Saturday, August 5, 2017

Comments on "the wall" & American "Secret-weapons" & Day 233 CJSM-book

 
The “important”-Wall!?
 
 
While “serious”-business on important issues
like “the wall”-on-the-southern-border occupies
Washington’s elite politicos with consternation
and evil-dread seeing the “future” required votes
in the “defeat”-crosshairs, in the real-world of
mere mortal humans and beasts---Love!...To wit:
 
Soft as a mother’s kiss, a tender whisper-wind
Caresses myriad green pin-oak leaves like
a surreptitious embrace of summer’s gift.
 
On the emerald turf of beloved Devinwood Stables
pasture razes yonder black Zorro beside his trusty
side-kick “enforcer, Skippy”; each aware of the
tangential stirring in the near-by nature-trees.
 
The human “elements” inhabiting this “paradise”
sway in cadenced-tune to Mother’s symphony.
These equestrian experts care for the steerds
under their expert knowledgeable direction;
mutual Love!-emotion resonates respect.
 
Our “girls” exude quality Individual-Independence!
 
“Young ladies” lead exemplar lives of selfless acts,
Each rides any “wild-wind” equine like an expert!
 
When news came that two of these “American-girls”
Trekked south-of-the-border for “fun & frolic”,
the following rhyme-verse sprang from the keys.
 
Enjoy! Ladies! You add much delight to our lives!
Thank you all! God bless!
 
Amen!
 
Plus:
 
 
 
Wall on the US.A.-Mexico border…?
 
 
Whether one favors a solar-paneled border obstruction
Our ambassadors ought negotiate positive-construction
 
Everybody’s worried about the cost of the “wall”
I solved the problem with one permission phone call
 
Sent the “dynamic-duo” Miss Ashley & Christina, south
What happens in ole Mex not espoused by of their mouth
 
As these wild-gals “tamed” South-of-the-border vaqueros
Garnered a cadre of handsome Latino 10-gallon sombreros
 
Baja-sands tornado-swept in a horrendous-swirl
Like a “hot”-sirocco: You go! American-girl!
 
Think Miss Michele was upset with another new horse?
Lucky Missy didn’t bring home a caballero! Of course!
 
Restless-“peasants” are assaulting the impenetrable palace-elite
With kids: What’s theirs is theirs; what’s Mom’s is theirs! Sweet!
 
So? About the “wall”? Now the U.S.-chicks don’t want it
Mexico says they’ll build it---So no more “hotties” flaunt it!
 
Our gals haunt Devinwood; ride like any wild-wind
Sweet-Redemption exists for any who Mexico-sinned
 
Whatever the official charges might be down yonder in ole Mexico
I still say: No wall! Ashley/Christina---Please! Next time can I…go?!
 
American woman! Yeah! Baby!
 
 
Plus:
 
 
 
Day 233
 
 
Beth helping Dad reload ammunition---
Shotgun shells were the best
 
 
I’ve been a gun-enthusiast from little on; my childhood heroes are The Lone ranger & Superman! I have enjoyed more cowboy movies than the number of stars in the heavens. My dad taught me gun safety and how to shoot when I was barely six years old; it became habit and stuck. Over the years. I garned an attractive gun collection consisting of rifles, shotguns and handguns. Eventually, I took up reloading for centerfire ammo and for shot shell obtaining in a press with tungsten-carbide dies for the centerfire project and a single-station 12-ga reloader.
In our basement, I set up a loading bench I had constricted specifically for my reloading hobby. Today, shooting sports is a very expensive hobby; back in the day, I offset some of the, then, modest costs with my equipment investment and self-loading operations. Frugil!
Gee! I didn’t even realize it: I had free (slave) labor! Hmm!? A bonus I overlooked!
Beth still remembers how when set the expended hull on the reloader, ejected the spent primer, moved the shell to the next station, slid home a measured-powder charge, progressed to another slot, installed a plastic wad, then, forward to charge the shell with lead B-B’s and finally, a crimp! Voila! Another shot shell ready for the clay pigeon tap we had or just “fun” shooting.
My girls never took up hunting; I was not disappointed; eventually, I even gave it up, too.
.22’s were, and, still are, the family favorite to shoot; Lady Candice is an excellent “Annie Oakley”-dead eye, that’s mainly why I mind my p’s and q’s stringently. I reckon so!
Each of our clan are good shots and know gun safety; they can take care of themselves.
We spent nearly all of our free time as a family; Beth just had to help with my reloading venture. I would let her pull down the activator handle on the centerfire reloading press; she claims that I would not let her “seat” the primers or bullets; I honestly do not remember that.
My shot shell reloader for 12-ga was a single-station operator called the VersaMec 700. I sure enough reloaded quite some bushel baskets of spent hulls with that little jewel. It was Beth’s favorite. When we moved to Oregon, I gave away some 1600 12-ga loads.
This “hobby” advanced the pleasure of shooting and taught me discipline in working up loads for accuracy; certainly another “bright-spot” within the sport. Reloading saved a wad of money.
When our Z. Tyler came along in my 40th year, I sold my guns, reloading equipment, golf clubs and anything material save a few shirts and a couple of pair of pants. I quit my “job”!
We spent some-16 years creating adventure and enjoying life. I taught Z. to shoot. He also learned to play golf (much better than I ever did) and at 12, drove my Ranger pick-up truck.
Oh! I reckon I taught him a few other things as well; the Z.- man sure enough taught me, too.
I reckon there aren’t many girls, or, boys, whose old man taught them to reload shells. Hmm!?
Never seemed to matter “what” we did as long as---we did it…together! Thank you! All!
 
Amen!
 
Ah! Cookie Jar Sweet “Reloading”-Memories!


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