Old fashioned Christmas Tidings ---

From our House to Yours - Merry Christmas!

Christmas Eve:

 

Twas the night before Christmas

And all through the house

Not a creature was stirring

Not even a . . . . .

Merry Christmas from the Range:

Brigid, EJ and Sunny D. Lab

On Friendship

I'm not very social, outside of a very small circle of friends with a shared past, some here in Chicago and Indiana, some out West, one in Pennsylvania, and several in South Carolina.  I tend to hole up and write in my spare time; my hobbies are singular.  I'm perfectly happy being by myself for days on end.  But it's always interesting when you meet someone in person that you'd only encountered peripherally, seeing them but not really talking to them.  Then you meet and feel like you have been friends for years. 

I met Partner in Grime after we'd been the best of friends online, having met through family and mutual friends.  That switched to lots of long phone calls for a couple of years. One day, I met him in person. However, I would have never, with my scientist's brain, said "love at first sight." But as I waved to him under the fierce August sun, it was as if the earth had released some secret store of its fiery heart, and I think we both knew. Two years later, we were married.

But there is always that bit of uncertainty when you meet someone where you finally have time to exchange more than pleasant banter.  Sometimes, you find you don't have much in common, and part on a kind note, knowing you likely won't talk much again.  Still, there's some sadness there, as you wanted a connection, yet in meeting them, you felt they had such wonderful things in their heart to say, but you couldn’t decipher the words.

And then, sometimes, you are blessed to discover someone whose life stories mirror your own, not just in some shared deeds and events but in how those things made us into the souls we are today. When you have a moment, between family, rescue dogs, and careers, to sit down and share a meal with them, you realize how truly blessed you are.  

As I sat here last night, watching the moonglow seep like liquid into the newly fallen snow and the spreading crowns of trees outside slowly withdraw into the night, I realized that even if I'm alone this week before Christmas, I’m not alone. I have old and new friends who enrich me in ways I can’t articulate, offering with their kindness a tremendous healing balm to those wounds that a lifetime can lay down and a single year can reopen.  

As people who have lived life fully, sometimes recklessly, sometimes isolated by our own accord, we all have had our hearts broken at one time, sometimes more than once. In that brokenness, so many things can enter our hearts - fear, shame, betrayal, anger, hope, faith.  But when gathered in friendship in a room or at a table and saying our prayer of gratitude, there is only acceptance of those bits of those elements of light and dark that find a home in a human heart.  That is our blessing at our own table, just as it's our forgiveness at the Lord's. - Brigid

The Dogfather

While working on her training, Sunny learned "trade" - when she picked up something she shouldn't have, she would drop it in exchange for a toy.  Wise to it now, she grabbed a good shoe and wouldn't trade it for a toy.  No, she had to have a toy AND a treat.  That's not trade - that's paying for "protection." 

WELCOME TO THE DOGFATHER:

Me: “Come on, Sunny, give me the magazine.”

Sunny: “That was going to be 1 treat; it’s 2 treats now.”

Me: “No, I already paid you.”

Sunny: “Dem's some nice-looking slippers - be a shame if something were to happen to them." 

Me: (sigh) hands over treats.

Fire and Ice

Someone asked me if I was watching the latest in TV law/crime drama.  That would be a ‘no.” Most of them are so removed from reality that they are hardly worth watching.

Yes, forensic teams often show up at the crime scene directly from the opera in their $1500 suits and then stick their faces down into the blood and the gore without even putting on protective masks. I could go on for days, especially regarding how they’ll have DNA evidence in about ten minutes. TV is fantasy; what remains of a life cut short is seldom so pretty. If you don’t suit up properly to protect yourself from the elements, the terrain, or a hoard of nasty biohazards, you will likely join the deceased on the next table. Then again, there are not too many jobs where you can occasionally rappel down a cliff into work.

These thoughts came up when I went for a morning walk and found the bones of a small animal out in the woods. How long had it laid there? Certainly, long enough for the bones to bleach to soft white, the flesh now part of the earth, the eyes—empty sockets of history. The shape was benign, as if the creature stopped quietly and died, unlike other bones that one finds in the wild, like the animals of the tar pits, trapped in the primordial ooze in the posture of shock. Other animals dropped while running, the bones scattered by predators until the remaining pieces were simply laid out like a discarded jigsaw puzzle.

These bones were in the shape of quiet sleep as if the animal lay down to wait when death called its name from behind.

It only takes a few days for an animal to decompose now that the weather is getting warmer. I’ve seen hunters lose their fresh game simply because, in the occasional hot temperatures of Indian summer, a kill left too long can turn quickly. It only takes a few days to return to bone, to the simplest components of life: carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, and sulfur. Only bones are left, pressing into the soft, welcoming earth, the soil a rich bed of late summer.

Sometimes, all we find are bones laid bare to the elements or burned clean.

With the right temperature, all things will burn, yet bone itself stubbornly resists all but the hottest of fires. Even when all the carbon is burned, the bone will retain its shape. An insubstantial ghost of itself, it crumbles easily, the last bastion of the person’s being transformed into ash. In that ash remains large pieces, calcined and with the consistency of pumice when held in hand, almost seeming to possess a trace of warmth from within its core.

Even if they cannot speak to us, sometimes what is left gives the forensic technicians a clue. Who was this person? What manner of violence brought about their end? It’s the world few wish to visit, and yet it drives me, the mystery and the puzzle. Perhaps because I realize that the final mystery is within yourself.

Using physical evidence to build a theoretical model of a given crime or accident scene involves several sciences, including the chemistry of death and the engineering of the body. Even in the cold quiet of the woods, I stop and survey the scene, making mental notes in my head. How long had it been lying here? Bones, especially ones that have burned, do not give up a time of death. For that, you need to trace the extent of decomposition in volatile fatty acids, muscle proteins, and amino acids, all usually destroyed in a fire.

Even in the woods, simply surveying my environment, my brain sifts through ideas, timelines, and theories based on white bone.

I’ve been close enough to the aftermath of a violent configuration that just the smell of something burning takes me back. I remember waiting as the firefighters valiantly did their work, my skin almost blistering in the heat. Hoping to get close enough to see a clue before it’s burned and gone, a timeline of life and death lost to the flame.

Fire doesn’t just destroy paper and combustible evidence, it’s disruptive to the analysis of bone trauma, especially separating fragmentation patterns resulting from perimortem trauma, such blunt force, projectile impact, and so forth, from those resulting from postmortem heat and fire modification.

Fire suppression, though necessary even if there is no chance of life remaining, also does its damage. The sudden cooling of hose streams fracture or spall bones that are hot, especially if they’ve gotten hot to the point of delamination of calcination, and it can cause harm that may or may not be salvaged in a laboratory. Then, there’s mechanical damage, direct hose impact, and falling debris.

The tiny pieces of life’s remains that still can speak to us were drowning in water. I stood helplessly by the scene, like a person watching a rescue swimmer who was too late to help, knowing the outcome yet hoping for something from which I could put the case to rest. I wait, not wanting to turn away, as fire roars against the night stars and the deep, dark spaces. I wait while the silent ice drips from the trees, melting in the flame's heat. It is a patient wait, treading carefully on the small broken artifacts of life, part pathology, part engineering, and part going beyond either.

We did not yet know if a body or bodies were inside, so preserving evidence was crucial. After the mechanics of motion have stopped, after human physiology has broken down, and what once was animated life, a heart that loved, and a soul that dreamed is reduced to flesh or ash, decayed or dried bone, the dead will still bear witness.

They can tell us a story.

It is usually not a story that would make a good television show, and it rarely can be wrapped up in a neat sixty minutes, but it is a story that needs to be told.

Tonight, I write these words on my laptop as I gaze at a small fire, tended so that it will warm a house surprisingly cold after another front comes through. I watch the flames twist and sway in their age-old dance. As humans, we are more than our past, yet we are the same, seeking life and comfort, seeking answers. As I write, I gaze at a flame in a fireplace that warms something deep in me, something stirring in memory from the ashes as I return to my work.

For I realize that, here in the healing walls of this home, my heart, beaten and darkened by soot, still contains in its core one small piece untouched that may one day smolder back into life with just the proper breath on it.

Life is ice and fire. You can’t control what you will feel, who you can save, or how they will affect your life. You can take what remains that brings you joy and move forward. It is not the glamorous drama one sees on TV, done for the excitement, the money, or the time off to go to the opera. You do this work because you want to, for no other reason. This mission was not assigned, simply a garment of duty one felt compelled to pick off a bare floor one cold morning.

If another person ever reads my words after I am gone someday, know that the fire burns brightly in you, as it does in me, exposing what is strong and good, what is still useful. You cannot save every heart, but you can save your own heart, diligent in its task, even if wounded in battle.

Diligent, perhaps, because we’ve learned through our work that life is precious. We will all die, but we will not all truly live. In doing this, with the small tools we have and the mind God has given us, we do our part to see that perhaps just one person inherits more than the wind and the dark. No matter how hard the duty is, I live fuller, breathe deeper, and sleep with peace, even as the shades of my night are sometimes singed with regret from those things I could not save.

It's time to put away the tea mug and my thoughts. The scent of ancient woodsmoke remains in my hair, waiting to be breathed in deep, thankful to be alive so that I may speak for the dead and treasure that which remains. Life is a risk, never a possession; love and live accordingly

 - Brigid

I Just Come Here for the Bacon

The shopping days before Christmas and the customary Big Box Home Improvement Store trip.

No, the naked inflatable Santa in the tub is just WRONG. Blitzen is probably thinking of tweeting #Me Too as we speak.

Sorry, Sunny, you drive us nuts with just one puppy-size rawhide treat, but you'll get some nice homemade peanut butter biscuits under the tree.

Then there are the usual traditions - Santa at the PUB? I don't drink, but this place has the best beer-battered fish and chips in the county, and it's within walking distance of the Range, so.. 

But still.  Santa at the PUB?

Santa and the Mrs. are in one room with numerous kiddies, moms, and prams, and the other room is literally wall to wall, standing room only, with drunken football fans or revelers of some sort who apparently came in on the train.  With shouts of "shots and beers," the place was so crowded that the skinny blond "elf" couldn't even make her way through with food orders. Some of the Moms fueled up with Trader Joe's wine before arriving and got into shouting matches with the sports fans, dropping the most F-bombs in front of Junior, who just wanted to ask Santa for an electronic device that costs more than our parents paid for our entire Christmas.

It just shouted out, "Fire code violation," and we left before ordering our lunch and walked back home.

But lunch at home can be as good as lunch in any pub.  A sandwich that anyone would approve of. (serves two)

Chicken Salad with Smoked Bacon and Dates

• 1 cup chicken (cooked *cooled and diced)
• 4 large packaged dates finely chopped (found in the raisin section of the store)
• six - seven  pieces of smoked bacon cooked and roughly chopped
• 1/2 cup mayonnaise
• 1/4 cups pecans 
• a pinch of Chinese Five Spice Powder (a mix of China cassia cinnamon, star anise, anise seed, ginger, and cloves).

*to cook 3-4 chicken breasts for salad or sandwiches that don't dry out - cook whole breasts in an oven casserole dish in about 1/4 cup of water seasoned with a couple pinches of dried vegetable stock seasoning. Cover tightly with foil and cook at 350 degrees F.  for 35-40 minutes until the internal temperature is 165 F. (a food thermometer is always the way to go). Remove breasts from pan and allow to cool on a plate.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

 

First Snow

We had our first snowfall of the year (a little late for Chicago; it's often snowing on Halloween). We were wondering what Sunny would think of it - we got her at 10 months from the rescue organization.  She'd lived that whole time on an Amish Farm where they bred dogs to sell.  Since her front legs were bowed, no one would buy her, and she was released to the rescue, for which we are grateful.

But coming from a much more southerly State, we figured she had never seen snow.

Let's just say the snow was a BIG hit!

Grist Mill Adventures

During the summer and fall, we drive to a Historic Grist mill a couple of miles from our house. After biking or walking the trails along the river, we pick up some of their stone-ground cornmeal. It's unlike anything you can get in the stores, and it's pretty hard to go back to "corn dust" once you've tried it.

This summer just flew by so before they closed for the winter we went over to stock up as the cornmeal freezes nicely in ziplock bags.

Here's the Mill—now a mill and historical museum—which was part of the Underground Railroad 150+ years ago.

This weekend, I decided to do three recipes with it and was very happy with the results.

My favorite was the cornmeal pancakes.  Not only are they super light and fluffy they have the perfect little "crunch" of the cornmeal amidst the fluffiness. The recipe is adapted from one in the Graue Mill's Brochure (I soured the milk and added slightly more sugar)

Before syrup - see how light and fluffy?

This makes 8 pancakes double if it cooking for a larger group.

Mix in large bowl:

3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup cornmeal
1 Tablespoon sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt

Mix in another bowl

1 egg whisked (I used an extra large one, if using smaller one you might want to add another Tablespoons milk).
3/4 cup milk to which you've added 1 Tablespoon apple cider vinegar
2 Tablespoons melted butter.

Mix wet and dry ingredients

Cook on an oiled griddle.

Next up is a recipe for some homemade corn tortillas for carne asada tacos for lunch. (Yes, I don't like raw tomatoes, hence my tacos are a bit "nekked" with just lettuce and a little Mexican cheese and some Scoville Brothers hot sauce from Northern Indiana)

Note: making these from just stone ground cornmeal is not going to work, you need the traditional Mexican masa harina flour to which you add just a bit of cornmeal for a slightly crunchier texture. Masa harina is made by drying field corn (maize) and then treating it in a solution of lime and water. I This loosens the hulls from the kernels and softens the corn.  In addition, the lime reacts with the corn so that the nutrient niacin can be assimilated by the digestive track.

Corn Tortillas

1 and 1/4 cups plus 2 Tablespoons masa harina (I buy Bob's Red Mill Brand, in health food sections at the store and at Amazon at a good price).
2 Tablespoons stone ground cornmeal
¼ teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons lard (or veggie equivalent)
About 1 cup hot water, or more as needed
Flour for kneading

Combine the masa, cornmeal, and salt in a bowl; stir in the oil. Slowly stream in the water while mixing with your hand or a wooden spoon until the dough comes together into a ball.

Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface, and knead until it is smooth and elastic — just a minute or two. Wrap in plastic, and let it rest at room temperature for at least 30 minutes or up to a few hours.

Break off pieces of the dough (you’re shooting for 12 to 16 tortillas total), and lightly flour them. Put them between 2 sheets of plastic wrap, and press them in a tortilla press, or use a rolling pin, or roll them out or press them with your hands to a diameter of 4 to 6 inches. Begin to cook the tortillas as you finish pressing or rolling them.

Put a large skillet, preferably cast iron, over medium-high heat for 4 to 5 minutes. Cook the tortillas, 1 or 2 at a time, until brown spots appear on the bottom, about a minute. Flip, and do the same on the other side. Wrap the cooked tortillas in a towel to keep them warm; serve immediately, or cool and store tightly wrapped in the fridge for a few days.

Lastly, for dinner. Pork chops dredged in egg and milk and coated with crushed cornflakes to which some lemon pepper was added, baked at 350 F. for 50 minutes (these were thick cut) served with veggies, garlic mashed potatoes and topped with lemon slices.

Partner in Grime changed into more formal dining attire, given our corn themed meals.

 Served with a side of stone ground corn muffins.

Metric ingredients provided for our Canadian readership.

Note: the conversion came from "the Metric Kitchen" so if a chicken explodes I won't be held responsible. :-)

1 cup yellow cornmeal Plus 2 Tablespoons (175 grams)
1 cup all-purpose flour Plus 2 Tablespoons (140 grams) Gluten free flour works, just add 1/2 teaspoon Xanath Gum
1 tablespoon baking powder (15 mL)
1/3 cup granulated sugar (65 grams)
1 teaspoon salt (7 grams)
1 cup milk plus 2 Tablespoons (270 mL)
2 large eggs (make sure you use ones from Metric chickens)
1/2 stick butter, melted (60 grams)
3 Tablespoons honey (65 mL)
1/4 teaspoon Mexican vanilla

Heat oven to 400 degrees (about 200 C). Into a large bowl, mix the cornmeal, flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt. In a small bowl, whisk together the whole milk and eggs. In a small glass bowl in the microwave, melt butter and then add the honey to that. Add the wet to the dry ingredients and stir until mixed.

Bake in a greased 12 muffin tin, or use the little paper muffin liners. Bake for 14-15 minutes, just until golden.

A Primer on Primer Storage

Your valuable things.  They vary from person to person, but for reloaders they include primers.  Primers are sometimes readily available and sometimes as valuable as gold.  If they're available at a good price people tend to stock up.

If you are new to reloading,  there is some basic information that you should consider before you start tucking them in your sock drawer. I would also strongly suggest you do some homework and check your local laws rather than just rely on info from someone like me who stayed in a Holiday Inn Express last night. Various state and national fire codes have minimum standards for storage regarding methods and quantities. That's what the insurance companies go with, for what it's worth.

I am still learning about primers, but over the years, I have learned about smart and dumb things to do with explosives. Alaska, somewhere back in the 90s.

Just as I think many of you know about hazmat to some degree.

Due to their explosive nature, it is recommended that only an absolute minimum be kept in storage. The National Fire Protection Association's NFPA 495 says that not more than 10,000 primers should be stored in a private residence. This recommendation is law in most communities, so you might wish to check your local laws.
 

But think of it, 1,000 each large rifle, large rifle magnum, small rifle, large pistol, large pistol magnum, small pistol, small pistol, small pistol magnum, and shotshell primers. That's 8,000 primers, folks, so with care in replacing those supplies used, most people should have plenty on hand.

What about long-term storage?  Time isn't much of a factor in primer performance, but temperature cycling is. Going up and down in temp induces condensation.
 

The two biggest dangers for primers (outside of not being able to find any) is

(1) HEAT

(2) HUMIDITY.It goes without saying that you want to store primers in a remote location away from any source of ignition (that includes bullet impact). Watch for any potentials for high heat, spark, electrical percussion in your storage area. A general run through for potential dangers before setting up your reloading and storage area before you make your purchases is a good idea.Keep them away from oxidizing agents, flammable liquids, flammable solids (including handloading powders), children, pets, or idiots (including those related to you). Always store primers in their original packaging, which is designed for safety. Never store primers in bulk, such as in a can or jar.
 

There are better places to keep them than a gun safe. A storage cabinet is strongly recommended, constructed of at least 1-inch thick lumber, which will delay the transfer of heat to the contents in the event of a fire. The storage cabinet should be kept away from direct sun rays, open flames (well, duh), trash or other combustibles, heat sources, furnaces, solvents, and flammable gasses (well, you get the picture). Near the floor, as well, is the coolest place in a fire, but not touching the wall.

And yes, despite the commenter's warnings on my blog from fire marshal Bill and other friends, I store some primers in an ammo can. Why? Long-term storage. (Think of days of being unable to find primers instead of saving a few for a rainy day during the zombie apocalypse). I have primers stored this way that go back to the Clinton era that still work.

Yes, there are inherent dangers of this, frankly, in ANY storage of explosive bits and pieces. Primers are primary explosives, and just putting too many of them together in one place makes them "a bomb" whether they are contained or not.  The metal box storage would be a concussion explosion, and the shrapnel would not be as much as you think, but it certainly is a risk. Anyone that reloads in any bulk has all kinds of stuff that will go "boom". Some do it in shops separate from the home, and some do it in a house with precautions, such as a magazine built into the structure.

The hazard from the metal box is more about it creating an isothermal (uniform temperature) environment inside during a fire as it is about fragmentation. I would not want to be the fireman working near a hot metal box full of primers. Yes, the house could catch fire That's a risk I live with. I, for one, drive too fast to lose sleep over it. But if I plan on storing something long-term, I don't know any other options.

Stored in their original containers, packed in a can, I think the risk of them "cooking off" on their own is pretty slim. But NO, an ammo box WILL NOT "contain" them if they did cook off. But I wouldn't want something that strong anyway because it would only increase the explosive release if it does go up (why I don't store them in a gun safe, among other reasons). For long-term storage, the sides of a GI box would blow out plenty fast enough to prevent excessive pressure build up and it protects your primers from humidity like nothing else if you want to store for years, not months.  I know folks who have taken a 1-inch hole saw (fine tooth) and thinned a place from the inside of the lid to direct the force of the blowout, though it brings to mind "The Crimson Permanent Assurance".Some of the primers that have lived around the Range over the years were stored for a very long time and were still good when used.  Had they been in plastic, even with desiccant, they could have ended up duds. (Click to enlarge and look at the price on this box. Do you want to guess how old it is?) This box was stored in an ammo can, not a plastic can, and it is as good as new. The problem with plastic containers may be the vapor permeability of the material itself. Plastic gas cans/vehicle fuel tanks were only possible after the development of a flourination process used to create an impermeable layer in the plastic after the part is formed. But I know many will disagree with me and there's lots of discussion pro and con in the forums on storage. If you're worried about a fire, store your primers in a plastic ammo box, like you see pictured, still in their original packaging. The original packaging is designed to be non-static so you shouldn't have a problem with the plastic box. If a fire causes the box to melt and if the primers cook-off, when the first package pops, it will help scatter the rest of them. A pack of 50-100 primers would make a decent bang, but the flying bits are small and low-powered. Plastic is acceptable for the short term, but in my humble opinion, if you want primers that will be useful 10 years from now, plastic will not cut it unless you own a desiccant factory. (Note: the desiccant is going to do less than you expect if the individual boxes aren't sealed. The primers are assembled in 30% humidity, and anything much less causes the cake (the pressed mixture) to crumble.)

My primers are stored in their original boxes, with several desiccant pouches and a humidity indicator. I have the primers I will use soon in plastic containers with desiccant, but I also have a couple ammo cans packed for long-term need, one for small rifle & pistol primers and the other for large & magnum primers. They're kept in a cool, dry environment until I might need them someday when times get tough, and I only keep the can in use long enough to select what I'm going to use and occasionally replace the desiccant.I've never heard of primers in their box, stored in an ammo can, going off on their own. In a reloader, yes, but the can no. Has anyone else? If my house burns, I'm in a lot more danger from the ammo than from two or three cans of primers stored in a carefully constructed magazine.

Powder is a whole other issue for long-term storage. Powder stored in a pressure-containing device (like a sealed ammo can) is NOT a good idea because the powder is designed to burn and create gas, and if you put it in a sealed container... well. . .

I don't keep my powder in a sealed or airtight container, but I feel safe putting some of the primers in an ammo can. I don't want anything to crush them and make them pop, and I don't want flame to get to them and make them pop. I also don't want humid air attacking them.If you are going to store primers in some cabinet in your house there ARE some basic rules you wish to follow. Don't use your primer cabinet to store -

(a) your girlfriend's Cosco purchase of 8 gallons of nail polish remover,

(b) your blow torch or

(c) your emergency bacon rations. (well, just because).

(d) your powders

You can also identify your storage area with NFPA markings to aid firefighters responding to an emergency at their home -

The NFPA 704 marking system consists of a diamond-shaped placard divided into four sections: a white section on the bottom for special hazards, a blue section on the left for health hazards, a red section at the top for fire hazards, and a yellow section on the right for reactivity hazards. Each color box contains a number from 0 to 4, specifying the corresponding hazard level for the material contained in the container or area.

So for powder, primers, and most reloading materials, the white square at the bottom would be blank, the blue square on the left would contain a "0" for no specific health hazard, the red square at the top would contain a "3" for moderate fire hazard, and the yellow square to the right would contain a "3" or a "4" for high reactivity hazard, depending on what you're storing.   Google NFPA Marking System for more info.  Naturally, never smoke around primers. If the area where you reload is frequented by guests or household members who may not be familiar with the process, No-Smoking signs in the storage area and at the loading bench aren't a bad idea.

Again, these are just some basics of what I do. Others will have better info, and others will disagree. But on the issue of the ammo argument, you might wish to reference

49 CFR, Subpart 173.62, packing instruction 133.

Boring, yes, it's the federal requirements for packaging Primers, Cap Type, UN0044 (i.e., ALL small arms primers that we, the public, use). According to that reference, primers MUST be packaged in a certain way, but choices are allowed within specific parameters. For example, it references inner packing, which consists of "Trays, fitted with dividing partitions" as one option (this is what some of you are used to seeing). The reg above requires that if the primers are housed in trays, as mentioned in (1), then intermediate packagings are required. Follow the link above to page 11 of the PDF, look at the "Intermediate packagings" column for packing instruction 133, and see that we can store the tray of primers in a receptacle made of (our choice) fiberboard, wood, plastic, or METAL.

Finally, the regulation gives folks that fall under their guidelines a choice of outer packaging, noted in the 3rd column of page 11 of said PDF-- steel box, aluminum box, wooden box, plywood box, and plastic box, among others. I know these regs don't apply to us, the individuals, but it's nice to read what they consider safe choices for various purposes. Use common sense, check out local laws if you are so inclined, and follow some standard safety practices of not just HOW you store them but WHERE. Frankly, given where I live and what's on the radar at this time of year, I worry more about Mother Nature than Mr. Primer. Boring, yes, it's the federal requirements for packaging Primers, Cap Type, UN0044 (i.e., ALL small arms primers that we, the public, use). According to that reference, primers MUST be packaged in a certain way, but choices are allowed within certain parameters.

For example:

It references inner packing consisting of "Trays, fitted with dividing partitions" as one option, (this is what some of you are used to seeing). The reg above requires that if the primers are housed in trays, as mentioned in (1), then intermediate packagings are required. Follow the link above to page 11 of the PDF, look at the "Intermediate packagings" column for packing instruction 133, and see that we can store the tray of primers in a receptacle made of (our choice) fiberboard, wood, plastic, or METAL.

Finally, the regulation gives folks that fall under their guidelines a choice of outer packaging, noted in the 3rd column of the same page 11 of said PDF-- steel box, aluminum box, wooden box, plywood box, and plastic box, among others.

I know these regs don't apply to us the individual, but it's nice to read what they consider some safe choices for various purposes.

Use common sense, check out local laws if you are so inclined, and follow some standard safety practices regarding not just how but also where you store them.

For frankly, there are more things to worry about than your primers some mornings.