After breakfast off to my friends at our usual spot at the range. I brought just the P220 today, but had a chance to play with some other toys including a Ruger Mark II 22/45. A very nice shooting 22. There was revolver action and we pretty much shot until our happy fingers had blisters on them.
I tried some tactical practice. Shooting with just one hand, and the left one to boot (I'm right handed). Harder than it seems with a .45 acp, even at about 7 yards.
First shot was spot on, the next two were a bit high. These target backs are Andre the Giant sized, so the center was set right where the heart would be on about a 6 foot male. As my arm got tired (which was surprisingly quickly) the rest were lower and to the right. But assuming I'm shooting one handed and off handed because I was winged in the good arm, it would work. The first shot should have put him down anyway with that load.
Then off to Rick's Cafe for lunch. Everyone was eating outside and we quickly saw why.
I had this giant wedge of ultra crisp lettuce covered with blue cheese dressing. And to round out the meal, a Blue Moon Pale Ale. My friends had togorashi seared sashimi tuna, and somehow some peppered deep fried onion rings with ranch and mango-jalapeno glaze for dipping found their way on the table and ended up to my right.
Then time to say goodbye to Ricks and head out. What's this? Some tractor beam has latched onto the truck, and it was PULLED into several gun stores. (I gave up fighting it after the first one). Where I bought a brand spanking new version of what I was treated to a shoot with this morning. A Ruger Mark III 512KM .22 LR with the 5 1/2 inch barrel and adjustable rear sight. Perfect for some inexpensive target shooting on the weekends. I'll play with it and do a range post next weekend.
It's sunning itself on my deck right now while I finish this post.
Then, home alone, time to sit on the deck and just relax, build a fire in my little fire pit and be thankful for my friends and for the life I have, one of freedom and comfort, hard earned perhaps, but still a gift. I left a life of mountains and large coastal cities for a life in the heart of the land. Sitting here on the deck with Barkley I can look far away to corn fields coming down, the harvest upon us, full of promise and perhaps a bit of danger. It is not the mountains, the hills of stone and wood and ice that were my life for so long, but here is hope and abundance, the fluid need of love and the laughter of shared communion with friends strong and true. I am very grateful to be here.