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I usually have two... a month.

I will do that! I have several 1911's, which I intend to keep, but the idea of a double stack 9 mm on the 1911 platform is intriguing.

Pictures?

That would be great, but unfortunately my shirts don’t have pockets. I might need to buy some

Something that has astounded me all through this thread is the many repetitions of the term "white gravy". Never heard that before. That stuff is milk gravy.

Hotter than a 2 dollar pistol

Notice that I said Dress Uniform. I suppose you went into action wearing

Just a little pin prick??

Cold cereal for you!!!

Current airforce logo I think

So I started getting the Marlin jam on my 1982 gold trigger Marlin 1894 in 357. Required me having to remove the tube spring to get cartridges out to relieve pressure then punching out with a cleaning rod. Was jamming good. Went down hard last match . Ended up missing two stages and calling it a day. Saw a post in classifieds from jackrabbit Joe regarding carrier fixes. Now the carrier I sent him was stock and it's a little different than the newer ones. I also have the long spring ejector. After a little bit back and forth and some issues, with the factory carrier, I purchased one of the widdermatic carriers he has and it feeds everything now with zero issues Just wanted to send a big thanks out. Those widdermatic carriers work great and solved my problems.

I normally wear a vest and the watch goes in one upper left pocket and the chain looped over and through one of the button holes. Then when actually shooting I shorten the exposed looped chain by putting more of it in the pocket so as not to snag it while pulling shotgun shells. The few times I don’t wear a vest I do the same thing with my shirt pocket.

comfortably NUMB ?

it be too hot , AND I be too LAZY 🤣

It can also go from a buttonhole to a shirt pocket, which is clear of the gunbelt. Shirt pocket might need a flap and or button.

Class B’s?

I would think it would be ok if at least the chain was visible? Hopefully the gun belt doesn’t block it. I’m just unsure because I’m fairly new. A ruling would be great!

Well, the Handbook says, "pocket watch with full length chain." It does not say how it is to be worn, or where. I don't see why it would be a problem, according to a literal reading of the rules. Perhaps we can ask for a ruling?

LORDY!!!!

Okay, I'm an old softy, and this has been working on me for some time. This is what was on the memory stick the Sheriff handed his Chief Deputy. Yes there's a story behind the story but it involves family so 'nuff said.

Moat’s Notes: Custom Handguns – Lessons Learned | Shooting Wire

FIRELANDS INTERNATIONAL CRASH PATCH AND POPCORN STAND A young man sat with four other passengers: men in suits, women in business pantsuits and fashionably large sunglasses. The private jet was compact, fast, a little noisy; it was built for moving a small number of people quickly, and so lacked the space, the storage of a passenger airliner. The passengers did not mind. They were all experienced travelers, they all packed the minimum necessary, or sent luggage on ahead by common carrier, or bought what they needed at destination. All but one. A young man sat with four other passengers, staring out the window, part of his mind marveling that the entire damned continent he'd seen so far was cut up, gridded off, that it was squares and boundaries and he was honestly surprised he could pick out round brown tanks, or round blue tanks, or blue rectangles -- sewage treatment plants, water treatment plants, swimming pools ... young eyes followed waterways, lingered on sparkling ponds, remembering the dry and desert country he'd left not long before. He'd taken nothing with him when he enlisted, reasoning that if he needed it, Uncle Sam would provide it; he brought little back with him -- one satchel -- and he brought back one, and only one, token from his time in a place he never, ever wanted to see again. His hand rose and pressed against a lump in his coat pocket, and he smiled a little. "We'll be landing at Firelands International Crash Patch and Popcorn Stand in ten minutes," the pilot called cheerfully: "they have clean restrooms and they usually have fresh coffee." The young man blinked, smiled a little as he remembered the last time he had coffee at the little airport cut high on the mountain. He'd been a child when a military cargo plane landed, unloaded something for the Sheriff -- he'd been a little boy back then, they'd opened a crate and a big black-and-tan dog came out, shook himself, and launched after the tennis ball the Sheriff was slamming hard against the pavement. He remembered an entire aircrew coming out to play ball with a dog the Sheriff hugged and laughed and belly rubbed, and he'd seen the dog later, when the Sheriff came to school to introduce the Malinois she'd served with and now adopted. He felt the jet bank a little, heard the gear hum and thump under him. "Paul," Sheriff Linn Keller asked, "could you pick up Alicia O'Farrell?" Paul looked at his lifelong friend and boss, confused. "Pick up as innnnn ..." Paul spread his hands in question, and Linn laughed quietly, handed him a memory stick. "Take her up to the airport. Just before you get there, play this." Paul raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Can do." The big, black-haired Navajo took two steps toward the door, stopped, turned, looked at Linn, understanding finally arriving. Sheriff and Chief Deputy shared a grin and spoke with one voice. "Hot Wheels." Barrents laughed quietly, shook the memory stick at the pale eyed lawman. "Got it!" Alicia heard the knock, her mother's voice, a man's voice, then: "Alicia?" Her mother sounded uncertain. Alicia skipped downstairs in sock feet, blue jeans and a sweatshirt. "Alicia ..." her mother said uncertainly, and Alicia stopped, her eyes widening uncomfortably at the sight of the broad-shouldered deputy in the doorway, his cover under one arm. "Nothing's gone wrong," Paul said in that gentle voice of his, and he spread his palms innocently as he said it, "but I need your help. Could you come with me, please." "I ... what's going on?" Alicia asked uncertainly, looking from Paul to her mother and back before stepping into her red-and-white sneakers and lacing them quickly. The jet descended smoothly, slowed quickly: a Corporal in uniform smiled a little, for the small jet kissed the earth easier than either of the commercial flights he'd endured to get this far. They taxied a short distance, the engines whistled down, as they always do, and the young Corporal saw the pilot pick up a clipboard and start a timer, ready to mark the turbine run-down time. A young woman with a pleasant expression opened the side door, lowered the stairs: the uniformed Corporal stood aside to let two of the women passengers disembark first, likely headed for the powder room. He stood, bent to get through the doorway, descended, took a long breath, closed his eyes. It smelled clean. He hadn't smelled clean for ... well, since he left here a few years before. His hand came up to grip the sling of a rifle that wasn't there as he turned, eyes busy, suddenly hard and suspicious again, listening, searching. He heard someone come down the few steps behind him, felt a presence beside him. The pilot stood with him, just stood for a minute and a half before he spoke. "It's part of you now," he said in a quiet voice. "I was the same when I came back to The World." The Corporal turned to him, masking the surprise he felt try to cross his face. Two men gave each other an understanding look, two men shook hands, held the clasp for a moment longer than may have been necessary. Barrents hit the PLAY button. A gravelly voice came from the speakers: he turned the volume up slightly as Alicia tilted her head and listened, then smiled. The Corporal reached into his pocket and brought out a shiny red Hot Wheels car. "My girl," he said softly, "sent me a care package every week. When I told her some of the guys never got anything from home, she'd pack extra. She sent a bunch of these one time" -- he laughed, and the pilot grinned -- "now picture this, a whole squad of hard-bitten Marines down on their hands and knees making dirt tracks and running cars and making vroom-vroom noises!" The pilot's smile was soft, the smile of a man who knew what it was to be far from home, to get things from home that meant more than the sender could ever possibly imagine. "Mom called him Johnny One-Note," she smiled, "but I always like this song." They listened as they pulled the final grade and came up beside the runway. "My father listened to this when he was overseas," Paul said quietly as the singer spun a story: "he always liked the idea that a girl would be watching for him when he came home, that she would breathe thanks for his safe return." He glanced over at her as they stopped. Alicia's eyes went from uncertain to big. Her mouth opened, then she turned and clawed at the door handle. Two men turned as a girl in a baggy sweatshirt and blue jeans streaked like a blond-haired arrow in red-and-white sneakers, ran to a young Corporal in uniform just turning away from the pilot. He held something the two men were examining, something small and shiny and red, something the pilot caught as the corporal turned and surged toward the running girl, the Hot Wheels car forgotten, dropped. Paul Barrents remembered his Pa telling him about how his Mama abandoned all propriety when she laid eyes on him, how she'd charged him and how the net effect was like a pair of trucks colliding: this wasn't quite that, but it did result in denim legs flying, two bodies locked in embrace, turning, and somewhere dimly heard, applause from the other passengers from the little jet. Paul was never sure whether it was coincidence or not, but he never forgot that, at the moment of collision, an artist he particularly liked sang "I thank Thee, Lord, for bringing Rob MacDunn back safely home!" Paul was at their wedding. The cake did not have a bride and a groom on top. It had a little, shiny, red, toy car that had traveled half a world. Twice.

Mernickle starter holster set, mahogany brown, 43 inches to center hole, complete set can be seen on their website. $325 shipped,new, never used, bought for 4 5/8” Rugers, other clones may fit. Venmo or personal check, I will be at Black Gold next week, July 17-18