Father Kit Cool Gun Garth

I see what you did there, cute.

My wife has always groomed our two girls (Cocker Spaniels), and when she is finished, we have enough hair for a third one!

Although Napoleon did not design his military outfit.... HE DID HAVE A HAND IN IT.

Then you'll like this....

I have been constantly searching the internet for available ammo for my existing firearms, and like many of you, found the common sizes to either be completely unavailable, or with high, jacked up prices. My thought then went to searching for ammo that was readily available, possibly considering purchasing the appropriate firearm to go with it. That's when Dantankerous created a Post that mirrored that exact thought process. Well, after realizing that wasn't going to solve the problem, I persevered, seeking another source. Searching deep into the bowels of the GOGGLE pages, I came across a website that had all the ammo sizes I was looking for. Oodles of 9mm, bulk even, along with 38 cal as well as .357 magnum . They even had plenty of Cowboy ammo. .19 cents/round .50 cents/round I promptly put a large order in my Cart, completed the order process, and when it got to the shipping address and to what Country.....the United States was not listed! You see, the website - www.STARGETSHOOTING.com was based in , yes....FRANCE! Not to be deterred in my quest for ammo, I sent them an email, which read like this, making sure that I included a translation to English as well. This morning I was pleasantly surprised to see that they had responded to my request. ...which translates to: So you'll never know where your searches will lead you, and although it didn't pan out, it was fun trying.

For most of the trip so far there was little discussion amongst the passengers, most likely with each lost in their own thoughts and no one interested in starting meaningless conversation. Chance pulled his hat back over his eyes and settled back as best he could based on the conditions he was being provided. Wasn't long before he fell off to sleep. Father Kit had put the tall man in a cell as UB left the jail with his niece to grab a bite to eat across the street. He then placed the keys that UB had given him, back on the hook behind the desk, before leaving the jail himself. Once outside Kit stopped to pat Doc on the back. "I'm glad I could be of assistance, although I have little faith that this is anywhere from being close to coming to an end," he offered. "I have known many men of this character, and only God can judge them." With that Kit headed for the Land Office to check on Venus. He was just arriving at the steps to the boardwalk when the blast thrust his body forward and would have hit his head on the steps were it not for his quick actions to break his fall. Momentarily laying on the dusty street, he could hear the sound of shattering glass just in front of him which caused him to look up to see all the windows of the Land Office broken. Fearing the worse, he arose slowly, his ears still ringing from the explosion, approached the door, and just a he opened it, Venus met him in mid-step. "Are you alright?" they both spoke in unison. "I'm fine," Venus quickly replied. "As am I," Kit countered. Both then turned to look back at what used to be the Sheriff's Office, only to see the shredded remains of the building, debris still falling from the sky. Venus saw Doc laying on the ground in front of the jail, and as she and Kit began to approach, they could see Michigan Slim already arrive and being offering assistance. With the sound of horses yielding to the pulling of the reins by Whip, the stagecoach driver, along with the abrupt shaking of the coach itself, it became obvious to those inside the coach that they had come to a stop. As the soldier next to him pulled the curtain aside, Chance could see the small station not 50 feet away. "OK, folks. Time to stretch those legs while we give these horses a break," Whip shouted. "We'll be heading back out in an hour." With that he opened the coach door extending a hand to the young boy and his mother who were first to exit, solely based on the actions of the three men. The soldier left next, and then Chase who found the dapper gentleman had grabbed his briefcase and was holding it tightly against his chest, appearing to be wanting the last one to go. All four passengers eventually made it inside the station where they found the building to be empty, but for a couple of small tables surrounded by chairs. Not the most accommodating features, but what one could expect in the middle of nowhere.

Only bring this up because I heard about it this morning....

LOST One reindeer*. Must be returned by December 24th. If found please call 1.726.822.5287! * and yes, I know it's not a reindeer.

The jarring of the stagecoach on the rock strewn trail, abruptly and without apology, awoke the passenger. Lifting his head slowly while repositioning his hat back to its intended place on his head, he peered through purposefully half-opened eyes at the others that occupied the small cramped coach. Unaware of how long he had dozed off, he pulled his pocket watch from his left vest pocket, rubbing the gold engraved case, before releasing the cover. High noon. That would explain the dust choking, arid atmosphere that permeated the inside of the stagecoach. None of the other passengers appeared to be any distress from the current conditions, which made him somewhat ill at ease. "Let's see," he mused to himself. There's the mother with her son who looked to be about 6 years old. Neither were dressed extravagantly; however, one doesn't wear their best attire on a stagecoach ride cross-country. The mother looked to be just shy of 30 years, although her weathered face could be hiding a younger presence. Her dress was neat in appearance and based on the stitching, was hand-made, most likely by herself. A normal man would not have made such a trivial observance, yet he knew these things from first hand experience with his own mother, who hand-sewn all of the family clothing. The boys shirt and pants were easily hand-me-downs, with the sleeves much too long, and the waist of the pants cinched with a belt that gathered the excess material into a mangled mess of material. All of which meant that either other older siblings were part of the family, or the clothing were given as a charity gift to someone less fortunate. He guessed at the latter. The gentleman sitting next to her was the complete opposite. Tailored clothing took the brunt of the dust and dirt that made its way into the interior of the coach, and he was constantly taking what was a white handkerchief, now a burnt-orange color, making vain attempts to keep his outfit clean. A laced collar on his shirt belied that of a high society ranking, as did the cigar that he kept taking out of his jacket pocket, running its full length under his nose as he drew deep breaths, taking in the aroma of freshly rolled tobacco. He had a black briefcase that he kept secured by his side, always attentive to its presence, making sure it did not leave his sight. Next to himself sat a soldier, early twenties, still wearing full military dress in the colors of the Union Army. He appeared to be interested in the antics of the young boy, who was playing with two toy soldiers, making sounds of gunfire and banging the two figures together as if to simulate actual fighting. Images of actual battles he witnessed and participated in flashed through his mind as he recalled his own childhood growing up, playing the same way, waiting for that day when he could become a soldier. How much he now regrets those naive thoughts. Chance Morgan was the owner of a riverboat called the "Cajun Queen", which paddled up and down the mighty Mississippi loaded with gamblers, scantly clad women, as well as the elite rich who made him a fortune with this venture. For now, he was merely fulfilling his duty to his father, who had recently passed away, to ensure he received the proper burial he had requested in his will, that he be buried in East Fork. He would meet his sister Venus who resides there, and soon to be joined by his mother who will be arriving by train a week later.

One of my favorites as well. Little known fact, only one of which I have learned over the years. “Africa” is credited to Toto keyboardist/vocalist David Paich and the late drummer Jeff Porcaro. There have been many bands whose songs are performed with the band's designated lead singer; however, one of the band's most familiar songs ends up coming when another band member takes the lead. Such is the case with AFRICA. Another example is the band The CARS. Lead singer was RIC Ocasek; however, one of their popular hits came when band member Benjamin Orr stepped in and was lead singer on "DRIVE".

Thank you all for the SASSpedia breakdown on snake ID. The "funnies" were a nice touch. I did some additional research online, asked the snake several questions, specifically how he got on our property, ie. "Did you cross the border illegally?", to which he didn't respond, of course. Downloaded an APP to assist: Got a reply that it was a "juvenile black racer". Looks like this: My snake looks like this: The closest guess by SASSepedia was the grey rat snake which looks like this: The description of the grey rat snake says it has a "stripe" running from the back of the eye to the rear of the jaw opening, which my snake doesn't have. The markings on the belly with their distinctive orange color ... ....makes me go with the racer ID. Either way, I returned his passport, and sent him on his way.

It's fate is in your decision. Appears friendly with rounded face.