There we were on the road to the range, dodging cows, coyotes, and flying things.
T was back from Front Sight and had lots to show me. I shot 300 hundred+ rounds through the new Walther P22 military. Don't know why it is labeled military, other than possibly the color scheme. Great fun to shoot, and a heck of a lot less expensive than the Sig. Now I'm looking for a deal on mags.
Put another couple hundred through the little Sig, before T said to put them away. I had been shooting for nearly five hours straight.
I made an appointment for a European facial, on the recommendation of a friend. It's only been 40 years since I had this luxury done. Boy Howdy, have things changed. While she was letting the facial mask work she gave me a shoulders, arms and hands massage... Oh My God, Heaven! I hadn't realized how sore my hands and shoulders were from all the brush whacking and shooting. I'm saving up to go again, hopefully it won't be quite so long.
My cousins sent me a pic of our Grampa (my dad's dad) with his non typical blacktail buck. My brother has the mount and had it scored and ranked in Boone and Crockett.
Dad says Grampa was the best rifle shot and fly fisherman he has ever known. I mostly remember his beautiful Irish tenor voice singing lullabies, his reading the Sunday papers to us little heathens, and that there was always fresh trout for breakfast when he was in camp.
|Grampa & his beloved Willys truck|