Barkley - Always the Source of Mischief

Everyone asks about the knee and it's hard to admit that I took it out walking Barkley. OK, ice, the wrong angles between leash, knee and canine were involved but still. . . .

You never know what trouble the furry one will get into.

Officer, I was just fetching my toy.

Ship? What ship? I didn't see any ship, we're just playing with a ball.

Chasing it was more fun than catching it.

Hey, I always choose wisely.

You all be safe out there. Happy New Year Everyone!

- B.

Update from friends

Brigid asked that I let everyone know the surgery went well. She is home and safe (all office chairs have been limited to linear motion only.) Between the Morphine, Demerol, and Hydrocodone she is not up to posting, but all is well.

Midwest Chick and Mr. B are on standby, Barkley is fed, and I'll make sure she doesn't start doing fancy footwork on the crutches at 2AM. (It might scare the neighbors.)

She sends her love and thanks for everyone's prayers.

-EJ

Off to surgery

I had surgery less than 12 months ago. So, when am I officially Borg?

They are going to have to remove a portion of the meniscus, as it is torn beyond repair. That may bring some arthritis problems as I get older, but the doc said he'd do what he could, to save what he could,. The dislocated knee? They will adjust and I start PT on Friday for that.

Just a word of advice. If you've spent 30 something years running, carrying big back packs, flying jets, rock climbing, dodging trouble and giving a cat a bath, do NOT try and walk your 90 pound lab down an icy sidewalk when a female golden retriever is going the opposite direction. Just saying.

I've a post saved to come up later if I'm on line. If it does not, do not worry. I've friends staying with me through Sunday to take care of Barkley and myself, He is sticking by my side, not knowing what happened exactly, but knowing that Mom is not doing her best.

Brigid and Barkley (aka "the mangler")

Merry Christmas

As most of you have already read, Christmas didn't turn out in the least as I planned, being pretty much immobile and in a lot of discomfort with the blown out knee, not able to visit family or friends out of town. But with the warm thoughts of friends, and a couple of companions who refuse to leave my side, it turned out just fine.


To all of you who sent cards and packages, thank you. I'm sitting in some warm and fuzzy outer wear, with slippers and a cup of coffee from my new Kureg coffee machine, books to read (Red Green!), and new videos to watch (Wallace and Gromit with the nefarious penguin, my favorite). And last night, there was wine in new hand painted stemless wine glasses from friends up North, while we listened to the seasons strains of Metallica with the SFO Symphony orchestra (what, you were expecting Burl Ives?)


Santa Paws even remembered Barkley, with a stuffing free fox to mangle and a giant squeaky ball with feet (why yes, Barkley that IS annoying).


Even better, Santa got me a BACON PRESS!!! Breakfast pastry had been premade and frozen so all there was to do to make Christmas breakfast was heat up a new cast iron skillet and tools and get out the Amish Bacon that Midwest Chick and Mr. B brought down for me.


I couldn't do church, I can't even get in and out of the tub without a chair, a crutch and some serious cursing in Norwegian, but I wanted a traditional breakfast even if it took help. Such treats are always a good memory for me.

When I was a kid, we'd usually waffles, abelskivvers or pancakes for Sunday breakfast, but sometimes we'd have them for dinner as well. It was usually when the household budget was tight. My Mom quit her 13 year career as a LEO to be a full time Mom, and Dad took a lesser paying position that allowed him to be home every night. Sacrifices I know we benefited from. Certainly I remember those dinners and the laughter and the love that lived in the house 24 and 7, more than any brand new bike I didn't get.


My brothers and I loved "pancake night". Dad would grumble a little. . unless there was Bacon. Bacon I think could solve any problem. World peace. Through Bacon. Oh wait, well maybe not, but it sounds like a plan.

With or without bacon, I can sit and eat some fluffy, maple infused goodness, and watch the sun go up or down and the taste will take me back.

Sometimes Mom would make two kinds. Sourdough and regular. Or some with nuts and apples, or little bits of sausage inside, along with buttermilk ones. There would be maple syrup, and genuine Lingonberry Jam and real butter from the farm nearby.


Little bits, little bites to try them all. Dad would finally relax after a long stressful day at work, and we'd tell the tales of our day and small childhood victories. For these breakfasts for dinner, no worries about money, or the mortgage or the future. Simply bites of life shared with those you love. I'd savor one flavor, even while anticipating the next, savory, sweet, maybe nutty, the golden disks disappearing like coins well spent. I was never able to figure out which taste I wanted to end with, one taste of time that was almost too sweet to bear, or that which was so dense that I would remember it always.

Like pancakes for dinner, such was this Christmas, unexpected, not ending as planned, but full of little bits of sweetness and caring from those that have become my family.


I usually try and leave comments for all of you on your blogs or send emails but just this little bit has worn me out. Just know that I am thinking of you, even if we are apart, even if I don't say so today. Remember every gift you have, that we all are to each other, through good times and bad. For that is what friends and family are for.

Tis the Season.
With love,
Brigid

Taking it Easy - Knee Update

It's easier to post than to send out 50 emails. Sorry.

The MRI last night shows a definite tear through the medial miniscus (between the medial condyle of the femur and the medial condyle of the tibia) and some significant bone bruising. My family doc took a look at it and got me off immediately to the doc that works on the local football team, one of the best ortho guys in the area. That doc said "I usually see this injury in professional footballs players, what did you do?" He didn't buy the ninja story either.

He'll do the surgery this week, hopefully. On the plus side, x rays and all showed NO arthritis or pre-existing problems in the knees. I'll be on crutches for a week after the surgery (Barkley will have to stay with friends) then 4-6 weeks until "normal activity" (i.e field work, rappelling, zombies, ninjas, changing the oil in the truck, hiking, lifting more than a 22 ounce Guinness, etc.)

I have hydrocodone though, so tonight I can put on some music and sing "We Three Kings Disoriented Are".

Til then, some rest, some lefse with cinnamon and sugar that I made last week, and a post for later. . . .
Cheers.

Road Warriors - Safety in Winter

I posted a shorter version of this last winter. After seeing in the news yesterday about a young woman who got her car stuck and survived for 9 days on two candy bars and melted snow, I thought I should repost it, and add to it. Please have your family members read this, or talk with them about it. It could save a life.


Think about your drive home today. The sun might be shining, but what will the weather be like when you come home from work? What if your car slides or is forced off the road due to another driver that leaves the scene. There you are, stuck in a ditch or broke down in an isolated area as the temperature slides quickly to zero or below?

More times than you know, after a strong and unexpected storm, people have died on their way home, having left offices in light coats to covered parking garages, expecting a quick drive home to their snug garage. They are just going from covered parking to covered parking. Who needs gloves or a thick coat or other things? And they died.


Being outdoors in the winter, how you gear yourself is crucial. You have to dress for it, layering the clothes, making sure you keep dry at all costs. My Mom would tell us to keep our hats on as we'd lose 90% of our heat through our head. I'd be a smart alec and say "so Mom, I can go naked and wear a hat and I'll only be 10% colder".

It's not 90% but she was close. Even though my Arctic weight Carhart has a great hood that snaps in front of the neck, I still have a scarf for additional protection around the exposed areas. You can lose over 50 percent of your body heat from an unprotected head and even more if your neck, wrists and ankles aren't insulated well, for those areas of the body have very little insulating fat and thus are good radiators of heat. If you don't cover your head well, because of the blood circulation in it, much of it close to the surface, can cause you to loose heat quickly. The brain is quite susceptible to cold.

You want to avoid overheating as well. If you sweat into your clothes, that damp will decrease the insulation quality of the fabric and as the sweat evaporates, your body cools. If you start getting sweaty, open your jacket up a bit, or remove an inner layer of clothing or take off your gloves for just a minute. Hands, like the head can really dissipate the heat.

Do take gear for outdoor activities, even a day hike. If you have room and are going to be in the woods, pack up tightly a heavy, down-lined sleeping bag. Ensure the down remains dry. At least take an extra jacket, hat, gloves, and a blanket. If outdoors and you don't have a sleeping bag you can make one out of some parachute cloth, which is easy to pack and nature's own dry filler, pine needles, moss, leaves (make sure it's dry), placing the dry filler between two layers of the cloth.

But what about those less obvious treks, that trip to the store, that drive home from the lab or a night out on the town. That small trendy coat is going to seem pretty meager if you end up stuck, and unable to run your car's engine to heat the vehicle.


I always tried to carry a small survival bag in the car or in the truck when I know I am going to be out in isolated areas, or after dark anywhere. You don't need enough to stock or arm an entire platoon, just enough for basic protection from the elements and nutrition for a night or two. Pack it in a small bag, or a box.

That of course, is in addition to a personal carry piece in those places I can legally have one in the vehicle. Remember, if your trip is going across State lines, please carefully review the laws for having a weapon in your vehicle for each State you will travel through. Many states do NOT recognize other State's permits. Make sure the weapon is secure on your person or in proper storage, loaded only if you intend it to be, and never for a moment pointed at anything you don't wish to shoot. But have it handy, where you can get to it quickly and easily if the situation warrants its use to defend your life.

Why a weapon?

I am going to come across to some as alarmist but I speak from someone with experience in the field and the daughter of LEO's. Not everyone that may offer aid if you are stranded, especially women, is a good Samaritan. Women are often victims of those they trust. If the person offers help, have them call the Highway Patrol, Sheriff or local police. and stay near you until they arrive. But if your life is not in immediate danger, stay in your vehicle, with the window rolled up, until that help arrives. If a lone car pulls up with flashing lights, but no markings, or makings and no uniform, ladies, ask the officer for their ID before you roll down that window. Look at it closely. They won't mind one bit, and would hope their wives or children of driving age do the same.

Now for assembling a basic, compact, easy to store winter kit.

What NOT to put in the kit is easy.


I think you can get along without a Margherita (alcohol is not the beverage of choice if you are conserving body heat), a snow globe (just look out the window), a DVD, or your lip gloss.

Hearing protection? Well gentlemen, that depends who you are stuck in the ditch with (I told you to stop and ask for directions ).

Here's what I would carry for trips about town - just the basics, not heavy, and it doesn't take up much space. For starters, already in the vehicle is a small shovel, flares in the glove box, that firearm and ammo (legally carried and stored, check your State laws), a map, cell phone charger that will run off the vehicle's power supply, a trash bag and a small first aid kit (throw some surgical tubing in the first aid kit, it can be used for a tourneqet, transferring water from a catch and is generally more useful than straps). Those things stay year round.

Now time for the winter kit or the kit that goes on any trip away from developed areas. Swiss Army knife, food high in in fat/protein and carbs, water for at least 3 days, a metal container to melt snow, waterproof matches (in a waterproof container), a backup lighter, a compass, waterproof ground cloth and cover, flashlight, 60 hour emergency candle, water purification tablets, something to signal for help (a mirror to augment the flares), an extra warm shirt or jacket and an extra warm blanket. (I throw in a sleeping bag alongside as well). Also, a bright colored warm hat to wear and something else bright colored to wear or hang from an antenna. Warm, waterproof boots, gloves, tape, string and hand sanitizer. Why? Cleanliness will keep you from risking dehydration with an upset tummy, sanitizer can also disinfect a wound and be used in starting a fire. This is in addition to the box of Kleenex and wet naps I usually have in the car.

click to enlarge

It sounds like a ton of stuff but you can put it all in a medium sized box or small duffel bag in the trunk. Better yet, if you are traveling solo, space permitting, have it in the vehicle with you so you don't have to get out into the elements to set up for warmth until help arrives. Stay with your vehicle, attaching a bright piece of cloth to an antenna for visibility. Don't try and walk out if can you help it. People have done that and been found frozen stiff only a 1/4 mile away from their vehicle after getting disoriented in the snow.


Simple advice. Small, useful things you likely already have around the house. Gather them up. Know how to use them. They may one day save your life, so you can get home safely and in need of proper refreshment.

And save the frosty things for when you get home.

Home- Driving Mr. Barkley

I am home from Illinois to see my Doc for a referral to "ortho guy". I'm not used to being a passenger in the bat truck but there was no way I could flex the right foot and knee to handle the land barge.

So I got to "front seat drive" while my friend ferried me the 150+ miles home for my doctor appointment tomorrow. I was pretty good with the whole "keep your foot elevated for 48 hours", though with the spotted bruising on the sides of my upper torso from the crutches, I look less like "Victoria's Secret" and more like "101 Dalmatians". But I'm getting around and I could even stand on it for a moment today so it IS healing. Yay!

Barkley was picked up on the way in. He loves the friends he stays with but he's always happy to be home.

Tomorrow will be likely an MRI on the knee and picking up packages that are waiting at the UPS store. I have a couple holiday cooking and cookie posts to come up though even if I didn't get any Christmas shopping done this week as planned. But I'm not complaining. The knee will heal, I have friends, both furry and non furry, making sure I'm safe, a warm, snug house to stay in, and, even if I have to hop all the way up there, plans over the holidays with Midwest Chick, Mr. B., and the Og family.

Thank you all for your well wishes and your own knee stories.

Cheers -

Holiday Blow Out

I woke to a bit of snow and ice on the ground, a perfect, crisp weekend for a gathering with friends up north.

A little Christmas cheer, with music, snacks and desserts and drinks, for about a dozen friends, mostly of the non blogger variety, all fans of trains, planes and automobiles.

I was working Party War Room for planning (OK, where is the tiny pie crust recipe?) Partner in Grime and I both love to cook and this was going to be a fun day of preparation with my being able to help him with a few of my own recipes. (click on the photos to enlarge)



Baking was started at first light, and cooking continued on until 6 pm when the first of the guests arrived. We kept busy, talking shop and other things while things baked, simmered and seared.


The buffet was laid out with adult beverages, and there was going to be plenty to eat.


Before the outside light gave out, the 60's retro aluminum Christmas tree went up in the parlor, with a original, rotating color wheel (come on, I remember having one of these as a kid).


As a plane flew over on the way into the airport some miles East, I thought it might be fun to have it on the big front porch but I could see it now. "uh. . tower, we saw some lights, not a laser strike, thank god, but we see colors, there's four of them, red and green and orange and red?. . . .what the??. . .(just kidding, it's not hardly bright enough for the tree, but it did bring back some memories).

The menu (the evening light and my briefcase camera did not make for the best of photos) was as follows:
Cream Cheese topped with Homemade Jalapeno Jelly (a dip combonation you have to try) with triscuits and vegetable sticks.

My famous Hot Sweet Onion Dip, for which the recipe was requested by many, served with wedges of fresh Pita bread.

2 cups chopped sweet onion
3/4 cup 2% sharp cheddar
1 teaspoon hot smoked Hugarian Paprika
1/2 teaspoon Heavy Metal Hot hot sauce
1 cup mayo
dash of pepper

Mix and top with 1/2 cup grated fresh parmeson and a dash of more smoked, hot paprika

Bake at 350 F for 30 minutes until bubbling.


E's homemade yeast rolls, cut in half and topped with:

(1) goat cheese and sautied mushrooms and herbs, then broiled
(2) steak marinated in vermouth then rubbed with espresso salt and chipotle and seared, on top of pepper jack, also broiled

Finger sandwiches: Turkey, cranberry and cheese or ham and cheese club on toasted sourdough and honey wheat.

and dessert:

An assortment of cookies including my Mom's Rosette recipe.



Plus small, hand crafted mincemeat pies, sliced apples with caramel cream dip, peanut butter and chocolate cookies, Pfeffernusse, dark chocolate/ cherry biscotti (yum, thanks I. !), eggnog and don't forget the trifle, made with a homemade butter rum pound cake, french vanilla custard and berries.


There was no big screen TV, no fuss other than food, just lots of conversation and laughter, card games and quips, and remembrances of parties past (last year there were marshmallow guns). As always, big fun watching our host, Partner, with a butane torch, finishing off the classic touch to the evening, fresh creme brule served with hot mulled wine and coffee. Everyone went home with a little plate of goodies and wishes for the best of New Years. All in all a wonderful evening, with new and old friends, a perfect holiday blow out.

However, I managed to blow out my knee as well (no, NOT playing Twister, but with slippery outside surface) the morning after the event. I'd wrenched it badly a couple days ago, when Barkley on his leash, decided to go East when I was going West. It hurt like blazes but seemed a little better, so I just kept trucking. But today, crossing the street in a hurry, I went down hard, the knee just giving out with a pop. I tried to just get up and get on my way, hopping out to the truck in traffic (think frogger) and heading home but E insisted on taking me to the emergency room (poker face, I am not and it was about as pleasant as a bag of spiders.)

They diagnosed a possible torn miniscus. A pair of "don't ask what the insurance is going to bill me for the crutches", some hydrocodone to help me get through the night and off I went, under orders to put my leg up on ice (frozen peas were recommended) for 24 hours and stay off it and then go see an orthopedic guy in IND. I do say the Chicago hospital was happy to have a patient in the ER that spoke English and had insurance and they took good care of me (though the every so kind, middle aged admittance nurse did NOT buy the story about the jet ski accident while being chased by Ninjas, but it sounded better than "I busted a move".)

So I won't be home for a couple of days (and yes, Partner or Midwest Chick or Mr. B. will drive me back to IND where my doctor is if need be), but I am surrounded by those that care about me. I couldn't quite make it to eat at the dining room, but on a leaf from the dining room table, with a grand dinner of pasta with green and black pepper, olive oil, parmasan and mushrooms, with red pepper puree and pitas and. . of course. . green beens.


Life is full of surprises, but with friends who love you, you can get through the holiday blow out, or whatever life hands you.

Cheers!

Brigid

Shot Placement Is Like Real Estate

It's all about location, location, location.

The Flutter of Wind Against Fabric

Yesterday did not seem like winter, temperatures almost 60 degrees clear, cloudless, with just enough breeze to kick up a little whitecap on the lake. A good day to be out in a Triumph with the top down, or a boat, if most of the boats weren't put up for the winter that will soon be tapping at the door, with portents of the coming cold, a Jehovah's Witness of chilly repentance for summer frolic.

There is part of me that likes the winter, the part that likes to hole up and cook casual dinners for friends, watching it snow while I watch old movies, curled up with Barkley on the couch, in front of the fire, lazing under thick soft blankets after that half hour bubble bath. Evenings spent tinkering in the shop with metal and wood, tools and lead, a small heater my sole companion. But yet, what I want is another day of summer.The free and clear call of running tides as the dawn breaks gray. A day to feel the sway and the splash, the kick of the wheel and the taut shake of the jib, the rhythm of the tasks that keep the wind in the sail, the choreography of brain and hands, wood and metal, that drive you towards the horizon .

For many years I seemed to divide my quality time between either the sea or the sky. A vagrant gypsy life of the spray of laughter and sorrow, salt water, salt tears. Either in the waters of the womb or as far above it as I could be. Both environments so different, yet so essentially the same. There is is probably a reason that many pilots also own boats. Boaters and pilots take great pride in their craft, and there is a sense of camaraderie amongst them, though they may not actively socialize when away from their favorite element. Most of my friends share this world and we all share one other thing, despite variances in gender, age or upbringing. We are people who just cannot thrive between clustered walls, walking asphalted trails to small offices, breathing in the fumes of yearning, working and dying earthbound, with nary a thought of the sky or the clouds or the sea. To stake us to a plot of earth, however shaded, safe and watered, is to watch us wither and die.


I lived for a time on a a tiny rented houseboat when I was a young pilot. Probably the best place I'd ever laid my head. The marina was small and I relished going to bed at night with the tremulous cadence of the water rocking me to sleep, the sounds of the cove, music to my empty heart. It was a quiet, sheltered place where no one locked their doors and people respected your things, and your privacy.

It was one of the better times in my life, living my life running hard towards horizons colored by both hope and catastrophe. It was few possessions, and houseboat living between flights and tagging along with friends, one of the Air America guys with a large Taiwanese ketch on which we'd race the locals up and down the waterways. The times were few and far between with our flying schedules, but the joy of those days still remains pooled in the backwaters of my mind, and I can take myself back there with just the sound of the wind filling a sail, testing its seams.


My Dad has settled further West, on the water, leaving the cold hard winters of Montana behind for his remaining years. When I visit, we ride the ferries, or simply drive to watch the rivers and the ocean. Like looking at machinery, I can just sit and stare at the large ships coming across the bar in wonder, tens and thousands pounds of enigmatic and curious metal sighing and surging, groaning with use, the sound simply the galloping language of metal and wood and motion, fighting both reason and nature in its very purpose.

There is just something magical about the elements of water and sky, with their constant change in mood and shape, density and color. The great variances of their forms, like music, can either calm, uplift or excite; a power over the mind and thoughts of those who have the depth of soul to hear. But like the sky, the water too, has its dangers, its eddies, its currents. There are days where the whisper kiss of the wind turns into a whetted knife and you and your craft are simply a storm tossed play toy of the gods. As Sophocles's stated in Antigone: "Wonders are many, and none is more wonderful than man. This power spans the sea, even when it surges white before the gales of the south-wind, and makes a path under swells that threaten to engulf him".


I've seen that power, caught out in a unexpected storm, on wing or sail; where my tiny craft pitched and rolled in weighed indecision as to stay pointy end forward or not, debating as to which way was up and which way was down, into final blackness, while I frantically went through the motions of piloting it, hoping to at least get the opportunity for one last "%&#^" shouted for immortality before I left nothing but a splash of debris against the surface. It's a mistake you don't make twice, and when you size up your sky, assess your horizon, you think and remember. For it's easy to lose yourself in the drifting quiet, mesmerized by the tranquil stillness of the blue, the brilliance of the elements, and forget the strong, wild heart that beats beneath the lacy spray of white.

If you don't learn, you die. If you do learn, the danger becomes part of your knowledge; not in a reckless fashion, but rather with the confidence you gain in knowing that you have choices and strengths. That with the right choices, whatever the sky, the ocean, or life can throw at you, is not enough to destroy you, as you have the power that Sophocles wrote of, of man over the wind.


The deceptively warm breeze of winter brings it back to me, the intake of breath, the rush of water, the deceptive power of blood and nature that beckons us, even as it wishes to betray it. There is no slumbering boredom, no living within the limits set by others, only those things set by our own fluid need. We watch every wave, aware of the seas fury, weighing and measuring events against eventuality, circumstance against nature, refusing to compromise either dream or future for that which makes us whole.

That is why I wish I could get out into the blue again, to test my mettle before this long dark winter. To simply put my hand into it, leaving a wake trail behind me of all the worries and want and desire. To wash my mind free of all but the roll of the sea, the grip of my hands on the wheel, the clouds anchored above, guided only by the flutter of wind against fabric.

Where's the Wookie - Blog Meet

When the day starts with a frozen chicken pot pie with a candle in it, it can only improve.

Today was the IND blog meet, organized by our beautiful and talented friend Roberta X. We had two guests coming in from out of town, one whom I picked up at the airport. As my regulars know, I met Old NFO years ago when he was in the Navy and I hauled him someplace in a Sherpa (actually several times). We ran into each other about 10 or so years ago via SquirrelVision and have shared many a phone call in years since, through several adventures and lots of travel. He is the only blogger who ever dared my 72 layer cream cheese biscuit recipe, but he wasn't home much and usually subsisted on "bachelor chow". During one period he picked up a whole case of chicken pot pies at Costco. Every time I talked to him, after he returned stateside, often after I'd posted a picture for friends of a new recipe, I'd say "what you are you having" and I heard "another *#%@*!# chicken pot pie". It seemed like a year or two went past. . . still, every conversation. "another @#$%^&@ chicken pot pie".

So, in honor of his birthday last week, I had to pick him up for the blog meet with a special gift. I don't have to tell you what his reply was.


We then met Midwest Chick and Mr. B. for a cooking supply excursion before the meet, a trip to Penzey's Spices, my favorite Artisano's, then a stop at Trader Joe's, before heading over to the local Irish pub. The menfolk took one vehicle for a smoke, while Midwest Chick and I headed out ahead in the bat truck, giggling and talking about everything from Magnum P.I. to the merits of buying things in bulk.


The men, hot on the trucks tail (you could NOT lose Mr. B. in a vehicle if he was intent on following you), followed us over. Tam had arrived early to secure the awesome "round table" and was rewarded with the last sugar dusted Norwegian baked good I had brought to share. Thanks Tam! We needed the space. We had a great turn out, including two new folks, one a blogger, one a regular reader (and military aviator, always fun to talk to with this group).

Roberta X, Joanna , Kerry, Uncle Jay, The Jack , Midwest Chick, Tam, Mr. B., Old Grouch, Donald (first time visitor!), Karl, Old NFO and myself. The rare treat of a visit from Uncle Jay was the reason we had our impromptu gathering Saturday as he traveled through, and it was well worth it to spend time with he and other great folks.

While the appetizers started arriving, someone always has to say "what knife are you carrying?

Out come the knives.


This is the Indiana, where we can get lifetime concealed carry permits and our license plates say "In God We Trust, so our waitress dashes around as a dozen people whip out large and very pointy knives to wave, and doesn't blink. She simply says "anyone ready for another Guinness?"

Then of course, out come the multi tools. Aw. . crap, I don't have one on me. I'm sitting next to Roberta X who has multi tools you can use to hotstart the U.S.S. Enterprise and all I have is whistle shaped like a little train.

Conversation was as varied and interesting as the careers and interests of the group, guns and technology, starships and starfish, cooking with peppers and getting peppered with buckshot, sci-fi, and radios, military weaponry, guns, how a No. 2 writing implement and a certain fighter jet can take the lead out of your pencil real quick, and exactly what shade of blue is seen inside a big electrical fireball.

And don't forget Spam with bacon. (Wow, I didn't know they made Spam with recognizable pork products in it :-)


Before I knew it, 3 hours had passed, and I had a long drive home to let Barkley out and make sure our out of town guests got to their hotels. Goodbyes were said to the group and then some hellos to the four legged one. After checking in where they were staying, Uncle Jay and Old NFO I headed to a little bar/eatery near the airport for a snack and a couple more hours of conversation on guns, and gear, Seals and Sealants, normal dinner conversation, just more "sploody".

Too soon, time for everyone to head out. To our out of town guests - thanks for making the trip. It was great to see you both. To our new guests, welcome!