Boris and Natasha Didn't Take the Day Off

h/t to Marty, my favorite Canadian Squirrel

So neither can we.

I'll be back soon (or at least a saved post will be)
 - B.

It's Nice to Know your Vises - Weekend with Friends

 

Birthday weekend has passed (thanks everyone for the well wishes both on and off line).  It's going to be hard to go back to work tomorrow.  For my family, and those friends in other cities  I can best share the day in photos.

It started with Popovers for brunch. 

 

Then it was off to Half Priced Books.

The model railway book has a section on making relays out of wood, iron wire and electromagnets (hmmm evil basement lab experiment #126).

I got to pick where we'd have "birthday dinner" before some folks had to go back to work early Monday.  I'd heard about this place from so many, including an episode of "Man vs Food" where Adam said "best Meatloaf and Pie ever!" Gray Brothers Cafeteria. It's not your typical cafeteria. It's done up like a old world restaurant with lots of dark wood, stained glass and fireplaces. The food? Amish Buffet meets Southern Home cooking.

They serve you, on plates like Grandma had and will give you generous servings (the guy in front of me had three pieces of chicken including a breast the size of a small raccoon).  I went for two small pieces of chicken and a few side dishes.  Best fried chicken I have ever had, and the sides were all from scratch delicious. (I couldn't finish the big chunk of homemade bread but it was great).

Here's another platter from our group.

It's just 5 minutes south of the Indianapolis Airport and Interstate 70  in Mooresville, Indiana if you are traveling through the state.

Afterwards, there was  a gander at some old cars

Then back on home to visit and relax.

For me!??

Hand knitted Cammo slippers from a trap shooting gal friend I cross paths with professionally.

A book presented with "not that you need it".  Cool!  I'll let someone here guess what it is.

And, the present that any self respecting Ninja Gal would want.  A leather garter belt with adjustable garter and knives, hand made by Partner in Grime. 

For you never know when  the special occasion might arise where you might need a proper garter belt.

Now it's time to just relax and have fun.  There's always board games around here. 

First, a round of SEQUESTRATION BATTLESHIP!

*#^&!  Well THAT was a short game. 

Check out the box.  Notice anything unusual on the aircraft carrier under the fighter jets?

Tam: "Are those taildraggers on there?"

Evening was a few adult beverages and some of our favorite Law Enforcement and Forensic shows ("That's NOT the inferior nasal conchae!) before heading off to sleep in  my new slippers.

The following day, it was Girl's Day Out. I made sure the Birthday goodies were put away where Barkley couldn't get them and then it was time to feast and frolic with the Mongolian hordes! Thanks Tam!

Our food is on the grill.

After yesterday, I went for healthy with a sauce of  Mongolian Ginger Sauce, Teriyaki and extra Cayenne. Crispy, Crunchy, Savory, Spicy all together with brown rice and tortillas to make wraps.  Yum!

Then it was off to explore Woodcraft.  It's a little off the beaten path, but oh so much fun with a friendly, knowledgeable staff and lots of unique supplies.  Just the shop equipment alone was worth it.

See, I told you there would be planes involved.

Too soon, it was time to head home.  Huck was quietly waiting at Roseholme Cottage, as I knew Barkley would be when I arrived home.

HEY, GUESS WHAT I ATE !

Birthdays are great, but it's the little adventures throughout the year, the ones done without expectation or fuss that are the most fun.  Especially when you can hang with the folks that know all your vises and love you anyway.

Thank you everyone for all your well wishes and for my friends, for being there through so many years and adventures. 

Who's Ready for a Drink - The Sonic Screwdriver

Jack: [incredulously] Who has a sonic screwdriver?

The Doctor: I do!

Jack: Who looks at a screwdriver and thinks, 'Ooo, this could be a little more sonic?

The Doctor: What, you've never been bored? Never had a long night? Never had a lot of cabinets to put up?

Let's just say it's someones birthday this weekend.  No, I'm not going to say which birthday it is,  but compared to a 900 year old Time Lord from Gallifrey, I'm positively jail bait.

Books and games were purchased, a few local friends will gather and food will be prepared.  Maybe a cabinet will go up before I have to go back on duty.  Until then it's COCKTAIL HOUR!

I present to you the, not original but ever so pretty, SONIC SCREWDRIVER.

Put a  shot of  ultra chilled Grey Goose in the bottom of a small glass (a low ball glass would work best, but my bar supplies at the crash pad are limited).

Fill a shot class with Blue Cuyacao and carefully set down into the Vodka.

Fill around the edges with citrus soda or orange flavored sparking water (just until it gets to the top of the shot glass).    Drink.

A couple of these and I think I'll be able to time travel in other than a 1 to 1 ratio.

CARNE DIEM

If any of my readers are within driving distance of Chicagoland, specifically Countryside, IL, 55th and La Grange Road or Western Springs  there is a restaurant  I found thanks to Og's recommendation that has the best Carne Asada in the state.  http://cafesalsa.com/

Cafe Salsa.

It's about the same drive distance for most of us, so several gun bloggers in Northern Indiana who are also fast friends,  have met there for a little food and fun.

From the street, it's not any different than most of the local places and I likely would have driven past it and not stopped.  The first time I ate there, we arrived about 3 PM, having skipped lunch, so though the bar area with casual seating was quite busy, the beautifully decorated main dining room wasn't and the service was quick.  I have to agree with with the review I got -

BEST Carne Asada I've had in ten years.

That first visit we ordered off the dinner menu and I got the dinner combo which wasn't even the full serving of steak , even though it filled my plate, as it came with a huge enchilada on a big side plate as well as a Crocodile Dundee sized knife.  If you want something a little different than rice with a spicy/sweet ranchero sauce and  several choices of beans, some of the other sides include garlic mashed potatoes, sauteed veggies and spicy chipotle/wild mushroom salsa you get if you order the ribeye.

The  Carne Asada dinners or combos will run you about $14 to $20  dollars per person (the more expensive one is stuffed with BACON, mushrooms and two kinds of onion). I would gladly pay that again for this meal. It was a huge platter which included chunky and freshly made salsa and chips  (freshly made, not premade and nuked), sides and fresh greens, plus fresh corn and/or flour tortillas.  It's not on the menu, but if you ask, they will bring you a plate of grilled whole jalapenos for just a couple of bucks, with a smile.

We've been back for lunch and had the same great service, with the manager stopping by the table to make sure we were taken care of.  The last lunch visit, I tried the lunch carne asada burrito, stuffed with chunks of marinated steak, beans, sour cream, and  fresh pica de gallo,  covered in a spicy sauce with beans and rice.  Under $10 for the whole meal.  There's no "fast casual" Mexican food chains  that even comes close to a burrito this good for the price.

More recently, the bunch met up there for dinner, to celebrate several things, one of which was my getting rid of the walking boot for the stress fracture,  then over to the Range on everyone's way home for further socializing.  (And the walking boot makes a DANDY pinata though I'd recommend whacking it with a stick as opposed to large caliber, unless living in a rural area).

Pictured below is the appetizer quesidilla that Oglette (who I was lucky enough to sit by) had that evening. 

This young lady fences sabre, and VERY well. There are three basic discipliones, saber, foil, and epee. Foil and epee have little buttons at the tips of the blades- the button touches, you score a touch. (Touche') Sabre is MUCH more demanding, physically, and it also allows you to smack your opponent wiht the blade of the weapon (woot!) A metallic jacket called a "Lame" is worn over the jacket-and-breeches, so as to be able to electronically score the fencers. I'm actually very proud of her but also slightly pissed because when I was that age, all we got to do for after school sports was wear red unishorts monkey suits to bounce a basketball around the court or run track. With red hair and hormones I'd have LOVED to smack someone with a sabre.

And for you young men out there wondering. Yes, she is as stunning as her mother. She is also an only child and her Father is Og. Enough said.

It was fun, catching up, as work and life have been such we've not all sat down as a complete group  in a few months.

The restaurant handled a large table of us with nary a hitch, the chips, salsa and tortillas continuing to flow without asking. The food, as always was great, as was this time with friends who are like family. So if any of you are within driving distance of the Western Chicago suburbs, it's worth a stop.

OK, now I'm hungry and all that's in my bag is a granola bar. . .

Splody! - A Girls Trek to the Powder Room

Some women deal with stress by traditional methods. Ice cream. Shopping. Good old fashioned tears. Tried that. Doesn't work.

I prefer things that go boom! Black powder therapy. Cannon ready. Range style.You just need a few spare parts from the shed, garage, or evil laboratory and perhaps a friend or relative to divide the blame. And a golf ball.

The golf ball is essential. Seriously, chrono this, post the numbers and you could seriously transform golf.
Now I'm not going to explain how to build one. Sure enough I'd leave out one step, someone would lose an eye and the next thing you know, I'd have 5 drooling personal injury lawyers on my porch (zombies!)

Do your homework, check your state and local laws for restrictions on such things (many modern subdivisions have a "no cannons" covenant). Don't mix blackpowder with tequila, alpacas or enclosed areas. But there are directions on the net on a number of legal, family-friendly, build this science experiment in your garage kind of websites and there are even golf ball cannons for sale, that look like something out of Bladerunner (and are about $280 and up).
With the right amount of black powder, dry, loosely packed material (yes that is cloth) and a quick but thorough check of the area to make sure no people, animals, news choppers, Conservatives, homes/property or any one's Twinkies Stash are in the line of fire and beyond.

FORE!!

Almost 1000 feet. You couldn't even see it go. A quick sponge out with the world's biggest home made Q-tip to to extinguish any burning powder remnants and cool the interior a bit and it was time for strike 2. 

Of course, the successful first strike raised the question.

What would this thing do with aircraft gun sights? Then, with sights, you could take it deer hunting. Kill AND gut the deer in one. . . . . (one stop shopping)

Beats the hell out of shopping.
Coming up Next Week - Bowling Ball Mortars and the Single Girl.

When You've Had Time to Offend Both the Anti Gun Folks and the Vegans -

It's time to circle the wagons with your friends.

I'd recently posted, but for you "non shooty" types that probably looked at that one and went "oh brother,  it's another rifle, where's the pork!", here's something for you.

Just a little dry rub/seasoning mix that's out of this world on pork. It's Partner's creation as a seasoning for meat and I had it once dining at Stately Grime Manor and coerced him out of the recipe (note to PETA:  No men were harmed in the obtaining of this recipe).

For a simple dinner after work, about a teaspoon of this mixed into some chopped sweet onion, tossed with (about 1/3 the amount of)  panko bread crumbs, then stuffed into the middle of a three pork chops, secured with toothpicks and then lightly seared  with a bit of olive oil and braised with a bit of liquid  (water or broth with a splash of ACV or white wine) on the stove.  It makes enough for many meals and can be stored at room temperature in a sealed jar.

1/4 cup salt (I use Himilayan Pink Salt).

1/4 cup sweet or hot paprika

1 tablespoon dry mustard

1 tablespoon onion powder

1 tablespoon tellecherry black pepper

2 teaspoons white pepper

2 teaspoons garlic powder

1 Tablespoon chipotle powder

 

Just a note, when grinding dried chipotle peppers, make sure you have proper PPE (the Lab Glasses are good, but a respirator might have been better, don't say we didn't warn you).

After dinner, go relax with a small sip of  16 year old scotch in your wonderful pork stupor.  But you might want to avoid typing, as  with a letter out of order, you might end up with something OTHER than your regular email account.

 click to enlarge

I'll try again, because now that the Evict Lyme Raffle is done with the outstanding efforts of Jennifer and EvylRobot  and the contributions of so many good hearted bloggers, there's one last little push.  It's the Bonnie's Final Push Surgery Fund.  It is organized by our good friend Erin Palette (Erin's posts may not always be work safe but if there ever was a friend I had that I would be safe with, it's Erin). 

 

Bonnie  (Squeaky Wheel Blog) is close to her goal, but honestly folks, expenses with surgery are always are more than budgeted, even having insurance as she does. (My knee fallout with Squirrel Coverage was still a couple thousand out of pocket) so any extra  you can donate beyond her goal amount will be put to good use in her recovery.

 

 - Brigid

Standing Your Ground - A Night at the Range

It's a simple gun club well away from the outskirts of a large Midwest town.  Across the road, a corn field that will soon be stubble, waves in the breeze like a friendly neighbor with a wind that picked up at the end of the day. Peering down on the road that leads to this place, the August sun, already hanging low and orange in the sky, like ripe fruit, waits for the rim of the earth to take one last bite out of it.

You are alone, yet you are not, a couple cars in the lot as folks put away the last of their equipment, the last person out making sure the clubhouse is locked, the gate secure.  That will likely be you. You always seem to be the last one to leave any scene.

This place is usually pretty much deserted on a work night, most people headed home to family and chores, dinner with the spouse, some time with the kids.  But it's also the best time to be here, the range wide open to possibility, spent shells from the LEO practice the night before glinting on the ground like brass manna.

This late, there will be mosquitoes, so you will smell like a mixture of bug repellent and Hoppes No. 9, an odor as familiar as bacon and Tinks come October. 

The backboards had been hauled from the clubhouse in the back of the truck, placed across the backstop, a target of a man's head and upper torso placed upon them, like some Easter Island Tactical statue, waiting for a piece of lead to cleave the virgin air and introduce itself for the first time.

On the table are a couple of guns.  One of them is one that can't be owned in the next state despite the will of the people that wishes otherwise.  It still surprises you as to what convoluted methods man will resort to in order to steal something from you, with outrageous overstatement of the weight they should carry.  Here in this state, you are glad you can legally own this firearm, all your firearms, haven proven yourself  trustworthy and law-abiding.  It's not that you will ever use it beyond this place, but happy that it's purpose is recognized, proficiency for a day when every last bit of skill you have will be needed to defend the liberty of one's self.

You appreciate you live in such a place. It's a recognition of a right that was born by the first men to walk these lands,  the boisterous and the brave, the quiet and composed, some dressed in rough cloth, some dressed in the forest softened deer skins of their freedom. It's an affirmation as much as a right, not a measure of the weapon but a measure of the God given right to fight to defend yourself  from harm.

Years passed, and soon this state was settled, men and women and children, the young and the not so young, flowing across it like the mighty Kankakee, pouring forth with their tools and trade, seed and sow, behind horse or mule teams on their way West of where they started, where freedom shone from the sky each night. My great grandparents on my Dad's side settled here, the next generation going further West to Montana. A hundred years later, here I am as well.

As the range empties, the echo of the last shot  hangs in the air as smoke. The red taillight of the last club member winks its goodbye as it hits that bump coming out of the dusty parking lot.  It's time for you to go as well.

The backdrops go back to the storage by the clubhouse, a place that was erected one night while men and one woman gathered to work.  It was not work for pay, nor recognition, but simply because there was a job that needed doing. It was honest work by honest people, without a governing body telling them who could work with them, that race or gender meant more than ability in doing the job, or how much they could keep of their labors or even worse, simply paying them for not doing the labor they didn't lift their hands to do.

That night, you all worked until every last bit of light left the sky.  Outside of this place you may not be friends, as different as night in day in your work and your lives.  But here in this place, you are brothers and sisters in arms, gaining that staid peace that is achieved through the recognition of work and its rewards, and the will and strength to endure to protect it.

As you get ready to leave, the silence hits you, not even a sound of crickets, but for the sound of incoming tires on the lone country road that shoots off the interstate to this place.  Though this is a safe, small  town area, it  dawns on you that you are now totally alone, not far from those lanes where the predatory soul sometimes stray.  It's not so much that you worry, you are simply aware, and pat the firearm on your hip, the one that stays there when the rest are put away.

For if you were confronted out here and alone, you would not run, not as the letter of the law, but simply with  that knowledge that given your physical form and years, you could not run far from the bragging and evil shadows that prey at the edges of the light.  Pretending the shadows do not exist doesn't help any more than the running, for there exists that kind of darkness throughout all the earth, not just when you are young but when you are too old and tired to flee, but not too old and tired to fight.

The incoming car goes past with a friendly wave from someone that lives in one of the two houses down the road.  You wonder what they think when they hear the sound of guns firing away out here, so close to home.

For it is a sound that cleaves the air, the sharp dry report, the abrupt wild thunder of untamed horses, the whispering smoke. Is it something that  they think should be best regulated from the law abiding, a stain of noisy violence upon this land?  Or do they view it as you do, something that is a natural part of the peace and dignity of this place, one of the many tools that tamed this wild landscape that you all claim as home?

You look at your shadow on the ground, the weapon you carry casting its own shadow, out of proportion to the slender figure of your actual form.

From the woods come the sound of the crickets. You climb into your truck and head home, into the wild dust of that starlit road, the dense richness of smoke still lingering in your hair, the pale ribbon of road unfurling underneath the running boards.

It's just another night at the range, then home to dignity and peace.

 - Brigid