We went to a flood last night

My son called last night to ask if he could borrow my Jeep or Bronco to haul sand bags(???)

That's the first indication I had that something was going poorly for the stupids.

He told me the water was up to the registers in his old store and the District had called to see if he could help because the new manager was out of reach for some reason.

When he said "up to the registers", silly me, I thought it was creeping in that far. Actually it was covering the floor a couple of inches deep, with the water outside eight inches or so higher than the floor.

Per the news this morning, we erased our rain deficit for the year last night. Seven inches in a couple of hours.

The pictures above are of standing water, very important that is!

I and a couple of very nice young men, redirected traffic and pushed several cars out of the deeper water.

The white Lincoln will be on ebay soon as the man driving it tried to get out the door and then left through the sun (flood roof) roof. He was sitting on the top of the car when we went by.

I have a 4X4 diesel pick up that sits pretty high, and enough sense to turn around if it gets too deep. We plowed through slowly to the store to get money for sand bags. I parked on the side walk and talked to the employees through the door.

Sand bags were not going to help.

At that time I got a few lessons in how stupid some people are. Any one with any type of car that didn't float plowed along through the water, some of them with a wake a couple of feet high.

The drivers of cars we tried to redirect away from the deepest part, would look at you like you were trying to trick them, and then continue on until the water killed the engine or they started to float. Cars with low bumpers, had waves running up across the hood to the windshield.

They were still coming when we were done and finally went home.

The killer is I could see high pavement, and no one went that way.

The cars in the really deep water are in the street. The police actually blocked that road.

I enjoyed being an a$$hole for a little, when every other car on the street was in the center lane to stay out of the water, I got into it, had a clear lane, and thew some really high rooster tails.

I love me some tall truck.

A long walk on a beautiful day

I enjoy walking, it's a good thing too, as the love of my life loves to walk.

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The 27th and 29th were two of the prettiest days I have seen in a long while. Particularly in the winter, almost 70 F by lunch, cloudless skies and light winds. The first day we were in shorts and walked bare foot on the beach, for six miles. I got a blister on my big toe.

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The second day we drove down the beach to the edge of a State Natural Area (didn't know there was such a thing), and walked down the beach from there. There were no vehicles and almost no people. We saw a total of six or so in five hours.

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Some where about two hours into the stroll, I took leave of my senses and thought it would be cool to walk to the next village for coffee.

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The round trip was thirteen miles, give or take.

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Thank God most of the sand was hard, slogging that far in soft sand would be a real nightmare.

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The first picture above is the Outer Banks pretty much as Stead Bonnet must have seen it a few hundred years ago.

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If you look closely Ft. Caswell and Old Baldy can be seen, as well as the mouth of the Cape Fear River. Those places were vacant in Bonnets time. Just to the right of this picture is Southport and Bonnets Creek, where the pirate hid his vessel, until his capture and hanging in Charleston.

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The second picture captures your humble scribe in winter plumage, standing on a dune, under the bluest sky I have seen in ages, with the wind at my back. Shortly after this was taken it warmed to the point that the jacket had to come off.

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I wish I could grow hair on my head like I can on my face, I'd look like wolf man. I already have the hair on my ears.

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To my left as you view the picture is Bonnets Creek.

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The third picture is a view of one of the few pristine beaches left, about five miles of strand with nothing on it except tracks.

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One of the things we do used to be called "beach combing". In our case, the search is for "sea glass", broken bottles that have washed in like sea shells, smoothed and frosted. We use them to fill the bottom of clear bowls for decoration.

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There is no point to our excursions, we just go and walk or wander for miles, soaking up the sun getting wind blown and hot or cold as the season dictates.

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The Ft. Fisher Hermit lived near here in a WWII bunker. He was there for twenty or so years, alone except for his dogs, until he was murdered for something he didn't have.

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I think I know why he stayed.

There are times when you just know to STFU....

When The Love of My Life and I started dating the first of those things we found that we really enjoyed, that can be done in public, was road trips. We visited San Francisco, later we went out west and camped. While we were there we hiked and generally did and saw some wonderful things. During my first marriage I had done a couple of driving trips all around the west and mid west, and thought it would be cool to share the experience with a couple of the more adventurous kids.

The planning was done and off we went. I had a four wheel drive Suburban to provide room for four and,,,,,stuff. We camped hither and yon for roughly two weeks. From the Badlands to Vegas and Tombstone, we went where ever the urge took us and stayed the night.

One of the many places I wanted to go was Devils Tower. This Native American sacred sight is known as the Home of the Bad God. It's as impressive as any natural structure I have seen. It is in a rather remote area. Oh, well actually, go to the end of the world and turn left, drive until you see the sign.

We had camped at Badlands National Park, and driven a long day to get to the approximate time zone. I don't know how long the ride was, but every one was napping, including, occasionally, the driver. The Love of My Life was driving, at the posted speed limit of 55mph.

Remember that number.

I woke up long enough to wonder where the hell we were. I was in the navigators seat and snagged the map, started looking for road signs, and trying to get information from TLOML.

The road was long straight and apparently endless, then I saw a sign, and almost immediately a town. When I looked up from the map again, I saw the highway sign that indicated our turn.

Then I really screwed up bad. I said "You need to turn here", and she did.

At 55 miles an hour, TLOML took both her little hands on the wheel, and yanked that land yacht into a right turn.

It must have looked like a cartoon. Dust flying, tires bellowing, passengers pasted to the window on the down hill side. I knew we were going over. If I hadn't been wearing my seat belt I probably would have flown out the drivers window.

Jesus in all his mercy, must have reached down and held that truck in the road.

That must have been what woke up Officer Peterson.

He was a young man performing his duty, apprehending a wild eyed, breaker of the law. He fired up the cruiser and in short order blue lighted TLOML and allowed her a short bleep of siren.

About that time I made another life changing mistake, my second of the day. As the good officer reached the window, I was about to try to help, I said "Now baby," that's as far as I got.

TLOML turned to me, I swear lightning came out of her eyes, ears and butt all at once. She told me, "don't you BABY ME!!!" everyone for miles knew that I would not baby her anytime soon, on pain of a fate worse than death.

From that point on I was peeping out of the crack at the bottom of the seat. Officer Peterson stepped back for a second, and then did a lot of talking from behind his hand.

I think he strangled occasionally.

As soon as he determined that I was an idiot (not too difficult) he gave us directions and sent me off to my fate.

I wonder why he was wiping his eyes while walking to his car, must have been the dust.

First ever award

I was grinding through my e-mail, because I've been away for a couple of months, and found that Brigid, of Mausers and Muffins fame has granted me an award.

The much coveted "Duck Tape" award.

I guess it's because I "fix" nuclear power plants, as well as everthing else that gets dropped in my lap.

I feel,,,,, different,,,,,special,,,,,

ducky!

The Red Knights Motorcycle Club

I was invited to attend a meeting of this club by a prospective son in law.

Good move on his part.

These gentlemen are connected in some way to the fire service, active, retired, or disabled. They are a little brash, a little crude, they drink a little, and might eat too much.

My kind of folks!

Obviously they like motorcycles.

There are more of them than I've seen at meetings, a lot more. I met more of them at the 343 Memorial Ride this past Saturday. Like a couple of hundred more.

This is the second year that the RKMC has sponsored a group ride to raise funds for the State Burn Center. I hope this isn't my last chance to participate in this work. They raised a big hand full of money.

We had a victim from the burn center as mascot, and a fire fighter who was at the World Trade Center to lead the ride.

I will post the tally here when I can contact someone for the official numbers. I'm guessing two hundred plus bikes.

A rider gets a shirt (naturally, got to have the shirt) a pin for your colors, lunch and the chance to participate in something really cool.

The entire traffic division in our town, probably thirty officers, volunteered on their day off, to provide escort and blocking at intersections. That can be a little unsettling when you are riding left file, in the right lane, and an unmarked Mustang running lights and siren hustles by to leap frog the car ahead to the next light. Trust me that car can really hustle, and we had been warned, if you wander across the line, you may become a bug in his grill.

Ouch!!

No worries, all went well. It was the coolest thing I've done lately.

We arrived in time for the ride, barely, after the ten hour flight from Mexico and a five hour drive from Dulles. I had been up for twenty seven hours with an hour and a half nap. Color me droopy.

I am a prospective member and hope to be voted in at the next meeting. The Red Knights are a national organisation, that parallel the Blue Knights.

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Another cool thing that shows here, the owner of the shop that ordered the back rest for my bike, wasn't able to get it in time so he let me ride his Harley. That let TLOML enjoy the ride, with out worrying about slipping off the back. Not many shop owners will hand you the keys to their personal property and say have a nice day!

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Rob at The House of Chrome is way cool for the helping hand!

Out of town

Gettin' out of town for a few days, didn't win the big one (91 mil) so I have to come back. Goin' to Cancun. Fly out of D.C. to Miami, (just my luck) and then on to the Yucatan. I feel like I'm playing "run dodge and jump", Army dudes will remember that one from Basic, with storms.

We are going to Chechinitza, remember that one? A huge city that was built before Europe got started good.

Pics when we get back.

Dawg has a lesson...

Dawg gets a little excited from time to time. She likes to show us how fast she can run around the yard. The Love of My Life chanting "run dawg, run" drives her to a frenzy, ears flying, tounge hanging out, slobber trailing, the short little legs churning, she is a vision of exuberance.
She will get the bit between her teeth if the Grand Babies are in the yard and cut up something fierce.

The GB's were over the other day, and wanted to get in the hot tub. The LOML went out to check the water condition and temp and the girls went along to ensure that all was to the specification of eight year olds. Dawg has been known to jump onto the cover of the hot tub.

As the LOML raised the cover, Dawg comes up the steps, full tilt boogie, doggie happy face in full bloom, ears floppin', and jumps to the top of the hot tub to show how athletic she is.

Except the top is open, and Dawg positively sails, kersploosh, into the tub!

OMG!!!! BATH!!!!

I would have loved to have seen her, she totally freaked!

TLOML and the girls about peed on them selves.

They had to catch their breath before helping Dawg out.

I miss all the good ones!

Down that long sandy road,

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to a future too bright to see. This is the Fourth of July, the most American Holiday. It's special to little boys particularly, for the fireworks, the water melon, and a break from the boredom of endless summer.

When I was growing up in the fifties and sixties, every summer was endless. When school was let out, no thought of fall and next years school ever came to mind. It was too far away to think about and overshadowed by all the wonderful empty days, that we would find a way to fill with adventure.

That might be fishing in the creek, or hitching to the pool, or wandering down a creek, or over a mountain. I was fortunate enough to be raised, or in some cases jerked up by the hair of my head, in the country or in a small town. In those places and times my extended family was every adult I met. Each and every one of them knew so much better than us how bright the future could be, and were determined to see to it that we lived long enough to enjoy it. There were some truly bad people, violent, drunken; irresponsible was the nicest thing that could be said for some of them. However, none of that ever extended to children. We were who they wanted to be, carefree and full of the possibilities of childhood.

Not to mention that if anything unfortunate were to befall us, the responsible party would have one of "those" discussions with the Uncles.

This was a fate to be avoided.

It didn't matter what you did, or where you did it, someone would tell your momma or daddy, that was only to put a little limit on your foolishness. Limits of that nature were good, we had a great reserve of foolishness.

It wasn't all sunshine and wading the creek, I can remember when my Grandpa died. My Daddy was home and some men came and talked to him. When my mother asked him who they were and what they wanted, he told her to shut her mouth and go inside.

That was a first.

He left for a while and when he came back, he had Grandpas wallet for Grannie. That's the first time I saw my Daddy cry. I can still see it, I was four.

Grannie moved to the country near her brothers and sisters. It wasn't a homecoming, she was destitute, although with enough pride to make her want to take care of herself.

That was the beginning of many summers in the sun, working or playing to fill the days.

I spent a lot of summers with my Grannie Amos after my Grandpa died. I didn't know until I was in my thirty's, that she was paid to watch me.

She watched me all right, most of the time she watched me leave her place at about daylight and go down the road to my uncles house to work until dark, when I would come back and take a bath and sleep until morning and then do it again. From the age of six or so to eleven I worked on the farm, from can see, to cain't see, for all the milk and fresh vegetables I could eat. I had never heard of dehydration or heat stroke, probably the only reason I didn't die from one or the other.

I have memories that are in a glare of sunlight, chopping the weeds out of tobacco, look ahead and look behind, can't see the end of the row or edge of the field, look back at the ground and keep on choppin'. The night will come and we have another field tomorrow. The last two years I worked, I was paid ten dollars a summer. That was after I didn't come back, and I was missed for the work I had done.

Then there were my cousins from the mountains.

I was eleven and very small for my age, they weren't.

I have scars, and blurred memories of horrible impacts.

I should be dead.

It was great.

When I stayed with them it was, all Hell's out for lunch and the Devil gets the hindmost.

We would cut a vine and swing like pirates, sleep in the barn like runaways, run through the mountains like Indians on the war path. We played all those things, and more. We slept in abandoned houses like Huck Finn, fished every day, hunted with a pack of yard dogs every night. We hunted Ginseng, and Yellow Root for money, we sold drink bottles for change for the pool tickets. I could at any time of day or night borrow a shotgun and no one found that worrisome or unusual. We knew what it was for and what it could do. We could fight all day and still be best friends at night. We were family and blood was thicker than water, trust me, I saw enough of it to know.

I remember hiding in giant hollow logs left over from the Chestnut blight, watching the rain come up the hollow. I remember the old moonshine still we found. I remember "walkin' the TV line" to the top of the mountain to clear the limbs that were grounding the signal. Our heroes were on TV every Saturday morning, they wore white hats and rode the smartest horses. I can still see the paths in the woods, the ferns on the creek, the groundhogs and 'coons. We picked cherries out of an old orchard way up on the mountain, and ate until we were all sick. I remember sitting on the top of the mountain after midnight, looking at the top of the fog like a silver lake, with the moon full behind me.

For us, summer would never end.

I remember so much that is gone now.

We were the lost boys.

This is going to be tough to top.....

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or even come close.

The Love of My Life has this habit of coming up with really cool gifts. A couple of years ago at Christmas she gave me a GPS Navigation unit for the car. This year for my birthday she gave me an hour of flight time in this cool little aircraft.

The thing amounted to an introductory lesson in flight training. The company that rents these wants about $140 an hour fuel included for the use of the plane. It has full avionics, not the gages and analog things I was expecting. Two LCD screens with all the read outs, and a killer GPS with inputs from local ATC for radar targets in your area. We could actually see the other aircraft in the area on our GPS.

Way COOL!

The instructor did the taxi to the run up for take off, and when we had permission to use the runway, he told me to take it. He did the rudder and kept us heading in the right direction, at
65 knots I eased back on the stick, and we climbed out at a very comfortable rate. We were at 800 ft. almost immediately. The air smoothed out at about 2000ft and at 2500ft it was a great day. I have held the controls of a small air craft on take off once before, but this was the first time anyone told me " take us anywhere you want, it's your time."

The flight was basically a large circle of the area, you can't really get any where in an hour. The air speed was 103 to 120 mph, so flying some where for lunch was out of the question. The fun thing was I had the controls and the plane is so easy to fly. The avionics included an artificial horizon that lets you fine tune the planes attitude. It is so stable that aileron turns are all you have to do. Rudder turns are an adventure for the future.

The instructor asked me several times if I had flight experience.

I bet they say that to all the boys.

I had to tell him no, but I have had my hands on a lot of controls and know that quick changes are, most of the time, a bad thing.

At the end he had to take the controls because of traffic in the pattern, and we had to land fairly fast, a Lear was coming up behind us. I will give credit where due, it was the best landing I have ever experienced in any air craft, I didn't even feel the wheels touch the ground.

Now if I only had $8000 dollars with nothing to do, I could get a licence that I can't afford to use.

Busy day yesterday....

Signed my contract, spent an hour looting for my spotting scope, didn't find it until about nine last night,

Figured out that all my cases for the guns were at the storage unit (rats) !

The boys came over a little early and we loaded up, we took about Four hundred dollars worth of ammo and a truck load of guns to the range.

I keep a stock of belts, holsters, ear plugs, targets, and my cleaning kit is a huge tackle box.

We had four long guns and eight pistols.


Even though a shot from some of those guns amounts to throwing two dollars on the fire, we had a blast.

I am secure in my position as family marksman, I can still out shoot the boys. The entertainment industry continues to have a disastrous effect on marksmanship. I did some coaching and demonstration, to good effect.


Two of the rifles fire vastly different calibers at about the same velocity. The big bore is three times as heavy per bullet as the smaller. Each has a target style scope with large turrets for adjustment.

I like to shoot long distance.


The bowing to the master started when I started calling my shots and picking clothespins off the line at a hundred yards, with a .300 Winmag. That's not up to my previous standard, but I'm going to work on that. Most of our long distance shooting was done with a .223 with a heavy stainless barrel, much easier on the shoulder.

The final shot sealed the deal, I called the pin and centered the pin and the rebar it was pinned to with the first shot.


The son-in-law was suitably impressed.

Today is the birthday...

I am so glad to be getting older, as opposed to the alternative.

The after life is supposed to be better. Well, maybe, but no one has phoned back to say for sure. I would hate to get the call, probably means you are on your way, so it doesn't matter what you tell the dude in the next seat.

Youth is wasted on the young, the golden years are something around twenty five to thirty five. Now everything is more painful.

Now that the whining is over, goin' to the range today! Takin' the big boy's toys! Got two that qualify as A$$ Whoopin' in a box, plan to come back with bruises and ringing ears (hearing protection is not optional)!

The Wedding Party

I do mean PARTY!!! This is the best looking bunch of bridesmaids I've seen. The first brunette from the right will be married this coming spring. The three little ones are grandchildren.

Livin' in the old days

I come from a long line of distinguished entrepreneurs, that means either there were no jobs, or they would do anything to avoid them.

Coal mining in the thirties and forties would be a career choice to avoid. Traveling down a slope until you're a couple of miles underground to work long hours by the light of a carbide lamp just doesn't sound like appealing work.

My daddy had gaggle of fairly rowdy brothers, who were prone to take up anything that would turn a dollar. Junk dealing, logging, digging railroad tunnels, little harmless things like that.The neighborhood being remote and the economy being shot in the foot, they turned to making moonshine. We're Irish what do you expect?

Folks will always have money for liquor, even if they don’t have the money for anything else.

Daddy and the boys had to taste the brew so they determined to make good clean ‘shine, no radiators, or dead things in the beer box. Just grain feed, preferably sweet feed, sugar and yeast. For your daily lesson in alcohol production please make a note to purchase yeast for brewing purposes, bread yeast will work, or leaving the top off will work, but the end product will taste like spoiled bread. Yecch!

I have tasted moonshine from an old home made copper still with a wooden bottom. I have no idea why anyone would put a wooden bottom in a still. It was made with grocery store variety yeast, the liquor smelled horrible and tasted worse. It would, however, burn with a clear blue flame all the way to the bottom of a spoon. The burn in your throat and belly was another situation all together. That stuff was clear as water and would take the hair off your tongue like paint stripper.

The talented distiller can cook off enough water with the alcohol to give you a buzz without pickling the surrounding organs in the process. My predecessors, I am proud to say, were very talented. The first taste of adult beverage to pass my lips came from the household supply of one of my uncles. We were going fox hunting. I and two of my cousins were along for the ride, and when we stopped to see if another dog owner would be along, the cousins dived over the seat, snagged the brown paper bag from the front, and we had a swig. I was twelve or so, and it was pretty tasty. I suspect my uncle knew we had a nip, and I also suspect he knew it was inevitable.

Daddy and the boys were, as previously noted, not to be trifled with. Trifling would result in bruises, or worse, no more ‘shine. Sobriety was a fate not to be contemplated, possibly worse than employment. The boys would visit the regulars and chat about every thing except drinking, and by the time they moved on, the customer would know where to leave the money, and pick up the product.

One of Daddy’s favorite stories told of heading out on a errand to deliver a couple of jars of refreshment. As he walked out of the holler, for you city folks, that’s a small valley, a stranger came down off the mountain and started a conversation with daddy. It turned out that the stranger was a revenue officer looking for some moonshiners in the area.

Guess who.

They walked along for a while as daddy allowed as he didn’t know much of anything. Eventually the officer pealed off and daddy went his way. He had two fifths wrapped up in a shoe box under his arm the whole time.

When I was growing up, all of us spent days at a time looking for their still. We never found it, and if you ever tried to hide anything from kids you know how hard that is. It must be deep under ground, its not too far to carry sugar and grain, and has to be near water.
My oldest uncle was a bootlegger and moonshiner until the day he died. I expect the old still has collapsed by now, sugar prices ran the moonshiners out of business when the feds couldn't’t. I still know of a few hardy souls who would rather make their own, they are few and far between. It can be bought but the price is high. I have the craft but haven’t learned the art. If I ever need to barter to survive, as I said people will always want their liquor.

I’ll bet you didn’t know the reason your milk jug has a snap on top, rather than a screw top, is to keep moonshiners from putting liquor in them.

Best idea yet,

Stand up for your right to not be controlled by the perpetually offended. From an E-mail.


I will be making a conscious effort to wish everyone a Merry Christmas .. My way of saying that I am celebrating the birth Of Jesus Christ. So I am asking my email buddies, if you agree with me, to please do the same. And if you'll pass this on to your email buddies, and so on... maybe we can prevent one more American tradition from being lost in the sea of "Political Correctness".

If your chosen religion, or non religion, as the case may be, does not have a holiday of significance to you, at this time of year, please feel free to enjoy mine. This enjoyment is not conditional on belief, but rather, on your good will, and tolerance. This is not a licence to change my holiday to something other than what it is intended.

Enjoy it, or leave it alone, your choice.

Try to make me feel guilty, or change it from something enjoyable, that comes with a free Ass Kicking.

Don't worry, we'll tell you Merry Ass Kicking, as we cruise out of sight.

How do you put a bow on that?

I think I've ruint myself,,,,,

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The Love of My Life is very persistent, she ran a half marathon this fall and I ran with her. Key words, with her, and I still do.

She has been running some since, I have not.

Last night we ran together, three miles, 36 min. Sometime between 2330 and 0630 this morning, rigor set in. If it moves it hurts.

Meds are now on board, decaf ( I know, horrible) waiting for the continuous cuppa. I have work to do, an arbor to build, and I need to get a fill in job so my retirement won't be so tiring. Now I have to wait until the meds take effect.

Whiny beyotch that I am, I will get up and move shortly.

Quote from last night.....

The youngest daughter who is about to be married, was drug about town in considerable alcohol induced haze. The Last Girls Night Out, you understand.

At the disgustingly early hour of, shall we say, elevenish in the Am,the Love of My Life calls the intended.

Mom: Where are you?
Daughter: burrrrp El Cerro Grandee burrrrp.
Mom: Breakfast?
Daughter: Burrrrp yep burrrrp.
Mom: Should you be eating that?
Daughter: Burrrrp nope burrrrp.
Mom: Do you have a hangover?
Daughter: Why? Did I call you?

I'm not tell'in

Short Guns I have Known 1

I would like to preface this series by saying, although I'm a certified instructor and a life long gun nut, I am not a know-it-all. I have shot many different weapons, I reserve the right to fire any hand gun that is new to me, when I teach a fire arms class. I get around a little, in some odd groups, some military, some police, and know a couple of murderous bastards who always have something nasty in their pocket. I am always interested in new things to shoot. I've had the chance to shoot hand guns ranging from a river boat gamblers break top .38SW revolver to the newest Walther 9mm. That doesn't cover everything by any means, but it's a good sample.

These weapons are all legally owned.

The pistol pictured above is a Jennings / Bryco .22 semi auto. It is the Saturday night special everyone is terrified of. It cost the grand sum of $65. The weapon is a lot of fun to shoot. It comes with two clips that hold seven shots each. It is surprisingly accurate considering the cast in place sights, the twenty or so pounds of ragged trigger pull, and the totally inadequate grips. With the use of carefully managed trigger control, one can hit regularly a three inch circle ten or so feet away. Not a tack driver, but if you sit on someones chest and stick it up their nose, entirely adequate for self defence. The body silencer position is also adequate. I know people who have shot these things to death, the top of the slide completely worn through. Like I said a lot of fun to shoot.

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I bought this on on the recommendation of a retired SF type who made the statement, "I like these because if you ever have to use it, you just kick it under a coke machine and it will never be found, you just report it stolen."

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As I said odd circles.

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This gun can be easily covered by my double extra lovely hands, however, as it has three moving parts and a plastic safety, there isn't enough money readily available to persuade me to stick it in my pocket.

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There are some places that a tourniquet just wouldn't do!

Beachin'

We took the girls and the grand babies to the beach yesterday.

The act of a total idiot.

Memorial day, everyone from hours around and farther, who thinks a 4X4 selector makes them the Rat Patrol, must go to the beach. The park rangers were handing out instructions on how to avoid getting stuck.

Idle hope.

I saw people who were stuck and didn't know it yet. No one was airing down the tires and they were just plowing on until they high centered, no it wasn't high centered, it was worse, they were sitting on the body with all four wheels free wheeling. The beach was really cut up and soft. I can normally pull something out, but yesterday it was an invitation to sink like a rock.

The alternative is the winch. Great toy there. Put it in park, let the hopeless hook up, unless they have tow hooks. Tighten the cable, watch the tires on my truck, push sand and sink until the other vehicle moves or the winch stops pulling. If it stops dig and repeat.

Score for the winch fest, One Grand Cherokee three times (he had his wife and child with him), one Wrangler twice, one Chevy Blazer, and one Tahoe. In case anyone thinks I charge, not this time, probably not ever, unless they are really stupid and make me actually work.

I had a great time, and saved some others fun day, not too bad at all.

The best part of all this was the love of my life driving her new (to us) Wrangler with nary a bobble all the way out and back.

She did great!

Fishing again?

If the master of the sea allows, another trip Monday. More good things to eat.

Hopefully it will be better than the bash and splash trip last time.

Another new quick recipe,
One can seasoned tomatoes w/basil and oregano
One small jar artichokes in water
One small can of mushrooms in water
Some Old Bay Seafood Seasoning
Throw in some Shrimp or clams or fish chunks.
Heat until the seafood is cooked, serve over rice.

I grated some Asiago cheese over mine. Had it for the evening meal. Tasty.

I have been noticed by the Lords of Blog!

Thank you for the meme, I was feeling left out.
The rules: add your name to the list,
Pick five people and notify them,
List your five favorite eating spots at your location.
The List:
Nicole (Sydney, Australia)
velverse (Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia)
LB (San Giovanni in Marignano, Italy)
Selba (Jakarta, Indonesia)
Olivia (London, England)
ML (Utah, United States)
Lotus (Toronto, Canada)
tanabata (Saitama, Japan)
Andi (Dallas [ish], Texas, United States)
Lulu (Chicago, Illinois, United States)
Chris (Boyne City, Michigan, United States)
AB (Cave Creek, Arizona, United States)
Johnny Yen (Chicago, Illinois, United States)
Bubs (Mt Prospect, Illinois, United States)
Mob (Midland, Texas United States)
Yas (Ahwatukee, Arizona USA)
RSP (Scottsdale, AZ USA)
Ralphd00d (Phoenix, AZ USA)
DW (South East US)


1) Tango du Chat (Dance of the Cat)

French influences, good sea food, and the chef does the cooking. Most times the chef trains and directs. Here the chef cooks and he loves to innovate. Just stroll in, order a good beer, they have several, and have the hottie to tell the Chef to do something that will be good. Prepare to drool. Not cheap, but excellent.


2) Toscona
Italian, dim romantic, excellent house wines, and again a Chef in the house. Plan on two bottles of wine, red sauce with your favorite food beast, excellent pasta. Again not cheap, but worth it.


3) Something Fishy
This is a local "fish camp" type place as we call them. If it doesn't swim, don't bother. Except for the great hush puppies and coleslaw, seafood is all they do. Get the large three item seafood platter with scallops, oysters, and shrimp. You can have broiled or fried. Be sure to have a monster appetite. This is the working mans dinner, very reasonable.


4)Flaming Amy's
One entree, burrito. You can, however, get anything on it. They are huge, betcha' can't eat more than one. Mexican influence, (big surprise) salsa bar, wall of flame (hot sauces) . Six bucks for a meal.


5) Goody Goody Omelet House
This is a working mans (or ladies) eatery. Three bucks will get you a basic breakfast with eggs, toast, grits and coffee. A little more will get you fed to the gills. The folks there are life long egg flippers who can turn your average cackle berry into a work of art. I'm salivating as I write this. There are a few of these in town, Jimbo's and the White Front get a photo finish,

Bonus,,,

1)Mrs. Helen's Cajun Seafood in Lafayette Louisiana, the love of my life and I go every time we pass on I 10. We order an Alligator Sampler and a Crawfish Sampler, and eat like we stole it, we eat off each others plates, the other customers must think were crazy or starving.

2)Gino's Pizza in Chicago. They have changed hands, but a few years ago, it was all I could do to eat a personal sized pan pizza.

3) Anything on Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco.

4) Irish Stew at Dirty Nelly's pub in Bunratty Ireland.

5) In the back streets of Paris, a few blocks from The Sorbonne, there is a small restaurant that showcases the food of the central plateau in France. Local wines, home made sausages, stuffed cabbage and a blue berry creme brule that you would rassle your Grannie for. It's been a few years but I can remember the garden in the courtyard and our table in the corner. If the good lord lets me live and do well, I will go back. The restaurants in the latin quarter have window displays of the raw ingrediants as a come on, these folks do not. I belive the only advertisement is word of mouth.