Yeah I know...right?

I bet you are hungry.
(talking to the cat while she does her sexy kitty feed me roll on the kitchen floor)
I fed you your horrendously expensive canned cat food when I got home just like every other day.
I even gave you a tiny bit of milk on a saucer.
In short order, you horked it all up over there by the front door.
Don't look at me like I don't know what I'm talking about. I got to clean it up because Belle's gag reflex tends to exacerbate things.

The kitchen is closed.

watching the sprinkler

You know it's been a long and yet unproductive week when you find watching the sprinkler in the front yard meditative and comforting.

.

World War Z

Another behind the curve book review. Well, not much of a review actually. This is completely analysis free.
I picked it up in an airport bookstore last week.  I got done with my meetings early-ish and had a 7:30pm flight.  I read half the book while cooling my heels in the airport.  I really like the survivor interview format of the book. I read another 1/4 of it this evening and find I haz a sad because I'm almost done with it.
I give it two thumbs up.
I did see a movie trailer for World War Z the other day and the Sonnage and I will be going to see it in an actual movie theater. I'm looking forward to that.  I rarely do movies in a bonified movin piture theater.
The only thing that gives me pause about the trailer was the zombies were moving rather fast (think cheetah) in the trailer, which they did not do in the book. So I have my fingers crossed that Hole-e-wood hasn't totally screwed up another good story.

DOH!

Left a Ruger Sr9c mag in the inside pouch of my travel bag.
TSA found it for me.
Fortunately it was empty.
That went better than I had anticipated.
Mag is in the mail headed home, I'm on my way to Nashville.

What did you want to be when you grew up?

As a little kid, I wanted to be a hermit or a mountain man like Jeremiah Johnson. When I was a teenager, I wanted to be an auto mechanic. My mother was having none of that, so you can guess how that went.
I used to be an Architect. Technically I am still.  What I am, and what I actually do are two completely separate things.  Now I go to meetings about architecture, write agendas and meeting minutes, write and respond to email, oy gevault the email, ride in planes and taxi cabs, have the life force sucked out of me in conference rooms and hotel rooms, and spend my life waiting in airports. Glamorous, no?

I hate my commute on the few days I'm actually home, yet find myself wanting to move further out* to some acreage with a double wide surrounded by a massive wood deck and trellis over head.
Some place I can take my 9mm out back and pop off a few rounds, or even throw a few clay pigeons.

My inner hermit calls to me. As busy as I've been my whole working life, I always considered it a myth, but I think my midlife crisis might have finally arrived.




*I think I may need a much, much faster car, considering the longer commute..and while I'm at it, a really big earth fucking truck too, considering I'll be "farther out".
No, wait, a Star Trek transporter mounted in the front of my earth fucking truck so I can transport the dipshits in front of me behind me in rush hour traffic.  I apologize in advance for melding your Prius with the Chevy Volt that was between us moments ago. I'm still trying to get the hang of this transporter thingy.

Full circle

The lovely Belle and I met some 15 years ago, at work.
When we got engaged and later married, she moved on to other employment. There's a back story to that, too long, too irritating and mundane to go into now.
Belle got laid off from her most recent accounting job a few weeks back.
Yesterday was her first day back with us at the firm.  The prohibition against the employment of spouses has mitigated over the years. ( actually it retired with the "head" secretary / busybody some years ago.)
She's working with our spec writer and just happy as a clam to be back. Our spec writer is highly relieved to have the backup.  After a few temps with really bad work ethics and the concomitant attitude she was ready to pull her hair out.

I got to work before Belle this morning. I happened to walk past her desk later and winked at her when she looked up.
She blushed.

Brings back some fond memories of the illicit office romance so many years ago.

A (not so) friendly note to the 2nd Amendment Foundation

Particularly to the telemarketer named "Travis" that squeezed one last call in juuust before 9pm.
Travis, I was actually in bed wanting nothing more than to attempt to recover from a horrible work week earning money so I have the wherewithal to support just short of half the country with my tax dollars  and still have something to donate to the 2A foundation.
Asking me to get out of bed, and get my credit card did not sit that well with me.  In particular, when I declined, your comment that, "well, I wouldn't want you to over exert yourself", frankly pissed me off.

Travis, go fuck yourself.

And to the 2A Foundation:  You guys need to screen your callers better. A pushy dickhead on the other end of my phone line does not particularly motivate me to open my wallet.  Particularly when they insult me personally.

The Zen of Driving Traffic

"Zen" might a bit of a stretch.  Try this; repeat after me, "oooMMMM, oooMMM". No? Not working?
The Big Guy captures most of the thoughts that pass through my mind on my daily commute.
Except for one.

Years ago, I was at a red light with a lady in and SUV in front of me in the right lane.  A semi was in the middle lane to our left. 80,000 lb. blind spot.
I'm running late and fuming,  "If you hadn't been such a slow poke, I could be making my right on the red at least, and might make it back from lunch on time".
The light turns green and the semi shifts into granny gear and gets one revolution out of the wheels, to my left.  SUV lady starts to go and hits the brakes hard.   WTF?!  IT DOESN'T GET ANY GREENER!
 A garbage truck blew through the red light coming from left to right well above the speed limit, completely blocked from view by the Semi, clearing SUV lady's front bumper by a foot or so.
I don't know how she felt, but I think I had an out of body experience.

Occasionally, my brain offers some sage commentary, "If you had been first in line, you'd be dead you impatient* moron."

When I get frustrated with traffic and other drivers, a faint little voice in my head reminds me, "there might be a reason for your delay."**



*The word my brain actually used began with an F and ended in "ing".
** I'm no longer in such a rush that I feel compelled to be the first to arrive at the scene of my own fiery death.
Being crushed and / or punted half a block I also don't find so appealing.
Now I just leave one red light earlier.

Raining Squirrels

 It threatened rain most of the past week and nary a drop. I kept holding off watering the yard all week thinking we'd get a little rain at least.  Yesterday I set the sprinkler and watered for hours. The ground was so dry it just kept soaking it up. It worked for Bluesun, so I thought I'd give it a try.  Today it rained most of the day.  Buckets of rain in the early morning hours.  I wonder what would happen if I watered both the front and back yards?

The three adolescent squirrels from the nest in the oak tree out front thought the sprinkler was great fun.  So did three from the neighbor's tree across the street.  Hey! let's play in the sprinkler!  Three more showed up from somewhere else close by.  Nine squirrels in one tree is apparently critical mass. The little buggers got very territorial all of the sudden. Squirrels in the tree, squirrels on the ground, squirrels in the wheel wells of the cars, squirrels under the cars. They spent most of the day chasing each other every which way, with occasional raids to the tree across the street, making little squirrel grunting noises most of the time. Most amusing.* Not as good as a litter of kittens, but I've no particular obligation to the squirrels, and I like it that way.

The BAR rules of cohabitation for urban wildlife are simple:
You are welcome to the oak tree.
As long as you stay out of my attic, I will not shoot you.

Belle kept commenting yesterday that maybe she'd get a squirrel feeder.
Uhm, no; and further more no.  One squirrel family in the oak tree is plenty.  We don't need a projek tree full of welfare squirrels.

Besides, someone has to clean up the gazillion acorns the oak dropped. The squirrels are earning their keep and full of squirrely self esteem and dignity.  Why would you want to take that away from them?


*Ever seen a squirrel get a water drop in its ear?  Little effer just about kicked his own ass out the tree head first trying to scratch it out.

DAB III AAR

Pretty sparklies.  I almost don't want to shoot them.

Photo Credit - Duh*

First off, thanks to Bob for hosting this event at his private gun club.  Man that place is awesome.
We had a really great time at Dallas Area Blogshoot III.  Only three fifths of the BAR clan originally intending on going made it.  Belle and Bootsie both caught some type of crud and went down for the count.
So it was yours truly, Sonnage and Duh* representing BAR at the shoot.
While my childrens haven't become avid shooters, I'm pleased that when invited they are always game for a bit of shooty goodness.
We spent more time shooting pistols than anything else.

We brought a few hand toys with us.  The most "amusing" was the Taurus .44 mag revolver Sonnage brought with him.
It has a very light frame.  Shooting cowboy action loads out of it was not so bad.  The recoil from the  "real" loads was horrific.





On to the pics:
Duh tries out Belle's Glock 26                                     Sonnage shoots the XDm

Those two are so calm, cool and collected handling firearms, I had to ask if they were having a good time.  A positive response brought a smile to my face.

It wasn't all business at the range though.
Wait, what? What are you doing back there child?

 

Range rules prohibited The Redneck Engineer's .50 cal party favor, but Bob brought party balloons.

                 
     

Those buggers just won't sit still in the wind and let you shoot them.  We had a little game of "one shot"  to see who could pop the most balloons with a handgun.
Srsly? I missed? stoopid wind.

The Redneck Engineer brought a 9mm carbine with him.  I didn't mention this to him, but prior to the Great Ammo Shortage of '13 I'd periodically been shopping for a 9mm carbine.  This one had a red dot site on it too! I've never shot a red dot sight in real life. Man that was cool!  That's your's truly shooting at steel targets.
The sight was having some issues.  TRE said he thought the battery was about to crap out.  It was off by one full steel target to the left. So I just adjusted and aimed one steel target to the right. Plink. Plink. Plink.
The far right target was the more challenging to hit, as I had to eyeball the offset.









I learned that while my son had been taught to shoot a rifle by his Grandfather, my daughter had never shot a rifle  before.  Our gracious host acquiesced to my request to provide a bit of tutelage to Duh in the fundamentals of rifle shooting.


Ugh.  I was trying to get a good pic of Bob S. and Duh stepped right in the way.
Duh shoots one of Bob's .22 LR rifles.













Later, My son and I brought out the .22 LR Ithaca saddle gun to do some plinking at steel targets.
That little rifle is older than he is, by quite a bit. I think I bought that when I was 18 just because I thought it was cool.  I had no real idea at the age of 18 as to what I was going to do with it.
This might be the 4th or 5th time it's actually had rounds run through it.
Now I know.  It was so my future son and I could flatten lead on steel disks....some day.

Belle's Tokorev didn't make the trip.  Someone, ahem, didn't maintain her rifle properly after the last time it was shot.  In a word, RUST.  Rust in bad places. Shame. Shame. Shame.  If she doesn't do better, I'm taking possession of said rifle.
Having a plethora of 7.62 x 54R ammo, I brought that to cycle through Bob's Mosins.
I brought way more than I was willing to shoot.

Not shown in the photo are the bayonets on most of those Mosin Nagants.  I found those pointy sticky things to be a bit intimidating.  They were long enough to protrude through the back side of my rather portly figure.

I shot one of Bob's Mosins twice.  I have an exquisite sore spot lingering on my right shoulder as I type this post.
When you shoot a Mosin Nagant, you know you've shot a RIFLE.













In parting, I'll leave you with a video of my reaction to shooting "real" .44 mag loads out of a very light framed revolver.

*  When my grand daughter was learning to talk, she couldn't say "Amanda" and referred to my daughter as "duh".  That moniker stuck for quite a while, but has faded into disuse as the grand child grew and could handle three syllable words.  I'm still kind of fond of the nickname though. It is completely inaccurate nick however.  Duh is not duh.