The Weekend

It's Sunday, and I guess I ought to bring y'all up to date on the last few days.

As I was leaving work to come sit with Sara on Wednesday, I felt a pain above my right eye as I walked into the sunlight. It was my old buddy Iritis returning to make my attitude sour. By Thursday morning I was in some serious pain every time the light level changed. Staring at a computer screen was torture. I called the ophthalmologist, and, Praise The LORD, he'd had a cancellation at 0930. By 1015 I was on my way home with my self-diagnosis confirmed and a bottle of steroid eye drops and a card telling me to come back in 10 days in my pocket. The treatment seems to be working. 4 drops a day seems to keep me from punching holes in the sheet rock.

Feeling somewhat better, Friday was my standing appointment to fellowship with Jon at the Firing Lane. He could not make it, so I amused myself by punching .45 caliber holes in paper. 175 rounds later, I was satisfied with the .45 and switched the slide over to .22. More good times, and a seriously perforated target later, I was ready to come home to watch Sara.

Sara is a joy. Aside from the inevitable 11-year-old's aversion to homework, she's a pleasure to be around. She's full of enthusiasm for just about everything, and it's infectious.

Saturday, I decided that the rear seat needed to go back into the Jeep. It's been taking up room in the garage since the Legion of Doom's Spring Thing last year, and I really needed the space. A simple job turned into a two-day frustration. The seat went in without a hitch, but the center seat belt seems to have absconded to Argentina. I'm sure it's in the garage, but where I put it for safe keeping has eluded me for the time being. I guess it's not much of a problem since the only thing that rides back there, most of the time, is the range bag. Still, it's a loose end that's driving me nuts.

Another event on Saturday was a challenge from a Facebook friend to take the "How Southern Are You" test. I'm happy to say that, despite being born and raised in Ohio, I have become a complete Confederate.

Today, I get to make my normal run to Wal-Mart for a newspaper and other goodies, then go back to the range with Bob and Slade. There's a .30 cal ammo can full of .45 ACP that needs emptying. There's nothing worse than stale ammo. :)

Time to run to Wally World.

Stay warm and well.

PS Happy Birthday, Nicki! Hope you're well and happy.