SBM - Looking for Fun

Happiness

I'm feeling happier already.

Donuts, the Secret Ninja Fuel - Saturday Rambles and Recipe

Secret Ninja Fuel, otherwise known as donuts, were created this morning. I'm on call, so I can't wander far from home. The kitchen is not far. They are not the perfectly round blimps of dough that is the mass produced donut, some are (ahem) odd shaped and some of the icing got more on me than the donut (there is a reason I don't have a cooking show). But were they good.

click to enlarge, I double dog dare you

Yes. Homemade Boston Cream Donuts


If you have never eaten a homemade donut, you need to. Once you do you will never be able to eat an additive laden, mass produced one again. It's the reason I don't like Crispy Creams in those boxes at the store, they just taste like fluff and chemicals to me. It's the reason I can't get within 15 yards of a White Castle without getting queasy, for once you've had the best slider in the world there's no going back.

Which brings me to this Saturday's ramblings.

It was early this year. I was attending a very large geek convention. My squirrely best friend was one of the keynote speakers, though the event was sponsored by others. I was recovering from surgery and was still a bit bloated, sore and wobbly, but I was asked to be there, and I wasn't going to miss it for anything. There were presenters from all over the world, civilian, military, government and booths that would make any geek hyperventilate. After everyone gave their presentations, we milled around with colleagues at the expo, picking up cheap but cool geek gadgets offered to everyone there and looking at the really cool stuff we couldn't take home.


The first night after the festivities there was a industry hosted cocktail reception for a handful of VIP's (and their sidekicks) where beautiful women kept coming by with little bits of food. One such things was what looked like plain beef on a stick. I figured I'd better taste one to be polite as I wasn't really hungry. At lunch we left convention food to wander the city for something a little more interesting.

Kimchi fried rice? Word. . NO.

But we did have a nice lunch so that night I intended just to try a little one to be sociable.

OMG. What manner of bovine divine IS this?

The tiny and drop dead gorgeous Japanese server, who looked like she could either -

(1) walk on my back or
(2) snap me like a twig, said . . .

"It's KOBE Beef", with great pride. Kobe beef refers to cuts of beef from the black Tajima-ushi breed of Wagyu cattle raised to strict tradition in Hyogo Prefecture, Japan. The meat is unbelievably expensive and prized as a delicacy, renowned for its flavour, tenderness, and fatty, well marbled texture. It is rumored that these cattle are fed beer and ice cream and massaged daily with sake (me, next! pick me!) Actually they are fed grain fodder and brushed sometimes for setting fur. There's a reason it tastes as it does and true Kobe not "kobe style" steaks can cost hundreds of dollars. As my food budget is more navy bean and venison it would probably be a while (as in when the sun implodes) before I had it again.

Let's just say I had more than one. That woman and her tray orbited around me like I was my own planet (which I would have been if I'd eaten more) and every time she made the rounds I'd have to try one before they were all gone.

The next night there was cocktail reception in a big ballroom for some of the presenters and their guests, hosted and paid for by one of the industry companies that was sponsoring the whole shindig. Bill Clinton was there so the security was ultra tight. But I had the special pass and was in though I had to leave my Ninja toys behind in my hotel room. I also had to dress up, meet some folks who wanted to talk shop with me, and promise not to T.P. any current or former Democrats.


Maybe I'm the only person who feels this way but I normally feel like I'm I'm just a little kid occupying a grown up's body. I'm not a female James Bond, I'm not comfy in crowds, and never get invited to fancy parties outside of work, and I don't want to. I'm comfy in my secret kid identity. The kid has no titles, no badge, and isn't in any magazines or newspapers. I'm just B., Colonel D's little girl, baker of cookies, teller of bad jokes and science puns, owner of some cool toys, and I have some really cool playmates. I still cry when the mean girls are mean to me. I can still kick the snot out of a lot of the boys. So normally at these sort of events, I feel out of place, though I do a good job of blending in with the scenery. It's a science. But it's not my natural element, even if I can act like a grown up when required to protect and defend.

Yet also in the same flesh is an adult. One who can pull on my boots and in the middle of the darkest of nights, rise above slumbers respirations, and tackle the undefended throat of the unwary, tools in hand.

But most of the time, I just feel like a little kid.


So that night, I'm wandering around in grown up mode, doing my best to not trip in my high heels, when something caught, not my eye, but my nose. "But what was that wonderful aroma?"

In addition to all sorts of fancy appetizers, they had, not just Kobe Beef, but Kobe Beef sliders and a "mashed potato bar" where you got homemade mashed potatoes served in big wine glasses with a long spoon and everything you could imagine to put on them. They spared no expense. But with a glass of wine and several waters, the little black dress got too little and I had to find a ladies room. Unfortunately it was outside the super secret security, and my "pass" as it were, was in my little bag my squirrel partner was guarding. Inside with my credentials and cell phone. Damn.

They were NOT going to let me back in.

I said "But I'm Dr. B." I'm on the list". No ID, no way, green eyes, and cocktail dress notwithstanding. Look I understand. It's their job whether I agree or not. Finally I gave the security fellow the full green eye wattage and said "There's a clipboard there with my name and title on it. I doubt a stranger would know I'm on that clip board. I have ID at my table you can see if you want to send someone in to get it. And to prove I just came from inside, I'm going to breathe on you. You'll understand".

He smiled and looked at me puzzled at that last statement as he picked up the clipboard. I gently leaned in towards him, inches from his lips and gently released my breath. He exclaimed "KOBE BEEF SLIDERS!!!

I was so in.

Look, the world is full of fast food, and easy decisions and safe adventures. You can walk the path most traveled, safely and with predictable tastes and textures. and the acceptance of mainstream society. Or you can fuel up with Ninja fuel and see where life takes you. Sometimes you get the stuffing unexpectedly knocked out of both your life and your heart, yet you often find something truly unique and wonderful along the way.

I know how I want to live. Some things are worth the price.

Saved for a Rainy Day - Barkley's Busted

Uh oh, someone's home early.

No, seriously, I was just returning your slipper which you carelessly left laying around.


Really.

You know that they say if you can't look someone in the eyes, you're lying. Not true. Really. (Ask any politician.)

But I'm just too adorable to be in trouble.*

* I did not have slipper relations with that footwear.

On Pondering

I'm taking a day off from the world tomorrow, at least until the Bat Phone goes off, with some books and quiet sunlight. There will be a saved post for tomorrow night, but for now, I'll leave you with a wish for a day with someone who loves you and a few quotes.

The Brain: Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering?
Pinky: I think so Brain, but if you replace the P with an O, my name would be Oinky, wouldn't it?

The Brain: Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering?
Pinky: I think so, Brain, but then it'd be Snow White and the Seven Samurai...

The Brain: Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering?
Pinky: I think so, Brain, but how are we going to make pencils that taste like bacon?

A Piece of the Pie - Bacon and Politics

FEUDALISM: You have bacon. The lord comes and takes the bacon. And your last pig. You get a potato.

PURE SOCIALISM: You have some bacon. Your neighbor does not. The government takes your bacon and gives it to the neighbor. You have to take a second job to bring home the bacon so you can continue to supply the non working neighbor with your bacon.

BUREAUCRATIC SOCIALISM: You have some bacon. The government takes half of it to give to the neighbor with none. The bacon is then managed by a Bacon Czar with a large staff. The Bacon Czar is a vegan. With the ensuing paperwork, and the latent inability of the Bacon Czar to actually handle the bacon, the bacon goes bad and is thrown out.

FASCISM: You have a little bit of bacon. The government takes it, and offers to sell you the oink.

PURE COMMUNISM: You have bacon. Your neighbor works to help you get more bacon and you share in it, even though he eats twice as much as you and does half the amount of work.

RUSSIAN COMMUNISM: You have bacon. The government takes it and gives you a potato.

DICTATORSHIP: You have bacon. The government takes it and drafts you. You get MRE's. They do not contain bacon.

PURE DEMOCRACY: You have bacon. You vote with your neighbors as to how your bacon should be protected.

REPRESENTATIVE DEMOCRACY: You have some bacon. You elect someone to vote on how best to ensure you get more bacon.

Bacon Cheddar Quiche

LIBERAL SOCIETY: You don't like bacon so I don't get any.

BUREAUCRACY: You have bacon. The government makes a new food pyramid that tell you when you should eat the bacon and how often. It then pays you not to eat the bacon and takes it and throws it away, after you have filled out a form to pay your bacon tax for the bacon that you no longer have.

CALIFORNIA BUREAUCRACY: In California, bacon contains nitrates and fats that may be bad for people who have no willpower. So no one gets bacon.

PROGRESSIVISM: You have bacon. The government takes it and gives you a receipt.

ANARCHY: You have bacon. You try and sell the bacon to others so you survive or others with big pointy things simply take the bacon and kill you.

MONARCHY: We have bacon because you love us and want us to have bacon. Smile. Wave.

CAPITALISM: You have bacon. Strengthened by bacon, you work harder and buy a whole damn pig.

MUCH OF THE MIDDLE EAST: Bacon is unclean. Die infidel.

MAOISM - We are Urban Working Class. What is bacon??(c) Home on the Range 2011

Lockerbie - A Reminder

On the news this morning, more on the Lockerbie bomber. I'm not sure which makes me more angry, that experts announced, that after his hero's welcome after his "compassionate" release, that he really isn't on the edge of death, and may live at least ten more years and there really wasn't any hard evidence that he was dying when he was released. Or that he now continues to show up in public TWO YEARS LATER, now at a rally to support Gadafi.

I sit in safety, warm and peaceful, and though I may complain about long weeks, nights often spent in the wet and iron chill of the places in which I sometimes make my living, I have much to be grateful for. A career that's a steady challenge, people who mean the absolute world to me, and around me, photos of family and a life well lived.

After a disaster such as that you see the pictures in the paper, the photos of the dead, strangers, stand out in relief to the pictures of the familiar. Strangers, yet all dear to someone.

In my mind those pictures of lives left unlived, mix in with the the pictures of the life I was fortunate enough to have experienced. There's foreign ports, and distant mountains, and a blur of days that run into the setting sun. I look down at the photos and see the last 40 or so years as a bystander to my own life. It is like drifting along the river on a boat, floating effortlessly and without volition upon moving waters as your life goes past, those years in which your youth vanished. Years you never appreciated until they were past. Years for reckless adventures, for daring launches into the blue, for growing old, yet never truly growing up. Time for finding yourself, finding the wild and ephemeral blush of love, that knows no age, innocent, fumbling and breathless. All too soon to be reduced to small, worn squares of color held in a shoe box, of fading faces and edgeless shapes that will inhabit the memory and not the flesh.


But still, though past, a life lived. Something the victims of Flight 103 were denied. A chance to live life fully, to laugh, cry, and leave their mark. The opportunity to die on their own terms, with dignity and surrounded by those they loved.

When my Mom died, I was filled with anger for her leaving us so quickly, but I was also filled with respect. Respect for her ability to chose her final days; to unplug the plugs and unhook the machines and even though in pain, to be with her family, cohesive, intact. She achieved what Richard Hugo wrote about in one of his last poems,"Death in the Aquarium."

Where should we die, given a choice?
In a hothouse. Along a remote seldom traveled dirt road?
Isn't some part of that unidentified man in us all,
that wants to die where we started?

I give one last look at the newspaper images I kept, of other disasters. Some were no more than scraps of history. Some had more personal memories, that seared into my soul, to return on late introspective nights. There are memories there and many photos. Of dust and disintegration, shattered lives intertwined with broken wreckage, of unseen footprints in the debris of the living, stepping from the ash on their way home, and the seen footprints of those that respond, tending those taken from us.

I have been through bereavement, of things lost, hearts wrenched away without reason. I'd not be honest if I said it doesn't follow me as I knock on a door, tiptoe into a hospital room to ask questions I wish could be left unsaid; hours spend in laborious reconstruction, to seek closure. Because of it, I know what we once were, and where we all will be. Because of death I know what I can be, what each moment that is the immortality of all that the flesh could desire and the mind is capable of, truly is. Every breath a gift, each moment, mine with God's grace, but MINE, to live as I choose, and as fully as possible, as only a wild heart can.

Life is not fair and nature and fate sometimes knocks when we'd rather not answer. But to have the very breath of what we are taken away in a deliberate act of violence is a sacrilege, not something to be be flaunted in public like a celebration. We should remember rather, the tragic mute bones that could have withstood anything life threw their way, if only left upright and undisturbed.

This morning, I will turn off the TV to the reminder of the travesty which was a decision made. Today there will be only a moment of respect for those souls that seemed to have been forgotten by one court's decision. A moment in which I will look skyward, wishing their souls godspeed as the light vanishes with a soft sigh, driving down for only a moment upon the musty smell of slain flowers, there in a vase. Flowers taken from gardens for so many reasons, for love, for loss, for the dead, now dying themselves.

As I look to an uncaring sky, I grieve for the way they left us, as much as the why. I grieve for a world that gives succor to terrorists and those that recognize with honor a man who may well have stolen all that could be, from them.

Savage Arms 93R17 - putting the fear in Zombie Squirrels everywhere

Varments in your yard? Meet the ultimate anti squirrel device.

The Savage Arms.

The Savage Arms 93R17-BVSS is a heavy barrelled contender in the varmint gun section. Savage has stayed with a field-tested design, a single bolt action, and a basic tubular form with near mid-mounted bolt handle, sited just forward of the trigger common. The bolt knob itself is fairly small, but it lifts easily and with adequate clearance for any scope mounted that came to mind.

The weapon is fairly sleek and light (about six pounds), easy enough for a teen hunting with a parent or a petite woman to handle for long periods in the field. Personally I got my muscles from hauling an 8 mm Mauser around the woods as a kid but don't want to drag a Brinks safe around all day. This is fairly light but most definitely not a "little kids" gun.

I bought it on pricing and frankly, I liked the looks of it.

Savage has always meant value, a quality gun at a fair price, but I found the looks of them sort of basic "meat gun". This one, frankly was two steps above that, with a polished barrel (polished but not so bright it'll blind you in the field), a really well-proportioned thumbhole, a laminated stock and AccuTrigger system. Yes, the butt plate is plastic, as is the trigger guard and the bottom iron is blued, not stainless. But I'm not buying this to show it off, I'm buying this to have something that's accurate and versatile, with minimal recoil. Something I can take to a range that doesn't allow larger firearms and ammo, or out for an afternoon of stalking small varmints. A tight, light but not wimpy, rifle with the looks of full bore.

The laminate stock was a camo pattern with some nicely done cross hatching that was pleasing to the eye. Love it or hate it, laminate is normally weather resistant and should hold up with minimal upkeep. The stainless barrel is really striking, combining a nice polished finish with a varmint heavy profile. You'll find this one has the classic Savage step to the barrel profile and comes out to just a frog hair under 21 inches. The total firearms length is 39 and a half, a trim little firearm for any body but unlike a lot of light rimfire rifles I felt like I had a an adult gun, and not some kid's toy.

What I liked best was the trigger. The 2.5 pound Accu Trigger was flat out sweet to shoot and the part of the firearm I like the best. Clean, crisp with a predicable trigger let out, just the right amount of travel before the sear is released. The trigger can be adjusted from 1.5lb to 6lb weight by the shooter, as a unique safety bar ensures only a safe let-off, no matter how much you adjust the trigger. The Ruger rimfire may have had more rounds in the magazine and a longer barrel. but I just couldn't get past it's crunchy, lawyer proof trigger. This trigger is awesome.

Another nice feature is the 5 round detachable box type stainless steel magazine which just barely sticks out from beneath the stock, and is much less an interference with the bottom lines of the rifle than the 7 round magazine that the Marlin has. Sure you lose two rounds, but unless I'm being attacked by a Zombie Chipmunk swarm I don't think it will make much of a difference. The in-line feed functioned without incident but the magazine release and retention was a bit awkward the first couple of tries, likely to get much easier with practice.

Feeding was reliable. I ran through two boxes of ammo right off the bat and straight out of the box it feed them all smoothly. The action was smooth and worked with less force than the Marlin.

The safety was a simple two position one. I found it a bit stiff, but that may be the newness (or I need to lift barbells with my thumb). But it worked. Can't ask for much more than that.

The rifle doesn't comes supplied with sights, but has Weaver style bases installed. You will be thanking yourself for buying this after you DON'T have to tangle with the grooved receiver scope ring mounts that are standard on most rimfires. Trust me. My Savage soon got a little mounted scope with the aid of some rings picked up at Wally World
.A lesson on scopes for the beginner will come up another day, but what I can say if you are new to scoped firearms is the lower the scope the better (and I don't mean power). A scoped mounted up close and personal with your firearm ensures proper cheek weld on the stock for a stable firing position and allows for rapid target acquisition. (But be careful that the bolt action clears and the scope doesn't contact anything in operation but the scope rings.)

I picked a Redfield Revolution 3-9 x 40 mm scope, not wanting to put a whole lot of money into a firearm I won't use all the time. For just shy of $150, it's got a really good usable field of view, and superior light transmission For absolute long-range precision, (with the Savage, probably a prairie dog at 100-150 yards) the available Accu- Range™ reticle provides hold points to 500 yards . These things are waterproof, shock proof and fog proof and are tested to a level that would make the gang on Mythbusters proud and have a lifetime warranty. Not many products can say that any more. For ammo, a few boxes of Hornady.

HMR is based on the .22 Magnum case necked-down to accept .172" diameter bullet making for some high velocity, flat shooting, and most accurate rimfire small game and varmint cartridge ever produced. They won't work on game birds, and I'm not sure if it would be enough for a big coyote, but for small ground game, oh yes.


When CCI, Remington, and Federal began providing .17 HMR ammunition, also loaded with 17 grain varmint bullets, the sales of both rifles and ammunition took off. Other manufacturers soon followed and the rest is interweb history. The manufacturer and shooters stated it can deliver a velocity of 2,550 fps , 25% faster than the 22 WMR. In the Savage you'd be looking at around 2100 fps but with the accuracy, the 17HMR caliber is well earning the attention they've received in print.

This will be a very accurate load, but suitable for small critters only. The weight of the .17 makes it susceptible to outside influences, such as foliage, rain, high wind etc, that would have an effect on it's accuracy at long range. But for "fair weather" shooting, small game should be looking for a hidey hole.


The Conservation Club where I sighted it in does not have a long range rifle area yet (it's in planning) but shooting at an angle into the berms on the larger back bay I was able to get enough distance to sight it in that first time, with a later sighting in to be done elsewhere. Using traditional bore sighting in a bolt action you can get a good preliminary sighting in using a target only 20-50 yards away.

Once that was done, time for the final step in the initial sighting. The three shot group. Always fire from a rested position when doing this steps and if you used a boresighter, don't forget to remove it prior to loading (hello Blondestar??)

(1) fire a shot

(2) If you're a few inches off of center, (ahem) make an appropriate amount of adjustment to move the reticle to the center of the target

(3) carefully fire a three or four shot group

(4) Use the center of that group as a reference point for the final adjustments to windage and elevation and

(5) holding the rifle steady, center it on the bullseye and carefully turn the adjustments without moving the rifle until the crosshair is on the center of the group. (i.e. if your shots are two inches low and three inches right, and assuming you're sighting in at 100 yards, you'd want to make a 2 MOA adjustment up and a 3 MOA adjustment left). If you do that your next three shot group should be close to the center of the target

At 100 yards the Savage will shoot sub inch groups right up there with the more expensive rimfires and do it all day long. So buy or borrow one if you get the chance and head on out to test her out in some open land. And watch out for the zombie squirrels. I hear they aren't after brains, only nuts.

Girls Day Out - Part Two. Powersporks and Zombie Squirrels.

It was girl's day out Part Two.

Miss D. and I drove the BAT(Big Ass Truck)mobile into the city and grabbed Tam and we hit the road before Miss D. and her airplane leave in the morning.

Lunch at the Belgium Brew Pub - Brugge Brasserie.


Would you like large fries with that? We barely made a dent in them and the twelve dipping sauces before the cheese and fruits and little nuggest of meat goodness, crepes and salads arrived. (Is that goose liver pate??)

It's a restaurant AND a brewpub.


Then it was a dash to Penzey's Spices where I bought some surprise spices for Shannon and Oleg and Tam got some goodies for Bobbie and Roseholme Cottage. Look Cake Spice! (but no Win Spice). Then we were off to Mountain of (likely liverless) Geese for ammo. They had no Hoppes No. 9 car air freshners left but we left with an armful of shooty goodness. The final stop was Kahn's, a specialty liquor store that has more Irish spirits than anyplace I've seen as well as an assortment of tasty and unique brews. "Look, a yellow airplane!"


Conversation was the usual, guns, dogs, zombies, hippies, concealed carry, literature, science and after Tam got to feed Purina Giraffe Chow to the tall ones at the IND zoo a while back, a discussion as to whether there a Purina Chow for Everything.

Miss D. "Purina Zombie Chow - brains!"

Me: "Purina Snail and Slug Chow - Sodium Free!"

And a short check to see what the neighborhood gargoyle was wearing before waving goodbye and driving home.


I go back on 24 hour call in the morning for the next couple of weeks. Miss D. is getting a little nap in now preparing to leave very early in the morning for home and husband while new and old friends get back to a more normal routine.

For the rest of you. . . tomorrow a real gear review.

It's either going to be a "The Power Spork" review. Spaghetti night at Mr. B. and Midwest Chick's house.

OR

Zombie Squirrel Weaponry, a review of the Savage HMR 17.


You never know WHAT you're going to find at Home on the Range.

Cheers - Brigid and Barkley

Fuzzy Dice, Beer and a Bear

What a day! Fuzzy dice and brief blue skies. Miss D and I stayed up until 1 a.m. chatting like school girls and finally got to bed for an early departure. Morning dawned clear and warm and it was going to be the most excellent of days.

It's really a sweet little airplane. Enough horsepower has been up in that if she goes on floats she will be able to get up on the step without waiting for the curvature of the earth to drop away. Miss D. has really done a great job with the rebuild.

When we were leaving the airplane after tying her down, a pilot came over and said "are you girls going to Oshkosh? "My friend grinned and said "My husband is in the other direction" with a smile that would make anyone understand.


Homemade Croissants.


BACON!

After that, we headed into the city. As we were leaving Fresh Market in Broad Ripple, Miss D. said, "Is that Tam?" Sure enough, it was! She was riding a Broad Ripple SUV. We yelled out the window "Tam!" and honked whereupon she hurried up as if zombies on Rollerblades were after her, and off down an alley while we tooted again chasing her with the truck. It was like the chase scene in the movie Bullitt, except we were in a parking lot full of hippies so it was like Bullitt without the speed and excitement.

As we lose sight of her, I called Roseholme Cottage, a short distance away, and we were promptly invited over to visit with she and Roberta X. Alas, with temps in the 90s and perishables in the back of the truck, we couldn't stay long.


I successfully avoided buying one of these at Fresh Market. I've lost almost 20 pounds in the last six weeks. Another 10 to go and I will be back at mumble mumble pounds, my weight prior to the January surgery and recovery. Woo hoo! Besides if Miss D. needs some pre flight goodness, there is still the little key lime cheesecake that I made left at home.

click to enlarge (evil laugh)

But in anticipation of frosty beer at the Broad Ripple Brew pub we hiked a couple of miles up and back on the Monon Rail Trail.




A member of the shore party is going off the beaten path, and he's wearing a red shirt. We'll never see HIM again.


Then a brief pass by the Art Park. Hippies, arts, crafts, you name it. Trails to hike, stuff to climb on. Bees!


Ah, a cold one to cool off and surveil the damage. Broad Ripple Brew Pub.


One last word of advice.

If you are out and about among artists and Bohemians and you rip out the back of some very well worn shorts, and a nice lady among them offers to quickly patch them at her little establishment so you are not arrested. . . . . . . and she's a theater person . . .

Well, you should EXPECT to get Winnie the Pooh on your ass instead of, you know, denim or camo fabric.

Tactical Pooh. Oh bother (sigh).