Neanderpundit

I learned from my boss, some time ago, not to bring him problems unless I also bring the possible solutions.

if you bring him a problem, you had better already have several potential methods of solving the problem to present as well. Else, you, as an employee, are generating problems and not income.

So, in this spirit, I bring you:

the Solution.

Prompted, in part, by Tanya, here’s a potentiasl solution to some problems
I’ve been having
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Today, I bought the daughter her first rifle.

She’s been shooting my partner’s old Stevens Crackshot, but it’s too old and too nice a rifle for her to quite appreciate, and frankly, it’s a bit finicky.

The folks at Kim’s Nation of Rifleman forum were kind enough to reccomend this, and the kicker was this: Took the daughter to a gun show and she saw this, fell in love. So I ordered it from my local place, all of $148, and I hope to surprise her with it come thanksgiving.

I was all prepared to spend more and buy a clipfed rifle, but then I though, hell, she’ll just want something else to grow into. So hurt me hurt me; I’ll have to buy her another rifle someday. Boo Hoo.

I’m so tickled I could giggle.

My good friend Jenny says of my training the daughter to shoot: “She’ll grow up self assured and not dependent on anyone else for anything”. I’m grinning so hard my face hurts.

I’m not a drinker. I confine my drinking to sharing a fine white botyrized wine after dinner, or, occasionally, pulling on a bottle of port after a thick steak and an Indy race.

This caffeinated beer, on the other hand, brings back some memories.

When I was in high school we had an Italian prefect, Father Ernest. Father Ernest weighed around 120 lbs, wore only a shortsleeved shirt and dog collar even in the nastiest of weather, and could drink a gallon of beer, and NEVER use the bathroom.

Father ernest got along well with my parents, and spent a lot of time at our home. He’d often bring a special beer or wine with him, as his contribution to a meal- he still had family and friends in Italy (his family home) and they’d send him specific vintages he liked.

He came to America as a Salesian novitiate and learned to speak english in Louisiana. You could barely understand a thing he said.

When I was around 20, he stopped by the house one time to pick some mint- mom grew it beside the pump house. He came back almost a year later, and was carrying a bottle of something that was black as the inside of a cow.
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