I know I posted this song not that long ago, but the message applies here as well, and the only way I know how to cope with pretty much anything is to lose myself in the music.
These are pure thoughts, not planned out, not particularly well-written, but from the heart on this solemn day.
I'm just a step away
I'm just a breath away
Losin' my faith today
(Fallin' off the edge today)
I am just a man
Not superhero
(I'm not superhero)
Someone save me from the hate
It's just another war
Just another family torn
(Falling from my faith today)
Just a step from the edge
Just another day in the world we live
I need a hero to save me now
I need a hero
(Save me now)
I need a hero to save my life
A hero'll save me
(Just in time)
I gotta fight today
To live another day
Speakin' my mind today
(My voice will be heard today)
I've gotta make a stand
but i am just a man
(I'm not superhero)
My voice will be heard today
It's just another war
Just another family torn
(My voice will be heard today)
It's just another kill
The countdown begins to destroy ourselves
I need a hero to save me now
I need a hero
(Save me now)
I need a hero to save my life
A hero'll save me
(Just in time)
I need a hero to save my life
I need a hero
Just in time
Save me just in time
Save me just in time
Who's gonna fight for what's right
Who's gonna help us survive
We're in the fight of our lives
(And we're not ready to die)
Who's gonna fight for the weak
Who's gonna make 'em believe
I've got a hero
(I've got a hero)
Livin' in me
I'm gonna fight for whats right
Today I'm speaking my mind
And if it kills me tonight
(I will be ready to die)
A hero's not afraid to give his life
A hero's gonna save me just in time
I need a hero to save me now
I need a hero
(Save me now)
I need a hero to save my life
A hero'll save me
(Just in time)
I need a hero
Who's gonna fight for whats right
Who's gonna help us survive
I need a hero
Who's gonna fight for the week
Who's gonna make 'em believe
I need a hero
I need a hero
A hero's gonna save me just in time
You've seen a lot of posts today delivering the same message: Never forget.
Everybody remembers where they were, what they were doing. How could you not? American society shut the fuck down when those planes hit the towers.
I'm not going to say never forget. Because you won't.
A lot of people have talked about the heroes the day, and in the days, months, years following it.
411 men and women in various uniforms, running into those buildings to try and help pull workers and visitors out.
2,977 people, going about business as usual. Their average day-to-day.
Almost three thousand lives lost, because of monsters out in the world who hate us because of our way of life. Our liberties. Our freedoms.
And countless soldiers around the world, fighting to protect our freedoms and bring to justice the bastards that would continue to bring us to our knees, out of fear of them.
Average men and women, and in those moments, they stepped up and became heroes.
Remember those men and women. Remember those they saved, those they tried to save, and those they lost their lives trying to save, trying to protect.
Who's gonna fight for what's right
Who's gonna help us survive
We're in the fight of our lives
(And we're not ready to die)
Who's gonna fight for the weak
Who's gonna make 'em believe
I've got a hero
(I've got a hero)
Livin' in me
I'm gonna fight for whats right
Today I'm speaking my mind
And if it kills me tonight
(I will be ready to die)
A hero's not afraid to give his life
A hero's gonna save me just in time
Where was I? I was in school. English class. Bored out of my skull. Then somebody stuck their head in, told us to turn the TV on, and everything stopped. The bells still rang, we still moved from room to room as if part of the every day routine, but nothing was accomplished. Books were not opened, lectures not delivered. We all watched as it unfolded.
Within two hours, almost 70% of the students at my school had been picked up. I lived less than a block from school, and my dad later told me that his coming to get us would not have helped. If any more attacks would have happened, being at home would not have been any safer than us being at school.
And my dad? He sat at home in his room and cried. He was a retired paramedic, his best friends were cops and firemen. He felt everything they did. And raising me to hopefully follow in his footsteps, I did too. It took a few years for me to comprehend more, but I feel the same way now that he did then.
Today, my mind has been replaying the images I saw. The planes. The people. The fire, the smoke. The anger, the fear.
Now it's just anger, for those injustices. And sadness, for those lives lost.
I will say it. Never forget.
This is for the heroes of that day, and the days following it.
A hero's not afraid to give his life
A hero's gonna save me just in time
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Monday, March 21, 2011
Three Years
Three years ago, a man died.
This man wasn't the best-looking, or the smartest man, but he did okay. He moved around a lot when he was real young, and that just makes any kid's life unpleasant.
But it was more than just that.
This man was in a wheelchair, growing up back in a time when he was made to ride the short bus, and be in the special ed classes. Yeah, that really helped him in the social department.
This man had one hell of a temper, and would throw some epic fits. The things you have nightmares about.
This man was given a chance, though, to do everything the "normal" kids did at summer camp, and that taught him to think past the lot in life that society, at the time, had given him.
So he's in a wheelchair. Big fucking deal.
This man was a paramedic from that chair. He joined the local chapter of the Lion's Club and gave back to the community and disabled children growing up in the same streets he did.
He had two children that he did his best to raise. Sure, he lost his temper every now and then... but they got the message he was trying to convey. And for the most part, they're not total screw ups. They're both pretty smart kids, doing the best they can in the world today.
This man taught me how to drive. How to do my best to be self sufficient. How to carry myself tall, and to never take shit from anybody. He is responsible for my arrogance and twisted sense of humor. For my pride in my home, and in things that I accomplish.
He introduced me to video games at a young age, never fearing that I would try and re-enact scenes out of Doom 2 or Duke Nukem. He didn't try to protect us from the horrors of the outside world... he just didn't want to see his kids do something stupid and get hurt.
This man was my father. Daniel. My son is named for him. And until the day that little boy was born, this man was the most important person in my life.
Three years ago today, I had to say goodbye. Three years ago today, my father died.
I miss you, Dad.
This man wasn't the best-looking, or the smartest man, but he did okay. He moved around a lot when he was real young, and that just makes any kid's life unpleasant.
But it was more than just that.
This man was in a wheelchair, growing up back in a time when he was made to ride the short bus, and be in the special ed classes. Yeah, that really helped him in the social department.
This man had one hell of a temper, and would throw some epic fits. The things you have nightmares about.
This man was given a chance, though, to do everything the "normal" kids did at summer camp, and that taught him to think past the lot in life that society, at the time, had given him.
So he's in a wheelchair. Big fucking deal.
This man was a paramedic from that chair. He joined the local chapter of the Lion's Club and gave back to the community and disabled children growing up in the same streets he did.
He had two children that he did his best to raise. Sure, he lost his temper every now and then... but they got the message he was trying to convey. And for the most part, they're not total screw ups. They're both pretty smart kids, doing the best they can in the world today.
This man taught me how to drive. How to do my best to be self sufficient. How to carry myself tall, and to never take shit from anybody. He is responsible for my arrogance and twisted sense of humor. For my pride in my home, and in things that I accomplish.
He introduced me to video games at a young age, never fearing that I would try and re-enact scenes out of Doom 2 or Duke Nukem. He didn't try to protect us from the horrors of the outside world... he just didn't want to see his kids do something stupid and get hurt.
This man was my father. Daniel. My son is named for him. And until the day that little boy was born, this man was the most important person in my life.
Three years ago today, I had to say goodbye. Three years ago today, my father died.
I miss you, Dad.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Can't Sleep. Clowns Will Eat Me.
Didja miss me?
I thought so.
Sorry I haven't blogged lately. Went to Texas for a week with la familia, and when we came back, there was a weekend-long scramble of getting prepared for classes that started Monday for me, return to daycare for Daniel, and return to work for Ben. And then, yanno, the week of getting back into the swing of classes with new professors, new subjects, and new classmates.
Whoo.
Anyway. I was a genius earlier and fell asleep while playing me some KOTOR on a friend's borrowed Xbox 360 (I gotta get me one o' them, they're fun), and stayed asleep til 9 PM.
Yeah. No sleep for me.
So, time for some late night blogging. Proverbial counting sheep, as it were.
Besides, I know you're just DYING to hear how Texas went, and how my spawnling is doing. Yeah. You are. Don't lie.
Well. Let's start.
Hm.
To start it all off, this was Daniel and Redhead's first commercial flight. Redhead had only gone up in a little two-seater Cessna when his cousin had first got her pilot's license, and that has been some years ago. He'd never even set foot in an airport before the trip down to Texas, specifically Pasadena.
This was gonna be fun.
Redhead's older sister, Hippie Sister, took us halfway to Kansas City, where Redhead's mother picked us up to cart us the rest of the way. Many hugs were had at the airport, with Mom admonishing us to have lots of fun and take lots of pictures! Of course, I promptly forgot my camera at the townhouse most of the time, so not a lot of pictures were to be had. Sad face.
Never having been in an airport, much less flown, Redhead did not know of the joy of going through security. Empty pockets, take of jacket, take off shoes. "My shoes?!" Yes, sweetie, your shoes. Wait for TSA Dood to wave you through, walk through metal detector. Daniel and I went through with nary a blip, but Redhead's necklaces set off the alarm, so he had to back up and go through it once more.
Finally made it, juggling diaper bag, fat babeh, big puffy leather jacket, and my boots, trying not to topple over on my way to a bench. Of course, even sitting down made putting myself back together, because I couldn't exactly put Daniel down. He'd either fall over on the bench and roll off, and I wasn't going to put him on the floor and have every snotty old lady within ten miles berate me for bad parenting. I don't take kindly to that kind of nonsense, nosirree.
Finally got everything back together, and on our way to the gates we went! Then we sat. And sat. And sat. Oh hey, our turn to get on the plane!
We found seats near the back of a very full flight, with Redhead immediately going for a window seat. He didn't want to miss a thing! It was like watching a little kid: very excited, VERY animated. He loved the feeling of taking off and the sharp banking as we circled upwards, gaining altitude. For a bit, anyway.
Daniel handled flying better than Redhead did. Once we hit cruising altitude (for all of fifteen minutes, maybe?), he was fine. But going up or going down made him nauseous as all hell, and I made sure to keep a barf bag handy... just in case. Daniel just bounced and played, and didn't want any part of either a bottle of formula, nor a bottle of juice. Just chew on the nipple and he'd be happy.
Taking Daniel out into a crowd with that many people was cute to watch. I lost count of how many people stopped to comment on just how CUTE he was, whether in the airport or actually ON the plane. Makes Mommy proud, that does.
I mean, how can you argue with something THAT DAMNED CUTE?!?
Now, a note on our itinerary: the cheapest flight we could find for two adults with an infant in the lap, because we is poor young adults, one of which is a college student... We had to change planes in Chicago. Yes, I know what you're thinking. "Wait. Flying from KC to Houston, and you had a stop in CHICAGO?!" It's madness, it really is.
The plan was land in Chicago, refresh ourselves and change diapers in the hour between flights, and be in Houston by 9:30 that night. No big deal.
We touch down in Chicago, and two gates down was where we were supposed to board the next plane. On the way to the bathroom, I see that our connecting flight has been delayed by two hours. So, overall, we were stuck in Midway airport for three. Hours.
FAIL.
Not to mention that, since we had checked the weather and knew before leaving that it was supposed to be nice and balmy, in the 50s all week in Houston, so we didn't take any of our heavy winter gear. No gloves, scarves, hats, extra hoodies for jacket lining, nothing. And Redhead and I both smoke, so we took turns sitting with the baby to go outside to burn one before plane time.
When I took my turn, I was huddled in a corner out of the wind, smoked ONE cigarette, and when I came back in, the first two joints on all my fingers were BLUE.
BLUE, PEOPLE. BLUE.
Srsly fucking cold.
Also, somewhere in there I made a call to my mother, Ducky, to inform her that our plane was delayed. She needed to know, since she would be the one picking us up from the airport.
Much creative swearing later, I hung up. We waited some more, and FINALLY boarded the plane. FINALLY.
I had told my mother I would call her as soon as our tires hit the ground, since she lives close to Hobby, where we were flying into, and she could be outside by the time we got our bags and got out. And I did.
I like flying. It's a fun experience, for me. I just hate airports. Just thought I'd throw that out there. I'm sure many of you agree with me.
Navigating an airport that's busy at 11 PM is not fun. Doubly so when you have a very tired, very cranky infant. But, we made it to baggage claim, grabbed the big duffel bag Redhead and I were sharing and the carseat we had checked, and outside we went, my eyes peeled for the silver Mazda my mother drives.
Just as I spot her car sitting still behind people loading, she calls me. "Should I circle back around again, or park and come find you?" Stay right where you are, Ducky, we're coming to you.
Without warning, her doors are thrown open, and she jumps a little, squeals at seeing her grandbaby, and pops the trunk to put duffels in. She told me she was afraid that after having so many people around him, and not to mention not seeing Gramma Ducky in close to five months, she was terrified Daniel wouldn't remember her.
She need not have worried. She smiled through the back windshield at him while we were loading the trunk of the car, and his entire face lit up.
Before heading to Granny's townhouse, the paternal grandmother whose house I had grown up in, we stopped at Mamaw Wendy's, my maternal grandmother who chainsmokes and drinks beer all weekend long. Yeah, I come from that stock. Explains a lot about my sparkling personality, don't it? Lulz.
Daniel got hugged and bounced and generally spoiled rotten, when Ducky's phone went off. Big brother, Animal, was at the bar a few blocks away, and would appreciate a ride home. It was after midnight, on New Year's Eve, so everybody was starting to file out of the bars that close at 1 AM, and VERY drunk Animal needed a ride. Daniel stayed with Mamaw Wendy for more spoiling, and Redhead and I accompanied Ducky to go pick up Sir Drunk.
Animal was deep in conversation with someone of the female variety when we got there, so we ordered a round of drinks and waited. When he realized Mom was there, he rejoiced in the ecstatic way that only drunks can achieve, and again when he saw me. Laying eyes on Redhead, whom only my mother and younger brother had ever met, his face contorted into a savage scowl, and he snarled, "Who the hell are YOU?!?"
Animal, this is Redhead. "Oh. You're the carrot top." He then got much ragging for not being enough of a gamer geek and never having watched Science Fiction Theater 3000, or whatever the hell that show was. I don't know.
After drinks were consumed, back to Mamaw's we went, where little Daniel watched Animal like a hawk. He did not know what to think of the big drunk guy. After a bit of watching my mother carry Daniel around on her hip, I told her. "Put him down." What? "Put him on the floor, Mom." Giving me a strange look, she did as she was bid, and Daniel took off at a very fast crawl after my grandmother's cat.
Rejoice, for he doth crawl! He wasn't doing that the last time any of them had seen him. They were VERY happy to see he had progressed so far in the time since they'd last seen him. He has such a personality, and as I'm sure I've mentioned, he's so damned cute it's ridiculous.
The night wore on and on, and everyone was exhausted, so we said goodnight. Daniel was going to be staying with Mom for the night, because she had not had a chance to move the crib to the townhouse, and Redhead and I would be staying with Granny and Ginormous Little Brother. We made it in around 3 AM, collapsed in the full size bed my brother had abandoned for the night, and slept until almost noon, with no infant to wake us at asscrack o'clock.
The next morning, or afternoon, whatever you want to call it, we woke up just as I heard my little brother downstairs ask Granny, "When do you think they'll wake up?" I called down that we were awake now, and we shuffled downstairs to fill ourselves with coffee and step outside for a cigarette.
The rest of the week passed in a blur, with a few notable moments:
We drove around and I showed Redhead Pasadena and South Houston. We had a lot of laughs, a lot of fun, and my family was glad to finally meet the guy who had given them a grandson/great grandson/great nephew/whatever. Ben and I thoroughly enjoyed the warm sunshine and 50 degree weather, taking walks and spending as much time as we could outside. Redhead's mom called to say it had started to snow up here again and sent pictures to my phone as proof, and we were dreading returning to it. Especially due to "blizzard-like conditions" we were supposed to have the night we came back up.
That was complete with a three-hour drive from Kansas City back to Warrensburg. Almost three times as long as it takes to make the trip under good conditions. The entire drive I was whining about how I never should have gotten on the plane.
Alas, I did, and I'm back home now, enshrined in classes and daycare and homework and trying to find a job. Financial aid comes in next week and I'm going to buy a car from a dealership where Former Roommate got his little gas-saver for $1800, with only 90k miles on it. Very bare-bones model, but it's got working AC and heat and a CD player. Not gonna argue with a deal like that.
Now. If only the weather would warm up.
How about some pictures? Ya'll want pictures? Okay.
Also while in Texas, Daniel figured out that bath time is FUN. You can slap the stuff in the tub and this wet stuff SPLASHES YOU. It's AWESOME!
Daniel is just growing so damned much. When school let out for winter break, he wasn't crawling. Now that classes have started back up and he's back in daycare, not only is he crawling, but he's pulling himself into a standing position using furniture. Pretty soon he'll be furniture-surfing, then before you know it, walking.
They really do grow up fast.
And now a giggle-worthy video.
Whoooo. More later. I'm pooped from writing all this stuff. Maybe now I can get some sleep.
Night, ya'll.
I thought so.
Sorry I haven't blogged lately. Went to Texas for a week with la familia, and when we came back, there was a weekend-long scramble of getting prepared for classes that started Monday for me, return to daycare for Daniel, and return to work for Ben. And then, yanno, the week of getting back into the swing of classes with new professors, new subjects, and new classmates.
Whoo.
Anyway. I was a genius earlier and fell asleep while playing me some KOTOR on a friend's borrowed Xbox 360 (I gotta get me one o' them, they're fun), and stayed asleep til 9 PM.
Yeah. No sleep for me.
So, time for some late night blogging. Proverbial counting sheep, as it were.
Besides, I know you're just DYING to hear how Texas went, and how my spawnling is doing. Yeah. You are. Don't lie.
Well. Let's start.
Hm.
To start it all off, this was Daniel and Redhead's first commercial flight. Redhead had only gone up in a little two-seater Cessna when his cousin had first got her pilot's license, and that has been some years ago. He'd never even set foot in an airport before the trip down to Texas, specifically Pasadena.
This was gonna be fun.
Redhead's older sister, Hippie Sister, took us halfway to Kansas City, where Redhead's mother picked us up to cart us the rest of the way. Many hugs were had at the airport, with Mom admonishing us to have lots of fun and take lots of pictures! Of course, I promptly forgot my camera at the townhouse most of the time, so not a lot of pictures were to be had. Sad face.
Never having been in an airport, much less flown, Redhead did not know of the joy of going through security. Empty pockets, take of jacket, take off shoes. "My shoes?!" Yes, sweetie, your shoes. Wait for TSA Dood to wave you through, walk through metal detector. Daniel and I went through with nary a blip, but Redhead's necklaces set off the alarm, so he had to back up and go through it once more.
Finally made it, juggling diaper bag, fat babeh, big puffy leather jacket, and my boots, trying not to topple over on my way to a bench. Of course, even sitting down made putting myself back together, because I couldn't exactly put Daniel down. He'd either fall over on the bench and roll off, and I wasn't going to put him on the floor and have every snotty old lady within ten miles berate me for bad parenting. I don't take kindly to that kind of nonsense, nosirree.
Finally got everything back together, and on our way to the gates we went! Then we sat. And sat. And sat. Oh hey, our turn to get on the plane!
We found seats near the back of a very full flight, with Redhead immediately going for a window seat. He didn't want to miss a thing! It was like watching a little kid: very excited, VERY animated. He loved the feeling of taking off and the sharp banking as we circled upwards, gaining altitude. For a bit, anyway.
Daniel handled flying better than Redhead did. Once we hit cruising altitude (for all of fifteen minutes, maybe?), he was fine. But going up or going down made him nauseous as all hell, and I made sure to keep a barf bag handy... just in case. Daniel just bounced and played, and didn't want any part of either a bottle of formula, nor a bottle of juice. Just chew on the nipple and he'd be happy.
Taking Daniel out into a crowd with that many people was cute to watch. I lost count of how many people stopped to comment on just how CUTE he was, whether in the airport or actually ON the plane. Makes Mommy proud, that does.
I mean, how can you argue with something THAT DAMNED CUTE?!?
Now, a note on our itinerary: the cheapest flight we could find for two adults with an infant in the lap, because we is poor young adults, one of which is a college student... We had to change planes in Chicago. Yes, I know what you're thinking. "Wait. Flying from KC to Houston, and you had a stop in CHICAGO?!" It's madness, it really is.
The plan was land in Chicago, refresh ourselves and change diapers in the hour between flights, and be in Houston by 9:30 that night. No big deal.
We touch down in Chicago, and two gates down was where we were supposed to board the next plane. On the way to the bathroom, I see that our connecting flight has been delayed by two hours. So, overall, we were stuck in Midway airport for three. Hours.
FAIL.
Not to mention that, since we had checked the weather and knew before leaving that it was supposed to be nice and balmy, in the 50s all week in Houston, so we didn't take any of our heavy winter gear. No gloves, scarves, hats, extra hoodies for jacket lining, nothing. And Redhead and I both smoke, so we took turns sitting with the baby to go outside to burn one before plane time.
When I took my turn, I was huddled in a corner out of the wind, smoked ONE cigarette, and when I came back in, the first two joints on all my fingers were BLUE.
BLUE, PEOPLE. BLUE.
Srsly fucking cold.
Also, somewhere in there I made a call to my mother, Ducky, to inform her that our plane was delayed. She needed to know, since she would be the one picking us up from the airport.
Much creative swearing later, I hung up. We waited some more, and FINALLY boarded the plane. FINALLY.
I had told my mother I would call her as soon as our tires hit the ground, since she lives close to Hobby, where we were flying into, and she could be outside by the time we got our bags and got out. And I did.
I like flying. It's a fun experience, for me. I just hate airports. Just thought I'd throw that out there. I'm sure many of you agree with me.
Navigating an airport that's busy at 11 PM is not fun. Doubly so when you have a very tired, very cranky infant. But, we made it to baggage claim, grabbed the big duffel bag Redhead and I were sharing and the carseat we had checked, and outside we went, my eyes peeled for the silver Mazda my mother drives.
Just as I spot her car sitting still behind people loading, she calls me. "Should I circle back around again, or park and come find you?" Stay right where you are, Ducky, we're coming to you.
Without warning, her doors are thrown open, and she jumps a little, squeals at seeing her grandbaby, and pops the trunk to put duffels in. She told me she was afraid that after having so many people around him, and not to mention not seeing Gramma Ducky in close to five months, she was terrified Daniel wouldn't remember her.
She need not have worried. She smiled through the back windshield at him while we were loading the trunk of the car, and his entire face lit up.
Before heading to Granny's townhouse, the paternal grandmother whose house I had grown up in, we stopped at Mamaw Wendy's, my maternal grandmother who chainsmokes and drinks beer all weekend long. Yeah, I come from that stock. Explains a lot about my sparkling personality, don't it? Lulz.
Daniel got hugged and bounced and generally spoiled rotten, when Ducky's phone went off. Big brother, Animal, was at the bar a few blocks away, and would appreciate a ride home. It was after midnight, on New Year's Eve, so everybody was starting to file out of the bars that close at 1 AM, and VERY drunk Animal needed a ride. Daniel stayed with Mamaw Wendy for more spoiling, and Redhead and I accompanied Ducky to go pick up Sir Drunk.
Animal was deep in conversation with someone of the female variety when we got there, so we ordered a round of drinks and waited. When he realized Mom was there, he rejoiced in the ecstatic way that only drunks can achieve, and again when he saw me. Laying eyes on Redhead, whom only my mother and younger brother had ever met, his face contorted into a savage scowl, and he snarled, "Who the hell are YOU?!?"
Animal, this is Redhead. "Oh. You're the carrot top." He then got much ragging for not being enough of a gamer geek and never having watched Science Fiction Theater 3000, or whatever the hell that show was. I don't know.
After drinks were consumed, back to Mamaw's we went, where little Daniel watched Animal like a hawk. He did not know what to think of the big drunk guy. After a bit of watching my mother carry Daniel around on her hip, I told her. "Put him down." What? "Put him on the floor, Mom." Giving me a strange look, she did as she was bid, and Daniel took off at a very fast crawl after my grandmother's cat.
Rejoice, for he doth crawl! He wasn't doing that the last time any of them had seen him. They were VERY happy to see he had progressed so far in the time since they'd last seen him. He has such a personality, and as I'm sure I've mentioned, he's so damned cute it's ridiculous.
The night wore on and on, and everyone was exhausted, so we said goodnight. Daniel was going to be staying with Mom for the night, because she had not had a chance to move the crib to the townhouse, and Redhead and I would be staying with Granny and Ginormous Little Brother. We made it in around 3 AM, collapsed in the full size bed my brother had abandoned for the night, and slept until almost noon, with no infant to wake us at asscrack o'clock.
The next morning, or afternoon, whatever you want to call it, we woke up just as I heard my little brother downstairs ask Granny, "When do you think they'll wake up?" I called down that we were awake now, and we shuffled downstairs to fill ourselves with coffee and step outside for a cigarette.
The rest of the week passed in a blur, with a few notable moments:
- Taking Redhead to Galveston. He had never seen the ocean, much less seagulls or pelicans or a sandy beach, and I had to rectify that. He fell in love with the island, and asked me, "If we move down here, can we live in Galveston?" Um. No. Rent's hella expensive, and it ain't worth it. He loved chasing a seagull on the beach, and picked up a handful of seashells that actually washed in from the ocean, ya'll.
- Palm trees. There were looooots of palm trees, which Redhead had also never seen. He was like a kid in a candy shop every time he saw one. "Look! Palm trees! Can we have one?"
- Shooting with one of my #GBC buddies, Tomcat. He hosted us at his range, and let Redhead and I shoot til he ran out of ammo. Glock 30, a little Ruger .22, and two AR-15s, once chambered in 5.56, and one that was suppressed .45. Verrah noice.
He had never shot an Evil Black Rifle before, and he says he thoroughly enjoyed that zombie popper. - Letting Redhead eat REAL Texmex, not this fake chain shit they serve in Missouri. Best damn fajita tacos I've ever had are in a little taqueria in Pasadena called the Ranchito. Omnomnom. Good shit, yo.
- Drove from Pasadena, TX, to Brenham, TX to meet my Aunt Sara for lunch, because she just had to see "her boy". She held him the entire time, feeding him tomatoes from her salad, and he ate half of her baked potato soup. More spoiling.
- Lunch at the cafe where my mom works, where Daniel got lots of attention from all my mom's customers, and he ate a LOT of grown up food. Boiled carrots, broccoli, and cauliflower from the buffet line, chewed on some chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and french fries. Om nom nom nom. Daniel likes eating grown up food like nobody's business. My mother also announced that Redhead was going to eat a REAL chicken fried steak, not that deep-fried cardboard that they serve you at Country Kitchen in Warrensburg. Said chicken fried steak was bigger than his head, and he managed maybe 1/3 of it. He has the appetite of a bird.
We drove around and I showed Redhead Pasadena and South Houston. We had a lot of laughs, a lot of fun, and my family was glad to finally meet the guy who had given them a grandson/great grandson/great nephew/whatever. Ben and I thoroughly enjoyed the warm sunshine and 50 degree weather, taking walks and spending as much time as we could outside. Redhead's mom called to say it had started to snow up here again and sent pictures to my phone as proof, and we were dreading returning to it. Especially due to "blizzard-like conditions" we were supposed to have the night we came back up.
That was complete with a three-hour drive from Kansas City back to Warrensburg. Almost three times as long as it takes to make the trip under good conditions. The entire drive I was whining about how I never should have gotten on the plane.
Alas, I did, and I'm back home now, enshrined in classes and daycare and homework and trying to find a job. Financial aid comes in next week and I'm going to buy a car from a dealership where Former Roommate got his little gas-saver for $1800, with only 90k miles on it. Very bare-bones model, but it's got working AC and heat and a CD player. Not gonna argue with a deal like that.
Now. If only the weather would warm up.
How about some pictures? Ya'll want pictures? Okay.
Also while in Texas, Daniel figured out that bath time is FUN. You can slap the stuff in the tub and this wet stuff SPLASHES YOU. It's AWESOME!
Daniel is just growing so damned much. When school let out for winter break, he wasn't crawling. Now that classes have started back up and he's back in daycare, not only is he crawling, but he's pulling himself into a standing position using furniture. Pretty soon he'll be furniture-surfing, then before you know it, walking.
They really do grow up fast.
And now a giggle-worthy video.
Whoooo. More later. I'm pooped from writing all this stuff. Maybe now I can get some sleep.
Night, ya'll.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
We Have Video!
Holy shit on video!
And yes, I'm aware that it sounds like I'm crying. I'm not. I've got a cold and it SUCKS. Not having a car and having to walk to get everywhere kinda does that. Suuuuucks.
Ain't he precious?
Friday, December 25, 2009
Cute Kid Pic - Christmas Edition
HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY YAY CHRISTMAS HAPPY WRAPPING PAPER OOH SHINY MAKE NOISE!!!
Yeah, that was Daniel's inner monologue all day, I can just tell. Don't ask me how I know, but I do.
Have some pictures, and even a video.
The last one's a random shot of the snow we woke up to. Got a decent amount, considering none of it was there when I went to bed at 1 AM. At the foot of the walk, there are two steps down to the regular sidewalk along the street. You can't even see where those steps are; tis a good way to fall and twist an ankle pretty bad.
Oh, he had lots of fun. Such a happy baby.
The video is taking forever to upload to Youtube, so in the morning, I'll have the video of him opening his VERY FIRST PRESENT, ZOMG!!!
Yeah, that was Daniel's inner monologue all day, I can just tell. Don't ask me how I know, but I do.
Have some pictures, and even a video.
The last one's a random shot of the snow we woke up to. Got a decent amount, considering none of it was there when I went to bed at 1 AM. At the foot of the walk, there are two steps down to the regular sidewalk along the street. You can't even see where those steps are; tis a good way to fall and twist an ankle pretty bad.
Oh, he had lots of fun. Such a happy baby.
The video is taking forever to upload to Youtube, so in the morning, I'll have the video of him opening his VERY FIRST PRESENT, ZOMG!!!
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Blogorado, Day Four - Monday's Good-byes
Monday. Most of us were heading out today. I woke up greatly saddened by this fact. I had enjoyed myself so much, had so much fun, and made great friends with people I had never dreamed of meeting. I didn't know when I would next have the chance of seeing any of them, and I was dreading saying good-bye.
My mind was packed full of the memories we had made this weekend: the guns, the laughs, the sheer amount of fun. It should have been illegal to have that much of a good time in one weekend.
Don't get me wrong: I missed my home and those in it, but these crazy people with guns on their hips and smiles in their steps were a whole other family for me, and I missed them already.
I made sure my bags were packed, stacked in a corner and ready to go after breakfast was done with, and donning my sweater, I ambled over to the cafe.
People filed in, and I don't know if saying good-bye weighed as heavily on their minds as it did on mine (or maybe I'm just a softie like that), but they didn't let it stop anyone from having one last good time.
More jokes, more crude humor, lots of laughs, good food and coffee were had, while several of us exchanged phone numbers for keeping in touch. Many had not wanted to give out their numbers, no matter how close we had gotten without coming face-to-face, but that weekend had changed all of it.
Phlegmmy and LawDog were the first to leave, for they had a longer drive than we did and had things to do. I gave them each a hug, opined about how truly amazing it was to have met them, and bade them farewell, only to find out a few minutes later that they had picked up mine and FarmGirl's tab.
Hearts of gold and very giving people, these folks were.
FarmGirl and I announced that we had to be hitting the road, for it was a long drive to the airport for me to get home. More hugs were had all around, a few more pictures were taken, and everyone was gushing about how great it was to finally meet each other, or how awesome it was to see someone again. I almost felt as if I would cry.
The drive to the airport was not as quiet as the one to the FarmHouse was, being more comfortable in each other's presence as FarmGirl and I had grown. She talked about her horse, Monkey, and what it was like at her school; she told me of the other blogmeet she had gone to that Phlegmmy had hosted, and a variety of other subjects.
Before too much longer, we arrived at the airport, FarmGirl dropping me off at the curb, and I checked my bags in. The flight was uneventful, but I had a copy of AD's book to read on the ride home, so I wasn't too horribly bored.
Kansas City is beautiful from the air, I will say that much. A sea of glittering lights.
I had a great time, and I sincerely hope that some time in the near future, I can repeat the experience: meet new friends, see old ones again, shoot a lot of guns, and laugh until I feel my sides will split right open.
The range is hot!
My mind was packed full of the memories we had made this weekend: the guns, the laughs, the sheer amount of fun. It should have been illegal to have that much of a good time in one weekend.
Don't get me wrong: I missed my home and those in it, but these crazy people with guns on their hips and smiles in their steps were a whole other family for me, and I missed them already.
I made sure my bags were packed, stacked in a corner and ready to go after breakfast was done with, and donning my sweater, I ambled over to the cafe.
People filed in, and I don't know if saying good-bye weighed as heavily on their minds as it did on mine (or maybe I'm just a softie like that), but they didn't let it stop anyone from having one last good time.
More jokes, more crude humor, lots of laughs, good food and coffee were had, while several of us exchanged phone numbers for keeping in touch. Many had not wanted to give out their numbers, no matter how close we had gotten without coming face-to-face, but that weekend had changed all of it.
Phlegmmy and LawDog were the first to leave, for they had a longer drive than we did and had things to do. I gave them each a hug, opined about how truly amazing it was to have met them, and bade them farewell, only to find out a few minutes later that they had picked up mine and FarmGirl's tab.
Hearts of gold and very giving people, these folks were.
FarmGirl and I announced that we had to be hitting the road, for it was a long drive to the airport for me to get home. More hugs were had all around, a few more pictures were taken, and everyone was gushing about how great it was to finally meet each other, or how awesome it was to see someone again. I almost felt as if I would cry.
The drive to the airport was not as quiet as the one to the FarmHouse was, being more comfortable in each other's presence as FarmGirl and I had grown. She talked about her horse, Monkey, and what it was like at her school; she told me of the other blogmeet she had gone to that Phlegmmy had hosted, and a variety of other subjects.
Before too much longer, we arrived at the airport, FarmGirl dropping me off at the curb, and I checked my bags in. The flight was uneventful, but I had a copy of AD's book to read on the ride home, so I wasn't too horribly bored.
Kansas City is beautiful from the air, I will say that much. A sea of glittering lights.
I had a great time, and I sincerely hope that some time in the near future, I can repeat the experience: meet new friends, see old ones again, shoot a lot of guns, and laugh until I feel my sides will split right open.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Blogorado, Day Four - Sunday
Sunday! Last day of shooting! Not gonna lie, I was chomping at the bit to get back out to the range. If you listened to the Brady Bunch, that horrifying bloodlust that accompanies shooting a gun had seized hold of me, and I was thirsty for the liquid life.
Which is a load of complete bullshit, but I was eager to enjoy some more shooty goodness.
Dinking around on the computer while Christina took a morning shower, I forgot that the time on my computer's clock was different from local time. It said it was almost 9 AM, so I hustled my keister over to the cafe for breakfast, to discover the place nearly empty, with only three people there.
FarmGirl introduced me and I shook hands with MattG and JPG, in awe of the gentle giant and his charming father. More quiet conversation was had as people slowly trickled in, ordering coffee to fuel themselves up for the day. After all, we were planning to exhaust ourselves out at the range.
I stepped outside for a cigarette where Salamander informed me that he would not be able to join us for today's festivities. The Newt was still sick and he had to be getting home to tend to his child. With a farewell hug, we sent him on his way, then began the migration out towards the range.
YAY!
Breda was immediately handed the biggest handgun I had yet seen, and I stared in awe as this little slip of a woman fire round after round, watching what looked like recoil from hell after each shot. And then the other shooty n00b took a turn: Christina! I would show pictures, but some people like to remain anonymous on the internet, and I shall respect their wishes. :) I do have a picture of the gun in question though.
Super Blackhawk, wut?
A picture that would make the Brady Bunch spontaneously combust!
Yummy!
Mizz Phlegmmy deemed it safe to pose for a picture, so I immortalized her in digital form, displaying all of her charm in one smile.
I felt truly blessed to have met her, I really did. I adored her! I mean, I adored everybody, but she was something else, she really was.
It wasn't too much longer before I was drawn to the rifle range again, eyeballing Jim with his AR once more. That's right, I wanted another turn at that pretty pup, and he was kind enough to oblige me while Breda was nice enough to take pictures with my camera.
I f*cking love that gun. Maybe Santa will bring me one for Christmas? I promise, I've been good!!
Breda rocked the SKS like nobody's business, of course....
My shoulder was aching at this point. After spending all day shooting guns I was unaccustomed to, and then sleeping on it, I was in a fair amount of pain. But oh, it hurt so good. The lovely librarian saw me rubbing at the red spot on my skin, and pulled her shirt down to show some lovely bruises.
Of course, it got Jim's attention, and he immediately took pictures, as did I.
And of course, this picture was taken accompanied by words that Jim repeated often enough during the weekend: "Okay, give me angry, I want to see angry!"
Then I realized the very appropriate shirt that Stingray was wearing and had to take a picture of it.
We adjourned for lunch then, most of us bickering over the limited chairs that were available. AD stole my spot, then sweetly offered his own chair to me, with the Longhorns logo emblazoned across the back of it. I badmouthed the foul team, raising nine kinds of hell with AD for even thinking to offer that seat to the daughter of an Aggie, and then KatyBeth chimed in, agreeing with her father. She was too cute to punish for her impudence, though.
Right as everyone was finished stuffing their faces, a couple of the gentlemen reappeared, announcing that for the snipers on the rifle table, there were new targets set up on the opposite side of the range: 55-gallon barrels were placed at 500 yards and 950 yards, and most people took turns at them. I was not brave enough to try, but I did stand back and cheer folks on as they rotated through the snipers. Memorable quote of the moment came from Stingray, directed towards Breda.
"Almost a thousand yards, and you got it on your second fucking pull!"
There's a reason we call her the World's Most Dangerous Librarian.
Afterwards, I don't know what possessed AEPilotJim, but he decided he wanted to play dress-up with Breda.
That's Jim's M14 she's holding (which is almost as long as she is tall), and that sash she's wearing? Yeah, that's his belt and holster. We couldn't cinch it up tight enough to fit around her waist, so she had to wear it like that. We were all giggling about these pictures, of course.
Breda decided she would mosey back over to the pistol range while it was deserted, and I chose to follow, making a quick stop where everybody was set up with the clays and shotguns to ask Mr. Stingray if he would be so kind as to let me shoot his hand cannon. The day before it was quite intimidating, but I knew I'd be kicking myself for eternity if I didn't shoot it at least once. He said he'd be over shortly, because I was not familiar with wheelguns and did not know how to load it.
Whilst waiting for him to come down to let me play with his toy (boy, that sounds dirty, don't it?), I gazed quite longingly at Alan's full-auto. "Can I shoot it?" I asked.
"Here," he said, and handed me a box of ammo and a magazine to load.
And then he fired a magazine, I fired one, and Breda shot it once more.
SQUEEE!!
Oh, that was fun to shoot.
Back over on the rifle side, they called the range cold and tacked up a bag of Tannerite to one of the target backdrops. Christina and I each took position on a rifle and they cut us loose, telling us to hit the black bag on the wooden board.
KABOOM!
I nailed it that time, and when it exploded, my grin was positively feral, I was so thoroughly pleased.
This is what was left of the board the tannerite was stuck on, once we tore down the range.
And yes, that really is Jim's face. I was SHOCKED, I really was. But he's so damned cuddly!
After we called both ranges cold and the FarmFam announced it was time to pack up and go home, before it got too dark to see, Jim made a brass call.
"Anybody want to help pick up these shells, for those of us that reload ammo?"
I stared at him stupidly. Then snuck away to Alan's truck, where Breda was resting, and chatted with her amiably for a few minutes. I mentioned the brass call.
"Is he fucking serious? After all we've fired? Are you kidding me?"
Yeah, that's what I thought too.
KatyBeth decided she wanted to ride back into town with Mizz Christina, so I piled into AD's truck with him and GayCynic, and promptly passed out in the backseat.
Hey, I was TIRED, man!
Then there was the deer incident (See also: here, here, here, and the best of all, here).
Once everybody made it back into town, Christina and I with custody of little miss KatyBeth, we knocked on Breda's door to inform her and Alan (because those two seemed to be attached at the hip sometimes) of what had happened. Then we high-tailed it over to the FarmHouse, laptop in tow because I just had to be the first to blog about the deer incident, just as LawDog and Phlegmmy arrived. Phlegmmy asked if I had uploaded the pictures, and asked ever-so-politely if she could borrow my laptop to put up a picture. I, being the ever-giving soul that I am, allowed her, resulting in this lovely post over here.
We had pot roast, potato casserole, and delicious vegetables for dinner, with more of the diabetic-coma-inducing cheesecake brownies, and Atomic Beer, of course. The Nerds arrived with a freshly-cleaned AD, sporting the best tacticool attachment for any rifle EVAR.
Many jokes were had about "Super Scrappy Nibbles", and then we all settled down to BS some more, stuff our faces with delicious home cooking, and Christina vanished to give more massages, as she did every night.
Time wore on, people called it a night, and FarmGirl dragged out the fire pit to set up outside the garage. Stingray, Labrat, Jim, and I, all huddled around the flame, trying to avoid a faceful of smoke. Talk was quiet, moods were restful, all was well.
The temperature kept dropping, and I was running out of energy, so I asked Jim if he would walk with me back to the motel. We chatted more as we walked and said goodnight outside of our respective motel rooms.
Christina still wasn't home yet, so I crawled into bed and passed out. I had to get some sleep, for early in the morning, FarmGirl and I had to get on the road to the airport so I could go home.
Which is a load of complete bullshit, but I was eager to enjoy some more shooty goodness.
Dinking around on the computer while Christina took a morning shower, I forgot that the time on my computer's clock was different from local time. It said it was almost 9 AM, so I hustled my keister over to the cafe for breakfast, to discover the place nearly empty, with only three people there.
FarmGirl introduced me and I shook hands with MattG and JPG, in awe of the gentle giant and his charming father. More quiet conversation was had as people slowly trickled in, ordering coffee to fuel themselves up for the day. After all, we were planning to exhaust ourselves out at the range.
I stepped outside for a cigarette where Salamander informed me that he would not be able to join us for today's festivities. The Newt was still sick and he had to be getting home to tend to his child. With a farewell hug, we sent him on his way, then began the migration out towards the range.
YAY!
Breda was immediately handed the biggest handgun I had yet seen, and I stared in awe as this little slip of a woman fire round after round, watching what looked like recoil from hell after each shot. And then the other shooty n00b took a turn: Christina! I would show pictures, but some people like to remain anonymous on the internet, and I shall respect their wishes. :) I do have a picture of the gun in question though.
Super Blackhawk, wut?
A picture that would make the Brady Bunch spontaneously combust!
Yummy!
Mizz Phlegmmy deemed it safe to pose for a picture, so I immortalized her in digital form, displaying all of her charm in one smile.
I felt truly blessed to have met her, I really did. I adored her! I mean, I adored everybody, but she was something else, she really was.
It wasn't too much longer before I was drawn to the rifle range again, eyeballing Jim with his AR once more. That's right, I wanted another turn at that pretty pup, and he was kind enough to oblige me while Breda was nice enough to take pictures with my camera.
I f*cking love that gun. Maybe Santa will bring me one for Christmas? I promise, I've been good!!
Breda rocked the SKS like nobody's business, of course....
My shoulder was aching at this point. After spending all day shooting guns I was unaccustomed to, and then sleeping on it, I was in a fair amount of pain. But oh, it hurt so good. The lovely librarian saw me rubbing at the red spot on my skin, and pulled her shirt down to show some lovely bruises.
Of course, it got Jim's attention, and he immediately took pictures, as did I.
And of course, this picture was taken accompanied by words that Jim repeated often enough during the weekend: "Okay, give me angry, I want to see angry!"
Then I realized the very appropriate shirt that Stingray was wearing and had to take a picture of it.
We adjourned for lunch then, most of us bickering over the limited chairs that were available. AD stole my spot, then sweetly offered his own chair to me, with the Longhorns logo emblazoned across the back of it. I badmouthed the foul team, raising nine kinds of hell with AD for even thinking to offer that seat to the daughter of an Aggie, and then KatyBeth chimed in, agreeing with her father. She was too cute to punish for her impudence, though.
Right as everyone was finished stuffing their faces, a couple of the gentlemen reappeared, announcing that for the snipers on the rifle table, there were new targets set up on the opposite side of the range: 55-gallon barrels were placed at 500 yards and 950 yards, and most people took turns at them. I was not brave enough to try, but I did stand back and cheer folks on as they rotated through the snipers. Memorable quote of the moment came from Stingray, directed towards Breda.
"Almost a thousand yards, and you got it on your second fucking pull!"
There's a reason we call her the World's Most Dangerous Librarian.
Afterwards, I don't know what possessed AEPilotJim, but he decided he wanted to play dress-up with Breda.
That's Jim's M14 she's holding (which is almost as long as she is tall), and that sash she's wearing? Yeah, that's his belt and holster. We couldn't cinch it up tight enough to fit around her waist, so she had to wear it like that. We were all giggling about these pictures, of course.
Breda decided she would mosey back over to the pistol range while it was deserted, and I chose to follow, making a quick stop where everybody was set up with the clays and shotguns to ask Mr. Stingray if he would be so kind as to let me shoot his hand cannon. The day before it was quite intimidating, but I knew I'd be kicking myself for eternity if I didn't shoot it at least once. He said he'd be over shortly, because I was not familiar with wheelguns and did not know how to load it.
Whilst waiting for him to come down to let me play with his toy (boy, that sounds dirty, don't it?), I gazed quite longingly at Alan's full-auto. "Can I shoot it?" I asked.
"Here," he said, and handed me a box of ammo and a magazine to load.
And then he fired a magazine, I fired one, and Breda shot it once more.
SQUEEE!!
Oh, that was fun to shoot.
Back over on the rifle side, they called the range cold and tacked up a bag of Tannerite to one of the target backdrops. Christina and I each took position on a rifle and they cut us loose, telling us to hit the black bag on the wooden board.
KABOOM!
I nailed it that time, and when it exploded, my grin was positively feral, I was so thoroughly pleased.
This is what was left of the board the tannerite was stuck on, once we tore down the range.
And yes, that really is Jim's face. I was SHOCKED, I really was. But he's so damned cuddly!
After we called both ranges cold and the FarmFam announced it was time to pack up and go home, before it got too dark to see, Jim made a brass call.
"Anybody want to help pick up these shells, for those of us that reload ammo?"
I stared at him stupidly. Then snuck away to Alan's truck, where Breda was resting, and chatted with her amiably for a few minutes. I mentioned the brass call.
"Is he fucking serious? After all we've fired? Are you kidding me?"
Yeah, that's what I thought too.
KatyBeth decided she wanted to ride back into town with Mizz Christina, so I piled into AD's truck with him and GayCynic, and promptly passed out in the backseat.
Hey, I was TIRED, man!
Then there was the deer incident (See also: here, here, here, and the best of all, here).
Once everybody made it back into town, Christina and I with custody of little miss KatyBeth, we knocked on Breda's door to inform her and Alan (because those two seemed to be attached at the hip sometimes) of what had happened. Then we high-tailed it over to the FarmHouse, laptop in tow because I just had to be the first to blog about the deer incident, just as LawDog and Phlegmmy arrived. Phlegmmy asked if I had uploaded the pictures, and asked ever-so-politely if she could borrow my laptop to put up a picture. I, being the ever-giving soul that I am, allowed her, resulting in this lovely post over here.
We had pot roast, potato casserole, and delicious vegetables for dinner, with more of the diabetic-coma-inducing cheesecake brownies, and Atomic Beer, of course. The Nerds arrived with a freshly-cleaned AD, sporting the best tacticool attachment for any rifle EVAR.
Many jokes were had about "Super Scrappy Nibbles", and then we all settled down to BS some more, stuff our faces with delicious home cooking, and Christina vanished to give more massages, as she did every night.
Time wore on, people called it a night, and FarmGirl dragged out the fire pit to set up outside the garage. Stingray, Labrat, Jim, and I, all huddled around the flame, trying to avoid a faceful of smoke. Talk was quiet, moods were restful, all was well.
The temperature kept dropping, and I was running out of energy, so I asked Jim if he would walk with me back to the motel. We chatted more as we walked and said goodnight outside of our respective motel rooms.
Christina still wasn't home yet, so I crawled into bed and passed out. I had to get some sleep, for early in the morning, FarmGirl and I had to get on the road to the airport so I could go home.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Blogorado, Day Three - Saturday
Saturday morning dawned as comfortable as the previous days, though I did not wake up at the ass-crack of dawn this time. Christina was going about her morning ablutions, and I was sprawled across my bed, wasting time in the GBC like I always do. Salamander announced that he had made it into town last night (or some time in the wee hours of the morning, same thing) and that he was at Such-and-Such Motel... right behind mine!
So, of course, I wandered over and stood around, waiting for him to come outside, because I did not know who I was looking for. I had never met these people before, and though I recognized a few from pictures I'd seen on the internet (or met in real life that one time), this was a whole new ball game for me. The managers of the motel yelled across the parking lot if I needed help, seeing me standing there lookin' all lost and retarded, and I yelled back that no, I was just waiting for a friend to come out because I did not know which room he was in. And then, out stepped Sal!
We greeted and hugged, and stepped into his room while he squee'd all over the GBC about meeting another blogger, before logging off to accompany me to breakfast. We moseyed (is that even a real word?) over to the little cafe where everyone had agreed that we would breakfast every morning, and upon arrival, I announced, "Look what I found!" Introductions were made all around, coffee was ordered by everyone except AD and his daughter, and then the FarmParents showed up with their grandson, FarmGirl's nephew, in tow, who would be there to play with KatyBeth. It's so nice to have someone your own age to play with, right?
After breakfast, we all caravaned out to the FarmFam House once more, drank some more coffee, and stood around shuffling our feet for only a little bit. The message was clear, written on everyone's faces: we were anxious to go get some much-loved recoil therapy. Finally, the message went out: Load up! Let's go!
And out to the range we went.
AD had informed me on the ride back in the day before that he had brought several guns specifically for teaching me and Christina how to shoot, so I knew who to stick close to. That, and I knew him the best, considering how I fangirl'd over him for so long and met him a few months back. He's my buddy, it's true.
For a while after we got to the range, everyone was doing last-minute set-up: loading magazines, organizing ammo and guns on tables, and people were wandering from truck to truck to see what was offered before it all got laid out. Christina and I, seeing as we didn't have any guns to shoot of our own, stood around looking useless before volunteering ourselves for mag-loading duty. AD set a box in front of us and several magazines and set us to task, and pretty soon, all was ready.
Some people decided they wanted to shoot at the rifle range first, so I stood around to watch and take some pictures for a moment before boogeying over to the pistol range to let some rounds fly.
That AR-15? Yeah, I fell in love with that pretty baby. I gotta get me one of them!
After a few minutes of watching them shoot the rifles, I followed the crowd over to the pistol range, where AD began to give lessons to Christina and I on the various guns he had brought for exactly that reason. We shot several .22s, and then he broke out his Glock 17 and handed it off to us. We took turns putting rounds through it, and my hand stung slightly afterwards, not being used to the recoil of something more than .22.
I saw Sal standing back at the table, and I peeked over his shoulder to see what he had.
"I only brought my new 1911 and enough ammo for this."
That, my darling readers, is a handful of happy. What a pretty sight!
People would step up to the lines, take aim, and fire, going for either paper targets, fall-down poppers, or metal plates on a shelf. After everything was down, someone would call the range cold, and while they were picking up plates and poppers, everyone else would shuffle back to the table to reload or pick up a different firearm to shoot.
At some point, I migrated back over to the rifle range and parking area, breezing right past a table set up with leftovers for lunch, to see a few folks sitting around chowing down. "Where's the food at?" "That table you just walked by."
D'oh!
Fixed myself a plate and sat down, chewing the fat with FarmMom while chewing her delicious food, when I happened to look up and see a cloud of dust up on the road.
"Somebody's coming."
"That's probably Phlegmmy and LawDog."
Omigawd! Christina was about to flip her shit, for sure. Her and Phlegmmy are great friends, and they were excited about finally getting to meet face-to-face.
They arrived, and Christina did the honor of introducing me to Phlegmmy while LawDog bounced around from person to person. Another one of the first bloggers I read, was he, and I was a might nervous about meeting him, and said as much to Phlegmmy, who promptly called him over for introductions.
Such lovely people!
While we all ate, and the newcomers set up their offerings to the Gun Gods, Salamander raised his pants legs for an interesting shot of his knee beards.
(Picture courtesy of Stingray)
Uhm. Interesting growth there, Sal.
After stuffing our faces, we were eager, of course, to return to the shooting. Back on the pistol range, Alan broke out this pretty toy:
I wouldn't get to shoot it until Sunday, but it was nice to gawk at. Fully automatic, wut.
My head is just... spinning with all the different guns that were shot, I can't even begin to keep them all straight, I really can't.
Over at the rifle range once more, I watched AEPilotJim shoot his AR-15 once more, and when he emptied the magazine it was holding, he turned to see a forlorn expression on my face.
"You want to shoot it?"
"I thought you'd never ask!"
He showed me how to load the magazine and snap it into place, where the safety was, and how the sight worked, then turned me loose to have some fun.
Oh. My. God.
I'm in love.
Want. Want very bad. WAAAAAAAAANT.
Breda took a seat at the rifle table in front of one of the M24 snipers, and went to town at the 240 yard half-size target (effectively a 500 yard shot, I'm informed). Couldn't resist snapping a pic of that, of course.
While everyone was gathered around watching Breda on the sniper, I saw Sal sneak off by himself to the pistol range, and being the nosey little brat I am, followed to see what the deal was.
He was getting some one-on-one time with his Les Baer 1911, which he offered to let me try. Seeing as I had not yet had the opportunity to shoot something in .45 ACP, I gratefully accepted, and got 5 out of 7 on the popppers. First magazine through the first .45 I ever shot, not bad.
I now know which side of the Glock vs. 1911 argument I fall on, that's for sure.
At one point, I glanced over to discover that KatyBeth had grown bored with playing NCIS with someone her own age, and decided she wanted a turn, too!
People were migrating to and from the two ranges quite often, myself included, as once again I was back over at the pistol range. The sun was beginning to set, and everything had a lovely warm glow.
LabRat was standing off next to the pistol table, and I stepped up next to her, looking at all the guns spread out before me. "I want to shoot something, but I don't know what," I said to her.
"How about one of the wedding rings?" she asked, lifting the lid on a case that held the two beauties.
Don't gotta ask me twice.
I picked up the darker of the two and was informed it was Stingray's. I went to set it back down and go for hers, not wanting to offend the man I did not know very well by shooting his gun without permission, but she shook her head and handed me a magazine to load. "It's cool, just go for it."
I handed over my camera and stepped up, aimed, and fired! So nice!
Aim, squeeze... click. "What the?"
Rack the slide back, ejected the shell it didn't want to let go of, try again.
Click. Looked over at LabRat nervously, who approached to help me sort out this problem. "Papa Baer's been kind of bratty here lately," she said, handing me the gun back.
Okay, let's try one more time.
Aim, squeeze.... click. Wail. "LabRat! He hates me!"
She growled and manhandled Stingray's gun, uttering death threats before handing it back to me with a dark smile. After that, the gun behaved. Always fear Mama, for she has the power to END YOU.
The sun was dipping lower on the horizon and a chill was starting to set in, so we loaded up for the trek back into town. I rode back in with Salamander, bullshitting about this, that, and everything in between during the ride.
At one point, still on dirt and gravel road, we saw everyone had stopped. Alan and Breda had pulled off to the side, set the truck in park, and were sitting there contently watching the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen. "We'll be back into town shortly," they told us, and on the rest of us went.
Being covered in dust and dirt, most of us stopped by our respective motel rooms to tidy up first. Christina, though she is a darling, always seems to take forever, so by the time we got over to the house for dinner, everyone else had arrived.
AD held out a platter to me. "Try a scrappy nibble."
And I made the mistake of trusting him. Little bite-sized deep fried chicken-nugget looking things. Can't be that bad. Popped one into my mouth and chewed. Chewy. Still, not too horribly bad. And then I saw the look on Breda's face, and Alan next to her trying so hard not to laugh. Realization dawned.
"What is this stuff?" I asked.
"Just finish eating it," Breda said quietly.
My eyes got big. "What is it?" I repeated urgently, slowing my chewing.
Breda shook her head, Alan looked like he was about to explode if he didn't let out his laughter, and AD said from (a safe distance) across the garage, "How you like those testicles, Snarky?"
I raged. I cursed. I gagged. God damn it!
Of course, Mamaw grabbed my arm a few minutes later after I had finally choked the Rocky Mountain Oysters down. "You want some more?"
Oh god no!
"Before you knew what they were, they tasted good, right?"
I feared I had offended her cooking. Of course ma'am, they were very good!
"Then eat some more. Regardless of what they are, they still taste good."
She had a point. So I ate some more. I will admit, they tasted good, but just the fact that I knew I was chewing on what used to be some calf's family jewels was a very off-putting thought.
More delicious food was consumed, this evening's meal being chicken fried steak, and we all made fun of Breda for never trying it. What do you expect of a Yankee?
I had not burned that much energy in a long time, and I was exhausted. I was not the only one: little KatyBeth was getting cranky from being tired as well, so after much ribbing about being a lightweight, for I had only drunk half a beer, and my indignant protests of bodily exhaustion and not drunken exhaustion, I caught a ride back to the motel, only to fall asleep with my laptop in my lap.
So. Damn. Tired.
But it was a good kind of tired.
I needed my rest. There was more shooting to come the next day, and more company. MattG and JPG were due to arrive the next day!
So, of course, I wandered over and stood around, waiting for him to come outside, because I did not know who I was looking for. I had never met these people before, and though I recognized a few from pictures I'd seen on the internet (or met in real life that one time), this was a whole new ball game for me. The managers of the motel yelled across the parking lot if I needed help, seeing me standing there lookin' all lost and retarded, and I yelled back that no, I was just waiting for a friend to come out because I did not know which room he was in. And then, out stepped Sal!
We greeted and hugged, and stepped into his room while he squee'd all over the GBC about meeting another blogger, before logging off to accompany me to breakfast. We moseyed (is that even a real word?) over to the little cafe where everyone had agreed that we would breakfast every morning, and upon arrival, I announced, "Look what I found!" Introductions were made all around, coffee was ordered by everyone except AD and his daughter, and then the FarmParents showed up with their grandson, FarmGirl's nephew, in tow, who would be there to play with KatyBeth. It's so nice to have someone your own age to play with, right?
After breakfast, we all caravaned out to the FarmFam House once more, drank some more coffee, and stood around shuffling our feet for only a little bit. The message was clear, written on everyone's faces: we were anxious to go get some much-loved recoil therapy. Finally, the message went out: Load up! Let's go!
And out to the range we went.
AD had informed me on the ride back in the day before that he had brought several guns specifically for teaching me and Christina how to shoot, so I knew who to stick close to. That, and I knew him the best, considering how I fangirl'd over him for so long and met him a few months back. He's my buddy, it's true.
For a while after we got to the range, everyone was doing last-minute set-up: loading magazines, organizing ammo and guns on tables, and people were wandering from truck to truck to see what was offered before it all got laid out. Christina and I, seeing as we didn't have any guns to shoot of our own, stood around looking useless before volunteering ourselves for mag-loading duty. AD set a box in front of us and several magazines and set us to task, and pretty soon, all was ready.
Some people decided they wanted to shoot at the rifle range first, so I stood around to watch and take some pictures for a moment before boogeying over to the pistol range to let some rounds fly.
That AR-15? Yeah, I fell in love with that pretty baby. I gotta get me one of them!
After a few minutes of watching them shoot the rifles, I followed the crowd over to the pistol range, where AD began to give lessons to Christina and I on the various guns he had brought for exactly that reason. We shot several .22s, and then he broke out his Glock 17 and handed it off to us. We took turns putting rounds through it, and my hand stung slightly afterwards, not being used to the recoil of something more than .22.
I saw Sal standing back at the table, and I peeked over his shoulder to see what he had.
"I only brought my new 1911 and enough ammo for this."
That, my darling readers, is a handful of happy. What a pretty sight!
People would step up to the lines, take aim, and fire, going for either paper targets, fall-down poppers, or metal plates on a shelf. After everything was down, someone would call the range cold, and while they were picking up plates and poppers, everyone else would shuffle back to the table to reload or pick up a different firearm to shoot.
At some point, I migrated back over to the rifle range and parking area, breezing right past a table set up with leftovers for lunch, to see a few folks sitting around chowing down. "Where's the food at?" "That table you just walked by."
D'oh!
Fixed myself a plate and sat down, chewing the fat with FarmMom while chewing her delicious food, when I happened to look up and see a cloud of dust up on the road.
"Somebody's coming."
"That's probably Phlegmmy and LawDog."
Omigawd! Christina was about to flip her shit, for sure. Her and Phlegmmy are great friends, and they were excited about finally getting to meet face-to-face.
They arrived, and Christina did the honor of introducing me to Phlegmmy while LawDog bounced around from person to person. Another one of the first bloggers I read, was he, and I was a might nervous about meeting him, and said as much to Phlegmmy, who promptly called him over for introductions.
Such lovely people!
While we all ate, and the newcomers set up their offerings to the Gun Gods, Salamander raised his pants legs for an interesting shot of his knee beards.
(Picture courtesy of Stingray)
Uhm. Interesting growth there, Sal.
After stuffing our faces, we were eager, of course, to return to the shooting. Back on the pistol range, Alan broke out this pretty toy:
I wouldn't get to shoot it until Sunday, but it was nice to gawk at. Fully automatic, wut.
My head is just... spinning with all the different guns that were shot, I can't even begin to keep them all straight, I really can't.
Over at the rifle range once more, I watched AEPilotJim shoot his AR-15 once more, and when he emptied the magazine it was holding, he turned to see a forlorn expression on my face.
"You want to shoot it?"
"I thought you'd never ask!"
He showed me how to load the magazine and snap it into place, where the safety was, and how the sight worked, then turned me loose to have some fun.
Oh. My. God.
I'm in love.
Want. Want very bad. WAAAAAAAAANT.
Breda took a seat at the rifle table in front of one of the M24 snipers, and went to town at the 240 yard half-size target (effectively a 500 yard shot, I'm informed). Couldn't resist snapping a pic of that, of course.
While everyone was gathered around watching Breda on the sniper, I saw Sal sneak off by himself to the pistol range, and being the nosey little brat I am, followed to see what the deal was.
He was getting some one-on-one time with his Les Baer 1911, which he offered to let me try. Seeing as I had not yet had the opportunity to shoot something in .45 ACP, I gratefully accepted, and got 5 out of 7 on the popppers. First magazine through the first .45 I ever shot, not bad.
I now know which side of the Glock vs. 1911 argument I fall on, that's for sure.
At one point, I glanced over to discover that KatyBeth had grown bored with playing NCIS with someone her own age, and decided she wanted a turn, too!
People were migrating to and from the two ranges quite often, myself included, as once again I was back over at the pistol range. The sun was beginning to set, and everything had a lovely warm glow.
LabRat was standing off next to the pistol table, and I stepped up next to her, looking at all the guns spread out before me. "I want to shoot something, but I don't know what," I said to her.
"How about one of the wedding rings?" she asked, lifting the lid on a case that held the two beauties.
Don't gotta ask me twice.
I picked up the darker of the two and was informed it was Stingray's. I went to set it back down and go for hers, not wanting to offend the man I did not know very well by shooting his gun without permission, but she shook her head and handed me a magazine to load. "It's cool, just go for it."
I handed over my camera and stepped up, aimed, and fired! So nice!
Aim, squeeze... click. "What the?"
Rack the slide back, ejected the shell it didn't want to let go of, try again.
Click. Looked over at LabRat nervously, who approached to help me sort out this problem. "Papa Baer's been kind of bratty here lately," she said, handing me the gun back.
Okay, let's try one more time.
Aim, squeeze.... click. Wail. "LabRat! He hates me!"
She growled and manhandled Stingray's gun, uttering death threats before handing it back to me with a dark smile. After that, the gun behaved. Always fear Mama, for she has the power to END YOU.
The sun was dipping lower on the horizon and a chill was starting to set in, so we loaded up for the trek back into town. I rode back in with Salamander, bullshitting about this, that, and everything in between during the ride.
At one point, still on dirt and gravel road, we saw everyone had stopped. Alan and Breda had pulled off to the side, set the truck in park, and were sitting there contently watching the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen. "We'll be back into town shortly," they told us, and on the rest of us went.
Being covered in dust and dirt, most of us stopped by our respective motel rooms to tidy up first. Christina, though she is a darling, always seems to take forever, so by the time we got over to the house for dinner, everyone else had arrived.
AD held out a platter to me. "Try a scrappy nibble."
And I made the mistake of trusting him. Little bite-sized deep fried chicken-nugget looking things. Can't be that bad. Popped one into my mouth and chewed. Chewy. Still, not too horribly bad. And then I saw the look on Breda's face, and Alan next to her trying so hard not to laugh. Realization dawned.
"What is this stuff?" I asked.
"Just finish eating it," Breda said quietly.
My eyes got big. "What is it?" I repeated urgently, slowing my chewing.
Breda shook her head, Alan looked like he was about to explode if he didn't let out his laughter, and AD said from (a safe distance) across the garage, "How you like those testicles, Snarky?"
I raged. I cursed. I gagged. God damn it!
Of course, Mamaw grabbed my arm a few minutes later after I had finally choked the Rocky Mountain Oysters down. "You want some more?"
Oh god no!
"Before you knew what they were, they tasted good, right?"
I feared I had offended her cooking. Of course ma'am, they were very good!
"Then eat some more. Regardless of what they are, they still taste good."
She had a point. So I ate some more. I will admit, they tasted good, but just the fact that I knew I was chewing on what used to be some calf's family jewels was a very off-putting thought.
More delicious food was consumed, this evening's meal being chicken fried steak, and we all made fun of Breda for never trying it. What do you expect of a Yankee?
I had not burned that much energy in a long time, and I was exhausted. I was not the only one: little KatyBeth was getting cranky from being tired as well, so after much ribbing about being a lightweight, for I had only drunk half a beer, and my indignant protests of bodily exhaustion and not drunken exhaustion, I caught a ride back to the motel, only to fall asleep with my laptop in my lap.
So. Damn. Tired.
But it was a good kind of tired.
I needed my rest. There was more shooting to come the next day, and more company. MattG and JPG were due to arrive the next day!
Friday, November 20, 2009
Blogorado Weekend Report...
....will be forthcoming.
Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. You want to hear AAAAAAAAAAALL about it. Trust me, I want to tell it to you.
I've been a bad Snarky, not blogging about it like I promised I would. Life has been mad crazy hectic since I got back: finals are coming up, the homework load for classes has skyrocketed, and apparently I was muchly missed here at home, because for the past week and a half since I came back from my trip, there have been people here EVERY DAY.
I promise, you'll hear all about it. Swear.
For now, I will leave you with this.
Who IS that sexy bitch? That gun just makes me want to bone the fuck out of her.
Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. You want to hear AAAAAAAAAAALL about it. Trust me, I want to tell it to you.
I've been a bad Snarky, not blogging about it like I promised I would. Life has been mad crazy hectic since I got back: finals are coming up, the homework load for classes has skyrocketed, and apparently I was muchly missed here at home, because for the past week and a half since I came back from my trip, there have been people here EVERY DAY.
I promise, you'll hear all about it. Swear.
For now, I will leave you with this.
Who IS that sexy bitch? That gun just makes me want to bone the fuck out of her.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Excitement!
So, after a glorious day of flinging lead downrange, we were all headed back into town for dinner at FarmMom's. I was one happily exhausted Snarky, so I had immediately conked out in the back of AD's truck, with the big man himself driving (obviously), and Gay Cynic in the passenger seat.
It's dark, the truck is moving, I'm lulled to sleep, and all is well in my world.
"Oh FUCK!" *Swerve swerve CRUNCH* "Son of a bitch, where did it go?"
A lovely 8 pointer jumped across the road, and try as he might, poor AD was not able to completely avoid hitting it. It wasn't a complete disaster, the truck was not totaled, but it was going to need to be towed; the radiator reservoir was crunched, and it dumped it's fluid fast.
(click to embiggen)
That's the truck. Like I said, not too much damage. Here's the deer:
And, of course, the man who hit it. :D
The saddest part is the fact that, once we realized everybody was okay, nobody was hurt, the truck wasn't completely destroyed, and hey! Venison! We ended up throwing a nice party on the side of the highway, waiting for DOW and everybody else for official reasons.
The guy from the sheriff's department appeared right after we set up the head of the buck. Department of Wildlife said that they needed to keep the head of the buck, can't exactly remember why, so after removing it, we had some fun:
Yeah, he was a little weirded out by us. But by god, we had fun. We realized, thanks to FarmDad, that the damage was not extensive, and the Nerds had a powerful enough truck to tow Frankenhoopty somewhere to be worked on. Much fun was had.
Well, as much fun as was possible.
PS - Leave it to AD to hunt deer this way. We spend all day shooting guns, and he kills it with a truck. Silly boy.
It's dark, the truck is moving, I'm lulled to sleep, and all is well in my world.
"Oh FUCK!" *Swerve swerve CRUNCH* "Son of a bitch, where did it go?"
A lovely 8 pointer jumped across the road, and try as he might, poor AD was not able to completely avoid hitting it. It wasn't a complete disaster, the truck was not totaled, but it was going to need to be towed; the radiator reservoir was crunched, and it dumped it's fluid fast.
That's the truck. Like I said, not too much damage. Here's the deer:
And, of course, the man who hit it. :D
The saddest part is the fact that, once we realized everybody was okay, nobody was hurt, the truck wasn't completely destroyed, and hey! Venison! We ended up throwing a nice party on the side of the highway, waiting for DOW and everybody else for official reasons.
The guy from the sheriff's department appeared right after we set up the head of the buck. Department of Wildlife said that they needed to keep the head of the buck, can't exactly remember why, so after removing it, we had some fun:
Yeah, he was a little weirded out by us. But by god, we had fun. We realized, thanks to FarmDad, that the damage was not extensive, and the Nerds had a powerful enough truck to tow Frankenhoopty somewhere to be worked on. Much fun was had.
Well, as much fun as was possible.
PS - Leave it to AD to hunt deer this way. We spend all day shooting guns, and he kills it with a truck. Silly boy.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Remember
Obama on 9/11: 'No words can ease the ache of your hearts'
Remember this day. Remember the lives that were lost. Remember the sacrifices that were made in the name of freedom.
Remember the planes crashing into the north and south towers of the World Trade Center. Remember the terror of watching the buildings collapse. Remember the firemen, police, and paramedics rushing into the burning buildings, knowing the danger that lay ahead.
Remember the soldiers that fight for our freedoms on a daily basis and give their lives so that we can live happily.
But most of all.... remember this day, eight years ago, when a beautiful blue sky was torn apart by fire, smoke, and pure evil.
Remember.
President Obama spoke at the Pentagon on Friday to those who lost loved ones on September 11, 2001, telling them no words would heal their pain yet calling for a renewed resolve against the ones who attacked the country eight years ago.
"Eight Septembers have come and gone," Obama said. "Nearly 3,000 days have passed, almost one for each one who has been taken from us.
"We recall the beauty and meaning of their lives," he said. "No passage of time, no dark skies can dull the meaning of that moment.
"Let us renew our resolve against those who perpetrated this violent act," Obama said.
Remember this day. Remember the lives that were lost. Remember the sacrifices that were made in the name of freedom.
Remember the planes crashing into the north and south towers of the World Trade Center. Remember the terror of watching the buildings collapse. Remember the firemen, police, and paramedics rushing into the burning buildings, knowing the danger that lay ahead.
Remember the soldiers that fight for our freedoms on a daily basis and give their lives so that we can live happily.
But most of all.... remember this day, eight years ago, when a beautiful blue sky was torn apart by fire, smoke, and pure evil.
Remember.
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