Timestepper

Glad to see that Ernie is doing better! I can certainly relate:   Had my gallbladder yanked back in '09 after several bouts of pancreatitis and that was supposed to take care of things. It didn't and I've ended up in the hospital twice since then - most recently last Saturday morning (got out Christmas Eve afternoon). Chronic pancreatitis isn't any fun, whether in people or pups and sometimes there's not a hell of a lot you can do to prevent it. A low fat diet, with little or no alocohol consumption is good, but (as I've discovered twice) no guarantee. Went through a boat load of tests with this last round, including an hour-long MRI and they can find absolutely no reason whatsoever for the flare-ups. Sometimes life just sucks.   Give Ernie my best and tell him he's got a two-legged big brother who understands exactly what he's going through and sympathizes with him to the max!   :up:  :hat:

Looking good! Welcome to the wonderful world of bedroll camping!   Coldest night I ever camped (-16 degrees plus a 10 mph breeze, on the high plains of Western Kansas - we had to sleep with our canteens to keep them from freezing solid) I stayed warm with the help of a scout pit, 3 wool blankets and a canvas groundcloth.  Worst part was next morning when we (my best friend and I - we were on a primitive trek) realized that we hadn't made as many miles as we thought we had and still had a four mile hike to true shelter. Thank God for wool!

Oh gawd! Reminds me of one of my favorite "oldie but goodies." (And, if it were true, would certainly fit this thread.) True or not, here it is:   So I’m driving home driving home from dinner last night with my wife, it’s like 16 degrees out. Cold as hell. Icicles on your balls kind of cold. So anyways we’re going around a slow corner and she (my wife) spots a baby skunk lying on the side of the road. Being the animal lover she is, I get yelled at to pull over and help the little guy. “Fine, I’ll stop but you gotta get out and help it.” I say. So she jumps out of the car and picks up this baby skunk. Poor little guy is half frozen but still alive. She says, “What should I do?” “Bring it in the car” I tell her and we’ll “warm him up”. So she gets in with the skunk and asks, “How should I keep him warm?” I tell her “Put it between your legs.” She replies “What about the smell?” So I say, “Just hold his nose!” The doctors expect I’ll make a full recovery, but the skunk she used to beat me with died during the incident.   :leaving:

"Do you carry at all times, even at home?"     Gosh, I dunno'... Show up some evening uninvited and unannounced and find out.  :whistle:

If I were to combine all of my smaller sets, I'm pretty sure I'd have one complete BIG set... minus, of course, one freakin' little odd sized bit. :surrender:

Well, if he/she is anything like ours, it probably comes from all the blue language they use. (Told my wife the other day that we have the only chihuahua in Tennessee with Tourette's.) :lol:

I pretty much agree with what everyone else has said. Only possible upside would be if the new employer offered something in the way of AFLAC accident insurance (sure wish I'd had it earlier this year!) where it pays out pretty spectacularly if you become disabled and have to miss work.

Watching our little Banty rooster, earlier this year, stand up to and chase off a squirrel that was stealing sunflower seeds from the feed bin and then, seeing a big Tiger Swallowtail butterfly 10 minutes later, squawking in terror and hauling @ss into the hen house.  :rofl: 

Aw man! I feel for ya' brother Dave!   Had a friend who found a paper wasp nest about the size of a soccer ball one winter and thought, "hey that'd make great wadding for the ol' black powder shotgun!" So he took it home and tossed it under the bench in his shop. Couple days later he went out to the shop to mold some balls and fired up his wood stove because it was chilly... About 30 minutes later a "cloud of hornets" (his words) rose up from the far end of his bench and chased him out of the shop. I guess he got nailed about 8 or 9 times before he hit the door and couldn't get back into his shop to unplug the lead pot until the next day after the stove had burned out and the temp had dropped again.   With great pride he reported that he went out and fired up his wood stove again about 4 days later after a cold snap sent the temps below zero... and one of the first things he put in the stove was the wasp nest. :pleased:

Depends upon hair color. FI, if the chihuahua is primarily black or dark brown, then it might show up in just a few years. If it's tan or light brown, it likely won't start turning white until about 7 or 8 years.

I like how you did that - switching the 't' for a double 'l'. Well done, Sir!  :hat:     :whistle:

Had a driver quit this morning because he wants to make more money - so he's going to a company that doesn't pay deadhead (empty) miles, extra stop pay or tarp pay. BUT they start at 40 cents per loaded mile! (He was making 36 cents for ALL miles here, plus extra stop & tarp pay.)  That ain't right! (The math just doesn't work out.)   We figure he'll be asking for his job back by about mid-December...

Yep. Top four favorites are: .54 Mowrey - Jessie 1851 Remington 'Buffalo' .44 w/14" bbl. - Yard & Half (If you ever shoot this pistol you'll know why.) Savage 24 over/under .357mag/20ga. - Dirty Maggie, a take off on DRT (Dead, right there.) Winchester lever action .22 - Little Miss (Because she's light weight and misses very little.)

Used to have a homemade tallow lamp made from two halves of a large clamshell that I'd cleaned up and put a <90 degree> hinge on. Kept the bottom half filled with tallow with a cotton wick and to extinguish it simply closed it up. A leather thong kept it closed in storage and occasionally did double duty serving as a hanger. The top half worked (somewhat) as a reflector. Wasn't a great light, but it was easy to use and care for and (best of all), it looked really cool.  B)

Reminds me of a practical joke I pulled several years ago at a mountain man rendezvous out West. Going through my shooting box one afternoon, I realized I had several empty No.10 percussion cap tins. Without really knowing what I was going to do with it, I stuffed one of them into my possibles pouch and forgot about it for the time being.   Later that evening I grabbed my "little brown jug" and went to off to visit various and sundry other camps for the purpose of passing the jug and swapping tales. At one point, while fumbling in my possibles for my pipe, I re-found the cap tin (my best friend says he immediately knew I was up to no good by the evil gleam in my eye) and in a moment of pure inspiration, I reached down and picked up half a handful of pea gravel, put it in the tin and put the lid back on.   At a particularly loud and boisterous camp where we stopped to "shoot some breezes" I rather absently pulled the cap tin out of my possibles and stood there just kinda' tossing it up and down while we visited and passed the jug. I guess we'd been there maybe 45 minutes, enjoying the tales and the other jugs that were so graciously passed around (with me just sorta' absentmindedly tossing the cap tin up & down the whole time, with every now and then a shake back and forth to make it rattle a little bit) when my buddy stood up and stretched his legs and said something about heading back to camp whilst we could still find it. I agreed and stood up and we said our so longs... As I turned to follow my buddy, I glanced down at the cap tin, as if really noticing it for the first time, shrugged my shoulders and just sorta' casually tossed it into the fire...   Never before or since have I seen that many bearded, intoxicated men hit dirt that fast or sober up that quickly!   After the dust had cleared and I'd been called everything unflattering they could think of (which was considerable given the average experience and nature of the group) I let them in on the joke. Unfortunately, my originality was highly lauded and the cause for much celebration, with the end result being that I became so polluted that I only made it about half-way back to my own camp before crawling off the trail and passing out under an aspen tree. Fortunately for me, one of the other celebrants, making his way back to his own camp sometime later, heard me snoring and, upon seeing me laying there passed out and shivering, graciously covered me with his buffalo skin coat. (About noon the next day, he showed up at our camp and offered to trade me some "hair of the dog and an empty cap tin for a buffler' skin coat." ...How could I could I turn him down?) :cheers: