Fishing.

As you might guess, I had a great time on this recent fishing trip to Canada. It's an annual trip that I take to fish and visit with my cousin Bob, who lives in Pennsylvania. He's become a great friend in the last decade or so. Beyond that, he's one of a few very close friends that I'm lucky to have now that act sort of like older siblings to me, helping me figure out a few things about growing up and trying to be a better man. I always wanted someone like that in my life growing up but never had it. Somebody to show me how everything works and giver me a clue now and then about what's cool or really important in life. Now as I get older I'm lucky enough to have a few big brothers out there, and it's a hoot, I wanna tell ya. You know who you are, and you know I love ya.

Anyway, this annual trip to Gananoque was interrupted last year when the college I work for moved the schedule around and shifted my days off between semesters to a point where I couldn't make the trip. I was sooooo pissed off, but there was nothing I could do about it. What made it worse was that after a few uneventful trips where I didn't catch many fish, 2006 was my year. I tore the ass out of that lake, catching more fish than anyone else, and catching the biggest pike and bass I'd ever caught in my life. It was glorious! When I called Bob to tell him that I wasn't going to be able to come I told him that it was probably a good thing, since now he and the others would have a chance to catch some fish. So, going back this year was gonna be fun, but it was also gonna be my chance to see if the good time I'd had in 2006 was about luck or skill.

It turns out I must know what I'm doin', because I had just as much fun this time, and caught the biggest Pike I've ever caught, as well as the biggest Bass I've ever caught. The overall number of fish caught by everyone was probably down from previous years. Other fishermen in other groups also voiced the feeling we had, that the number of big fish was down from previous years. We were all catching lots of smaller Pike, but the Large Mouth Bass were everywhere.

In earlier years the big Bass were always along the shore, guarding the little fry from the pan fish. All you had to do was toss a little plastic worm over there and you could catch one lunker after another. If the locals saw you doing it they'd hit the roof, since you were fishing for bass out of season, but the temptation to see those fuckers jump and wiggle at the end of your line was too much for us to resist.

After a few trips where we pretty openly caught as many bass as we wanted, we've begun to try to respect the rules. At the same time, the authorities have gotten a bit prickly about the whole issue. Jim, Bob's buddy, told us that as you leave Canada the cops stop trucks that are pulling boats and ask to see the pictures in your digital camera. Every shot of a big bass left on the camera costs you a $200 fine! The idea is that we all catch them without meaning to, but if you pull it out of the water and take a picture of it it's a fine. So needless to say, we didn't get any shots of any of the nice Bass we caught on this trip.

Also, the challenge of catching a nice sized Pike has overcome the fun of easily hooking a huge bass. That will never get old, but there's nothing like hooking a huge Pike and fighting it in to the boat. The challenge is much greater, and the bravado from success is much greater. By now we've all caught big bass up there, but bringing in a huge Pike is still something we'll all sit around the dinner table and want to relive, again and again.

I was lucky to bring in a nice fish right at the beginning of the trip in 2006, right on the first evening of fishing. It turned out my luck was the same this year. Here on the right is a shot of my big '06 pike. They get a hell of a lot bigger than this, but none of us have ever seen one like that. So this was big for us.

I always joke with Bob that his fish always look bigger in these pictures because he's such a runt (He's a tough, ex-Penn State football player and almost as big as I am). I tell him that my fish always look smaller because they have me behind them.

Anyway, here's my '08 Pike, in Bob's hands.

The reason why he's holding it and not me is funny. I was actually jiggin' for Crappie, tryin' to get another big one that we could fillet and fry for dinner when I hooked this fat dude. I was usin' a soft plastic blue/green twisty tailed worm, tossin' it into the water just beside the boat and movin' it up and down in about 12 feet of water. This dude zipped out from under the boat and took that worm right in front of my eyes. I said something like "Oh shit!" and set the hook. I told Bib I had one and began to reel it in, trying not to pull the hook loose in the process.

I pulled it up to the boat and Bob reached down into the water to get it. We didn't have a net so he had to grab it by hand, trying to avoid both the hooks from the lure and the sharp teeth in the fishes mouth (they're like Barracudas or Gar, with lots of sharp little teeth). When he pulled it up I told him to hold on and let me get a picture, but he said "No, you hold it!" I insisted on getting this shot, then put the camera down and reached out for the fish. Just then it wiggled out of Bob's grip and up and over the side of the boat and back into the water, never to be seen again. I said something like "SEE why I wanted to get that shot?", and we laughed and he congratulated me on the catch. You can see it was a fat, heavy one, in comparison to '06. It's probably a female, full of babies. It turned out to be the biggest Pike caught and boated on the trip. "Boated" is the key there.

On about the third day, Jim (Bob's buddy and a regular on these trips) and I were fishing on his boat when he hooked a monster Pike. He got it to the boat and we were both amazed at the size of the thing. I grabbed the camera as he tried to get ready to reach down and grab it by the gills.

Just as I took this picture the fish shook itself out of the water, popped the lure out of it's mouth and disappeared under the waves, never to be seen again. It was a huge bummer, but that's fishing for ya. The ones that get away...


Most of the pike we caught on this years trip were about the size of this one, caught by Jim on the same day he hooked that monster. Even these little ones will give you a decent fight, so it's all good fun.

Bob's son-in-law Scott even caught one that was so small, he joked about it being smaller than the lure he used to catch it.

You can see the lure du jure there on the boat deck. We found that the Pike and Bass were drawn to different shades of yellow, green or orange, mirroring the colors of their major food source, pan fish.

Here's my set of weapons, layin' conveniently in the top of one of Bob's tackle boxes (since I fly up there I just use Bob's gear - he has a lot, so it's no big deal). You can see the blueish part of the blue/green worm I used to catch that Pike there on the bottom right.

The rattle trap hangin' there, second from left, is the one I used to ketch my big bass. We were fishing a line of weeds in a cove on the second morning, Saturday morning, when I hooked it. Every once and a while we'd screw with one another by casting our lines toward one another's boats. There's nothing like getting a strike right in front of the other guys boat, taking a fish away from them. It's all in good fun.

Anyway, I did that in this case, casting my line down wind towards Bob and Jim and then reeling it back up the weed line. When it got about 1/3rd of the way back I felt the big tug, and within' moments we all saw the big baby leap up out of the water, the way Bass are prone to do. It was obvious this was a big one, but my initial response was one of disappointment. "Shit, another Bass!". Then, getting it to the side of the boat and getting a close look at it, I realized that it was bigger than any other I'd ever caught. It was at least 20 inches long, and fat! I thought later that I should have taken my phone out on the boat and taken pictures of it with that, sending the pictures to my email address and then erasing them from my phone. What the hell. There'll be another one next year.

It was Saturday evening when my time came to really shine. We went out after dinner (a thick steak, baked beans and my last Yuengling in a chilled glass) and bob chimed in with a wager. The first Pike landed in the boat didn't have to clean up and do dishes. That sort of wagering is a common feature of these fishing trips. The first evening, Wednesday evening, I'd won a similar bet, first fish of any kind landed in the boat, by rigging up a little worm on a small hook and bringing in a palm sized Rock Bass in about 30 seconds. I was done fishing for little ones by Saturday though and wanted to get a few more pike before the trip ended.

If you go back up to that picture of my lures you'll see the pretty green and orange dude with black stripes in the front center. That was my weapon of choice Saturday evening. I just kept tossin' it out there like a machine. Sure enough, each of the other three guys went back to the pier empty handed, but I landed three and got a fourth to the boat before it got off the hook. It was great! What made it all even better was the fact that Jim and I had gone to the store in town the night before and it was all the lures that I'd purchased that turned out to be the best ones that day. I guess I do know a thing or two.

Anyway, eventually I'll have these shots and many more posted over at the FlickR site so you can scroll through them. I'll post something later this week about some of the other critters, besides fish, that we encountered on the trip. We'll talk about all that later. Cheers.

I'm BAAAAAACK!

I flew into town Sunday at about 6:15, pooped and ready to get back to work. It's nice when your vacation tires you out to the point where goin' back to work sounds like a good thing. I'm tryin' to get the pictures fixed so I can post them. I may be able to get that done some time today. I came back to find that Denise had cleaned and vacuumed my car (which she'd been drivin' while I was away - hers is in the shop), filled the gas tank, vacuumed and cleaned the house, cleaned and scrubbed the stains out of my carpet and cooked me a fabulous dinner. I tell ya, I'm a lucky bastard!

I also came home to find my email all hosed up. Goin' away for a week meant that my mail box filled up and started kickin' peoples emails back as undeliverable. When I tried to get in and empty it the system wouldn't accept my password. Couldn't friggin' believe it! So I had to call Earthlink Monday and get them to fix it. Turns out they'd canceled my password due to some security thing. Still not really sure what the hell that was all about. Pain in the ass!

Everything is back on line now and I'm steadily goin' through all my emails (like 350 of them!). Turns out I got some really cool news last week. My gunsmith has finally finished my AKS-74! He'll be in Dallas this weekend at the gun show so I'll be able to pick that puppy up. Denise and I are goin' 'up there to attend a cool party at an old friends new place. So now I have multiple things to look forward to this weekend! Woooohoooo!

Another email came in from an old student and good friend of mine. It's hilarious, so I thought you might enjoy it too. Here goes.

The Buffalo Theory.

I don't think I've ever heard the concept explained any better than this .

Well you see, Norm, it's like this . . . A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo. And when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members.

In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Now, as we know, excessive intake of alcohol kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine. And that, Norm, is why you always feel smarter after a few beers.

Love the hell out of that.

Anyway, I'll probably be back on here this evening with fishing trip pictures, so chill out and we'll talk later. Cheers.

Watch out folks.

The Knights and Dragons have headed out on that road trip to the big city, and workers at a chain of budget hotels are being given advice on how to deal with naked sleepwalkers.

It follows an increase in the number of guests found wandering around in the night with no clothes on. A study by Travelodge found there had been more than 400 cases in the past year, almost all involving men. Sleep experts blame stress, alcohol abuse (Dark beer abuse?) and lack of sleep for the disorder. The research, conducted in 310 Travelodge hotels, found sleepwalkers (Streetwalkers?) wandered all over the building. A number had walked into the reception area asking for a newspaper or saying they wanted to check out (like walking up to the cute little night shift receptionist and saying "Check this out?" or asking "Where's your hard drive?"). Travelodge said it was sending notes to its staff on how to deal with the problem.

The advice includes keeping a supply of towels in reception to help preserve a guest's dignity. Chris Idzikowski, an expert at the Edinburgh Sleep Centre, said: "These figures are a surprise. "Sleepwalking is most likely within an hour or two of going to bed, when first slipping into a deep sleep. "Part of the brain switches into autopilot and can manage well-learned movements such as walking, bending or sitting." He added: "Sleepwalkers will awake quite unable to recall any of their actions." The study also found one in 10 sleepwalkers had injured themselves on their travels.

Yea, like getting "it" caught in the elevator door while you're "sleepwalking" down to the computer room to check for comments.

Funnies, while I'm away.

The Woods - Part Five.

I almost forgot to tell you about my one huge sports achievement, which also took place in Missouri. It's not a woodsy thing, but what the hell. One day, out at recess, I became the unofficial Tetherball champ of the school. Cool eh? What the hell, you ask? Not a football or baseball story? Nope, Tetherball!

You guys ever play Tetherball? You've got a long iron pole comin' up out of the ground with a rope attached to the top of it. At the other end of the rope is a yellow leather ball. the object is to hit the ball and keep hittin' it till the rope wraps around the top of the pole. You've got an opponent on the other side that's tryin' to do the same thing you're doin', tryin' to get the ball away from you and wrap it around the other way. Whoever wraps the rope first wins. That was one time when bein' freakishly tall turned out to be an advantage. The other was on the monkey bars, but that's another story.

You wouldn't think it but it really took great timing to be good at that game. The trick was to time your hits and angle them up so the opponent couldn't reach the ball to bat it down. I found that after a while I was really good at it. The competitions out at recess usually came down to this one really athletic girl and me, facing off against one another. Lots of kids would line up to play but it would always come down to the two of us, and you never knew which one of us would win.

It was fun as hell, and easy to get so focused on the game that you didn't notice what else was going on around you. That's probably how nether of us noticed one day when the huge, scary PE coach walked up to us and began talkin' about how he could beat us all. He was such a prick!

He was probably in his 30s then, and looking back I can see that he really wasn't such a bad guy. He was just a grownup with power over us, who seemed then to have a special love for scarin' little kids. He had a HUGE paddle that he used to keep us all in line. The friggin' thing was like a cricket mallet, with holes drilled into it. We were all scared to death of him and that friggin' thing. I think I only saw him use it once, but that was enough. Kept my ass in line, but then my nature has always been to stay away from trouble anyway.

So he walked up to us one sunny day, I think it was in the fall or early spring, with us in the middle of a game. He stepped into the path of the ball, stoppin' everything and started sayin' how he could beat us all. It was probably some sort of attempt on his part to motivate us or somethin'. Somehow, I'm not really sure how, he and I ended up in a match. Everyone on the playground gathered around us and wanted to watch. It was my moment, but I don't think I was aware of that then.

As I said, my height had always been an advantage, but now that went away. This guy towered over me, so it was gonna be my skill with the ball that won the match. Sure enough, I managed to angle the ball up and hit it fast enough that he couldn't get a good hit on it and start knockin' it back the other way. I have this vivid memory of the rope and ball wrappin' around the very top of the pole and all the kids cheerin' me. It was glorious, for a moment, and then recess ended and we all went back to class. "All glory is fleeting", someone used to say.

Oh, the monkey bars thing? Well, they had these exercise bars out in the field, just beyond the paved playground. At some point a game evolved where the other kids would get up on the horizontal ladder part of the thing and I'd try to jump up and grab hold of them. I'd get a running start and try to surprise them as to who I was gonna grab. I guess we turned my being freakishly tall into a game. I'm sittin' here now wonderin' why someone didn't show me how to dunk a basketball at that age, but whatever.

I remember it being a huge amount of fun. I'd jump up and grab hold of a bar and pull myself up further while they dodged my reach, giggling the whole time. When we weren't playing that game we were using those bars for what I assume was their intended purpose.

We'd climb the few ladder rungs on there side and swing, hand over hand, till we reached the other side. Of course, being bigger than anyone else (accept that coach), I made it my thing to reach farther than anyone else, skipping a few rungs between hand holds and making it across faster than anyone else. Again, it was between me and that other athletic girl, as far as who could skip more rungs. At some point she came up with another game that I was initially too scared to try. She'd get up on a horizontal bar, hang upside down by her knees, and start swingin' back and forth.

At some point she'd swing completely free of the bar, flip over, kick her legs out and land on her feet. It used to blow my mind watchin' her do that. She started to show the other kids how to do it, standin' next to them as they swung and holdin' their hand as they took their first flips. I was too big and heavy to clear the ground in the flip and never got the hang of it. The bar was too low. Hell, she was probably in some gymnastics class out of school and learned it there. Anyway, it was cool as hell to watch. I never could quite get it though, but had fun tryin'.

We spend so much time out on those bars that I developed huge calluses on my palms from all the swingin'. This was WAY before I was usin' those palms for any other, more sensitive, secret activities, or even thinkin' about that stuff. That was at least a few years off.

One day, while I was swingin' from one rung to the other out there at recess, the callus on my right palm came completely off. It just hung there, floppin' around and freakin' everyone out. It was like a huge blister had pealed away and the skin just hung there. For whatever reason I don't remember bein' too freaked out myself, and I don't remember it hurting too much ether. I just went to the nurse and she wrapped my hand in a bandage. I walked home after school and everyone who saw it freaked out, but it wasn't a big deal. It seems now that it healed very quickly and I was back to my old monkey bars in no time.

Well, I hope you're gettin' some sort of fun from readin' this stuff. If not, fuck it! I'm enjoyin' the tellin', and the further remembering that comes from the tellin', so you may have to put up with a little more of it for a while. Anyway, cheers.

Funnies, while I'm away.

Dinner and a concert...

Or, how we spent our Sunday evening in Austin and Bee Caves.



This is all that's left of what's called the Del Mar plate down at Pappasito's, after about ten minutes of my piranha-like ass chowin' down. It's a hot, sizzlin' plate of chicken and beef fajitas for two, with all the fixin's, and four of those lovely brochette shrimp tossed in for the pure sin of it. You can see one left there, cowering next to that little bowl of butter and white wine sauce. He's not long for this world! OK, we were hungry and in a hurry so I forgot to get the "before" shot. You'll have to settle for the "after' shot. Believe me, it was gooooood!



We got to the venue, The Backyard, in Be Caves, west of Austin, and got in there at 6:30.



It was a Lone Star for me, for patriotic reasons, and a 7&7 for Denise. Most of $20 shot. Damn!



The fun folks were out and about, but not anything like you'd see at a festival type concert. There was no cloud of Patchouli to be avoided, though I did recognize a certain familiar concert odor once or twice. Old folks are still blazin' up I guess.



The place is nice, with plenty of spots to eat and drink inside the venue, and lots of cool old oaks to provide shade.



Joe Cocker came out and was wonderful.



I tell ya, he can still belt out those tunes. His voice is still amazing, and his band was great.



The main act was Steve miller. He came out at about 9PM and started playin' all the familiar hits from the 70s. Then he teased us, tellin' us he had a few guests that were gonna come out in a while. Soon enough, Erick Johnson and Jimmy Vaughn came walkin' out and plugged in.



This was a huge surprise, but maybe it shouldn't have been. You know these guys grew up, like I did, lovin' Millers sound. And they're both local boys.



They played with Miller for about 45 minutes, doin' lots of old blues numbers like "Smokestack Lighnin'" and "Crossroads". Then they left and Miller finished the next hour or so with the rest of his great hits. In the end, the final encore was "Space Cowboy". Loved it!



During the gig Miller made reference to about 45 tracks he'd just recorded, old blues numbers, with Led Zeppelin's old arranger. That might be a cool set of tunes to look for.

Funnies, while I'm away.

The boys have a new toy to test out in the desart.

It's called the Combat Tactical Vehicle Technology Demonstrator.



Reminds me of some of the stuff the Germans Had 60 or 70 years ago. Back to the drawing board I guess.

Goin' fishin' this week.

I finished a semester today and I've got a week off before the next gig gets rollin'. So I'm flyin' up to Syracuse New York and spendin' the night at a hotel. Then my Cousin Bob, the guy in the head lock there, will drive by with his son-in-law and another buddy and pick me up on the way up to Gananoque, up in Ontario, Canada.



Of course, it's not as easy as all that. I'm leavin' out of Killeen at about noon tomorrow but I don't arrive in Syracuse till 11:30 PM. Turns out I have a six hour layover in Atlanta! Any Ideas out there about how I should kill some of that time? Right now I plan to bet most of a book read that I've been nibblin' at for weeks.

I'll get to Syracuse late and check into a hotel there on the main highway going through town. Then my cousin and his buds will zip by Wednesday morning and pick me up. We'll be fishing on the lake within' about four hours of that.

We've fished up there annually for several years now, staying at Griffin's Lakeside Cottages and Lodges. We've fished there enough now we feel like we know where most of the fish are and usually have a huge time catchin' 'em.

I couldn't go last year due to a scheduling problem. The college changed around the dates when a semester ended and another started, meaning I wasn't gonna to be off on the dates we'd set up at the end of the '06 trip, a year in advance. I was SOOOO pissed I couldn't go, but in the end I told Bob that it was probably a good thing. This way the other guys would get a chance to catch some fish.

The joke there was a good one, because after not catchin' many fish for several years, 2006 was my year. The other guys were stunned. It seemed like every time I threw a hook in the water I was snaggin' a decent sized Bass or Pike. It was glorious. A wonderful time. I'm hoping, expecting my good fortune to continue this week. It's skill, after all, not luck!

Anyway, we'll fish Wednesday to Saturday and then get up early Sunday for the drive back. They'll drop me off along the way at the airport in Syracuse and I should be back home by about 6:30PM. No layovers on that stretch.

I'll have some cool pictures to post, no doubt, and good stories to tell. You guys take care and enjoy the stuff I have set up to automatically post themselves as the week progresses (love that new feature). There's another woodsy post comin' up, but it's not really about the woods. Fun though, anyway.

Dinner at Johnny Corrino's Friday.

This is gonna be a quick one. We went down to Florence to see my third set of Seniors graduate Friday night. It was fun. One girl's brother showed up. He was in my first set of Seniors in '06. Now he's a sub sailor based out of Georgia. Very proud of him. It was good to see him. After that Denise and I headed further south on 195 to I35 and ate dinner at Johnny Corrino's in Roundrock.



I had the Skilletini, which is Chicken, Italian sausage and shrimp grilled in a skillet with garlic, onions and bell peppers, and then mixed with spaghetti noodles.



Wonderful. You guys need to try this. Seriously!



Denise had the Timbala, which was very similar to the Skilletini, only a lot less spicy. No shrimp ether.



After that we shared a slice of New York Cheesecake. Mmmmm, Mmm, Mmm!

Gotta go. We're drivin' down to Pappasito's in Austin and then to Bee Caves to see Joe Cocker and Steve Miller. Later. Cheers.

Momma I'm skeeeeerd!

Looked at this the first time and said "OK", and then I saw those eyes glowing back at me. Almost soiled my armor!

Another Friday, and another busy weekend planned.

It's Friday again' and I've got AC, $3463.34 later! OUCH, and yet Uraaaaa! And it's payday... Uraaaaa!

Damn, that was a pissy week, not that I didn't enjoy spending time at Denise's place, but there's no place like home. The cat's didn't know what the hell was up, and we were missin' them too. "D" kept thinkin' she was feelin' one of them jumpin' up in bed with us. I do that too sometimes. Weird what the mind does to ya.

I had a great pool night Wednesday night. I got there at about 9:30, after giving finals at school, and sat around for about an hour sippin' a cold mug and puffin' on a Puck. I've gotten to where I really enjoy the time spent shooting the shit and fucking with my friends there, and in this case, talkin' to the leader of the other team. He's a cool old dude, Vietnam Vet, long time car mechanic and muscle car guy. His son, a Navy vet, is also on their team. They're both great players and it's always fun to watch them take on the better players on our team.

We've talked during matches before and always hit it off, having a lot of feelings in common about politics and stuff. We see each other out there every week and he's always wavin' me over to tell me about the latest emails he's gotten. He's always tellin' me "You need to give me your email", so I finally did. Now we can trade all the wild stuff I get for the stuff he gets. At one point he asked me if nudity bothered me! I laughed out loud and said that if we were gonna go there then I had some damn good sources for smut and he'd be surprised. You guys know who you are.
Anyway, after about an hour my turn to play came along. One of the team leaders, who'd just finished a winning set, handed me the cue he was using (belonging to another good player) and told me too go ahead and use it. After starting out lousy and gettin' pissed off at myself (I hadn't played in a few weeks) I ended up winning two strait and finishing early.

At one point towards the end of the second game my opponent left me in a sticky spot. My last ball was stuck between the 8 ball and a corner pocket, leaving me without a direct shot and the cue ball on the far opposite end of the table. I called time and one of the team leaders came over and pointed out a shot that I'd already seen in my head. I'd be banking the cue ball off the other side of the corner pocket and knocking it into the pocket on the other side of the table.

He pointed to the place on the table that I needed to hit and stepped away. I took aim (I'm usually good at long shots) and hit it perfectly, banking if off the side into my ball and knocking my last ball into the corner pocket on the opposite side of the table. Both teams were silent for a second and then the whole place went up in hoots of stunned amazement. I had to stand there a minute and get over the shock myself. Couldn't believe I'd pulled it off.

After a few missed shots on both our parts I sank the 8 ball and the game and match was over in what seemed like no time. I sat around for a while to talk to the other team (the father and son) and they started to talk me into buying my own stick. I always use the ones they have there at the pool hall, figuring I'm not really good enough to go out and get my own. I'd feel like a fool carrying it around. Like I'm tryin' to show people I'm better than I really am.

I see some folks with what looks like a golf bag over their shoulder, filled with several sticks. They look like idiots to me, tryin' to show everyone else how professional they are by draggin' around a huge case at the meets. How many friggin' sticks do you need anyway? But these folks said that if I got my own stick and used it all the time, getting used to the weight and feel of it, my game would actually improve. What they said made sense to me. They do have some cool ones out there. Pretty, with nice wood grain. We'll see.

Anyway, today is gonna be fun too. First I'm gonna give my last Finals of the semester this afternoon (you know how I love makin' 'em sweat), then I'm gonna go down to Florence to put the finishing touches on the grades there and sign off on them. Then I'll head East from there to Salado and get a haircut from my cousin Peggy. It's early for me, but I've gotten to where I like havin' it short enough that when the wind blows through the car window I'm not left lookin' like I've got a swoop. And, it'll be nice to see her again and find out what her husband though of the job we did on Granddad's shotgun.

In the evening, Denise and I are gonna go back down to Florence to watch my Seniors graduate. Class of 2008. I've had those little brats in my classes for two years now. It's always fun to see them take that step off into the real world. I'm always tempted to grab one or two from the line and say something like "Weeeeell, playtime is over you little bastard. Now ya gotta go get a job!"

Then "D" and I are gonna head a little further South and eat dinner at Johnny Corrino's in Roundrock, North of Austin. Then we'll head back up to Temple and have a short visit with mom. She had some dental work done yesterday and is still a bit woozy from the drugs, so the regular Friday dinner was called off. Next Friday I'll be gone, fishing with my cousin Bob up in Canada (more on that later), so we'll have to make up for it in a few weeks.

Saturday is gonna be filled with chores, like getting the yard work finished from last weekend, but Sunday is gonna be fun. We've got tickets waiting at the Will Call window to see Joe Cocker and Steve Miller at The Backyard, in Bee Caves, Southwest of Austin off highway 71. It should be a good concert. Before that, as we head through Austin, we'll stop at Pappasito's for dinner. Those Brochette Shrimp have been callin' my name for LONG TIME. I will consume them with gusto, along with a few chilled beverages, and then we'll head to the gig, where drinks are served from bars inside the venue. It'll be a few big, fat, cold cans of Lone Star, just for the hell of it. God, I sound like a lush.

Anyway, you guys try to have a good weekend and we'll talk about the fishing and stuff later. Cheers.

The rest of Sunday (not much rest, it turned out).

After the shooting stopped in Gatesville, Dave and I went into town to get a late lunch. We went to a local BBQ joint and had sandwiches and shared a big basket of onion rings. Mmmmm, good.

They called that a "Family Basket", but we both wondered how ether of us could get enough if any other family members had been there. It was a perfect portion for the two of us though. He had a chipped BBQ beef sandwich and I had BBQ ham. Good stuff. The free refills on the drinks were appreciated, after bein' out in the heat for a few hours.



After that little feast I drove back down south to Killeen, to Denise's place (you remember my AC is on the fritz). She'd been spending her Sunday afternoon going over to my place to see after my cats, doin' some house work and sitting out in her back yard, sunning herself. I tell ya, these Brits are weird when it comes to the sun. I guess they don't get much of it over there.

When her family was visiting here last summer they spent a huge amount of time layin' out, tryin' to get as roasted as they could in a week. When I asked them about it they asked me "Didn't I ever sunbathe?" I said something like "Hell no! 'Round here we get all the sun we need just walkin' to the car and back". Anyway, I got to Denise's place and found out there may be another reason our forefathers used to call her forefathers "Lobsters".



Lord above!

I was soon put to work on some chores that had gone unattended for a while. I replaced a few broken boards in her side fence that some kids had kicked in, and then I got my gas trimmer goin' and finished about half her front yard before the string ran out. That put me blissfully out of the trimmin' business until after the holiday. That's when I went in to clean up and take a shower and found her just about to turn my last Honey Lager into a Lager Shandy. You've seen the shower post, right? If not, scroll down.

Anyway, after gettin' all fresh and showered I started to get dressed to take us out to dinner. I told Denise I'd just put the same pants on I'd worn up to Gatesville but she said "No, I went over to your house and got you some new clothes." I was happy to hear that, till we both realized she'd forgotten to pick me up any fresh undies. We laughed about it, and then I rejected her idea of wearin' the old stinky pair and told her I was just gonna go without."Commando!", I believe it's called. I wouldn't have remembered what to call it if ol' Mushy hadn't taken that plunge a week or so ago.

So we headed off to a Temple to see Mom, go to the movies and go to BJs for dinner, with my boys enjoying more freedom than they've had to swing around in public than I can ever personally remember. Kind of a liberating experience really. I may have to do it more often.

We dropped my to see mom, whose been feelin' bad ever since she got back from Oklahoma. I think she picked up a bug on the trip. She assured us that she was takin' pills for it and would see a doctor if it didn't get better (since then it has). Then we were off to the mall to see "Indiana Jones". I thought it started out very cool, but that the coolness wore off about mid way through and it became silly and stupid. LOVE the idea that the new fascist villains were Russians. It's worth seein'. Enjoy, but don't laugh out loud at the sword fight or the swinging through the trees. Jesus!

We headed over to the restaurant after the flick and had about a 35 minute wait. Not unusual for that place. It's popular and there's not a hell of a lot else around there that people haven't been to a million times. When we got to our table we started out, as usual, with the appetizers. We've gotten into a rut there, always getting the same things. But hell, when you find what you like, why not enjoy it? Life is short.

My favorite appetizer is the Santa Fe Spring rolls (you've seen these before)... "Crispy spring rolls filled with tender chicken, black beans, fire-roasted red peppers, cilantro, sweet corn, jalapeños and Monterey jack cheese. Served with our Santa Fe dressing and avocado cream sauce, then garnished with green onions, fresh red peppers and red cabbage." Very good, particularly when you ask for Honey Mustard to dip them in, though the avocado cream sauce is pretty good too.

Denise is fond of the Tater Skins... "Shredded jack and cheddar cheeses melted over lightly fried potato skins, topped with applewood-smoked bacon bits, served with sour cream dip and topped with green onions". I like them too, so I usually end up gettin' a few bites. They're particularly good with the sour cream sauce that comes with them, but you know anything tastes better dipped in honey mustard.

For dinner, Denise went for the Cuban Burger, which she'd had once before. She and mom had ordered these the last time we brought mom to this place a few weeks ago. It's a beef, ham and cheese burger with slices of pickle in there and these huge seasoned wedge fries. It's a great little burger, but it must be a local thing because they don't list it on their website. At least I can't find it there.

I chose something different, as has been my habit since we started going to this place. I fully intend to make my way through most of the menu before I ever try something for a second time. This time around I chose the Scampi Pasta... "Flavorful, succulent shrimp tossed with delicate angel hair pasta in a light blend of olive oil, butter, garlic, lemon juice and Roma tomatoes. Topped with Parmesan cheese, seasoned bread crumbs and parsley." Mmm, mmm, mmm! It's not as good as the Jambalaya that I had last time, but I'd order it again.

As for drinks, I had a few Harvest Hefeweizens with a slice of orange (I always have to ask for it), and Denise had a Shandy made from a Piranha Pale Ale and a glass of Sierra Mist. I know, eeew! She wanted to have the Brewhouse Blonde, but they were out of it. Shocking! She won't go for the Pale Ale again. I'm not fond of it ether.

It was all wonderful. After that we headed over to have another visit with mom, who's been feeling puny lately. Some kind of bug. She busted out the Chateau Monet and we all had a little after dinner tipple. Then we headed back to Killeen. I discovered on the drive home one of the unexpected advantages of the whole "commando" thing. Somehow that drive just didn't seem to last as long as it usually does.

We stopped at my place for a while, to see about the cats and get some supplies (her cupboard was BARE), and then we headed back to Denise's place. It was about 86 degrees in the house at about 11:30 at night! I sure will be glad when that gets fixed.

Anyway, that was Sunday. Monday turned into the proverbial lost weekend, all in one day. Lazy, lazy, lazy.

Well, that was my weekend. The next one looks like it's gonna be fun. I'll tell ya about that later. You guys take care. Cheers.

Shooting up in Gatesville again.

I went up to Gatesville Sunday afternoon to do some shooting with my buddy Dave Waters.



I took my new M-1 carbine and my Tokarev, SVT-40, and enough ammo to do some decent damage. That's my gear bag there, with some other refreshments on hand. The last time I came up here to shoot my carbine I got about 3 shots out of it before the hospital called me to tell me my daddy had died. I was looking forward to erasing that memory and getting some serious shooting done.

Dave was planning to shoot his new Garand. When he ordered mine through the CMP and it turned out to be such a beautiful specimen, he decided to order himself another one, just in case.

It turns out his new one isn't as pristine as mine, but I think he still got a great rifle. I like all the dents and marks in the wood. They give the weapon a history. Mine looks like it was taken right off the factory line and stored away, never shot or anything. That's cool, and I love the fact that it's so clean, but I also appreciate the history that this wear and tear represents.

Since I was gonna be shooting 7.62X54, Dave decided to pull out his Mosin-Nagant, which he says he got in trade for something else a long while back.

Dave's range is a very nice place to shoot. He regularly hosts gatherings of friends out there, including his reenactor buddies, who blast away at these metal targets with their muskets.

You can see all the dents they've managed to make over the years, as well as a few holes made in them by folks like me with more modern rounds.



One of the coolest things about this place is the collection old mysterious grave sites just up the hill from the range (picture on te right). I went up there with Dave this time and took some pictures of those graves and posted them over at FlickR. Click on over there and check them out. I think you'll agree, they're pretty interesting.



Dave took a turn shooting my Tokarev. It's one of my favorite toys. Kicks like a mule, shooting the big 7.62X54 round that was standard Russian fare till the smaller stuff took over after the "Great Patriotic War".



I tell ya, it was hot and sweaty "work" out there. I made the mistake of taking off the hat for a while to more easily wear the ear protection and paid for it with salty sweat in the eyes. Not good. So I put the hat back on and kept it on the rest of the day, decidin' not to care how goofy, or maybe how much MORE goofy it made me look.



Dave later busted out his Nagant and we both took turns with it. That thing also kicks like a mule.



Then it was time to try out the new Garand. You can see in this little soundless video how much Dave gets shoved around by this rifle.



Then it was my turn. You folks who know what this is all about can add the "ting" sound yourself, after the second shot. Then Dave walks over to me, not realizin' the thing was still on.



Then Dave surprised me and pulled out this Walther P-38 from one of his kit bags. I didn't know he'd brought it. I'd never shot one, so it was a special treat to get to throw some 9mm rounds down the way.



We were aimin' for that small round metal target in the picture above. We both managed to hit it a few times, but he's much more proficient at all this stuff than I am. I must say though, I do make this stuff look good. Eh???

Later on I'll tell you what happened after the shootin', and I'll show you all the good food we ate. Now, don't get all sweaty thinkin' about it. Chill. I'll see ya later.

OK, does this mean I have a drinking problem?

Yep, I took one into the shower Saturday evening, just before we went out to eat. I know, it doesn't look good...



But wait. I had a good reason! I found some really good stuff, and it was in danger. Seriously. Dire peril!



It's called Michelob Honey Lager. Wonderful stuff! Seriously, see if you can find it. They only sell it in 6-packs here so far and they don't stock much, so I'm assuming it's new.

Anyway, I was down to one bottle, and Denise was gonna pour 7-UP into it! I ask you, what the hell is a man to do? I grabbed this little jewel away from her and took it into the shower as I washed off the accumulated grime from a day of shooting and trimming weeds (more on the shooting later). It turns out, when you're in the shower, cooling off, sudsing up and hosing down all the nooks and cranny's, what's better to sip than "the pause that refreshes"? It was goood! When I went out today to restock the local grocer was all out, so I went to a grocer down the highway and found three 6-packs. That should last the rest of the week, barring an excess of 7-UP in the vicinity. Sheeeesh!