Long time ...

… no blog.

Let’s see …

Earthquake, hurricane, major changes at work (I’m still employed for now at least, yay!), Sweet Daughter’s 6^th birthday, the first day of school and the added responsibilities of 1^st grade and the additional homework, a tropical storm and rain of “biblical proportions” (we’re fine, we’re on the “up” side of a hill), trying to explain to SD what happened on September 11^th ten years ago (at one point I was fighting back tears and all but yelling “I really, REALLY HATE BAD GUYS!”), and helping my sister with a massive yard sale.

Time to start catching up.

Last Monday, Sweet Daughter and I went to the Regional Amusement Park. The good news is that I found some great discount tickets online, and the weather was perfect like only the back side of a hurricane can be. Mid 80’s, sunny, breezy, and no humidity. Not only that, there weren’t any lines. Nada. None. Zilch. Zippo.  The longest we had to wait was for any given attraction to finish its current run and then it was our turn.

The bad news is that they don’t let you go armed. They don’t even let you carry a pocket knife -- although they did let me check it at the front gate so I didn’t have to go back to the car. (Well that, and the fact that none of the roller coasters that SD could ride had enough room for my knees.)

SD wanted to wear matching shirts, and while I’ve always secretly laughed at families that do that, I will admit that there are some distinct advantages. The people running the rides can tell which kid you belong to. If, heaven forbid, you were to get separated, you can point to yourself and say “she was wearing a shirt like this!” But best of all, if you choose wisely, you can influence how you are perceived.  Because nothing says “I’m not a victim, nor am I a threat -- unless you mess with me first” like matching Kalishnikitty shirts.

Oxymoron

In lieu of actual content while we wait for Irene to show up, I present one of the more interesting searches that have shown up in my tiny little corner of the internet:

I mean wouldn't a "milf dog" be a contradiction in terms?

Black listed

SayUncle linked to me last Thursday and the hits started rolling in. And then I saw this, which I found hysterical. S.W.A.T. Magazine's Facebook page? Linked to me? That's like a gourmet magazine linking to my scones recipe or something. It tickled me to no end.

But getting black listed? That was best of all. Thanks!

Magazine Maintenance

I won't go into the care a feeding of magazines here, because what do I know about it, anyway other than you need to keep the lint and dirt out of them, and clean them thoroughly from time to time? What I do know is this ... you're supposed to label them. This is so you can tells yours apart from all the rest when shooting with friends. This is so you can narrow it down in case there is one magazine that is causing problems with your firearm.

I hadn't gotten around to it because, well, I don't have that many magazines, and I knew I'd spend way too much time obsessing about some sort of obscure code that would indicate if that mag was for my defensive ammo or my plinking ammo, the date I purchased the it, etc. I'd research the best labeling method, and select the best font for readability. Basically, I was over-thinking the whole thing. Sweet Daughter solved the problem for me today. What do you think?

Two of them sit on the right side of my shoulder rig to balance the weight of the pistol on the other side. Yup. They sit there right along my ribcage, bottoms facing out. So much for staying "low key".

Another OC update

I’ve got a dark brown t-shirt that sort of blends in with the leather on my shoulder rig. It’s got a floral/leafy design on the front so it looks kind of feminine, and I wear it when I’m trying to stay low-key. I wore it to dinner out last week, and I ran into a co-worker who didn’t even notice the gun. A few days later, the nice young man behind the counter at Chick-Fil-A certainly did, saying that he wished he could carry like that.  (WIN!)

The shirt didn’t seem to help much with the low-key part when Sweet Daughter, Shorter Half and I went to the Large Sporting Goods Store last weekend and the staff commented on the shoulder rig. And all the extra ammo. Can someone please tell me what it is about shoulder rigs? I know I’m a n00b, and don’t yet get all the nuances and inside jokes, but I feel like someone stuck a sign on my back that says “HEY, LOOK! I think I’m a bad-ass! And don’t forget, I’m bristling with ammo, too!”

So much for staying low key.

Life's a beach

Sweet Daughter and I had the opportunity to join my sisters in Chincoteague and the end of July for a few days. The weather was beautiful. SD learned how to ride a boogie board. She watched a guy reel in not one, but three "baby' bullhead sharks (bull sharks?). That is if a two and a half foot long shark is still considered a "baby". She thought they were really cool, especially since we were swimming right by the fishing lines. The next day, she watched one of these get reeled in.

She wanted to help. I discouraged that notion. Then I noticed these beautiful little clams smaller than my little fingernail in shades of lavender and peach and pink. And I showed SD how they dug themselves back into the sand when uncovered by the tide.

And she FREAKED OUT. The shark made her laugh. The ray had her wanting to get up close and personal, but the clams had her spending the next half hour yowling about how there were some without shells and they were hurting her feet.

Adolescence is going to be fun, I can already tell.

Product Review – UpLULA™

I had the pleasure of meeting Larry Weeks from Brownells at the NRA Convention in Pittsburgh last spring. I was standing around, listening While Grownups Were Talking (and trying to learn something) when he looked at me and asked me how I loaded my magazines. My first thought was “Is this a trick question? Is this some sort of secret gunnie inside joke? Should the answer be ‘one round at a time’? ACK! What do I say??”

I believe my answer instead was “Um, slowly”.

I guess that was the right answer, because he said he had something to help with that, and to expect a package in a few weeks. Well, a few weeks passed, and what showed up from the Brown Truck of Happiness but a cardboard box with my name on it from Brownells. (And seriously – if the job they did packing that box is indicative of the care their shipping department takes, I’m seriously impressed. The packing tape was even folded with hospital corners.  Serious attention to detail, here.)

I opened the box to find something called an UpLULA™ . The small print said “Universal pistol mag. loader & unloader”. There was one sized for 9mm to .45ACP and the other was a BabyUpLULA for .22LR to .380ACP. Tonight the R. family put them to the test -- a middle-aged n00b mom, a dad with a broken hand, and a five-year-old girl. Hint: Dad had the hardest time as you really need two hands for these, but he managed handily (hardy-har-har) even with one hand in a splint.

You position the UpLULA™ over the feed lips of the magazine with the magazine resting on a table, or something, squeeze the two sides the UpLULA™ together, push down, slide in the round, and release the sides of the UpLULA™ so that the follower pushes it back up. Lather, rinse, repeat. Sweet Daughter loaded my XD mag (9mm double-stack) with 8 of the 16 rounds before she needed help, but those springs are still pretty tight. She then loaded 10 rounds of 8mm PA stage prop ammo into its magazine (it’s the only small caliber gun in the house), needing help only with directions: Squeeze, push down, load round, release.  Shorter Half had no problems other than manipulating the rounds with his gimpy hand.

And the unloading feature? None of the three of us had any problem other than keeping track of where the rounds ended up, because it unloads FAST.

They seem to run somewhere around $25 - $30, and I sure wish I’d had one when I first got my pistol. Just the thought of loading those new magazines and pinching my thumb was enough to keep me from the range. With an UpLULA™ it wouldn’t have been an issue.

The three of us would recommend these if any of the following apply:

• New magazines with tight springs (far superior to the loader than came with my pistol)
• You have weak, damaged, arthritic, and/or digit-deficient hands.
• You like gadgets.
• You must have everything that is tacti-cool. Hey, it’s black, plastic and steel.
• You really like your manicure.
• You have to load lots of magazines in a hurry because the Zombies are headed your way.
• You’re 5 years old and really want to help defeat the Zombies but you’re not old enough to shoot unsupervised yet.
• You don’t want a callous on your loading/unloading thumb.
• You’re a n00b and need graphics to tell you which way the round goes in.

If thought of loading another party pack of ammo into magazine makes you twitch, you may want to spend that money on one of these instead.

*Obligatory FTC Disclaimer. Yes. Brownells sent these to me for free so I’d review them. There’s precious little I’m qualified to review as far and gun stuff goes, and these are one of those items. I like them. If I thought they sucked out loud, I’d say so. But they don’t. Go tell the BATFEIEIO to go buy a bunch.

Holster Review - Dragon Leatherworks

I had been watching other bloggers brag about their holsters from Dragon Leatherworks last year and I was insanely jealous. Then Dennis contacted me to talk about making one for me. I didn’t take him up on it because I couldn’t think of anything other than the shoulder rig that I was currently using that would work with my rather odd proportions and my Springfield XD-9. I’m six feet tall, but am extremely short-waisted. My limbs are ridiculously long. My inseam is half my height. My elbows rest on my hip bones. I only have one carry pistol, so it’s not like I can choose to carry something smaller if I want to carry on a waistband. 

Here. Look at this picture of me and Weer’d. Granted, I’m in high heels, but look where his waistline is. Now look at mine.

I had the opportunity to meet Dennis at the NRA convention in Pittsburgh this past spring, and he had an idea. He’d make a holster for another short-waisted woman and thought it would work for me. A few weeks later, this showed up in my mailbox.

He custom-dyed it to match my belt and shoulder rig. At my request, he kept it very low key. The workmanship was beautiful. The retention was perfect. I could hold the holster upside down without my pistol falling out, yet the draw was smooth.

And I couldn’t find a single place on my belt where I could wear it. 9:00 position? Not a chance in hell. It rubbed on my less-than-subtle hipbone. The 10:30 position was the most comfortable, but the top of the holster leaned out, and the top of it came up past the bottom of my bra.

Dennis had refused payment until I had received it and was happy with the way it worked. I reluctantly sent it back this week. He is now on a mission to find something that will work and is already plotting planning his next design.

I can unreservedly recommend Dragon Leatherworks for both the high quality of workmanship Dennis produces and his oustanding customer service. As he told me "... my job as a holster maker is to deliver what the customer wants."

(Hey, FTC? Did you read where I SENT IT BACK? I received nothing in exchange for my comments. Really. I can show you the receipt from the post office when I returned it.)

Well, I wasn’t expecting that.

Sweet Daughter was the C.O.W. at Y-camp today. (That’s Camper of the Week. I was confused at first when I picked her up today and she started exclaiming “I’m the COW! I’m the COW!”) So, to celebrate, we decided to pick up a pizza and go to the park for a pizza picnic and some play time. I decided to OC.

There were some kids running around (with no close adult supervision that I could see) while we ate. When we were done, the other kids seemed to evaporate, and I pushed SD on the swings for a bit. When we migrated over to the slides and climbing stuff, the other kids materialized again. SD was sliding down the fireman’s pole, and I was standing under her slowing her descent when a little urchin of about 4 ½ quite earnestly told me he wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers. I told him that was a good idea, and did he realize I was a stranger? He then told me if he was caught talking to a stranger, he’d be beat with a belt. He then asked if I’d help him down the pole. I politely declined, explaining that I was a stranger, and maybe his momma wouldn’t approve.

Then … the question I wasn’t prepared for. Because while I am not comfortable talking to strange adults, I sure as heck don’t like talking to Other People’s Kids. Especially ones traveling in packs and reenacting The Lord of the Flies. Even if they’re only about 4 ½ years old.

“Is that a gun?”

“Yes.”

“A REAL gun?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“I can tell you’re not a cop, because you’re not wearing a cop suit.”

“That’s right.”

“So why do you have a gun?”

“To keep her, and the rest of you safe from bad guys.”

I could tell he was thinking that over. And then the 8-year-girl saw the magazines.

“What are those?”

“Magazines.”

“Magazines?” (I could tell she was only familiar with the kind you buy in the checkout line.)

“OMG! IS THAT A GUN?”

“Yes.”

“Are you a cop?”

(Sigh.) “No.”

“A Marine?”

“No.” (But that was kind of cool. When I was her age, women couldn’t be Marines. At least not with guns.)

“Can I see it?”

“Absolutely not. It doesn’t come out of the holster unless I need to use it.”

“Why do you have it?”

And SW piped up with a grin: “To keep me safe!!”

Amazingly, nobody ran screaming back to an adult. Even me.

Lost in the translation

Apparently my OC post got linked to. A lot. (Thanks, everybody!) Including a LiveJournal in Russia that at last count has 71 comments or links, or something. I’m not sure how the translation went from my blog to that one, but I ran the Russian post through Google Translate and got the following, which cracked me up.  (I can only wonder what they think of the living history, knitting and shoe posts ...)

Sketches from life ...
July 14th, 16:51

A woman with two children, 4 and 6 years. Bear arms openly (I would not say that it is reasonable, but it is her choice). And then, somehow taking the child from the children's camp she hopped into the store. And there is seller-consultant squinted squinted at her and finally asked:
- You do not cop an hour?
- No.
- FBI?
- No.
- Neshto CIA?
smile:
- No.
- Yes, I asked what is there just something you have ... - Tyknuv finger at the two stores on the side.
- They came bundled with it. - Turned the other side.
- E. .. and why are you wearing?
Thrusting his finger in the child of:
- That she was safe. The second dealer, hmyknuv:
- I'd probably steal your car poosteregsya ...
- Well, it's also part of the purpose of ...
There are already number 1 seller of thought, and gave:
- Probably should go on courses ...

And the comments? Here’s a smattering. It even appears to my untrained eye that Markley's Law might have made an appearance at the end.

dead_sergeant
2011-07-14 01:02 pm
Hoplofoby, come, fall in piles around with heart attacks - the children and guns, just a dream.

kontiky
2011-07-14 02:45 pm
I'm more surprised by the reaction of the seller - even in the U.S. is not all obvious utility of weapons.

hyperprapor
2011-07-14 02:55 pm

Duc girl? When they are generally interested in the weapons??
And since learned - was filled with ... Common sense, then there.

glockoholic
2011-07-14 05:42 pm

Baba fool! Not because of silly, but because a woman!
Weapons, as well as to wear covert dick and show only when absolutely necessary.

More thoughts on OC

The irony when being an OC "ambassador" is that I don't like talking to strangers. I was talking to SH about the perfect OC ambassador being someone who doesn't look like a cop, or look military, or look like your typical high-speed, low drag, uber tactical mall ninja, and I realized I had to shut up or start OCing myself. I won't wear a branded t-shirt when I carry. And I won't wear a ball cap or even wear my hair in a pony-tail as it gives off a cop-vibe, for some reason. The only tactical black thing I wear is mascara and, if I'm working, high heels. OCing puts me way out of my comfort zone, but not because of the gun for some reason. It’s because when I OC I have to be open and friendly to strangers and that really makes this introvert feel rather awkward.

OC Update

I’ve been OCing a bit more lately. Mostly, if I’m out with my pistol, I’m open carrying unless the venue is so air conditioned I want a jacket. And then I don’t worry about concealment.

I’ve OC’d at CVS a half dozen times, now. That seemed was odd at first, but it’s not a problem now. I’ve OC’d in Kohl’s  and Target a handful of times, and I added Old Navy to the list this weekend. I REALLY wish we had a Trader Joe’s or Whole Paycheck Foods less than an hour away so I could have that experience.

I had left work early one day a week or so ago and was grubbing around at home before picking Sweet Daughter up from camp at the YMCA. I had thrown on my shoulder rig and was heading out the door before I remembered the whole OC Ambassador mindset. I went back and changed out of the oversized shirt with stuff all over the front into a plain red fitted t-shirt. When I got to the pick-up spot, one of the counselors looked at me and said, “Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“FBI?”

“No.”

“CIA?”

Smiling, “No.”

“I was wondering because I saw those.” (Pointing to the two magazines on my right side.)

“They go with this”, I said, turning and showing her the holstered pistol. She looked a little surprised.

“So what do you do?”

II gave her a general idea.

“So why do you carry that?”

(Pointing at SD) “To keep her safe.”

Counselor #2 chimes in with “Yeah. I wouldn’t want to carjack your car.”

I said “That’s pretty much the point.”

I saw the light bulb go off over the head of Counselor #1. And she said she’d like to learn how to shoot. I told her I’d be happy to help point her in the right direction and the next time Michael W. came to visit we could maybe set something up.  

That’s a conversation that never would have happened if I’d been carrying concealed.  We’re winning -- one at a time.

Not like other moms

Sweet Daughter asked me the other day which Disney Princess was my favorite. I’m not thrilled with the idea of “princess” as something to be when one grows up, but I picked Belle, because at least she reads. SD’s favorite? Cinderella.

I said “Cinderella is a perfect example of why you need to finish school and go to college.”

SD: Puzzled look

Me: “If she had a good education she could have a decent paying job, or at least one where she didn’t have to live in the attic and get up before everyone else and be ordered around all day.”

SD: Looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

Me, continuing: “She’s a grown-up. Why doesn’t she just leave? See? This is why we have guns. So if a bad guy tells us to do something we don’t want to do, we have choices.

SD: Sighs. “Mamma. I think she chose to stay.”

And this is why other moms probably won’t let her come to our house to play.

18th century Pistols

 One of the neat things about the Detached Hospital is how much really cool material culture stuff our members have. Chuck brought these along to Under the Redcoat in Williamsburg last weekend.

 

Top: 1759 British light horse Cavalry Pistol. It was found in Maine. The hammer has been replaced, and most of the marks have been filed off.

Middle: French Model 1777 Cavalry Pistol from the St. Etienne Armory. These two cavalry pistols are about .60 caliber.

Bottom: Sharpe box lock, or muff, pistol. You unscrew the barrel to load it. This is about .32 caliber. It's small, but I wouldn't want to get shot with it.

He also had a marvelous sword cane that I neglected to photograph. Maybe if I see him in October...

Mormon Tabernacle Choir Flash Mob - Colonial Williamsburg

No, this couldn't have happened this coming weekend when we'll be there for Under the Redcoat -the British Occupation of Williamsburg. But then, I'd probably have been in camp anyway.


H/T to my old Royal Artillery buddy, Al.

A cunning hat

When JayG received the gift of a cunning hat  I was overcome with the desire to knit one. I found a web site (that I can’t find now, but if you’re interested, let me know and I’ll check my notes) whose author had Firefly on disc and a HD large screen TV. She counted stitches. She extrapolated data based on average head measurements. This was my kind of knitter! So I found a willing victim recipient, bought the yarn and the needles and sat on it all for about 3 1/2 months. (Hey. I was busy.) I started knitting on the way to Pittsburgh and finished it on the way home and hated the way it looked.

It's supposed to look like this:

So I ripped it out and started over. And this is the final product.

You can tell Sweet Daughter's not afraid of anything, walking down the street in a hat like that.

The non-event?

I did not go armed to church, but carried the rest of the day. This included lunch at a family restaurant in a rather more urban area than I am used to. One woman and two men OC'd with 4 children under 6 years of age with them ... and nothing happened, other than they tipped well.

I went through my usual day and the only funny look I got was at the dump, but I think that was because I was wearing a dress, not because I was wearing a gun.

OC Lunch tomorrow

UPDATE: Time changed to 1:00.

The instigator behind lunch tomorrow has been OBE, so I guess I'm the default cruise director.

The Globe & Laurel, and Dougherty's are both closed on Sundays, and so the next on the list was Jimmy The Greek Family Restaurant. Unless you've got a better idea, let's meet at noon 1:00. E-mail me by 10:30 11:30 or so tomorrow morning at dethosp at Gee mail dot com if you think you can make it (bring the whole family! Sweet Daughter will be there with me) so I know how big a table to get.

Hope to see some of you there!

Busy

One of our neighbors took pity on me this morning. He saw me mowing the front yard on Thursday with a (gasp!) push mower, and inquired as to the status of our riding mowers. Neither one was working. So he came over this morning and did some troubleshooting and gave me a first rate lesson in mower maintenance. First he charged up the battery. The mower started, and died. We commented on the age of the gasoline and poked around a bit. The air filter look okay, but I cleaned it anyway. Then the neighbor noticed a stray piece of fuzz, or something else suspicious, and popped the cover off. We found this:

The critter nest covering the air-cooled engine might have had something to do with it not running. We put in fresh gas and changed the oil, and low and behold, it seems to be working great. I'll find out for sure tomorrow afternoon.

This afternoon was spent doing errands in town, and I OC'd. Kohl's, Target, the mall (from one end to the other (including JCPenney and Chick-fil-A) and Lowes. The only comment I got was from the cashier at Target.

Her: "Nice gun."
Me: "Thanks!"
Her: "Are you a cop?"
Me: "No. SD, what's the best defense against a bad guy with a gun?"
SD: "A GOOD guy with a gun!"
Me : "Cops can't be everywhere all the time, and it's my job to keep her safe."
Her: "You can do that?"
Me: "Yes. Open carry is legal here without a permit. I also have a permit so I can carry concealed."

So, yay. A positive experience and maybe someone new is considering options she didn't know she had.