DAY 10 WITHOUT AN OVEN.

When you purchase an extended warranty on an appliance for way too many dollars, you don't get a choice as to who will do the warranty work. When my expensive stove/oven went Tango Uniform two weeks after the manufacturers warranty expired, I called the store and got set up for repair/replacement by the extended warranty people. After waiting 5 days for a technician and asking a friend to sit at the house all day waiting for him, as I'm out of town, he arrives. Yay! Reinforcements! It's just the electronic timer, an easy fix, he says. I'm told on a Tuesday after he makes a call "we have the part in stock! I'll be here Thursday to install it". Thursday, waited all day. No show. No call. When I called Friday after waiting some more, I was told the part "was ordered and would be in Saturday". Saturday- nothing. Monday I called again. They said the part that was in stock, which they ordered, wasn't ordered, but it was ordered now and it would be in Tuesday. Want to make a bet I don't see it this week as "it's a holiday!"and I live out in the boonies?

So I polished a broadsword or two and made something tasty without the appliance - Chinese Sesame Chicken. With extra red pepper. I think I need to read up before I call the appliance warranty people again. Apparently, they've read Sun Tzu's "The Art of War" and are following this advice.

"All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must seem inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near. Hold out baits to entice the enemy. Feign disorder, and crush him."
- Sun Tzu, the Art of War
But despite their efforts, they haven't won the war. I'm eating quite well with alternative cooking means.

Passing Landscapes

People often ask me where I'm going when I take a vacation, or just a few days off. The islands, a spa, or a jaunt to someplace exotic? No, for me, just a few simple days holed up with a kitchen and my dog, books and the sky. The last thing I feel like doing on my days off, is what I do when I work, dashing around airports trying to get somewhere fast, eating bad restaurant food, hurrying here and there to try and pack a years worth of living in a few days.

On my days off, I'd prefer to do my living, now, quietly in the moment or like today, making a few things from the kitchen to share and then driving into the city to see friends.

We too often pursue pleasure with such breathless haste that we blow right by it. In the adult pursuit of bigger and better, we fail to stop and just look at what we have right here as we pass by it, things hidden by the layers of indifference casually tossed on us by others, dreams gathering dust while we toil to somehow make our world conform to what we are told it's expected to be. And everything in a hurry. Maybe it's the specter of mortality, maybe it's just this new generation of entitlement that's trying to nudge us out of the way, but people seem to want to have everything now. No one seems willing to consider that the time it takes to make it is what makes the final product taste so sweet.

I'm one of the few women I know that cooks. Almost everything is available at the store, prepackaged. People have forgotten how good simple, real food is; the chewy tang of sourdough, a pan seared steak, garlic and deep rose wine, and the snap of a green bean fresh from the garden. The depth of a cheese, the warmth of a swallow of rich liquid, the burst of juice from a single strawberry.

Maybe it's from the days of flying small airplanes that I learned to savor life, perhaps it's just the process of becoming slowly born that is coming into midlife. But flying certainly. You really learn to appreciate the slowness, the stillness of a day in a small taildragger. Moments in such a craft where you literally stand still aloft, sometimes a sense of where your craft is in relation to the earth, sometimes with a stiff enough headwind and a small enough engine, for real. The flight may be minutes or it may be hours, but in a tiny little two seat aircraft, with the steady drone of the dependable, little Lycoming guiding your way, you simply drift along in the clouds, within yourself. Up ahead is the horizon, and you know it's your destiny to reach it, you've planned the flight and loaded the gas, you've set your heart and soul upon its reaching. What you expect to greet you is up ahead of you in the blue, and it only remains for your little plane to follow.

In a small airplane, the sky will give you time, since the sky, although changing, is still eternal. There's no rush; you keep the horizon in your window but still look down, savoring the journey. The tumbled landscapes of glacier stone, and great pristine rivers, thin as a strand of pearls from up here. It's like the unhurried sense you get on a day-long road trip; time filled with the immaculate sameness of hours bathed in the sun's warm honey. Anything that really requires your mind, the engine setting, a scan for traffic, occurs in brief, unhurried intervals. Your vehicle continues on to your destination, carrying you with it, carrying your thoughts as you forge ahead, of tears, of laughter you've not known since youth, of love, of mechanical, rhythmic memories of the past that you carried with you as you started this journey.
Those memories are not always happy ones, which is part of the trip you will make. As the miles flow past, you realize that when you are young, no one really tells you the truth about love. About coming into your heart and what it means. And even harder, the memory long ago of the one person you were expected to share those things with, but could no longer. Especially in a vehicle on a rushed trip you didn't want to make. Talking matter of factly about how life has formed you as you've flown through the years, seemed banal, like proving a right angle or finding the equal distance between two lives. The two lane highway rose slowly into the foothills of the mountains as you tried to navigate through a silence that carried with it the weight of a dead end. Staring straight ahead, you saw the fields clutching onto the skeletons of flowers that long ago died, of bare, windswept trees, and clusters of burrs that stick to everything with a tiny pinprick of pain. Things were sticking to you. You didn't have a thing to say. Not that it mattered. For you had lost your voice years ago.

All that was left was the lack of words as you opened the window to carry the silence into the wind. Wind that would carry that moment to where it would simply bounce off the landscape like a piece of discarded trash, delicate, crumpled tissue best left to be disintegrated by time. Better left behind as the sun began to relax on what would be your renewed journey; the road pulling away from discarded thought, the highway lines breaking up like Morse Code as you moved forward. Moved away from that day, that particular road, til it is long behind you.

Soon nothing is left but the memories that you are making now, that you hold tight to you, moving on into new skies, open roads. Time ticks past as the diorama of your life unfolds in the window up ahead, the rush of the world, fast food, fast life, suspended for a few hours. The pace of your travels will drop you into an unhurried state of motion, where you won't get near any speed limits, but you'll feel as if you've lived twice as long and experienced twice as much.

It's been a few months since I've been up in a small airplane, but I remember it well, especially that moment when the day sky matured into dusk. It had been a hectic few months of work and the sameness of schedules, and I just needed to get out and feel the wind on my face, and watch the stars come out from their hiding spots. The point was not to get to anyplace fast. The point wasn't even really to get anyplace. I think Heraclitus, of whose writings are only left fragmentary remains, said it better than I, expressing the nature of reality as flux in words, the way I'd express them in flight tonight.

The rule that makes

its subject weary

is a sentence

of hard labor.

For this reason change gives rest.

That night, I needed some quiet change, a break from my labors, a journey forward - back into myself. I'd taken off from a small town airport, with no agenda but to see my day translated before me in the small windshield of my plane. Soaring over fields of plenty, the landscape one of infinite calm, shadows deepening, blurring the margin of cornfield and sky, the rising moon popped out from an opening break in the clouds. The space that held the moon widened and I could see the beginnings of stars, close enough to clasp in my hand.

Mark Twain said in Huckleberry Finn "We had the sky up there, all speckled with stars, and we used to lay on our backs and look up at them and discuss about whether they was made or only just happened". But I know they were made. Made to serve as tiny points of light to guide a distant traveler back home. As the day set behind me, I slowed and turned back towards the strip while some light remained, utter silence now other than the song of the engine. Wind in my face from a little side window I popped ajar, I felt one with the air. It felt like all life, all my past, my future was contained in this sky and I'm not just passing through it but I'm part of it. It's one of the most contented, coherent moments one can experience,

The moon was halfway up the sky, as I got back to the airport, its light and the remaining daylight providing the guidance I needed to to land at the little country strip. As the wheels gently kissed the ground, the day changing into night, my breathing was slowed in true rest. As I secured my little red craft in the hangar for the night, I touched the cowling of the engine. It was warm, as was my soul. I took a big drink of water from the remaining bottle, felt it quench something in me. Realizing I was hungry, I took a small square of darkest chocolate from my pocket and placed it in my mouth, it melted on the heat of my tongue, as I stood still, my hand on the engine cowl, feeling it cool, wondering how I ever thought life was complicated. Wondering why I ever worried that I had to hurry to get where I was going, for where I was headed was within me all of the time. It's Sunday and I have to work early in the morning. Soon, like myself on that night, you too will have to return to work, to the sameness of life, to deadlines, but for tonight, there is no rush. We need those moments alone, those hours in the air, those miles of open road. Those times of solitude, for souls like us, are simple moments of inwardness. In our simple code of life, quietness and remoteness stand guard over courage heightened by change. This is our own compass north, the self in isolation, resolve, depth, emotion, thought and reason held in, until they are amplified within our being, becoming music to life's unhurried journey.

Pressing On.

Baa Baa black sheep
Have you any wool?
Yes Sir! Yes Sir!
Three bags full.

Yesterday was a start of 3 days off. I was in the city briefly and stopped by to visit a friend. As she and I talked about the reloading process the question came up. Do I reload so I can shoot, or do I shoot so I can do more reloading? The work area is all set up, a screened door to the back yard keeps a nice breeze flowing through, but a fan was a necessity, it's been pretty hot lately. I got a new Lee O Frame press this week and got it mounted to my little bench. I've got some RCBS dies. . . . plus a Hornady scale, a Lee powder measure and the Lyman reloading manual. Let's try it out and make a practice bullet with the brand new press. Ta Da! THE BARNEY BULLET! In any case, it's going to be a fun summer, as long as the primer supply holds out. I got lucky and found a small supply of $32 for a thousand at a tiny "ma and pa" gun store. I've got dies for .45, .380 and .223, probably all I will need for now. I've got a big box of round-nose lead bullets and Hornady XTP Copper Jacketed. Finished product notwithstanding, there's something almost Zen-like about reloading, when you get going at a good pace, a rhythm and grace that with practice becomes a ballet of powder, press and hands. If you've never reloaded, remember, the first step is always the hardest. Trying something new. Embracing something long forgotten that at one time you loved. Embracing something you've never done but wanted to. Tiny leaps upward propelled by longing and only held back by the gravity of timidity.

It's not much different than taking that first solo in an airplane. . You have been given the tools, you have the capabilities. But it's the fear of the what you don't know that holds you back, while upward something enticing but new beckons. You've learned through your lessons, that the sky is sometimes gentle, sometimes capricious. Flying can be just efficient transportation or something almost spiritual in it's quiet, divine in it's vastness. And frankly, you're just a little afraid of it at this point.

But you couldn't resist the siren call and now it's time for your first solo. So you gingerly taxi away from your instructor, who is probably as nervous as you are, and you turn your eyes upward, and drink the air and breath the light and and make that first leap. And the beauty and the vastness of possibility hits you and the exhilaration of all that awaits takes your breath away. And life is suddenly fuller because you can do something you never ever thought you could do. Anything new can be daunting. Reloading was for me at first. Now I stand in the shop in my garage/shop area, a vast cavern of a space with hot and cold water and lights and tools. The fan is blowing my hair and I concentrate, yet my mind is completely open to thought. The soft hush of my movement, the sounds of the press, stabilize into a gentle inaudible song with just the occasional background chorus of the the world far away, and I am lulled into a quietness of efficiency.

Some would say it's a dull way to spend an evening. I find it a totally relaxing way to spend some time. I'm not out in my little plane, but I'm just as relaxed. It's not that much different from that first solo in that little open cockpit plane. I have goggles over my eyes and my hands move in rhythmic efficiency while somewhere the person who taught me grins, knowing the craft continues.

It's a nice, cost effective way to wind down after a long day. As the light starts to dim, I simply bask in the brisk pace of creating something, clouds outside disbanding with the disinterest of late day and the view out my little shop door looking out to the trail of someones little airplane up above. A first flight for someone perhaps? The plane moves onward through the evening, vanishing upward like the smoke from an expended cartridge.

Egg-cellent

Urban Trend has some nifty things on their website, including egg molds AND a personal branding iron. I had one of those for Brigid's Home on the Range Cowgirl Shoot Em Up Ranch and Labrador Farm. But none of the cattle survived the branding.

But I was tempted to get some of their nifty egg molds to make fried eggs that looked like guns.

But some mornings I have trouble making eggs that look like EGGS.

I'm not one to waste anything, so if I put them on top of Brigid's Black Beans and Rice, with cilantro and colby/jack cheese, none of the ranch hands will complain. Your choice folks, this or a pop tart.

click on photo to enlarge.

I thought so.

Steak Out

A very long day. There are no words in me tonight. But there is room for grilled steak. :-)

No marinade, no special handling. Just the best quality locally grown range beef, grilled outside on a small, old-fashioned grill, with just a bit of salt.

Sometimes you don't want a meal that needs special handling, side dishes or a teleprompter, you just want honest substance.

Home, and Getting the Homestead in Order

Pretty Maids all in a Row
Oh, oh oh, oh......

The Eagles - from the album "When Hell Freezes Over"

Sunday Pastry

Growing up, we always had pastry on Sunday before church. Usually bear claws or apple or berry horns or the quickly grabbed Viking Size Butter Horn. Svenhard's was our choice for those that weren't home made. I had better not mention my recent trip home and how many of these I consumed (you know, for old times sake).

As children though, the rest of the week was pancakes and fruit, oatmeal or cream of wheat, juice and toast, and as a rare treat when Mom relented, a bowl of Sugar Pops, Trix, HoneyComb, Sugar Smacks or my favorite Life.

Sundays are no different now, though I either make waffles or pastry of some sort as Scandinavian bakeries are about as scarce in these parts as primers. This Sunday, a treat before I hit the road again and I hope my family on my Grandma Gullikson's side will forgive me for taking a French road this Sunday morning. Croissants Pain au Chocolat. A flaky croissant dough studded with bits and shavings of bittersweet chocolate.

Pre-baking, They don't look like they were worth all the work, but once in the oven, they puff up with dozens of layers of buttery, flaky dough, the dark chocolate just a small melted taste between bites.

Paired with a cup of coffee, suddenly hitting the road for a business trip again doesn't seem so daunting.

click to enlarge (go on, I know you want to)

Range Housing

While I cleaned up the porch and yard last weekend after a week away I took notice of a number of things. One, the huge thistle that sprung up in a flowerbed where I had a bird feeder (not a good idea). I missed it when I cleared out its brothers, and ignored for a few weeks it grew. And grew. So now it is so big that my shooty friend, scientist RobD, who climbs large pointy mountains like K2 without fear, took one look at its spines and offered to bring over the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch, some WD40 and a BIC lighter to help slay it.

I also noticed the number of birdhouses that seem to have sprung up around the range. As well as the number of birds.. There's this number - purchased pre-made, then hand stenciled, to be occupied by a couple of sparrows.

Then there is the Habitat for Humanity birdhouse which was made by hand. Not luxurious perhaps, but out closer to the woods, providing a well built, albeit plain, home for someone that needs it.

But no matter what you provide, there are those that just loiter. Just hanging around the front porch to see who might give them a handout, or a vacant pond of water.

Of course, there are the squatters. There in my Southern Living planter on the front porch. (she hatched two eggs a few weeks ago). It's bird central around here now.

But like my friends, those freshly hatched or battle scarred, residing in new houses or just scraping by where it's warm, I look at what is central to them. Not the outward feathers, squawks or trappings, but what it is that drives them home, what it is that makes them unique, there beneath the sharp beak and defensive colorings. What makes them part of my daily life.
Birds fill my horizon, and surround my home Most of the birds I can recognize, sparrows, my favorite the Cardinal and the occasional dove. Birds vary in more ways than species and color. Study them long enough, and you'll see the different ways in which they eat, and what they won't eat. Look where they sleep, is it high up in a tree, or snuggled down in low covering, with the small tender plants pulled in around them like a blanket. You can study them by when they eat the most, a hearty breakfast or a quick bit of avian fast food and a late day buffet in a field. So many ways, the shape and size of the nest, if there is one, their connection to the nearest body of water, or a broad patch of open sky, if there is one, and to what degree that nearness is necessary for survival. To some the nearness is more important than we realize. Yet in all their differences they all fly on the same winds, that takes them to their desires. As do we all.

Advice from the Road

If you're having one of THOSE weeks, I suggest you go look for that 8 x 8 pan now.

It's been a hectic week. I'm covering for someone in an advanced position for a few months, I guess we can call it a "temporary Grissom" position. Less field work, less travel, definitely less people going "hey, didn't I see you on TV last night?" which is a nice break, but a lot more stress at least for the next couple of months.

Add to that a few mornings of barfing dog (it appears the new brand of dog biscuit given before bed did not agree with him), all over light beige carpet (completely ignoring all the hardwood and tile floors of course). He's fine now, but I'll have to change his name to Barfley.

Some last minute travel this week, another flight to catch tonight, and time is short. However I can offer you this advice. If you are ever out and about and see this brand of chocolate chips., from the oldest family owned chocolate company in the U.S. . . . . BUY THEM. Make these - Brownies Fast and Easy. If you have one of those little disposable foil pans, a tiny stove and a tiny oven in your tiny hotel kitchen you can make these brownies in a little more than half an hour. They're harder to find, but Guittard also makes an extra dark chocolate chip that's great in cookies.

As the incomparable Jay G would say. That is all.

You Can't Have Too Many TOOLS - A Beginner's Foray Into Reloading

This is my first year reloading. It was getting harder to find ammo, to the point I've been shooting probably a fourth as much as I used to. But where to start? I'm lucky in that two of my friends reload, and are there to answer questions and provide tips. If you don't have friends to guide, there are some good manuals out there to get you started. If you buy a starter kit through Lee, there's a manual called "Modern Reloading" by Mr. Lee himself available for just a few dollars extra. Other bullet manufacturers and reloading companies put out manuals. Hornady does a very good manual, as does Lyman and Speer. I am using the Lyman one as my reference.

I can't stress enough, that reloading isn't just something you sit down and do with a few purchased supplies and no instruction or training. Handloading should be approached with the same degree of caution as that science experiment you did in college. Although the manuals are helpful, I'd really recommend you learn from an experienced handloader or a NRA Certified Reloading Instructor. If you don't know someone who actively reloads, or have an instructor in the area, ask at your local gun club, store or fish and game range to see if there are people who would be willing to mentor you in the process.

Just like in shooting the ammo, reloading the ammo requires the handler to assume the responsibility of safe handling with good judgment. Just as I will say that this post is simply a guide for a beginner and not to be used as a sole source of information; learn as much as you can before you start. Learn from someone with a keen eye on safety and if there is any question between you, use as a reference, a reputable reloading manual. For an excellent overview of reloading safety tips and information, before you get started, check out http://www.three-peaks.net/reload.htm . One of the best all around reference sites I've found as a beginner.

The picture above is my "basic starter kit". If you are ahem "mechanically" challenged, don't let reloading intimidate you. At its most basic, it's simply putting a new primer, bullet and powder into an existing brass case. You could probably even teach a Congressman to do that (though they'd probably try to stick some pork in the case). You don't have to be an engineer, you simply need some supplies, and a personality that has some patience and attention to detail.

Most people started off reloading to save money. When your favorite pistols are .45 auto,like myself, the cost of ammo adds up. So you think 'I'll reload to save money!". Well, that is a myth, but don't tell your non-shooting spouse (shhhh). For you will shoot MUCH more for the same money, getting twice the bang for your buck, as they say, which is what makes reloading so valuable, not even factoring in the availability aspect of ammo. You can stop thinking "well that's a Quarter" every time you hear a bang (ah the good old days) and concentrate on practicing. And practicing some more.

I can't give you a precise idea of starting costs. Though I could venture to say if you shoot less than a box a month, it might not pay to reload unless you are having a hard time finding a particular ammo. If you shoot that little, I'm not sure you'd want to reload, but in any event, save your brass, as I guarantee you have friends that would love to have it. You can easily spend $500 and up for precision and high-speed reloading for both rifle and pistol, especially if you get into the progressive presses. With an investment of this type you can produce some fine ammo at several hundred rounds an hour. If you're mechanically oriented, and have the finances to add to your store of tools, you might well enjoy that. But you don't have to. Buy the basics, save the really expensive high quality extra equipment until you've decided it's really what you want to do long term. You can buy the reasonable starter kits or obtain or purchase used and well maintained pieces, ask friends if they have any old equipment they want to get rid of, and you can get all set up for less than the cost of a fancy steak dinner out with you and the family.

If your budget is a little more than "bare bones" and you don't have a want or a current need for a progressive press, Lyman, Hornady, RCBS, and other companies make fine quality reloading equipment that uses more steel than aluminum and plastic. They each have kits (like the easy on the budget LEE kit) that will provide you all that you need to get started and will last you as long as you wish to use them. These kits can be found from $150 to around $300 and do provide some savings over buying pieces individually. I've been told that these kits will work for rifle or pistol (caliber-specific dies are required, and add a little cost $20 - $40 each, I think.)

With this basic reloading equipment, the process is simple -

• Resize and decap the case (remove spent primer) in a sizing die
• Expand case mouth slightly so the bullet can be seated, (expander die)
• Prime the case with a new primer
• Charge the case with powder, in my case using a simple LEE graduated scoop
• Seat the bullet in a seating die.
• Since it’s a 9x19 cartridge that headspaces on the case mouth, crimp the bullet in place using a ‘taper crimp die’ rather than a roll crimp as the bullet seating die will do (if so adjusted).

Let's start with the equipment -

A set of LEE reloading dies. LEE does not have the fancy or high priced "premium" tools, but the quality is more than enough to get the job done right. Sure, I like RCBS. RCBS reloading equipment is the Toyota Land Rover of tools. Extremely rugged and dependable, vastly over-engineered, and as good as you can get. LEE reloading tools are the Toyota Corolla of reloading tools. Relatively cheap, rugged enough for your needs, not too pretty, but you still get the job done and at a much cheaper price. For a beginning reloader the LEE starter sets are handy, as they come complete with shell holder and powder scoop sized to that cartridge. For reloading straight wall pistol cartridges, the set needs a resizing/decapping die, a case mouth expanding die, and a bullet seating die. The starter equipment is not ideal for long term use in that regard, but it is a great, budget-minded way to get started. You can add those other items to it later. This will allow rifle or pistol reloading at roughly 50 rounds an hour (maybe 75 with plenty of practice).
The sizing die installed on a hand press. To fully resize the case, the die body must be screwed in until it touches the face of the shell holder installed on the press ram. The mandrel rod in the die must have it's decapping pin clear the base of the cartridge to fully eject the spent primer from the primer pocket. I can make a perfect blue cheese souffle. How hard can this be?
Here we have a shell casing mounted in the shell holder and ready to be pressed into the properly adjusted sizing die. Watch your fingers!
Another view. A shell casing ready to be inserted into the case mouth expanding die. This die should be adjusted in small increments till it 'bells' the mouth of the case just enough to allow starting a bullet by hand. This will let the bullet be pressed into the case without crushing the walls of the case, and without shaving lead from the bullet (when loading lead bullets). Over-expanding the case mouth leads to cracked cases and short case life.
A sized and decapped case ready to have a primer installed. The biggest problem I had in finding supplies was in finding primers.
Here is the LEE 'Autoprime' hand priming tool already set up to install primers in this size case. This is an area of reloading where you have to be as careful with safety precautions as you are on the range.. Wear safety glasses, follow directions, pay attention, etc. The primer is the only thing in the whole process that is actually explosive. One is not a big deal, but the tool can comfortably hold 50. Pressing the primers in by hand allows the reloader to 'feel' it being seated, and a case with a stretched pocket can be caught and discarded.
Voila'. A case with the new primer correctly seated. (and no, I am not going to tell you how many many times it took to get it right. :-) If you can, buy your powders and primers locally to avoid Hazardous Material shipping charges which can quickly add up on a mail order. Gun shows often are a good source of powder and primers. The powder companies produce written guides (free!) that will tell you how much powder to use with particular bullets in each caliber. If you can study the powder manuals ahead of time, you can minimize the different powders you need for different purposes and keep your costs in check. In the picture of my supplies, the powder is what was recommended in the kit.
A case with a LEE powder scoop. There are several ways to measure the proper powder charge. The best way is a mechanical powder measure checked by a good quality scale. That said, the oldest method in the world is a simple measuring scoop no different than a chef might use. Make sure you use the powders listed in the directions, if you're not a professional, this is not a process to say "hey let's try this!" Practice using a steady and repeatable scooping method. I like to pour the powder into a small dish and drag the scoop through it.

Is a scoop high tech? No. . . but it serves well as part of a beginner's cheap and portable kit. Later, when the reloader either obtains or cleans off their "dedicated bench", then a mechanical measure can be acquired and bolted to the bench. Till then, remember, most spouses would be cranky about having holes drilled in the dining room table to mount the measure.

Speaking of workbenches. You will need a place to work. It will need enough weight to stay put while you're applying pressure to the handloading press and should be stable. The height should be right about your belt line. Can't find your belt line? Stand about a foot and a half from the wall with your arm at your side. Bend your arm at the elbow, keeping your elbow tucked into your side, and pivoting the arm 90 degrees to point at the wall. The spot where your fingertips touch the wall should be an ideal benchtop height for you. My benches are different heights as they were originally old doors made into tables which were beefed up with spare lumber and repainted. Total cost. $4.00.
Give yourself enough space to lay out your tools and components. Add some shelves and storage area (secure from young children or grandchildren if you have them in your house) and make sure you have good lighting. An overhead lamp can really augment your garage or basement lighting.

Ventilation is nice. I've got a big screened door into the backyard from here for a nice cross breeze. Remember though, if you are CASTING bullets, not reloading, ventilation is a basic necessity, not a nice option.
I've got an old sink with hot and cold water next to the bench which makes cleaning of casings and general hand clean up easier.
Here we have a case, bullet, and a bullet seating die. In a pistol round this die has two functions. It will press the bullet into the case, and it will apply a 'roll' crimp to hold the bullet snugly in the case. The person that taught me the basics stressed that crimps can only be (and should be) used on lead bullets or jacketed bullets with a cannelure. Jacketed bullets without a cannelure should have a taper crimp applied. Autoloaders generally work best with taper crimped cartridges, but soft lead bullets do not work well with taper crimps usually.
The primed shell casing with powder charged, ready to have the bullet seated.

Follow the die set up directions to properly set the seating die.

If you want some more detailed instruction beyond reading about it, the LEE website has Video instructions on setting up the dies.You'll find them in the "single stage press' section.


A loaded cartridge, displayed with a taper crimp die. This die squeezes the side walls of the case into the bullet, holding it in place without rolling the end of the case over. This is important in an autoloader, as most will headspace the cartridge on the mouth of the case rather than the rim.

Hey, that didn't come in the LEE kit. That's the single action Donald Duck Pez dispenser that stays in the range bag.

Now for clean up. You don't want to be reloading with cases that have grit or fouling on them. That can wear out your nice dies VERY quickly (including scratching them internally). Many folks have a small vibrating tumbler to clean the cases, equipment similar to what we rock hounders have, the cases vibrating with ground up walnut shells or corn cobs. One of my favorites group of folks, Midway (www.midwayusa.com) has tumbler kits at a good price. But you don't have to have one to clean up. You can simply put the cases in hot water, and then rinse, and rinse again. To dry them out, put the cases on a clean pan in a warm oven for an hour or two to dry them out. Be careful that you use the lowest possible heat setting, less than 175 degrees. Any more than that is a really BAD idea. If you have a teenager in the house let them know, as they've been known to eat about anything found coming out of an oven.
In the end you'll find more advantages to reloading than simply saving money on the cost of each bullet (you know, so you can shoot twice as much). You'll be able to tailor your ammo to a particular firearm and you can have ammo for obsolete guns. With practice and experimentation within the prescribed limits of the manufacturers, you can improve your accuracy by developing loads that work best in a specific gun. You can reload ammo that by either market conditions or manufacturing rate isn't readily available. You can also match your ammunition to the type of game you are hunting or the type of sport shooting you are doing.

It's GREEN. (everyone's favorite buzz word). By picking up all those brass casings on the ground and re-using them you are stopping global warming (OK, NOT, but Al Gore would try and use that line). But it IS fun if you are technical/mechanical minded.

But mostly, it's a way to work with your hands, using new tools to enhance another sport you already enjoy, there quietly in your own garage, shop or basement. I can't think of a more relaxing way to spend an afternoon while gaining something truly useful with only a little time, effort and patience.