What do we have HERE?

The Mister is off at the airport, trying to find his children who, it appears, were diverted to some other city in Texas when their plane developed some sort of issue.

You know, about seven years ago we had them, and they were scheduled to fly home on Sept 11. Needless to say, that didn't happen. Their luck with flights hasn't improved much.

Anyway. I trudged out to get the mail.

Standing in front of the mailbox, I conducted inventory. Box from World's Coolest Grandmother - yipee! Little package with a used paperback I ordered online - woohoo! Flyer from gas company.... Hey...what's this?

STATE OF TEXAS
COUNTY OF TARRANT
Jury Summons

For me!

I mailed in my voter registration like ten days ago, and do not yet in fact have a voter registration card. They don't waste much time.

But I am all excited. I've never had jury duty. I love things I've never done before.

It's next month, and there's about a 50/50 chance the Army will have me somewhere doing something, but I'd like to go do the jury gig. I think I would be a fabulous juror.

Countdown to

a full house. The kids will arrive for the summer this evening. There will be dogs on beds, much pool-related activity, and generally a much higher optempo around here.

The boys are going on 15, and so I am mostly concerned about the food issue. I was never a teenage boy myself, but I have known a few. I predict we have less than a week before they may attempt to eat the furniture.

Preparations have been made. There's enough peanut butter in the pantry to float a battleship, we've been buying pasta like the Old Country Buffet in preparation for Italian Night, and we have cases and cases of Ramen noodles.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go make some "please don't eat the dog" signs for the pets to wear.

Range trip!

I took Barney's advice from the last set of comments and took off to the rifle range in order to be doing something other than sniveling about the CMP.

Up front, it would have been a more productive range trip if, in addition to the Inland carbine and 100 rounds of ammo for it, I had remembered magazines.

It turned into a wringout trip for the .308 that came to live here recently. Does this look like a good time or what?



The first group of shots (at 50 yards) was...well, it could have been worse. It took a couple of figure out the whole bipod thing, and several more to be sure I was shooting where I was shooting, then an adjustment right and up, then a few more...



I am a terrible "adjuster." I could singlehandedly use an entire ASP zeroing a single M16, making sight adjustments one click at a time. So after I pulled the above target down, I'd totalled 6 UP and 4 RIGHT. So I took a deep breath, cringed, and added another 4 UP.



Which worked. Cool. Having by this point become buddies with the range officer (another recovering Marine), I trudged over to the 100 yard line to see where I was.



'Twas good.

DISCLAIMER - That is NOT a photo of the target! I didn't want to call a cold range after three shots so I could go get it, so there IS no picture! This is an "artist's rendering" of said target, made crudely from the image from the 50! The flyer was the first shot at that distance, and the other two were nice.

150 grain Federal softpoints of one sort or another. I was pleased. I still don't really see the point of the bipod, but it doesn't offend me, so I don't see any need to take it off right away.

Kudos to the guys down at Alpine, who were helpful and non-irritating all the way around. Props to the friendly dude inside who boresighted my scope, and the nice old boy running the range. But maybe you guys should stock a couple of M1 carbine magazines...

Since that was so much fun and the Mister is out of town, it occurs to me I have a ton of .45 acp and couple of pistols to match.... I'm off again!

Staying busy

and trying not to click on the CMP e-store too often.

Today, I was getting desperate. So...what is our fearless author up to?



Other than pulling sticks out of the undercarriage (left over from the trip up north), that is?



That's right - changing my oil! All by myself! Because I am an uber-liberated post-feminist total badass self-sufficient not-needing-any-help type of gal!

(okay - so the Mister was an arm's length away reminding me which nut needed to come out, and the proper order of steps. But I think I'll remember well enough to do it all alone next time)

Beats housework

Jack finally pointed out that I was being absolutely NO FUN. So we got the floating duck and headed outside.

Yipee! Floating ducks call for belly flops!



I cannot get over how well that dog swims. Like an otter, but only if otters made weird chuffing noises to keep the water out of their nostrils.



We did ten or so duck retrieves, then I killed fun when I insisted on securing the duck and getting in the water myself. Oh well - he got over it, and is now joyfully rolling on the floor and growling - his favorite way of recovering from a swim.

[sigh]

The CMP people are tormenting me. My S'G' order went to open/processing on the 15th, and it looks kinda like it'ss running about three business days before they are shipping.

[taps fingers]

Any time now...

Oddly, clicking on the "pending orders" button 37 times per hour doesn't seem to be speeding the process along at all.

Mundane

and, at the same time, pathetic. In the wake of a very nice weekend, I thought it probably wouldn't kill me to clean up around the house today.

Since we have a G. Shepherd, there are always doghair tumbleweeds rolling across the horizon here at BDC. Our last decent vacuum gave up the ghost a few months back, so we had a trainwreck fling with a Bissell FlipIt (which may work well for something, but sure didn't for anything we tried with it).



After that, we gave up on the fancy-schmancy floor-sucking machines and decided to combat the dog hair Redneck-style.



A-yup. That's right. We clean the house with an off-brand ShopVac. It's the cat's ass on the tile. The only drawback is the short cord.

So today I whack the kitchen, the master bath, and most of the floor. Also several loads of laundry and dishes. I am totally a domestic goddess.

Wow.

Weather.com says it's 100 degrees out right now. So does my thermometer, but I don't trust it.

Which explains why the slightly-over-two-miles I jogged this afternoon very nearly killed me. But character was built.

In other exercises in character-building, the Mister is spending his day walking around in the sunshine, smiling and shaking hands. Wearing the shockingly uncomfy Dress Blue Deltas with the equally awful Shiny Black Shoes. Poor guy.

And THAT is why

I am not a good biker wife.

Good lord, that perching on the back is uncomfortable. North Texas was very pretty, but I feel like I've been scrunched in a laundry basket for the last six hours.

I also find the sportbike thing pretty much terrifying. It requires every bit of trust I have in my husband's ability for me to not have him pull over so I can walk home. Too fast, too curvy, too scary for me.

But, because he is more or less a saint, the Mister did not seize the opportunity to launch off the back of the bike and speed away.

In an ongoing effort

to be a decent wife, I'm participating in the "couples ride" the Mister's motorcycle group is doing. Not as a rider - as a passenger. Nonetheless, wish me luck, and please try to avoid hitting any bikes you may see in North Texas this morning.