Neanderpundit

in homes with only one bathroom. We always just got used to sharing.

Por dad, everytime he tried for a little privacy he was assailed by one family member or another, so he got in the habit ofdoing his business early in the morning. He was already up before anyone, so he put the old Mirro percolator on the stove and went out to get the paper, and would sit on the throne and drink coffee, smoke his pipe, and read the paper in the half hour or so before the rest of the family roused.

He used the same type Anchor Hocking fire king milk glass mug to drink coffee out of as he whisked his shaving lather from, but the shaving mug had a chip so it wasn’t safe to drink from anymore. The badger hair brush sat on the ledge on top of the mirror, where only Dad could reach it. I still keep my razor in a similar location for similar reasons.

So mornings for me have a memory of pipe tobacco, burnt strong coffee, Williams mug soap, sauerkraut farts. Mom would useually get up next and open the window, if it hadn’t been opened already. Not saying all memories are great, but it certainly makes me appreciate the exhaust fan I installed in the crapper a couple years back.

There’s a little music wire spring that returns the triggers that I cannot find and will have to make, but good luck finding music wire anywhere. I might have to cut the tail ends off my guitar if I can find one the same size, and then temper it with some used motor oil and a propane torch. I have oiled the stock- not like the M1 carbine but adequate to the task. I intend to hunt with it, after all. Pics to follow.

And the area is immobilized. Crikey, folks, this is CHICAGO!