Ryan and I peeled off almost 1,000 rounds of 9mm ammo at a tactical self-defense training course last saturday. My hands hurt, because I was shooting relatively big ammo out of a relatively small pistol. We shot right and left handed, both handed, used baracades as protection -- leaned out from the left and the right and landed shots on steel targets. In a course like this you basically learn where your weaknesses are ... so you know what you need to work on, and the instructors let you know how to go about it.
Apparently Scott is involved in a program with the local police department where he goes and helps the policemen train. He plays a bad guy in live scenarios where he has to act out certain parts. They use real guns with fake, paintball ammo. They apparently hurt. And, being a bad guy, Scott gets to fire back sometimes. I think it's pretty cool. Anything to help the good guys win. Maybe if Molly Bowden had had more training like this ... perhaps things would have turned out differently. Maybe this will help protect the next "Molly".
Scott joined us for an overnight walkabout to "#17" -- a spot Ryan and I frequented a couple of years ago. We chose it because it's relatively near some good morel mushroom hunting grounds. Realistically, though, I didn't think we'd be spending much time mushroom hunting as we'd all have 40 lbs strapped to our backs and it was probably going to be raining in the morning. We did a little. Scott and Ryan found several. I found only one. I'm not very good at it.
There was plenty of downed dead wood for a fire, and we used ye olde magnesium & flint method on some cedar bark to get it going. We brought packets of vegetables and cornish game hens. The game hens were still a bit frozen when we got them out so we thawed them on one of the grilliputs while we gathered more fuel and basically shot the bull. By the time we thawed them and cooked them it was 11:30 pm. But no biggie. It's just generally fun to shoot the breeze around a campfire in the woods at night with a flask of whiskey.
Sunday Vicki and I went to see little Trenton for a couple of hours. He spent most of it sleeping, but that's ok. I got a little grandpa time again.
Monday at work we went to a co-worker's house for a "meeting" where he showed off his homemade brick oven where he bakes bread and pizza. We all made our own pizzas. It was a lot of fun. And they were good. Richard and I apparently share the same taste in Jazz, so we listened to some Bill Evans and Sonny Stitt through it all. I was also fascinated by the oven. Kinda wish I had one. An oven you build a fire in. Pretty neat. It was 840 degrees in there.
Vicki and I went to the Elks for "Washee" Monday after work and had a burger there. And Tuesday morning while thoroughly cleaning the grilliput I found out that I was missing a cross-bar ... one of the specialized ones with the threads and the crooked end. If you're going to lose one, those two aren't the ones you can get by without. Kind of integral to the structure.
So when I mentioned it to Vicki, she suggested we take off early Tuesday afternoon and hike in and find it. I knew excactly where it should be. It was a very pretty day (the various flower pictures are from that hike). We could both use the exercise and the time together, so we went. We spent a very nice hour or so in the woods, and the cross-piece was right where I expected it to be, really no worse for wear.
Then it was back home for leftover pizza and Jeff Corwin's "America's West". Ok, I'll admit it, I sat through an episode of "The Bachelor" with Vicki first. ;-)