth-Shattering KaBOOM!
I ignored Rules 1 (all guns are always loaded) and 3 (keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot), and let slip 158 grains of Magnum destruction. The very outer edge of that paper target will never be the same; more importantly, neither will I. I broke the rules and had an ND in the best imaginable circumstances, and because I held the muzzle downrange - as opposed to kicking it up towards the ceiling like so many tend to - the bullet went to the end of the range and into a pile of shredded tires, just like they're supposed to.
I have no bullet wounds. I have no person's lost life on my conscience. No holes in my walls, either. But I negligently let a round slip, and I'll never forget it. I got off easy. Don't assume you will. Learn the Four Rules of Guns Safety, and obey them!
tweaker
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