Sore...

As I slowly crawled out of bed this early AM I pondered the wisdom of weed whacking a quarter acre of grass yesterday. Started on that little project Friday and promptly fried the motor on the little ol electric trimmer. Off to HD to get a decent gas one, a new gas can, and extra trimmer line. Kalif oversight nanny state people obviously think I can't dismantle the stupid spout on the new gas cans. Hah! Put the new trimmer together, gassed it up, fired it up, and away I went. Did I mention this is on a fairly steep bank, and there are rocks!  I was wearing a pair of jeans, long sleeve shirt, shooting safety glasses, and a pair of ear plugs. I'm pushing up against seventy and this isn't my first rodeo! The new neighbor across the street came and offered me a pair of safety glasses, I thanked him for his concern, and said I was already wearing safety glasses. He got the funniest look on his face, and I realized I was shouting about shoot'n glasses to the poor man, because of the ear plugs. Then the neighbor next door came over to check on my progress. He said I was doing a great job, and would I whack a path through the field so he could walk his lab without worrying about rattlers. I told him he was going to have to wait til they dozed the fire lines... Geez!

Since he was talk'n rattlers, I asked him how the rattler aversion class went with his two young labs.  Seems there is a young guy in town that will come to your house, with live (mouth taped) rattlers, and teach your dog to be averse to messing with them. He started the business as a way to earn some extra money while in college, having no idea how soon it would develop into a full time business.  He charges $100 an hour, has almost no overhead, and is in high demand.   Good going young man.

My first scotty (Katie) was a rattler kill'n machine. She wouldn't bother any other snakes, but she was certain death to rattlers. She would circle them until she felt the moment was right, grab'm and pop'm til they were well and truly dead. Then she would drop them and walk away.

 

The Hooey sticker

Thanks to Fredd, the pickup has a name, "Hank". Fredd will be receiving a personally autographed (run over) by "Hank" memento... (just needs a little more cure time).

Range pie

Thanks to all of you who made suggestions, I appreciate your taking the time to do so!

It will be fine...

This week sorta got away from me, none of the chores got done til today. All the normal stuff was put on hold cause the rain let up for a day, the girls called, and we were gone to the range.

rant on: If you are going to have a big beautiful multi venue range (20 miles from much of anything) you should have first aid kits strategically placed around the facility. (I have a fairly complete FA kit in my range bag.)  I asked the gals about the ranges FA kits, as they are members. They said there might be one in the locked building, with a few band aides in it, haha. Not damn funny! rant off. 

Still have trouble with the Walther being super picky about what you feed it. I'm keeping a tally book, so I don't buy ammo it doesn't like. On the other hand, you could probably put rocks in the Sig and it would shoot. 
Gal Hint: If you don't normally paint your fingernails, and you paint them bright red before going to shoot, don't, it's damn distracting.

Next day was a 5K training day. There were things to do for Dad and it was pouring rain so that precluded my running in the AM. No worries I thought, I will go watch them sift the geldings at the Red Bluff Bull & Gelding Sale indoor arena and train in the evening. Picked up a friend and she and I slogged through a fair amount of rain, mud and horse manure to get to the bleachers.  All the usual characters were present. It was almost as much fun to listen in on the talk around us as watch the horses.

 Met a nice older ranching couple from Oregon, that were seated in front of us. She and I swapped ranch horse stories when there was a break in the action. The specific horse we had come to watch was far back in the query, so three and a half hours later we watched it work, and we are out of there. I had not moved from that cold metal bleacher in all that time.  I know better then to set in one position that long, I also know that actions have consequences, or in this case inaction. Got up, grabbed the hand rail, walked down the bleachers, turned the corner, took one step down the stairs and went flying. It must have been something to see!  I made a darn near perfect four point landing on the concrete below with palms and knees. Got up, dusted myself off, thanked the gentlemen that asked me if I was OK.  Proud that I didn't even cuss, and we left the building.  My friend kept saying are you alright, there's blood on your wranglers. Well yes, that's because most of the skin on my knees is missing. 
It will be fine, and it will be, but now I'm off a day in training. Speed walked and jogged in the mist this morning, cause the knees are a tad sore. It will be fine...

Sure thing Bucko...

Since Dad is in the wilds of Ideeho hunting, and Lord knows what else, I can only get out of the house for a few hours when the home helper is available to take care of mom. 

T, fresh back from a four day pistol class he and one of his boys took at Front Sight, asked me if I wanted to go to the range.  I had to think on that for about a second. Yes, Please!

He and a couple of his friends were going to sight in their rifles before heading to Colorado deer hunting. 

So, I got to shoot my Sig for a few hours, and a lot of one to one instruction. T is great at critiquing my shooting and passing on helpful tips and techniques, as well as giving me access to a wide range of guns. It is special that he is willing to take me along, as the range has a high dollar closed membership, and the waiting list is long.

 ***

Side note:  Seems I misunderstood what C said about dad's reason for checking his funds before they left. C says he said, warehouse (as in Sportsmens Warehouse). Sure thing Bucko...