Sunday Kipling

Sorry for the dearth of posts. We've either been recovering from the creeping gambu that kicked both our butts or getting ready for and shooting another 3 Gun match. Shot it yesterday. Did Ok and the shotgun ran perfectly but my pistol sucked. I'm getting the idea that the key to this thing is putting everything together and running all 3 guns at least competently at the same time. Apparently I focused too hard on shotgun and neglected pistol and it bit me just a bit. I didn't tank any stages but I can see where the improvement needs to come from. Consistency. I don't haz it yet. I also need to address long range better. The 1x4 optic and 16 inch barrel are fine out to about 300 yards but past that and I'm thinking I need something a little bit more directed. Man, I may completely trash that whole 3 Gun On A Budget Thang. My next match is on February 5th so practice and dry fire are very much indicated.

MIL came down with Shingles. It's on her face around her eyes. Doc put her on medication and says they caught it before it actually got into her eyes so I think she's going to be fine if very uncomfortable.

The house is so quiet with the kids gone. I miss 'em.

Today will be spent cleaning up from yesterday and generally resting. Maybe something tasty on the grill. The weather has been really nice. 62 yesterday. I do love me some Southern Utah winters. I hope you all have a great day. Go eat something that will give the nannies massive conniptions and love the fact that we're still here, unsilenced and loving being alive and thorns in the sides of Big Government. Maybe take an hour and turn money into smoke and noise. Ah, the joys of living free and fearless. Be well my friends.
Six

Something fun today I think...

The Juggler's Song

Enlarged From "Kim"

When the drums begin to beat
Down the street,
When the poles are fetched and guyed,
When the tight-rope's stretched and tied,
When the dance-girls make salaam,
When the snake-bag wakes alarm,
When the pipes set up their drone,
When the sharp-edged knives are thrown
When the red-hot coals are shown,
To be swallowed by-and-by--
Arre, Brethren, here come I!

Stripped to loin-cloth in the sun,
Search me well and watch me close!
Tell me how my tricks are done--
Tell me how the mango grows!

Give a man who is not made
To his trade
Swords to fling and catch again,
Coins to ring and snatch again,
Men to harm and cure again,
Snakes to charm and lure again--
He'll be hurt by his own blade,
By his serpents disobeyed,
By his clumsiness bewrayed,
By the people laughed to scorn--
So 'tis not with juggler born!

Pinch of dust or withered flower,
Chance-flung nut or borrowed staff,
Serve his need and shore his power,
Bind the spell or loose the laugh!