Budget Cuts - Storing Your Food

Some budget cuts are necessary. Some not so much.

But with gas up .40 cents a gallon in the last few days and a 60 mile commute to work, I'm looking at small ways to cut back. I have a firm offer on the Range, and if all goes well with the home inspection and their financing it may close by the end of March. But I'm losing about $15,000 cash plus some improvements I put in myself, new drywall and paint, kitchen flooring, a new stove and hot water heater. Not great, not awful. Better than the last house I sold after an automotive factory layoff in my previous town (I couldn't GIVE that house away). Still, if I keep it, I'm honestly afraid I wouldn't be able to sell it if I DID need to, given the increasing numbers of foreclosures in my little town. Some people say. Why sell? I can afford it. But I think things are going to get a whole lot worse, I want much smaller, more land, more shop, more self sufficiency, less mortgage but still close enough in I can put on my gear and go do the service I've sworn to do.

I'm very blessed, with a good job, good health and friends standing by me to help as I move. Still, like most all Americans, I'm trimming my budget as gas and food prices skyrocket, cheaper cuts of meat or game, marinated and cooked with care, cooking in bulk and freezing portions rather than eating lunch out, and used bookstore, not new bookstore. I even carpool (or truckpool) when I know I'm not on standby.

I've even gotten the rest of my family into the shopping in larger quantities. Hey where's my big yoghurt bucket?

I'm also spending more effort on storing up food supplies for the long term, buying at good prices, and storing in bulk. I'm by far not the only one. I've been seeing, at numerous places, people selling food-grade buckets (no off-gassing from the plastic), along with desiccant packets, heat-sealable mylar bags and gamma lids. For longer term storage of dry goods, such as rice and beans and such, it's a very good start. Plus they are stackable and the gamma lids have a nice watertight seal if you should ever have to crack into your stores.

If you have a lot of freezer space, storing fresh and properly sealed food is easy. But what about if you don't have a huge or extra freezer? Sure there's peanut butter. I love peanut butter, but there's a lot of other more dubious cheap food products with a long shelf life.

There's canned food such as Spam or "Armour Potted Meat Food Product." What exactly is potted meat? According to the label it's: Beef Tripe, Beef Hearts, Cooked Fat Tissue Solids, and Partially Defatted Cooked Pork Fatty Tissue. . . mmmm, it's "America's favorite" the old label used to say - favorite what?.
I remember the first time I saw THAT on the shelf in the pantry and read the ingredients. "What's beef tripe" I asked my Mom. She said "it's in the middle of the cow". I got that same of vague answer when I asked how babies were made

The potted meat looked like something from Gross Anatomy 101 after running it through a wood chipper and closely resembled a can of "Mighty Dog". No thanks. In those days that pretty much just left the Spam and Beenie Weenies. But if you were snowbound with no food to eat for a month because you didn't think to store food properly, would you want your family only eating Beenie Weenies? In perhaps a small enclosed space? I think not. So you need to have some other food sources on hand. Fortunately there are a lot more choices

Freeze Dried Foods - Not just for backpacking in to the campsite any more. A favorite brand among friends is Mountain House. They are airtight NITROGEN PACKED #10 cans or pouches. Up to 98% of the residual oxygen has been removed, according to their website. They advertise a 30 year shelf life. I can't say any have been purchased with that intent, but for backpacking they were found to be very good and worth the little bit of extra $$, less per serving that any fast food you'd eat in town. There are other great brands as well, and I'm sure some on my sidebar will have their own recommendations.

Home Dried Foods

Jerky - Jerky is tasty, stores well, and can be flavored with other items for a little variety Just some basic rules here. Do not package until completely cool to the touch. Like all dried foods, store in small batches to minimize the change of contamination. Like dried vegetables, dried meat will keep up to six months; well dried and stored in a freezer, it can keep well for years. There's some jerky around here from an elk hunt LONG ago that's still good, kept in the freezer.

For vegetables dried in a dehydrator - see your unit's instructions for conditioning instructions prior to storage or refer to How to Dry Fruits and Vegetables with a Dehydrator. Use only air tight containers or freezer bags from which ALL air has been removed before closing it up.

Sulfured fruit - store in non-metal containers. Dried fruits will keep up to a year and longer in the freezer. Again - cool dry and dark, but they will keep well at temperatures up to 60 degrees, though slightly cooler than that is optimum. If you see condensation on the inside of any of the containers, you MUST re-dry it again.

Hickory Smoking - Does not matter if it is rain or shine Barkley wil sit on the deck in a puddle of drool while this smokes away, refusing to come inside. Smoked products will keep afair amount of time and unlike "mystery sausage" you know what went in this.


With the multiple racks within the smoker, 15 pounds were made in one batch. It still needs to be frozen if not eaten pretty soon, but sealed well, it will keep a LONG time.

Root Cellers

Potatoes - Inspect all potatoes for soft spots, sprouts and mold. Only perfect potatoes are suitable for long-term storage, if you find soft spots. use them now. If yours are home grown, allow to dry thoroughly before storing. Do not wash potatoes first. Store in a cardboard box, or mesh bag to ensure enough ventilation. Store where it's cool, dry and dark (50-60 degrees is ideal). Check on them regularly and remove any that go soft, sprout or shrivel. Place the potatoes in a cardboard box, paper bag or mesh bag to ensure good ventilation.

Apples - Dried apples are a favorite of the dried fruits, but whole apples will keep a long while if stored properly. You want to store in a cool basement, garage, fruit cellar or refrigerator. The ideal storage temperature is 30-32°F with 90% humidity. If temp falls below 30 apples will be damaged and if it gets over 40 they will ripen too quickly.

Just the thing for a big apple pancake some cold winter morning. (recipe in the comments). What? You wanted SPAMbled eggs? Sorry
.Onions - Inspect like you do for potatoes. For this use a couple of clean and dried ladies stockings (yes, on the exceedingly rare occasions wherein I don a dress, I wear real stockings as I HATE, hate, hate, pantyhose). Or if you use pantyhose, cut off the legs. Drop an onion into the leg and tie a knot, continue adding and knotting until the leg is full. Store where cool, dry and between 40-45 degrees. When you need an onion, simply get out your handy little knife and carefully cut a slit in the side of one of the knotted off sections. This will allow you to reinsert an onion and reuse the stocking.

Corn - I'll be honest. I've never stored corn other than in the freezer so I'm not sure about other ways to store it. Any suggestions readers? Here is some of Farmer Frank W. James corn, which he so graciously shared this year, prepared as he recommends in his blog and prepped for the winter freezer with the "food saver". Yum!

But Brigid, I don't live out in the "burbs" or the country. I don't HAVE a root cellar, garage space or a basement?

Even in the burbs, a shelf an inch or two out from the wall (avoid condensation) right down near (but not on) the floor, will guarantee a pretty consistent and cool temperature in the mid to upper 50's as long as the adjacent wall is below ground level.

But if you have a bit of yard, and you have no other options, you can make your own in a pinch in many climates. If you rent, it takes up little space and can easily be returned to it's previous state before you move out so not to annoy your landlord. Simply dig a hole in the soil to accommodate a large sized plastic container. Think storage bin with lid, new garbage can or an old cooler. Put your container in the hole, making sure you leave an inch or two sticking out of the ground to prevent rainwater from entering the "cellar". Even better, dig a little drainage ditch around it. Remember to cover with insulating straw and plastic as well (which will also further protect it from run off.

Place your food items in the container. Don't store apples with potatoes by the way. Pack it with straw or other insulation quality material and pop the top on securely. (This should keep out the local bugs and smaller critters). Remember though - if it's above the frost line IT WILL FREEZE, unless adequately insulated. Check the food periodically and remove any immediately that is looking soft or discolored. Apples will keep (approximately as found in my climate) up to six months, carrots 5 months, potatoes 5 months,squash 5 months, beets 4 months (like that's going to happen, I HATE beets). If you see condensation there may well be mold which is a real hazard for consumption.

Note: This is NOT an ideal solution, but there may be a time in your life when it's necessary.

So go on and buy some bulk food and get started storing it properly. You won't ever regret doing it.

Remember, these are just some very basic hints and I won't be offended if some of you have more correct information, or advice in the comments. Home canning is a post all by itself so I'll put some information on that another time. If you would like more detailed, experienced information, go check out my sidebar for sites like Bushcraft USA or some of the blog links at "assortment of interest". I have several homesteaders and hunters and the like in that section of unique bloggers. People of reasoned mind and real world experience, nice folks and happy to help. Just don't ask about the tripe.

Recognition - A Photo and Thoughts

click to enlarge the big brown eyes if you dare

Mom, that wood's stacked kind of high. It's icy. Be Careful.

Because you know, you have treats in that coat pocket.

It's always nice to know there are those that care about you. While I was recovering from surgery, the indomitable Whitetail Woods - Rick K. presented me with the Stylish Blogger Award. At the time, I just didn't have the energy to do all the links and such to pass it on, but thanked him (if you love the outdoors and hunting, his blog is not one to miss).

Then it turns up again, Jim Rawles at SurvivalBlog.com presenting me the award as well.

All right gentlemen, I give up. :-) I am feeling better after all. So in keeping with the rules of the award, I will pass the award on to 15 other bloggers, and divulge 7 secrets about myself. (Seeing as how Old NFO and Murphy's Law, who know me professionally, threatened with a list of 15 today.) I don't hide much. You all heard about Seigfriend and Roy and the infamous static electricity incident. Which led me to the invention of the "Don't Tase Me, Bra !". But there ARE some things you don't know.

7 things you don't know about B.

1. I once got sent to the principals office for reading a copy of Road and Track behind my history book.

2. I started college at 14. It was the free wheeling 70's but the reason I was the only girl on the campus not wearing a bra was sadly, I was the only one that didn't need one.

3. I HATE tomatoes in their cold, seedy, alien, larval life form state.

4. I will never ever be a size zero. I could care less.

5. I was jogging in the park when I realized I was in the middle of some college running event. Up ahead the tape for the finish line. What could I do? I picked up my pace, ran through the tape, arms raised, shouting. "I won! I won! and kept on going.

6. In 5th grade Mom bought me the world's ugliest and sturdiest shoes. Money was tight in our house but I hated them. I took a hammer to them, put them on a string and dragged them behind my bike for miles. I smeared peanut butter on them and let the dog play with them while Mom was sleeping. . After a month they looked suitably worn out. Mom dragged me back to J.C. Penny, complained about the quality of the shoe and got a new pair, EXACTLY the SAME.

7. I would rather watch Top Gear than ANY show involving shoes or fashion.

8. I used my first four letter word. . . . loudly, on the pastor from the Lutheran Church. I used it quite a few more times before I hung up my wings.

9. I once had a parrot I could NOT get to talk. After a bunch of pilots came over for a party, I left them downstairs with the TV to fend for themselves as I had to go to bed for an early sortie. I woke up to my precious, previously mute, bird screeching "Nice Tits!" at the top of her little bird lungs.

10. I still cry, at taps, at the slaughter of the innocent, at the sound of a voice late in the night calling from a military installation so very far away, making sure I'm OK.

And here are my 15, in no particular order. You guys make each day a little wiser and brighter. Thanks

• Midwest Chick


• Phlegmfatale


• Shannon


• A Call to Wings


• Preachers and Horse Thieves
  
• Rev. Paul - Way Up North


• Scrap iron, Grease and Grain


• Bore Patch


• Lagniappes Lair


• Rio Arriba


• Tango Juliet


• The Trooper's Gal


• North


• MauserMedic


• On a Wing and a Whim
  

Pictures of America - Tricks and Treats

Avoid the houses that are dark. Don't go to Louisiana Street.

I was at a colleagues for a young one's birthday last weekend and in cleaning up, I noticed the remnants of a bag of Halloween candy, especially the Lemonheads, the little guys favorite. It made me smile.

Trick or Treating was big in my house, even as it came with its own set of rules. Done on Halloween, not a Friday or Saturday or what was convenient or politically correct. School night be damned, we were out and we were going to get our loot.

When I was really little, it was the purchased costume, as I got older we were encouraged to make our own, to save money sure, but also to spark some creativity.

As an adult, I do the same though it's a rare party I'll go to, preferring the company of just one or two people, or even myself, to a crowd. But I was invited to a costume party at a doctors house and it was friends I wanted to see. Most of the folks there were medical. I didn't know until the last minute if I could go so what to do for a costume. My "date" was a friend who said he'd go with me, former military, I had him bring over a pair of fatigues. I wore the top half, which fit just down to mid thigh,with flesh colored tights beneath. He wore the bottom half with combat boots and a flesh colored T shirt.

We showed up and the guests, most from the hospital, said. "What are YOU two?"

Upper and Lower GI !

We spent $0 and won best costume.

Then there was a party I went to about fifteen years ago as Monika Lewinsky. Blue velvet dress, black shoulder length wig and a cigar. . at a governors house. It was quite the hit.

As adults we can still laugh, even if it's sometimes just at ourselves. But the memories this last week of Halloween, months after the last leaf of fall had dropped, were about the candy.

When I went Trick or Treating, I went with a brother who was a year and a half older than I. No adults tagged along, children out in a town of just a few thousand people in the late 60's were not at risk at the hands of adults. We were given strict instructions though. We could only do our block and the next one over. The third block, Louisiana Street might as well have had a sign "there be dragons". We were limited to where we could go but we had a fabric tote bag that would hold a LOT of goodies. There would be some homemade treats, but the mom's were smart, they put little commercial address labels on the wrapped treat so our mom's knew immediately who sent it and if it would be safe to eat.

But the occasional popcorn ball aside, but we were after was the commercial loot. Hersey's and Tootsie Rolls, Fruit Stripe gum, Sugar Daddies, Smartees, Milk Duds (still a favorite), Idaho Spud (chocolate flavored marshmallow dipped in chocolate and rolled in coconut), Good and Plenty, Skybar, Nestle Crunch, Dots, Pixy Sticks, Big Hunk, Boston Baked Beans (those were given away, I still don't like them), Gobstoppers, SweetTarts (more, please), Charms, Mike and Ike's, those little candy necklaces, Necco wafers, Slo Pokes (still like those but haven't seen in ages), Jolly Ranchers, Chic-o-Sticks, Bazooka gum.

The only thing Mom wouldn't let us keep was the Sugar Daddies. For some reason she thought those would just ruin our teeth and would hide them away, to be rationed out one by one over time. Usually however, after a month she'd forget about them. We'd run stealthy espionage missions into the kitchen until we found her hiding spot and would capture them and hide them in our secret fort to ruin our teeth at our own darn pace.

But the trick or treating wasn't just about the candy. It was being out, after dark, by ourselves, just kids, with scores of other kids, flashlights in hand. We'd trudge off like miners, Mom waving a little goodbye of forlorn assurance as we headed out. Out in front of us, two whole blocks, dozens of houses, the darkness slung low with lights, the night blowing cool and full of promise.

One year I was a ghost, that year a lot of kids were ghosts, the lumber mill having laid off a bunch of men, and money for costumes sorely lacking. An old sheet, a couple of holes cut for eyes and you were a ghost. Pity the poor kid who was the pink ghost, he was going to get flattened like a pancake next time the boys played dodgeball. In our garb, we hovered over places of play, breathing sugar fueled dreams like air, ashen figures gliding through the night on silent feet.

To each porch that had a light on we'd go, candy bag in hand. Trick or Treat, though with my front tooth missing, more like Twik or Tweat. Still that missing tooth got me extra candy (oh aren't you cute). The houses weren't decorated up the way they are now, but on the porch would often be a lone jack o lantern, eyes shining from a candle or some fake cobwebs along the porch (those aren't fake! ack ack ack, get it out of my hair!)

We'd pass each other wondering just who was that superhero, who was that under the Casper mask? We scurried along, hands waving, quick steps in time to the chatter of chilled breath, the blocks of a post war suburb stretching out, the dim lights of small town America. As ghosts, cowboys, baseball players and Superman, we covered ground, drawing in deep breaths of it all, unutterably aware of how brief this night would be. I think even as kids we know that too soon we'd have to put this other life, this other identify away, as we melted anonymously back into our regular life, with wistful longing and the taste of sweetness on our lips.

One house, always anticipated, had its owner dress like a witch, press on warts and all, and she'd have a steaming cauldron of dry ice and spooky music playing. That was the best part of that whole street. We'd approach the door, it would open with a haunting creak, the interior of the room blooming with light, a flutter of slender muscles in our arms as we held out our bags, trying to show we weren't really scared. That's just some kids Mom. . right? She really doesn't turn into a witch every Halloween? Then she would laugh, more of a honeyed laugh than a cackle, blue eyes, sparkling, holding us silent with her lifted hand from which would pour down sweet goodness, not toads or bats or other scary things.

Then, too soon, we were done with our two blocks, but not near our curfew. Up ahead, in the blackness, the third block. Louisiana Street. Forbidden.

We circled back and forth, other kids from the block gathering. Walking back and forth along the curb of the streets end as if at a wake for a perfectly tangible body. It did not go unnoticed, the other children coming from its murky depths, none maimed in any way we saw.

Why did our Mom's tell us not to come to this street? It looked safe enough. We held our candy bags, already bulging but still with room left and looked at it, in a sugar laden swoon of agonized longing. It will never be this way again, it's just ONE street. So we advanced, trudging up the steps to that first house, looking over our shoulders as if we could already see our Mom scolding us. We hit about six more houses, with other kids from our street, before as a group we agreed to go back, swearing each other to secret, blood brothers, blood oaths (even if the blood was Pixy Stick food coloring).


We then trudged on home, tired, happy, stuffing what candy we could get in around our masks as we waited to cross each street, looking left and right as we'd been taught, going in a group that had at least one flashlight. We were of a generation that for the most part obeyed our parents rules, for with disobedience came punishment. None of this "throw a temper tantrum in the store, I'll just BUY you that toy to get you to shut up". We were of the "spare the rod, spoil the child generation" and my backside met Mr. Ruler more than once. Making promises of punishment that never happens does not work. Doesn't work with rogue countries, doesn't work with children.

There up ahead, the lights of our little evergreen colored house. The wind had blown the clouds away, leaving a bright starry night, imaginary bat wings beating in the trees, a black cat crossing the road under the silver echo of the stars.

I stretched out my hand as if to clutch a star, to save a sweet fragment of the night to tuck into the book of that day. Too soon, time to go in, the night rushing past all too quickly, stolen moments of sweetness there in the dark. As children we live in the moment, not realizing that in recollection, we see how quickly it all went past, and holding a sweet piece of time with blurred eyes, you knew you had lost part of that, the innocence and the wonder, forever, even if memory remains.

Back home, we pour our bounty out onto the floor, Mom picking through it to throw out anything that was partially wrapped, checking the little note on the popcorn ball from Mrs. Erickson, grabbing the Sugar Daddies as if they were a live wire. We didn't mention the extra houses we went to.

Years later we told our Dad about the extra excursion to the banned street. He sort of smiled. I knew, we knew you would. But "why" I said, it was just a few more houses? But the street was wider, a lot more cars, a higher speed limit.

Mom was trying to protect us as best she could without actually going along with us. Too soon we'd grow up, finding that too much sugar can make you fat and roses only draw blood. She let us live with our innocence as long as she could, while preparing us to be fighters and risk takers.

Though I think I'll have an apple for breakfast, not candy, I'm still open for adventure. Soon I'll go out in search of my own Louisiana street, far away, but reachable, the lure too sweet to resist.

I feel the need. I feel the need for expeditious velocity.

One of my favorite comics in the world Abstruse Goose

Or maybe not. . .

Brain: Now, Pinky, if by any chance you are captured during this mission, remember you are Gunther Heindriksen from Appenzell. You moved to Grindelwald to drive the cog train to Murren. Can you repeat that?

Pinky: Mmmm, no, Brain, don't think I can.

I'm not getting anywhere fast today. Nor can I can remember much of anything today, at least anything requiring cognitive thought or a detailed recipe.

I'd been fighting a sore throat and sniffles since I got back from my long trip. A day in the field (oh, great it's snowing on us) clinched it, and by the time I got the truck unloaded and out of my gear after being awake about 20 hours I was shaking with a fever. A quick decontamination, a mug of tea, a chat with my friend, two aspirin and 14 and a half hours of sleep later I felt like I might live. Especially after making something my Mom used to make for me when I was feeling a little peckish. Grilled peanut butter and honey sandwiches. PB and wild honey smeared on whole grain bread, the outside of the bread brushed with softened real butter and grilled until the outside is buttery, crispy and the honey starts to caramelize. I'll never get too old for this.

click to enlarge

It's just a bad cold, I get one every spring and fall. I'm feeling better than yesterday and will just hang out and stay warm, albeit occassionally barking like a harp seal.

So today, warm blanket, a tasty sandwich, and Pinky and the Brain

It's a good thing I've got the video player for there's not a whole lot else on TV during a work day unless "you or someone you love are dead and wish to call this number" to get a litigation attorney. (If you're dead, how do you . . . oh never mind).

Or you wish to watch what's on regular TV.

Deershank Redemption

Most hunters aren't quite sure what to do with the shank. Elk, deer, antelope. But nothing gets wasted here. This book is one of the best I've seen if you've never processed your own meat and need detailed, pictorial instructions (and don't worry folks, those are painting drop cloths, not the scene of violent meat mayhem).

Shanks (the lower part of the leg) have a lot of sinew and connective tissue so there really isn't a lot you can do to make them tender or tasty. So they usually get ground up into burger. Nothing braises quite like a shank, whether it be lamb, beef, veal or, in this case, venison, but if you are short on actual prep time, a marinade makes a good alternative. For the hunters out there, we all know that we really shouldn't’t waste the shanks of the deer, elk or antelope we shoot and with the right prep you can get a tasty supper. Prep is the key. Muscles that get a lot of work, though tough as all get out, are full of flavor.

A proper marinade is easy, and will help to break down the connection tissue into a silky coating that will tenderize and sweeten the meat. Add in a little spice and some savory bacon. . . .

I made this a weekend or two ago, and it was a hit.

Bacon Wrapped Venison Shanks

2 lbs venison shank per person. For each add:

1/2 lb bacon (Plain, thin-sliced Bacon is best)
3 cups dark brown sugar
2 cups soy sauce

2 heaping teaspoons of ground ginger

dash of garlic powder (or 1/2 to 1 teaspoon of minced garlic).

Mix sugar, soy and seasoning in a large zip lock bag (you can use more than one bag if you have several helpings, I usually only have four to prep unless I got the Three Mile Island Whitetail). Poke just a few shallow holes in the venison with a fork. Add venison shank(s) to the marinade in the bag. Put in the fridge at night and let marinate until dinner tomorrow.

Remove the shank(s) and place on a slotted bake sheet with a drip pan or aluminum foil below to catch dripping. Don't throw away marinade.

Wrap the shank in uncooked Bacon. You may use more than 1/2 a pound, just make sure the shank is covered, securing it as needed with a toothpick or two.

Drizzle some of the the remaining marinade over the meat. You want enough to moisten the meat and also a little in the bottom of the pan so you can continue to baste the shank with the marinade throughout the cooking process with a brush or a turkey baster.

Place on center rack in oven and bake at 350°F for 25-30 minutes. This should cook the meat to about rare. If you want it more cooked, even with the searing step that follows, add 5-10 minutes. This is a naturally tough piece of meat so leaning towards rare will give you the better cut and taste.

Remove shank from oven and place the shank directly on a grill over medium-high heat for a minute to sear the bacon and outer shank. If you wish to pass on this step, cook the shank at 300 degrees F. for an hour and a half, remove and let rest five minutes and slice and serve. The bacon won't be as crispy but it will be as good.

Home on the Range Advice of the Day

If you're going to have just one bullet.

Make it hollow point.

We start with jacketed lead. If your bullet has "high velocity application" written all over it, it often has a lead core that is jacketed (plated) with copper alloys, cupronickel, gilding metal or steel. This ultra thin layer of harder metal protects the softer lead core as the bullet passes through the barrel and during flight, keeping your little delivery intact. Full metal jacket bullets have the front and sides of the bullet completely encased in the harder metal jacket. Some bullet jackets do not extend to the front of the bullet to aid in expansion and increase lethality. These are called hollow point bullets .

This hollowed out shape (a pit) in the tip of the hollow point can be quite large, sometimes dominating the volume of the bullet and causing extreme expansion or fragmentation on impact. The purpose of this design in general is to cause the bullet to expand upon entering a target in order to disrupt more tissue as it travels through the target, while decreasing and controlling penetration and the possibility of ricochet (to avoid collateral damage of the innocent or structures that do not need holes in them).

If a bullet travels through a target some of its kinetic energy is lost. The hollow point bullet has two interrelated purposes: to increase its size once within the target, to maximise tissue damage and blood loss or shock, and by remaining in the target to expend all of its kinetic energy IN the target.

When a hollow-point bullet strikes a soft target, the pressure created in the pit forces the material (usually lead) around the inside edge to expand outwards, increasing the axial diameter of the projectile as it passes through. This process is commonly referred to as mushrooming, because the resultant shape typically resembles a mushroom, with a rounded nose on top of a cylindrical base.

As your doctor would say "you're going to feel a little pinch". hehehehe

The greater frontal surface area of the expanded bullet limits its depth of penetration into the target, and causes more extensive tissue damage along the wound path. I believe it is for this reason, that most hollow points, especially those intended for use at high velocity in centerfire rifles, are "jacketed". This simply means a portion of the lead-cored bullet is wrapped in a thin layer of harder metal, such as copper or mild steel. This increases bullet strength and prevents fouling the barrel with lead stripped from the bullet. In controlled expansion bullets, the jacket and other internal design characteristics help to prevent the bullet from breaking apart; a fragmented bullet not penetrating as far.

There IS a difference between a true exploding bullet and a projectile designed to fragment on impact and if often causes some confusion. In an exploding round, (and no, not a grenade with a fuse or a cannon round), it is designed to explode upon hitting a hard surface, preferably the bone of the intended target. these bullets are composed of a casing containing a small amount of low explosive powder charge, which on striking, forces the end projective element out at high speeds.

The frangible round, such as the Glaser Safety Slug, is designed to disintegrate into tiny particles upon impact to minimize the shoot-through danger behind the intended target.

Those in the military, law enforcement or who just watch too much TV, know of the Armor piercing round, designs where the core material is a very hard, high-density metal such as tungsten, tungsten carbide, depleted uranium, or steel. A pointed tip is often used, though a flat tip on the penetrator portion can be more effective.

The end result of all types of rounds, however, is stopping power. Good guy, versus Bad Guy, you do the math.

Your basic projective type bullet causes soft tissue damage through crushing, this in turn creating a temporary cavity that contains hot gases. If you were to put on your CSI or coroner hat, you'd see that the the tissue is compressed radially from the center of the cavity and resulting in tears to structures (such as solid abdominal viscera), the extent of which is dependant on its elastic properties. The recoil of the tissues, together with the dissipation of the gases, causes the soft tissue to collapse inwards on itself, the resultant defect being a permanent cavity (ahem, large hole)
.
Expansion, or hollow point, bullets are designed to deform upon impact because of a collapsible space within the projectile tip. The result is that a single projectile will inflict greater overall damage to a target than a projectile alone, allowing an increased transfer of kinetic energy compared with a standard bullet. Although, as we said, there's a decreased chance of ricochet, some of the older ammunition failed to expand on impact as a result of pieces of clothing obstructing the cavity.

Prefragmented, or frangible, bullets are composed of a prescored outer jacket with a plastic round nose containing compressed lead shot within. The result is a controlled explosion on impact producing increased damage and less clothing related problems. The tips, however, possess no explosive charge.

Now you're saying "OK, now I know more about ballistics than the folks on CSI Miami (actually, the average Smurf knows more about ballistics than the folks on CSI Miami). But my point is this. If you carry for self defense, you are not shooting to deter, you are shooting to STOP. You need to have the skills, and you need to have the proper ammunition.

Above is an example of some pistol rounds, from left to right.

A. Is it in yet?
D. Fac ut gaudeam
E. Take no prisoners

I've heard the argument "Oh, I can use a smaller round, it will deter them", or "I'll just shoot them in the arm or the leg so I don't kill them".

Wrong

I've written of these points before and they can not be stated enough times.

Shooting someone with the intent to only wound, such as shooting someone in the arm is still using lethal force in the eyes of the law, and under which you MUST be in immediate danger of grave bodily injury or death. If you are not, then you are not allowed by the law to shoot them at all.

The truth is, when someone is shot, it's not like TV where they get flung across the room, crumple up in a little dead heap on there floor. There are exceptions. A head shot will drop them pronto, but most shots aren't head shots. Even after a shot to the heart a person MAY have 10-15 seconds of willful control That's 10-15 seconds in which they will do all they can to kill you. Coroner reports will show you that perps often continue an attack even after multiple wounds, any of them in and of themselves, lethal.

You may drop someone with one well placed shot, even with a small caliber, but it is not as likely as TV would have you believe. The body has stores of oxygen it can use, in a fight or flight situation, for sometimes some surprising seconds, before the brain shuts down.

What about a pelvic girdle shot? Old schoolers like the late Jim Cirillo and Massad Ayoob have talked about it for years. It's not as easy or as instinctual as going for center mass, but a hit on the pelvic ring anywhere will usually fracture the bone in two places. Without that structure, the tactical tango is out, you shouldn't even be able to walk. But although there are significant neural and vascular structures in the pelvis, they are not prone to damage from cavitation. Certainly a direct hit to the femoral artery will kill, and quickly, but the aorta is bigger than the femoral and more prone to cavitation injury. You can hit the pelvic girdle and with some ammo just leave a nice round little hole, or they can go down but still have a good shooting arm. Remember, like any shot, it's a tool in the tool box.

What you do need to remember, with the exception of a brain shot, most shots with most ammos do not kill right away. Man, like any other animal, expiring from lack of oxygen to the brain. You've got to achieve basic circulatory collapse, either complete failure of the heart that stops the flow of oxygenated blood to the brain or bleeding out. Secondly, the lungs can fill with blood or the airways are disrupted to the point that they cannot support the flow of air through them. When oxygen stores in the blood cease being replenished and your O2 stores are gone, the brain shuts down. That can take seconds.

It's about blood loss folks. That takes serious damage. The body can pretty much operate until about 20% of the blood supply is drained. Shots with tiny ammo, unless exceedingly well placed, or shots to the arms or legs are not going to stop some folks. You've heard the quote "if someone ever shoots me with .25 auto and I find out about it I'm going to kick their ass? It's true, some people not even knowing they HAD been shot with the adrenalin going.

There's really only one type of shot that is guaranteed to take someone down in 1 to 2 seconds from the shot being fired and that is one that will instantly scramble the "circuitry" of the human body. A nerve must be struck by the bullet or the shockwave produced by the bullet passing through the tissue that contains the nerve. That will agitate that nerve, big or small, enough for it to go haywire. When it does, it sounds out a large amount of electrical energy from all the nerves involved, that head on up to the brain and simply overload its capacity to respond. It's the blue screen of death in the brain. You might see a twitch, as nerve signals also shoot downstream from the area of the damage to the periphery of the body where an exaggerated response of the normal operation of that nerve occurs. But they are way past ever hurting someone again.

Nerve disruption that will take the body down like that is in the brain or the spinal cord, NOT the heart. Do you try some head shots at the range on your non threatening, non moving target? Then you know how hard it can be to hit. Pistols can be ineffective when they do not find a thin part of the skull to pass through, often bouncing off. An ocular window hit will usually get in, but the human head bobs a whole lot more than Mr. Stationary target, making that window that much smaller.

Now add in movement and adrenalin, and getting a shot that is not only well placed. but will penetrate, is easier said than done. The spine isn't that easy to hit either, it's not that large (and in some politicians, non existent) and the shot needs to be placed at a point about level with the tip of the sternum, around T11, to be instantly stopping. And since you have the rest of the body in the way, the spine isn't really an option. You can NOT shoot someone in the back if at that point they are no danger to you and yours. Period.

This is why I'm not going to carry some cute little .22 or .380 with plinking ammo if I have a choice. I'm going to carry something with some stopping power. For me, shooting to kill when threatened with great bodily harm or death IS my psychological default.

If I only have time for one shot and it MUST count, I AM going for the heart and the major arteries just above it. I'm going for the head as well. I'm going to use calibers with lots of shockwave. I'm not going to "wound" the criminal, with the resultant possibility of bone and nerve and muscle damage, wherein attorneys can play the argument of ‘cruel and unusual punishment’ and pursue punitive damages for destroying the capacity of your ‘victim’ to earn wages and so on. You don’t try to just wound people intent on raping and/or killing you with a gun. If you buy a gun for self defense, saying "I can't defend myself with lethal force", do NOT buy one.

Then before you carry, practice. Practice with the rounds you intend to use.One thing to remember with Hollow Points: Many older pistols, 1911's in particular, have feed ramps designed for rounded FMJ bullets and they may not chamber some hollow-points reliably. If you're going to carry hollow-points, you need to test fire a number of rounds, making sure that your pistol chambers and fires them reliably. That saves you from getting a "click" when you really need a "bang!"

I've said it before. Shoot until they catch fire or melt but once they are stopped, you stop, and if they run away, you stop. Whether your life was in immediate and grave danger, if there's a bullet in the back or buttocks of the criminal YOU are now the criminal in the eyes of the court until you prove otherwise.

So, when a non shooter or new shooter says to you that they would just "shoot to wound", have a little discussion with them about legal dynamics, human physiology, tactics and ballistics.

Then explain to them what happens if they meet up with evil, and they are not prepared, for then, they will have lost something. For, if they live, and the monster only harms them in ways that sear the soul, they will be looking back, to that parking lot at the bank or dark street or grocery, back to the untainted time and smell and taste of when they HAD that choice, of where they walked and what people they let into their space, when the denial process won out over the actuality of human nature. Back before they were a victim.

(1) FBI "Handgun Wounding Factors and Effectiveness" , public doc

"Night Vision" Barkley

The look says it all. Busted.

I swear, If he's going to keep stealing my brand new underwear I'm getting him an inflatable poodle.

The Price

The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.

Thomas Jefferson

Weekend Update - Gun Show

Sometimes the best weekends aren't at a exotic location, but in a warm home, among friends who understand what is truly important.

And good food. I was lucky and got to spend the weekend with Mr. B. and Midwest Chick.


Boiling oil. It's not just for medieval sieges any more.

Pepper steak. Marinated for two days, tossed in flour seasoned with cayenne, cumin and paprika and flash fried at a high temp so it melts and explodes on your tongue at your first bite. Mr. B can do a meal up right, I can say that. Midwest Chick and I just stood around with a beer going "it's Shake and Bake and I helped" in a cheesy southern accent and nibbling on the beef as it came out of the pan, it being too good to wait for the table.


Tossed with stir fried broccoli, onion and pepper and served over rice.

click to enlarge

Add in a bottle of Yuengling, a loaf of homemade bread that Midwest Chick crafted and some butter I picked up at a local dairy farm.


Then, after a good night's sleep, it was off to the Valparaiso Gun Show. We arrived a couple hours after opening and the line was still out the door. We didn't wear coats, thinking we'd just be in and quick so the 20 minute wait got a little chilly. Mr. B, being a gentleman, put an arm around each of us and tucked is in close. The man behind us in line was like "I can't even get ONE pretty girl to come to the gun show with me, he gets two. . .".

We spent several hours, perusing many displays and business offerings, including a stop at 21st Century Firearms of Bluffton. Their employee Jahred works hard for a great business with good service and a new firearm was picked up.

There was something for every taste, from weekend shooter to medieval enthusiasts.

I looked for a Fairbairn Sykes knife (between the third and fourth rib, seventeen degrees up. . . . ) for the collection but couldn't find one, but the show had a pretty good collection of flat edged weapons of all varities.

Just Say NO to pink guns.

Then off to a place in town for a little bite to eat. Don't even ask.

OHHHH. New Toys!!!


Tonight, a dinner out with Og and the Mrs and other friends, and another Yuengling may sacrifice itself for the cause. Cheers - Brigid

Home - Finding Treasures Galore

Hunting the Wild Sweet Potato. Always a good way to start the day.

I'm home. (Was that six time zones or did I lose count). My colleague stayed an extra day and I got this little message from him on my phone.

"I ended up walking about a mile back to the hotel. It was fine except for the Russian spies and 83 ninjas I had to take care of. My shoes ended up slightly scuffed when then 74th ninja got a bit too close. :)

I am very glad you are home safely!!

Looks like I missed out on more fun. But it's good to be home.

But I'm heading out of town in the truck to spend the weekend with a shooty gal friend, her handsome backup and some other friends. Shooting, gun shows, baking, the latest technical gadgets and probably an incorrigible cat or two to keep Barkley wondering.

I did get a nice surprise on my return (other than a very happy Barkley). A beautiful artist in Arizona who crafts unique artisan jewelry with many a western and southwest theme made a piece for sale that just made me grin. Look at the name of the piece and the items on it here and you will understand why I smiled when she emailed me the link.

What is a woman if not capable of...well...everything?

Well, I'm not sure if I'm capable of everything. . but I can handle both a six shooter and a salad shooter. So for today, after spending some quality time with Barkley, happily staying with friends and their offspring, a little bit of breakfast.

Sweet Potato Bread

It's easy to make, no kneading required. With a faint aroma of cinnamon and butter and sugar it's best fresh from the oven or sliced day old and toasted slightly smeared with softened cream cheese.

The recipe is in the comments until I can get it on the sidebar.

RePosts from the Road - Girl Scout Gunsmithing

Changing out grips isn't real gunsmithing, but it's still something one should try their hand at. Real gunsmithing can be challenging and technically demanding. The gunsmiths I've met are a combination of mechanic, metalworker, mathematician, artisan, ballistic expert and chemist. The gunsmith trade is one that through time has been respected and supported in most Western civilizations. The skills of the gunsmith were necessary for the very survival of early colonies, towns, and cities. Skilled men, providing the services to protect and defend; providing the services to keep peace among the town's people.

In this case, this is the equivalent of some kitchen cosmetic work, the modification required the mighty skill of working a screwdriver. Lets see..... righty tighty, lefty loosey.... yup, I can deal with that. If there was a Girl Scout Badge in this, I could have nailed it.

I love wheel guns, and have owned a couple, as do friends of mine. This one here, is a Taurus snub nose .38 , model 85. It's about fifteen years old, and can count in its history thousands of rounds and thousands of miles of CCW carry as well, always being a personal weapon.

It might be that you just want a different grip, or it might be after years of careful use, you notice a small crack. . The wood is still beautiful, but eventually the grips are going to loosen and perhaps to the point one might come off. That is not an option. So, in this case it was a Hogue Monogrip replacement unit.

I'll be the first to admit. I can do a lot of technical things but as far as guns, I'm not the most experienced with doing more than field stripping, cleaning, bluing and occasionally putting on a scope. The last time I tried to put something together of a non forensic nature involving small pieces, it was that lighted, animated reindeer thing for the lawn for Christmas. After going through the directions, which were written in Sri Lakin, I wrote the manufacturer asking that they consider including with the "all parts included! reindeer kit" (1) directions in English (2) tiny elf-sized metric tools and (3) a gun capable of taking out a reindeer.

I needn't have worried about this little project. Al Gore could have removed these grips. Simply pull the one screw out of the panels and pull them away from the frame, being careful not to lose the locating pin that resides in a frame hole at the bottom of the frame.

The Hogue Monogrip installs with a neat little widget that's included with the grip. Slipped over the frame with the locating pin through it, it provided a good place for the single screw that holds the Hogue Monogrip on the pistol.

With the widget installed as per instructions (wow. . in ENGLISH) it was simply a matter of sliding the Monogrip into place and installing the single mounting screw. That simple. Total time for the job, start to finish, less than ten minutes.

The result is a positive and good feeling pistol grip. Soft enough to really stick to the hand, while being firm enough to provide lots of control. Yes it's rubber, but it's not tacky or spongy. Recoil absorption should be good. The texture of the grip, a sort of "cobblestone feel" as the manufacturer calls it, should be a good medium between a smooth grip and a checkered one.

Not bad for a few minutes at the workbench. Leaving time for other garage projects after supper. Anyone got any duct tape?