It's Getting Bleaker in Bleecker

It's absolutely miserable weather here.  It's 40 degrees right now and raining a slow, tortuous drizzle.  It was much nicer yesterday when it was in the 50s and raining a slow, tortuous drizzle.  We had to get off the mountain and do something.

As soon as we got in cell phone range, Pam called Frontier Communications to arrange for a land line to be installed.  They're coming on Tuesday.

Next was to the Walmarts to pick up some gun oil and cleaning solvent, and then to an antique shop to look for cabin stuff.   Pam bought an old red enamel tea pot for the woodstove.  She then wanted to stop at the local food co-op and so we did.  She talked to the manager about selling produce there.  He said he needs someone to grow asparagus and blue potatoes, so that's now on our farm list.

Next stop, Frank's Gun Shop for .22 bullets.  Believe it or not, like all ammunition, even little bullets like that are in short supply.  Walmart had none.  Frank's limited purchases to two boxes, so that's what I bought.  I'm looking forward to target shooting with it.  I haven't fired that gun in over 40 years.  I used to be a crack shot with it, open sights and all.   I wonder if I can hit anything smaller than a Buick at 50 yards now.

We went to Pour Jim's for lunch, a great little place in Mayfield.  As soon as we walked in, we saw old friends Ed and Jean.  It's nice being back home where we both know so many people.  However, it's also nice that my appearance has changed so much that most people don't recognize me and stop me on the street to ask me computer questions.

We then trotted off to visit old friends Andy and Betty, a quick stop at Washburn's Dairy to look for a used trailer, and then back up the mountain to home.

It was very chilly, so I fired up the woodstove.  Pam sacked out on the couch, and I decided to play old records and clean my .22 Remington bolt action rifle and 20 gauge shotgun.  Yes.  20 gauge, not 12.

My house in Saratoga Springs was burglarized about 33 years ago.  One thing taken was my rifle.  I immediately hied myself to the Jamesway, a regional department store, and bought a single shot 12 gauge shotgun and a box of rifled deer slugs.  The police recovered all my stuff, including my rifle.  The shotgun went to the back of the closet.  To this day, it hasn't been fired.

With all of our moving, I misplaced the 12 gauge deer slugs.  I bought a box of 12 gauge buckshot shells at Walmart.   Because of the theft of guns around here, I thought it would be smart to record the serial numbers of my guns.

Pretty, ain't it?

This is a Remington Scoremaster Model 511.  According to the stamps on the barrel, it was made in 1952.  This gun is almost as old as I am.  It's held up much better, though.  There's no serial number stamped on it because of it's age.

I next checked the shotgun.  I was amazed to see "20 Gauge" clearly stamped on the barrel.  I just never looked at this gun closely.  This is a sissy gun, not a manly gun like a 12 gauge.  I'd return it if I could find the receipt and if Jamesway was still in business.  Oh well, no big deal I guess.  We'd only use it to frighten off bears and coyotes and such.  I suppose it will either make a big enough bang to frighten off the bears and coyotes, or it will make them stop whatever they're doing to roll on the ground and laugh hysterically.

I was listening to Jimmie Rodgers while putting a new coat of linseed oil on the gun stocks.  He's no doubt one of the best pop singers of all time.  What a voice.  If you don't recall Jimmie, here's a few examples for you.

Jimmie Rodgers - A Singer Silenced