Family

Bang on the drum all day

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Daughter has been taking drum set lessons for a month now. Yes, we bought an acoustic set (a used Pearl Export 5-piece, older model pre-ISS mounts), no I don’t mind the noise. Actually, I really enjoy listening to her.

I like her teacher because he works not just on fundamentals but also making things fun. There’s a lot to be said for that. Skills are important to develop, but moreso is the love of music.

She’s at a point now where she’s getting some more fundamentals but also some basics of how to get around the set, like the last lesson she started doing some basic fills, mostly just a drill to help her work through the toms and then back into the main beat. Her teacher showed her basic rock beats, but then how to change them up and vary them, especially with bass drum patterns.

So what’s cool isn’t just listening to her practice those things, but starting to experiment and do other things. To just explore. I can tell she’s feeling more comfortable and confident behind the set. I certainly encourage her to just free-form it, experiment, explore, because that’s from where things grow — especially the love of playing.

 

Goodbye, Zoe

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Zoe came into our lives one Labor Day weekend.

We had 2 older cats that we knew weren’t long for the world, so we wanted to get a couple of kittens to bring into the house before the older cats were too old to accept others, ultimately to ease the transition for the children.

So down to the Town Lake Animal Shelter we went. We fell in love with 2 cats, Estella and Zoe. We couldn’t take them home due to them needing to be spayed beforehand, and since it was Labor Day weekend there wouldn’t be any medical work until Tuesday. But they were ours, and the shelter folks put the two of them together in one larger cage area. The two bonded instantly… the kids refer to them as “sisters”, and while they really aren’t, they sure act that way. Quite well bonded to each other.

We’re not 100% sure of Zoe’s age, but we figure she was probably 6 months or so when we adopted her.

That was 7 years ago.

We didn’t think we’d be saying good-bye so soon.

About a week ago we noticed she wasn’t looking right. Zoe was always a secluded and aloof cat, so it’s not easy to notice if something is wrong… especially when it happens so slowly, so gradually. We don’t know how it happened, but in short, liver failure. Once we noticed we took her to the vet. We’ve had her on various medications, I’ve been force feeding her multiple times a day, all sorts of things. But alas, her body had enough and was spent… it just couldn’t go any more. This evening we took her to the emergency vet clinic, they examined, we discussed, and had Zoe put to sleep. 😦

We all took it hard, especially Daughter. Zoe was her cat; they had a bond that no one else had. She worked hard at helping me with Zoe this past week, spent as much time as she could just being with Zoe, sitting with her in the sunlight, or whatever she could do. Daughter was brave until the end, seeing Zoe all the way to the Rainbow Bridge.

Zoe was cool because she wasn’t a typical cat. She did her own thing, she didn’t need you, but yet she did. Her meow wasn’t a typical cat meow either; there’s no way I can describe it, but they were soft and quiet yet expressive. I remember how she jumped up onto things… the way she cleared things made her look like she just effortlessly glided up there; it was so cool to watch. Of course, there was the time she decided to jump onto the railing around the landing at the top of the stairs… then decided to take the flying leap of the railing, down to the tile floor some 15′ down! (she was fine, and of course never did it again).  I’ll remember her most tho for being one of the most obsessive cats I’ve ever known… constantly needing to lick and clean things, especially Estella. She was also rather obsessive about being on things, especially cardboard and boxes (see the picture. There’s a box! I must sit on it!!!). You couldn’t leave a piece of paper on the floor without her deciding she had to be on top of it. I know all cats do that sort of thing, but she took it to a whole new level. 🙂

Yo-yo… we’re going to miss you. Thank you for being a part of our lives.

What’s that pounding in my ears?

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I’m sure my neighbors are going to love me.

Daughter is starting drum lessons.

Drum… set… lessons.

The lessons start next week, but yesterday I got her signed up and last night we went to Guitar Center to get her a pair of sticks and a practice pad. They were out of the method book so I ordered it from Amazon.

By coincidence, it was the first night of Guitar Center’s 2011 Drum Off competition. We stuck around and listened to a few of the folks play. A lot of your rock/metal drumming, but one guy was especially tasty, very smooth.

One thing Daughter noticed? Of all the people lined up to play, there was only one girl. 🙂

I told her it doesn’t matter. It’s not about being a boy or a girl, it’s about being a drummer. If you’ve got chops, that’s all that matters. Oh sure, she will have to learn how to hang with the boys, but having two brothers helps. But in the end, it’s about the music, and anyone that refuses to support and encourage you is as asshole and can go away.

She’s nervous, excited, a little intimidated, and certainly overwhelmed. But she’s happy, so she told me. She’s looking forward to this.

Right now, she’ll stick with the practice pad. Since she’s to learn set, yes eventually we’ll have to get one. People — even the instructor — tells me to get an electronic set. But I’m not convinced, because you just can’t equal what an acoustic set looks and feels and sounds like. We’ll see. If we got that route, I’ll be looking for some basic used sets on craigslist for sure.

And… my neighbors will really, really love me. 😉

Being prepared – bug out bag

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If there’s anything this wildfire situation has demonstrated, it’s that I’m not as prepared as I thought I was.

Sure, we have some preparations in place for sitting tight, like if bad weather rolled through, could we sit tight on the homefront with extra water, food and so on. There are certainly some areas here where we could tighten things up, but we’re alright.

But we’re just not as prepared to bail if we have to. We thought we were, we’re not.

Oh sure, we can get it together, but consider the fires. Here’s raw footage from the Bastrop fires showing how fast a fire can spread:

If a fire broke out in the greenbelt behind our house, we have to leave NOW. Can we do that? Well, we can leave, but we’d be almost empty-handed.

I’ve looked into the concept of “bug-out-bags” for a while, but it was something that always got pushed down the priority list because other things took greater priority. But now? No… it can’t be a lower priority any more: it has to be up at the top.

The helpful thing? Wife has bought into the concept. I have to admit, that it’s sometimes hard to get things going in the household when I’m the only one that buys into it. But if Wife buys into it too, that helps the Kiddos buy into it, and so when everyone’s behind it, things have a better chance of getting done and staying a priority. Plus I think the reality of the fires made things more concrete for the kids, because well… they’re kids, they just don’t have the life experience to put things into perspective, but this sure gave them that perspective.

So, we’re going to be picking up our prep efforts in this area. Building bug-out-bags, and just being prepared. Because well… we hope to never need them, but we’ll be so thankful to have them if we do. It’s just like anything in life: the better prepared you are for when something happens — especially something that catches you by surprise — the better off you’ll be.

Tapioca Pudding

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Tapioca Pudding.

Some people love it. Some people hate it.

I love it.

But not just any tapioca pudding. It has to have large pearl tapioca in it. Why? Because it’s fun… or at least, as a kid I sure thought so. I still do.

When my paternal grandmother died a few days ago, I couldn’t help but think of tapioca pudding. She made it for us all the time. For whatever reason, she refused to use the small little “grains” even though she could conveniently buy them at the local grocery store. No… she would drive all the way to the PX to get the large pearl ones. Just for us (me and my sisters).

Any visit to Grandma’s house had this implication of tapioca pudding. We looked forward to it. Sometimes she didn’t have it; maybe a bread pudding or a rice pudding, which were good too, but they weren’t tapioca. It’s those big tapioca pearls in your mouth.. the way it feels.. it’s just fun. I think that’s why Grandma made it for us — the fun.

So when Grandma died, I went online and found a place that sells large pearl tapioca. I ordered some for each of my sisters and some for myself. Younger Sister received hers first and immediately emailed me… she knew, and she thanked me. Older Sister received hers just a few hours ago; I haven’t heard from her yet, but I know she knows. It holds the same special place in each of us.

As soon as my shipment arrived (and I realized that 5# is a LOT of tapioca), I demanded some be made. Wife understood — it’s a memory, it’s a tribute, it’s a memorial. Half a cup of pearls started soaking….

I didn’t realize that they had to soak overnight.

I looked at them. Within 30 minutes they felt soft enough… did they really need to soak overnight? They’d be dissolved and useless, wouldn’t they? But OK… we’ll follow the recipe. And gosh, they are a little bigger from soaking up the water, but they still seem smaller than I remember. Hrm. Is this going to turn out right?

Sleep. Wake. “Come on, Wife… let’s make pudding!” In fact, I gave Wife a bit of a hard time about making the pudding; it had to be a the priority for the day! I didn’t want to miss it. Hanging on to Grandma, just a moment longer.

I leave for a doctor’s appointment and Wife has started cooking. Very involved process… not difficult, just time consuming. You have to tend to it and stir and such for at least 30 minutes.

I return. Pudding.

I dig into it.

It’s not exactly as I remember it… but honestly, I have a hard time remembering it. The last time Grandma made us tapioca pudding was very long ago (she wasn’t well for many of her last years). But the exact flavor and texture didn’t really matter… it was all about the large pearls. 🙂  I fall back to my childhood, to being at Grandma’s house. I see the spoon, the bowl, the pearls, Grandma smiling at us and us smiling back at her.

This is the first time I paid attention to what it takes to make tapioca pudding. No it’s not hard, but it is time consuming. It takes a lot of planning — you can’t just decide to do it and whip it up as some 30 minute meal. You have to think ahead, you have to plan ahead, you have to work ahead. It takes time to obtain the tapioca. It takes time to soak the pearls. It takes time to cook and prepare it. It takes time for it to chill. You have to be thinking of things… you must have these things on your mind, long before they’re in front of you.

I never knew.

But now I know. And I can see… just how much love Grandma had for us.

Feeling worse

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Sore throat still present, now with extra scratchiness!

To top it off… I screwed up my ankle last night.

I had just fallen asleep when I hear this sudden crash from the kitchen, Wife, and various Kiddo voices freaking out. It jolts me out of bed, I run towards the kitchen. Lots of “SASHA! SASHA!” and crashing going on, panicked sounding. I was wondering if the dog got one of the cats? the kids? Completely out of the question. No alarm going off, so no one broke into the house… but all this noise and freaking out! What could it be?

Well….

You see, Sasha likes to help out when someone is doing dishes. Put a dish in the dishwasher rack and puppydog likes to lick off anything she can find. Seems last night when she was done helping she turned to leave but her collar or tags got stuck in the bottom rack and she pulled the rack along with her… which freaked her out, then of course dishes and silverware clinking and crashing, which freaked her out more, but being it was all attached to her she couldn’t get away and so it just continued to be a horrible situation for the poor dog. Wife was able to intercept her, stop her, and free her, but oh the poor dog…. she was so freaked out. 😦

I screwed up my ankle because as I tore around through the hallway I slipped and came crashing to the ground. I was basically crawling into the kitchen last night… the kids said it was quite a sight.

What a mess. 🙂

I’m still all sore this morning, can’t speak well, can’t walk well… but I’m just hoping that Sasha isn’t scarred for life now, afraid of the kitchen, afraid of dishes clinking. Wife did a little “rehab” work with her last night before bed, coaxing her with some treats back into the kitchen. I hear puppy awake now, so I’m going to go see how she’s doing.

Good-bye, Grandma

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I woke up early this morning (as you might tell from the timestamp).

I check my email and this came from my Dad:

Just a message to let you know that [my brother] and I are at our Mother’s bedside in the certain last moments of her 93 years of life. She is in hospice care and not expected to live through the night. At the moment the good Lord calls her home we will have a brief family prayer at the funeral home the next day and a prayer graveside that same day. None of you should worry or make any arrangements to be here. You can pay your respects the next time you are in Omaha. She had an indomitable spirit and strong will to live and gave her two boys great support and encouragement each and every day of our lives.  We revere her and hold her up for your prayers. I will keep you posted. No flowers or worries. I love you all. Dad.

I sit here not knowing what I write. It’s not really a surprise given her health, but she did have such a strong will to live that I guess if she lived for another 10 years I wouldn’t have been surprised at that either.

I remember the big white house on Ruggles Street. Picking crab apples. Curiously picking through the barn when we shouldn’t have. I remember walking down the hallway and stepping on a thumbtack with my big toe. The games we’d play with the blocks and that big steel dumptruck (which my Dad still has)… or games like Waterworks, Sorry, Pit… and our favorite, Rummikub. I spent a lot of time at Grandma and Grandpa’s house as a small child, and there were so many things there that fascinated me. A rush of that is coming back to me now, like the old letter scale, her desk of many drawers, the hurricane lamp, those old green couches that were always scratchy on our legs, the old radios and electric fans, the floor-model TV, the little candy dishes full of those Brach’s mixed bin candies (never liked those coconut neapolitan things, and that’s all that was left in the dish by the time we left… and then the next time we came over if she hadn’t been to the store yet).

Of course, how could I forget… it was Grandma Eleanor that gave us kids black licorice. Every time we’d visit, we’d so look forward to that as we only got it at her house. Technically it was Grandpa’s, but she always slipped us a piece if we were good. 🙂

I can see her face… heck, I remember when we’d act up and she would warn us “Don’t make me cross with you!” and boy you shaped up. How she would make us breakfast. It was the first time I had Shredded Wheat… no, not the frosted mini-ones, but that one big biscuit. Or the first time I had Grape Nuts and poured a big bowl (how’s a kid supposed to know!!), and while Grandpa forced me to eat it, she saved me from it. Heck, even little things like how there was always a tub of margarine on the dinner table.

Little things a boy remembers, eh?

Oh… and then there was how she would cook for us. When she knew we were coming to visit, she would travel all the way down to the PX, no matter how far out of the way it was, to buy tapioca for us. Not the little grains, but the big tapioca balls (the size of large peas) and make pudding for us. That was my favorite. Or her bread pudding… oh so good. Heck, as I write this, I can see her in the kitchen of the later house off Pacific Street, in the kitchen there cooking… putting the prep scraps into old plastic bread bags as she went along.

And then, the organ. You know, it was always us kids that messed around on the organ, but I swear I recall her playing it a time or two. The song “Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes” comes to mind, not sure if she played it but I know it was in one of those songbooks she had and I recall thinking it had a funny name.

One thing she liked to do with us was take us to the Humane Society. We’d go there with her, pet all the animals there, especially the cats. Maybe that’s where my love of cats started. She always had pet dogs (Puddin’!), and we didn’t have cats in my house growing up until later… so maybe it was from Grandma and all those visits that made me into a cat person. 🙂

She always took care of us. She never defied her husband, but she was always the foil/counter to a lot of his gruffness.

As I reflect back while I write this set of disjointed memories, one thing I realize is how much of my memories are from me as a young boy. I think that’s because the majority of my interaction with her was then. As she got older, eventually Alzheimer’s set in… heck, I remember after my Grandfather died she turned in the old station wagon (in which the A/C was always on “bi-level” and low fan speed, even in the worst summer heat… ugh!) and she got a bright red Chevy Blazer, eventually she realized that it wasn’t best for her to be on the road any more and she gave the keys up. She was able to come for my wedding, but then I’d recall when we’d visit we might talk but you could see her struggle with her memories… looking through a photo album and swearing she knew the people in there, but there was no way she could. It just broke my heart. But once things really set in, she just became happy. We’d visit her and while she likely didn’t know who we were, she was so happy and happy to see us. I recall the last time we saw her how much she just watched Youngest and was just drawn to him. Even tho she never could know my children, I’m glad they got to meet her, even if it was only a fraction of who she was.

Update: I just got off the phone with my younger sister. She called me, crying a bit, which of course is understandable. But we quickly turned the sadness into a great celebration of rememberance and she reminded me of so much more: the bingo set (we LOVED that little cage to roll around the balls); the stuffed koala bear; the Wooly Willy; the tea cups with the faces; those old perfume “vaporizer” with the little squeeze bulbs. I forgot how she called Kool-Aid “bug juice”. As I was talking to Younger Sister about riding in the car with Grandma (she too remembered the bi-level A/C), I found myself sitting in the front seat of the station wagon sitting next to Grandma and remembering all her purses… they were so neat. How we’d all be out in the backyard catching fireflies. How when we’d come over for an extended stay, she’d have towels and washclothes set out for us… but the neatest thing was always her Neutrogena soap… the clear/amber stuff.  And of course, how she would say “Well!” with this cute little twisted smiling face. I could never convey that here and do it any justice, but I see it clearly in my mind’s eye. Thank you, Sis, for the updated memories. 🙂

And I just remembered something she used to say every time she saw a ladybug: “Ladybug, Ladybug fly away home. Your house is on fire and your children will burn!”.  When we were kids that was just cute… looking back upon it in later years, it sounds terrible! But it was just our Grandma being funny.

She was tough. She was tenacious. She was firm and strict, but fair. While she may not have been the most lovey-dovey, you could see in every action the love and care she put into things. Always carried herself as a lady.

Thank you for everything, Grandma. I love you. I’ll miss you. Enjoy freedom.

We now know about Sasha’s past…

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I haven’t written much about our dog training because well… I just haven’t. But we haven’t stopped. We’re still working with Sasha and the new (well, she’s not new any more) trainer. We’ve done a lot of the basic obedience, working on her territorialness, and teaching her how to be calm on command (“settle”).

What’s really interesting is the recent turn of events. If you remember, we took ownership of Sasha around 8 months of age. She had another owner for 4 months prior. We had a lot of questions about what went on during those 4 months because the time from age 2 months to 6 months can be a very vital stage in a puppy’s development. But we resigned ourselves to never really knowing what happened apart from the few things the breeder told us.

Let’s hear it for the Internet. A few weeks ago I get an email from Sasha’s previous owner! You see, when he returned Sasha to the breeder they said she’d become a show dog. Well, a few weeks ago he happened to be thinking about her and figured he could Google to see if perhaps she was listed in any dog show results. Instead, he found my blog and based upon what I had written knew it was her. He wasn’t sure about reaching out to me, but because he’s always dealt with recuse dogs and wondered about their pasts, he figured now being on the other side of that coin he’d contact me so he could fill informational void.

We’ve been exchanging some emails, with him telling me a lot about her past, including sharing pictures. It’s been very useful and answered a lot of the questions we had. We gave all of this information to our trainer, and it’s creating a new course of action for us in terms of behavior modification work. All good. It’s still going to take months of work, but we’re dedicated to this dog. She’s awesome… it’s just that well… “this one goes to 11” and we sometimes just need her to turn it back to a 10. 😉

Here’s a puppy picture her previous owner shared with us. Ain’t she cute?

My son’s first hog

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Oldest just passed a milestone — he bagged his first hog; in fact, he bagged his first anything. And it’s a doozy.

The Big Weekend

I’ve been trying, struggling to have a weekend hunt with my long-time friend Charles, of Tactical Gun Review. Something always comes up, usually on my part, and we can’t get together. Charles has a deer lease in the South Central Texas area, but what makes it a great lease is not just the property but that he has year-round access to it. Outside of deer season you can go fishing, dove hunting, turkey hunting, and yes… hog hunting. A few months back we set this weekend on our calendars as a “must do” and it happened. It wasn’t going to be just us tho, we brought our older sons with us as well, who have known each other for just as many years as Charles and I have known each other.

The goal for the weekend? Have fun. If we could bag a hog? even better. And while I would have loved to have bagged a hog myself, what I really wanted was for Oldest to bag one. He’s been out in the field with me before, sometimes a bust, sometimes we got something, but it was always me that did the work, he was just a spectator. This time, he was going to do the work. 🙂

Friday after work I packed my car with food, some clothing and essentials, a few rifles, and away we went. On the rifle front, I originally wanted him to use the 6.8 SPC. The whole reason I bought the 6.8 was for kids to use it because it doesn’t recoil that hard, shorter and thus easier to manage, plus some time ago I bought a powerful red LED flashlight to mount on the rifle precisely for hog hunting. But I changed my mind. Instead, I had him shoot the Savage bolt-action in .308 Win. My reasoning? It was a simpler manual of arms to operate (no gun, light, etc.), and that .308 would provide a much wider margin of error. Being as this would be his first time, he’d get excited, heart pounding, might rush things… never know. I figured the .308 would work out better for him. Prior to the hunt I had him work the rifle dry at home: get a feel for the trigger, learn how to work the bolt. He learned how to work the gun, but he had never live fired it. In fact, he’s never shot something as big as a .308; he’s had aversions to shooting rifles larger than a .22 LR because he doesn’t like the noise, but acknowledges that if he wants to bag something he has to. So, this was into the fire feet first. 🙂

First Night

We arrived Friday evening but with more than enough daylight to get us into the blind and wait. We parked our cars, pulled out the rifles, climbed into “The Beast” (an old Toyota 4×4 Charles keeps at the property for getting around) and headed for a stock tank on one side of the property where hogs had been seen. Unfortunately the pop-up blind blew into the tank, so we just plopped down on stools under a tree and obscured by tall grass. We waited. Night fell, but with that “super-moon” out you could see a lot going on, it was so bright.

We never saw any hogs. Some deer, an owl, lots of other critters. But alas, no hogs. We piled back into The Beast and checked out some other tanks, parking The Beast well away from the area and stalking up on it. It was obvious there was activity, just not when we were around. Ah well. We eventually headed back to the cabin for dinner and hanging out around the campfire drinking beer (boys – root beer, dad’s Dogfish Head brown ale) until the wee hours.

Saturday Morning

After a few hours of sleep we headed back out. Charles put Oldest and I at one of the stock tanks we visited Friday night, while he and his son headed to another area. The sun came up. A turkey was calling and showing and we watched him for a while. Then across the stock tank, probably 100 yards or so away, 2 does. No, 3 does… 4… 5… 6. It was nice to watch all those does grazing, but darn that the season is well-over. 🙂  After maybe 15 minutes or so we noticed the does spooked and took off. Seconds later we see why.

Hogs.

We were atop a high bank on one side of the tank. The opposite bank was probably 60 yards away, then up that bank 35 yards or so starts a tree line. Deep within those trees we saw all these little black masses running across the way. Yes yes yes! Hogs! But they were way back in the trees running in a manner that took them directly away from us with no chance of a shot. Oh man!

“Son, get your gun! get your gun! get it up! get ready!”

I of course went for my gun too, but I put it down. This was for him. Yes I’d love to get one myself, but this was for him. I was going to be the eyes, the coach.

Come on piggy… come on… please don’t run off…. yes!

We see the pigs turn and one by one start to run into the area. It’s a stock tank. Water. Plus there was a corn feeder at the far end. Food. A perfect ambush spot: at food and water. A swarm of piglets runs out. I don’t know… 30, 40, 50 of them? A lot. They all headed right for the feeder. Adults follow out of the trees but head down to the water.

YES!

One goes to drink but is head-on facing us. “No son, can’t” Come on… turn… turn…

More big hogs come down to drink.

“SONSONSONSON! There!  That one!”

A big one. Drinking. Perfectly broadside. And… holding still. You see, hogs almost never stop, they are almost always in motion so windows of opportunity for a shot can be hard to come by. But drinking? He stopped, he was still. Perfect opportunity.

“You got him?”

“Got him.”

“OK, let it rip!”

And the rifle roared.

He got him.

The hog ran for maybe 25 yards, did a circle and dropped.

High fives all around.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Oldest so excited. 🙂  He was wired. Electrified!

Once we confirmed he was down, and of course all the other hogs scattered from the sound of the gunshot, we left the blind and headed over to see him.

I thought he was maybe 150 lbs? But I’m terrible at such estimates. We snapped copious amounts of pictures. We sent text messages to Wife (and kiddos back home), to Oldest’s grandfather and uncle (Wife’s family, life-long hunters). Much happiness.

While waiting for Charles to come get us, another hog came through the trees! I snapped up my rifle and knelt down, got a bead on him and was prepared to take the shot, but a clear shot never presented itself. Either the hog wasn’t positioned well or there were trees/brush in the way. Eventually the hog got close enough, noticed us, and took off running. A second hog would have been nice, but no matter.

Heaving this big boy into the truck was a chore, even with a winch. But we got him back to the cabin, hoisted him up and weighed him.

Just over 250 lbs..

That’s big.

We gutted him (I got more practice at cleaning an animal) and while looking at the organs I saw the heart. The bullet had fully penetrated the heart. Right through the shoulder — and the massively thick “shield” (and his was a formidable one), right through the heart, and complete passthrough. Based upon how the entry and exit wounds looked, it looks like that Barnes Bullet functioned as advertised. This is why I love Barnes Bullets. For the record, it was a Federal Premium P308H Vital Shok (165 grain Barnes TSX). I figure he was shot at about 60 yards, so he got hit with that 165 grain bullet going about 2500 fps and probably hit with 2300 ft/lbs or so of energy, with that Barnes Bullet expanding and dumping almost all of that energy inside the body.

The Rest of the weekend

After we dressed the hog, we put him in a walk-in cooler because we were tired and not in the mood to clean him fully. Went fishing, and Oldest caught a nice bass. Best I did was get some nibbles and got one on but he jumped and threw the hook. Charles landed a nice one, and his son did too. But fishing didn’t last long as it was getting hot and we were all tired and hungry. Back to the cabin, eat, nap.

Upon rising, Charles and I went back to the task of cleaning the hog. That was a chore. Son, next time you need to shoot a small hog. 🙂 I’ve never shot a hog this size or dealt with one this size this close up. It was constantly amazing to me how thick his shield was. The entire side of this hog was just armor, thick, and very heavy. You need a solid and strong bullet, all hail the mighty Barnes. We spoke with the ranch manager and he contacted a local guy to see what we could do with the head. We’re going to see about having a European mount done. We don’t need to make a trophy out of everything, but this is not just his first but yes it is a big one. Might as well have something more than just memories. 🙂

We went back out that evening but we didn’t see anything. Charles and his son did have an opportunity, but the hog ran off and they were unable to connect on the running shot (it’s not easy). Oh and Charles’ son had a bummer earlier. While we were cleaning the hog, Charles’ son was still out in the field. Hogs came by, he stalked up, knelt and took aim and… click. The round didn’t go off. Bad primer? hard primer? who knows, but no bang. He was quick enough to work the bolt and chamber a new round, but alas by then the hogs were off. Bummer that he didn’t get the shot off, but he did everything right from staying in the field to stalking to remedying the malfunction. I say that’s well-worthy of praise!

Had to get home early on Sunday so we left before sunrise, leaving Charles and his son sleeping in the cabin. Bummer we had to go so soon, but we were both tired and drained and ready for a shower. 😉  Charles has the bigger cooler and will drop the meat off on his way home. I’ll take it to the butcher in a few days and we’ll have lots of sausage in the freezer.

My take

I’m so happy.

Oh sure, if I bagged one that’d be nice… but this was so much better. It’s great to see my Son so excited, so ready, so happy. But also, so disciplined. He took instruction from me so well, from studying anatomy charts, to listening to me talking about visualizing success, imagining the hog there, calming yourself, finding the target (“Aim small, miss small, right Dad?”), don’t take too long but also don’t rush it, smooth trigger press. He did everything right, and it paid off.

What all did he take from this? I don’t know. He doesn’t really know either, other than the immediate payoff of the joy of the accomplishment along with lots of meat. As his uncle congratulated him, “You put dinner, lunch, and breakfast on the table!”. I’m thinking more about the long-term. Will there be something in his life that will be able to be traced back to this weekend, to that moment? We’ll just have to wait and see.

Meantime, I have guns to clean. It’s all sandy out there and there’s grit and sand in everything. You work the bolt on that rifle and it just grinds and makes me cringe. I can’t expand/collapse the stock on my 6.8 without it sounding like sandpaper. I think that was the only bummer of the weekend was all the sand and dust everywhere.

I must give big thanx to Charles. His support and generosity made this all possible. Thank you, my friend. Y’all go visit and support his site, Tactical Gun Review.

Son, you did good. I’m proud of you.

No TV for Lent

/ hsoi

I asked Kiddos what they were giving up for Lent. Wife said that it’s going to be a group thing.

They’re giving up TV.

I’m impressed. It’s been a couple of days now and I haven’t heard the TV on and you know, that’s kinda refreshing. A little TV now and again is fine, but the kids have gotten into a bit of a rut and if they’re bored turn to the TV.

I think it will be cool to see what they opt to do to pass time, even if it’s just having to deal with being bored. And more curious, how will they come out on the other side? Will they just revert back to old habits? Or will they discover something new, something else worth spending their time on?

This will be an interesting journey. 🙂