Marlin 336cs Review

Well, well, well.

Well.

This past weekend I made some swaps. I bartered an extra shotty for a splendidly broken-in Marlin 336cs in 30-30, the consummate backwoods gun.

In every pawn shop and gun store in my area, there is usually one or more of these levers on the rack, not to mention in the gun-safes of mountain folk. A couple years ago, after reading Mad Ogre's review of the weapon, it got me thinking: I need a Marlin lever action. One day, I thought.

Fast-forward to the present and I can whole-heartedly say, I am not disappointed. The AR-15 I sold off was awkward and gangly to me. The 336, however, snaps to attention, ready for duty. Placing the vintage irons on target is easy and smooth, and the gun's natural ergonomics lend itself to a backwoods environment, where a mixture of serious shooting and play are pretty much the same thing.

I inaugurated the gun by taking aim at the assortment of inflated toy balls that had become trapped in the forest out back. Watching them ping 20 feet in the air was the highlight of my gray day and made the potential disturbance of one set of neighbors totally worth while.

Felt recoil was very manageable. Powerful, but not bad, and the lever was perfectly worn in for fast follow-up shots. It is easy to see why this gun is a legend among levers. A unique blend of grace and utility, it's everything you need, and nothing you don't. I suspect this is how it feels with other lever actions that serve as primary weapons.

For my part, as discussed with my compadre, Martin, I don't feel under-gunned with this in the least. Hammering targets 75 yards out off the irons feels like child's play. I simply didn't feel the same way about my AR-15, not that they suck. Simply put, the Marlin shines in ways I simply had not expected years back: they are innocuous to behold but deceivingly deadly, light, very maneuverable, and wonderfully accurate.

In the hands of the right hill-billy, the Marlin is a force to be reckoned with, not something to be taken lightly. And I can honestly say that I feel much comfort adding this to my standard battery of arms and making it my go-to long rifle/everything gun.

Over and Out,

--Nick-Dog

Thoughts on End Game

This post/rant has been percolating on my mind for a while. Read at your own risk.

We are now entering the End Game of the status quo of life as we know it.

While more people continue to wake up to the Matrix, plenty more continue to swallow the blue pill. Nothing is wrong. Things will get back to normal. Or, what do you mean "get back?" Things are normal. Socker moms still have their SUVs and non-believers go merrily on their way.

For some, that is true, but the paradigm has begun to shift. It is happening now, as the powers that be position themselves the best they can for planned economic upheaval on a global scale.

In Japanese war strategy, it is said that timing is everything. If you are too early to the party, you may pay the price by telegraphing your move, giving your opponent(s) intel they don't deserve. If you are too late, chances are you're already punished. The idea is to hit the sweet spot sometime in the middle.
 
With that in mind, the timetable for mega-collapse is a question mark until it happens. My hope is that going forward, our family systems of personal self-reliance--chickens, firewood, garden, water catchment, security, etc.--will already be in place the way I want them to be at that time. Hopefully, it will be more of a question of maintaining systems rather than starting new systems of self-sufficiency when the balloon goes up. The idea is not to be in a position to have to start EVERYTHING right now. I wish I could say that is how I've lived these past 5 years or so, but if you know me, you know that it's been more a case of learning the hard lessons first than getting it all right out of the box.

In any event, I think if there has ever been a time to say, "Get your final shit in order because there may not be much time left before we are forced to live with what we have," I think that time is now. I hope that time is, in reality, a long, long way off, but all my best instincts tell me its not.

I could be wrong. But if you are late to this party, you aren't just going to miss the good drinks and the prom queen, you are going to get a punch in the face and then thrown in the Octogon. I am expecting things to suck pretty hard, but I am hoping that I can make it suck less by playing this game on my terms, that is, by opting out of as many systems of dependence as possible as time allows for as long as I can.

The times ahead of us will be a time for daring and discipline, for hard calls and self-sacrifice. For relying on instinct over intel and being forced to do the basics well. In the end we can only do what we can do. The rest is up to God.

The time is always now.

Over and Out,

 --Nick-Dog

This, That and the Other

Well, the new year is well-upon us. We've already celebrated Lee-Jackson Day in the olde Dominion, which means the march towards February draws ever nearer.

NEW EDC BAG

You know, it's kinda crazy. I am almost more excited about bags than my wife these days. I picked up a new EDC bag, an Everest Sling Bag in black, and I'm digging it. In fact, it is roomier and more functional than I had initially believed, and for $22 shipped, it was a deal.

My operator's bag and Bauer bag served their purpose, but were ultimately unwieldy for me. The Bauer bag looked cool and was durable, but lacked form and swung around everywhere when I walked. The pockets were always a concern, since they remained open and if thrown around would lose their contents. The Operator's Bag was spacious and bulky, but ultimately looked like a computer briefcase and was not something I wanted to continue using. Carrying it over the shoulder was a chore usually and it was unhappy to open and close all the time. I stopped wanting to carry it because it seemed to lend itself to gathering junk and the zippers started to break.

Enter the sling bag. Over the shoulder and tight to the body--it comes with an optionally used waste belt to keep it put. It's not too big or too small, but just right, and one could fit a decent amount of gear in this thing fairly simply, including Dave Canterbury's 5 C's. The top flap actually unfolds and reveals a pocket on the bag, perfect for a set of gloves and a bandana or cap to hang out in and be grabbed in a hurry.

Overall, I like the bag and like the way it rides. I hope to do a video review in the future of the pack and its contents, just for the hell of it and because I have the itch. There's aren't a lot of people I know locally who dig gear and Bushcraft, so I guess you could say I need to find other ways to express my enthusiasm.

SURVIVAL VS. BUSHCRAFT

You know, there's a lot of hype on a 72-hour kit, and outdoor survival, EDC and all the rest in the prepping world, so now that I have my thoughts somewhat organized on the matter, I am going to put them
out there for the record.

First, I think the best approach to emergency gear is a tiered approach: 1.) What's on your person; 2.) what's within arm's reach (your EDC bag); 3.) and what's in your pack and other gear that may be available, either in your car or homestead/camp.

A decent EDC bag eliminated the need for a fanny pack approach to carrying stuff. My daily on person EDC now consists of two knives, (a FERO rod shall be ordered shortly, 'cause Bass Pro Shops sucks nuggets--a topic for another post), wallet, phone, and sidearm. Everything else I need for immediate 72-hour survival goes in the sling bag with room to spare.

This negates the need for a traditional "Bug Out Bag" loadout, which I now pproach as my overnight bag with changes of clothes and other items as needed. Frankly, the only place I am generally buggin' out to is my in-laws. Only in the worst possible scenario would I be camping in the woods or elsewhere in an emergency situation, in which case my EDC should be able to get me through.

This isn't to beat a dead horse, but I think the philosophy of carrying a minimal but solid EDC (with an overnight bag in the car if you commute far away) is a good way to go.

Back to the main subtopic.

Re-discovering Bushcraft has opened my eyes to a number of things. The first is that not everyone has to become a Bushcrafter to learn how to survive a 72-hour or minor emergency-type scenario. It helps, but is not necessary. Some basic skills, knowledge, and gear will do the job.

But if you are obsessive, like me, Bushcraft is the next logical step after basic and advanced preparedness. At some point, you are still "a prepper" or "homesteader" but want more primitive skills,
and the Bushcrafting world is where you end up.

OUT ON THE RANGE

After refinancing our property, I am more content to work on being here, where I am at. I have no ambitions to leave our 1.3 acre property anymore, except perhaps to camp or whatever. That said, there's
plenty to do here, like cutting firewood and building a fence, among other things.

How does this relate? Well, I'm starting to see this place as my permanent camp set-up. My house is mix of rural cottage and quasi-cabin. It will retain that blend moving forward, but seeing it as such--instead of just another fixer upper--gives me the motivation to continue what I've started and make the place a more happy and liveable longterm structure.

With that, I am considering doing some video for the hell of it on my latest projects. I spend too much time on the internet

Over and out, Peep(s). God Bless.

--Nick-Dog

A Needs Re-Assessment

So a lot has been happening in my world this past month or so.

First off, we refinanced our house. Somehow this all worked out. My closing costs were reduced, payments diffured, and mortgage lowered. Meanwhile, space was created to handle and take care of other needs.

I've also discovered Dave Canterbury's YouTube videos on Bushcraft. They are enjoyable and informative. Dave is a no-nonsense guy who has lots to teach regarding passing on "the tribal knowledge." All I am going to say, is that I've drunk from the same font of koolaid he has and seek to imitate the wisdom.

Here's the thing. We live in a cushy-ass society that is about to get--and is getting--its ass handed to it in a 1000 different ways. I don't see a drawback in brushing up and improving on my primitive survival skills. Learning how to sew passably, trapping, butchering, and 1000 different ways to start fires are my immediate short term goals for skills I need to add my repetoir.

And it's not that I am waiting for society to break down, which it is already doing, I just feel like living primitively is more real. It's how people have lived for 1000s of years. Not that I dislike my modern plumbing, refrigeration, electrical, and wireless amenities. No. It's not that. It just that providing for yourself, "going back to nature" if you will, is actually very humanizing. While the world continues to push towards "progress," regress sounds even more appealing.

In a recent conversation with my lovely wife, I told her "I almost would not know what to do with 2 million dollars sometimes." (Actually that's not really true, I do know what I'd do with the money--go buy a 4-Door Cummins Diesel, go out to a fabulous dinner, pay off my house and other bills, thank God, bounce off the walls, and then go on a cross country vacation in my new rig w/ camper with my family and visit the Schaps.)

All that said, at the end of the day, a perfect day for me is spent in front of the woodstove/fireplace with family, close friends, and possibly a book. Millions or not. That is why I exist beyond promoting the kingdom of God and such. I don't need more than that and will continue to build my life around this kernel philosophy.

Unless I win 2 million dollars.

Over & Out,

--Nick-Dog

Quick Post

Not much to say at the moment, except that the month of November agrees with me.

Perhaps it's growing up in Chicago, which is gray and chilly 4 months out of the year, but come
November 1, I'm switched on in a different way. Holidays, nostalgia, wood stove, and the rugged outdoors all combine for a perennial seasonal feel.

I dig it.

Over and Out,

--Nick-Dog

Nick's Redneck Paradiso

Well, enlightenment has my come way: Making chairs is going to be my woodworking vocation from here forward. Most likely, for a good long time. Yes, I will do other oddities, but chairs will be the focus. I'll still be working two gigs for now, but on the side of woodworking, I've sort of landed, pretty happily, in the role of a chair-maker.

No one in our shop digs chairs the way I have come to dig them, or so I believe. Perhaps that's because the project I put together before the first most recent set of chairs was a 400-lb. kitchen island of doom. It was beautiful but monstrous, and a ginormous craftsman style bed before that. You
cannot manipulate large projects the way you can smaller ones. You move around them, they do not move around you, and that aspect can be quite time-consuming, tiring, and even irritating.

Enter the set of bar-height chairs I had to build for that island and it was a deep breath of fresh air. Small manipulable parts give way to massive ones. Assembling a chair still takes skill, but your work table is not overwhelmed with a massive project. You can focus on finesse and accuracy as opposed to fastening together a larger, complicated endeavor.

Don't get me wrong, chairs are still complicated enough that they pose their own challenges and variances, depending on style, but because chairs are regularly ordered, efficiency in production naturally becomes more streamlined and the work becomes more meditative and fun, rather than the common feeling of difficult drudgery often associated with the "oh shit, I have chairs" realization experienced by some, or the uncertainty and dread that come with a freshly-conceived custom project (which always results in mistakes, hang-ups, and/or design-issues).

So yah. What makes this more intriguing on my end is that my small shop in the back yard is capable of producing chairs regularly. At present, I can do some of the work there, but the addition of some other tools is required for start-to-finish production: a 4-inch orbital sander, disc grinder, a better (contractor grade) table saw, band saw, and eventually a Festool Domino joiner not to mention a dust collection system.

My mini-barn also requires some re-arrangement as well. New old windows will make their way to the South facing wall, under which will go the hand-tool bench that is half-complete. Next summer, I an outside canopy/overhang on the front of the building will hopefully appear, which will allow me to work outside in the shade. Other ideas include elevated lumber racks in what was the goat area and lining the interior walls with antique pine for a more woodsman feel.

Expanding out the back of the existing shop remains a long-term possibility, but it may not actually be necessary. As it is, I have enough projects to keep me busy.

Over & Out,

--Nick-Dog

A Scatterbrained Look at MMA

I have been reviewing cage fights in my down time of late, mostly UFC-type stuff.

As I have been re-evaluating my martial path, looking at how other warriors train and fight has become of interest. I remember when UFC first started and was only on pay-per-view. I ended up seeing a lot of those fights, and one of my high school classmates, Stephen Bonner, is now a UFC ring fighter.

Anyway, after 20 years of thought and interest in the martial arts 7 years of hard-core training, here are my observations.

MMA is typically great if you want to go fight in a ring and prove you can kick ass against other people who want to prove the same thing. I am not interested in that. I am more interested in a martial way with practical street value.

The biggest asset of MMA training is first conditioning. You become prepared to go round after round, endure punishment and dish it out. Your body becomes weaponized and tough. Technique follows. And after about 6 months of training, you have someone who can at least handle themselves in a brawl, fight, or possibly a mugging.

I am a boring person in that respect and am rarely in brawls or fights. Mostly because I know where not to walk. This is called awareness and it is an integral part of following a martial path. I am not aware if MMA students are taught to practice martial awareness unless they have learned it elsewhere first, but this is the most valuable asset in my martial tool bag. Street awareness and being able to sense the signs of trouble before it comes. This, more than anything, has saved me from having to do battle or from bad things happening to myself and others.

Techniques and martial ability are next. These are what you use when you have no choice or the best option is to duke it out. MMA is good in this regard because the student, particularly the dedicated one, has a large tool bag of techniques. In and out of the ring, basic American boxing and the kicks of Muay Thai are, in my opinion, some very effective means of destruction. Combined with some basic techniques from wrestling and you have a strong, competent fighter.

I speak as a karate-ka and aikido-ka. I love those arts and will always practice them in some respect, but I can say without a doubt that the addition of American boxing and arts outside my core makes my personal skills so much stronger and gives me another answer to a potential problem or situation.

Finally, I would add Judo as a strong path to strengthening fighting ability. Judo is sweet, but needs strikes to make it viable. If one is fortunate to find training in an aiki-jitsu-ish art, such as daito-ryu, that would be the cat's pajamas in my opinion.

Anyway, these are my scatterbrained thoughts on MMA. It's good training as far as it goes. I think the well-rounded fighter needs to steep themselves to some degree in an MMA environment, and also because that that's the martial arts being promulgated in our present day. That's the type of trained fighter your are likely to face. But at some point, one needs to train for living, and that's where I think going back to the traditional (I like the Japanese) arts, where a formalized martial path is evident, has its strength.

Over and Out,

--Nick-Dog

Warrior Strategem#134 Create Your Own Rules

Whoever first said it wasn't a fair fight probably lost.

In war, the idea is to overwhelm your opponent to secure victory. This can be done in a variety of ways, such as by strength, stealth, or trickery. There are numerous strategies for dealing with an adversary, but they all have to be employed in real time. Most enemies don't wait for your to destroy them.

This brings me to a subject that deserves reflection for the warrior and his path: rules.

Rules in battle in this day and age are a romantic ideal by which we would all prefer everyone abide so as to decrease risk to the good guy in a particular conflict. Many of us, myself included, were brought up on the notion that the virtuous knight always overcomes the evil villian or evil dragon. We want to buy into the fantasy that because one is good, he wins.

Ultimately, good does win over evil. We know the end of the story, those of us who are Christians, but the truth is many good people have died to advance the eradication of evil. And it is troublesome.

We don't like this, but it is a fact. Sometimes evil people are better skilled or have better advantages that put our hero at risk. The warrior must face and acknowledge this so that any preconceived notions of wins in a conflict don't get in the way of his actual victory.

All that being said, fighting fair does not exist. There is no such thing. "What about sport? MMA or boxing?" you ask. "Those guys are tough." Yes, they are, but they are bound by the rules of an event, at a predetermined time and day. It's as much a psychological as well as physical display of  combat, and it has its place. But the warrior's individual path should determine if that path is for him, but in reality showing up to an event to play by someone's rules reduces your chance of victory.

To increase your chances of victory, play by your own rules. Strike when least expected, where least expected. Take superior opponents by surprise. This is not cowardice, it is common sense. This is how a smart adversary thinks. He keeps an eye on the shadows, for at times he has been the one who lurks there.

Peace Out,

--Nick-Dog

A Warrior's Reform...

I have studied the arts of personal combat for a very long time. I am fascinated by it, and no matter what I do in life, I am always drawn back to interest in martial arts, the study of war on the small scale, and living the modern samurai way.

There's a plethora of information out there on the martial arts, fighting, and survival. I think it's time I advance my opinions, now that I believe I have earned the right to have one on the subject.

Martial Arts

There is no one martial art that is an answer to all problems and situations. General principles may
carry over from situation to situation, but the my "art is the best" syndrome is the recipe for combat disaster. Your Art is one way, and hopefully a very good one, but there are many schools of battle, all of which have strengths and weaknesses.

Proper Martial Path

My particular belief is that one on this path should find a martial art they like and make that their foundation for studying other arts, if martial arts is something they want to do. At some point, usually after about 3 years maybe, it's good to diversify your portfolio, to go outside of your school and comfort zone and see the world of hand-to-hand from other perspectives.

Here's an example of what I mean. I am a karate-ka from way back. Lot's of punching, kicking, and old-school conditioning. At the higher levels of the art you discover softer techniques give you more weapons in your arsenal. Later study of Aikido, ju-jitsu, Judo, or even Tai Chi, gives you greater insight into what you have already learned, expands your knowledge, and can provide a larger path for training and living.

Rank

I have met Sandans (3rd Degree blackbelts) who inspire fear and others whose ass I can kick, with or without a black belt. Rank is the most dangerous obstacle to being combat ready. Let me repeat that: RANK IS THE MOST DANGEROUS OBSTACLE TO BEING COMBAT READY.

Rank is ultimately meaningless, except as a measure of how long you've been in a school and how much knowledge you are supposed to have in you. It is not a measure of how good a fighter you are. In the old days, before belt rank in karate was given, there used to be a sign-in board that had your name. The senior students who had been there the longest were at the top of the list.

Mind

This whole blog is about proper mindset, so I will try to keep it short. My thoughts about battle might be summed up thus, "It's not the size of the dog in the fight that counts, but the size of the fight in the dog."

The sheer will to win is the most important aspect of training and battle. If this is forgotten in the name of other goals, however noble, you will do yourself a serious disservice. You may still have some effective techniques, but you personally will not be as effective.

The Will to Win cannot be practiced on the couch (unless you are laid up from an injury). The will to win comes from actual physical practice and conditioning with this mindset in your head. If you lose this mindset, you may still be very good, but you will become less of a warrior. Warriors win. That's why you train. To win. Being a good person usually comes as a result of training for lots of reasons, but the whole reason you get out of bed and on the mat is to kick ass, to be a winner in your personal battles, to overcome and win in your interpersonal-battles

Everything else comes second, on an instictual level that is. God and the commandments are first of course, but when it comes to battle, you train to win, and win at nearly any cost. I know there are purists and masters who disagree with my approach, but you learn to fight to protect yourself. You continue to train for other reasons.

How to Train

Conditioning is the most important aspect of training once proper mindset is established. Give me a beginniner who is physically fit who knows a few basics, and he will be much more dangerous than a senior student who can't do a 5 minute jog. The reason is that he has already conquered his mind and his body. He is actually ready for the work of mopping up enemies.

Senior students who emphasize conditioning as a pre-requisite to training--this is a WIN and the way of the warrior. It also hopefully keeps the warrior humble, hopefully, no matter how far he goes in his art, for he knows the body's limits and vulnerabilities.

Especially as you get older, you must condition yourself for battle, to do kick ass techniques in real life, and of course, over and over again on the mat. Without conditioning as the foundation of your training, one cannot expective to be optimally effective in combat. Conditioning is the way of the warrior. Check out the workout over www.akban.org to see what I mean. That is warrior conditioned.

Conclusion

There is much more I can say about the martial way. In my own path, I have found that a return to my foundational mindset and training has given me much-needed perspective. I know how tough I am and hide my weaknesses as much as I can on a daily basis, while improving upon them on my own time behind closed doors, as much as I can.

My weakness is conditioning. My strength is mindset. Somewhere in between are techniques. In every warrior, regardless of path, they all must become one.

Over and Out,

--Nick-Dog

Olde South

Interior of Warren Rifles Confederate
Museum. http://vaudc.org/museum.html

Today, Clare, myself and the crew visited Front Royal's annual Festival of Leaves. After the parade, which was neat but somewhat lackluster, we walked mainstreet strewn with tents and hawkers of all types. Everything from custom wooden bowls to covers for your gutters was on display. Additionally, the local history museum's were open, including the Warren Rifle's Confederate History museum on Chester Street.

Coming from the North, when I first entered Virginia, I had notions of the Civil War that I no longer entertain. I believed that the war was truly about ending slavery and scoffed at the idea that its present day partisans believe it was about states' rights. I remember feeling a bit overwhelmed while in college when I first heard the term, "War of Northern Aggression."

Maybe it's something in my Virginia well, but now it makes sense. Maturity, experience, (aka, seeing policitians for what they are) and deeper analysis, as well as living in the remnants of the olde South, not to mention my grading gig, have caused me to look deeper at the root causes of the American Civil War. My current belief is that the cause to end slavery was used as a political tool halfway through the war to garner support for the Union armies in an unpopular conflict against people fighting for what they considered was their homeland.

Whatever side you come down on, the sons of the Confederacy now command my respect in ways they hadn't previously. Their military leadership was generally impeccable under Lee, who throughout his command achieved and maintained the highest respect of his fighting men, leading them to victory, facing difficult odds, with half the Union resources. Yet to the bitter end, they clung to his command until he formally discharged them from their duties at Appomattox Courthouse on April 12, 1865.

Which brings me to the inspiration of this reflection. In Front Royal's musuem is an Confederate Battle flag, shown above, inscribed with the names of the fighting men who died throughout the campaigns that was flown during the formal surrender at Appomattox. Worn and tattered, you could feel the steely gaze of men in gray who looked to and saluted that flag and sense the intense moment of their surrender. Guant, determined, and tall in defeat, they stared. I believe their sentiments were captured by their great commander, General Lee, in his now famous General Order No. 9:

After four years of arduous service marked by unsurpassed courage and fortitude, the Army of Northern Virginia has been compelled to yield to overwhelming numbers and resources. 

I need not tell the brave survivors of so many hard fought battles, who have remained steadfast to the last, that I have consented to this result from no distrust of them; but feeling that valor and devotion could accomplish nothing that could compensate for the loss that must have attended the continuance of the contest, I determined to avoid the useless sacrifice of those whose past services have endeared them to their countrymen.

By the terms of the agreement, officers and men can return to their homes and remain until exchanged. You will take with you the satisfaction that proceeds from a consciousness of duty faithfully performed; and I earnestly pray that a Merciful God will extend to you His blessings and protection.

With an unceasing admiration of your constancy and devotion to your Country, and a grateful remembrance of your kind and generous consideration for myself, I bid you all an affectionate farewell

If you live in or visit the deep south, the boldness of character and Southern pride, and in some instances, defiance, remain. I like that, though not all celebrate or salute it in these regions. People have their objections. I did too, but now find they ring increasingly hollow in the face of the rising tyranny of the welfare state that lies before us.

Over and Out,

--Nick-Dog

The End of this Month

Supposedly at the end of the month, I will receive an offer to grade full-time at the office.

I have mixed feelings about this. First, it's the right thing. Steady, stable, benefits. Some
financial breathing room, hopefully, and all that good stuff. I enjoy the work, but it is all mental.
For the past 5 years I have been on the move, using my brain to solve physical and political
problems. It's difficult some days to sit still.

For the past 3 months I've juggled two jobs and catching up with all the stuff at home, while
trying to improve the place. It's been a God-send in some ways, as it's allowed me to catch up on things I've felt undone or needing to be accomplished, such as selling the Jeep or taking care of
home projects.

Nonetheless, it has been hectic, as in hectic-crazy. Staying up until 2 in the morning working on many nights bodes for a hard early day. You get the drift. I've been juggling two gigs. Customp rojects at the woodshop, while awesome, are unpredictable in terms of time. Heading on over to
a full-time gig at Seton will likely lead to a stable lifestyle. I can still woodwork, but I can do that
as necessary and not feel like I am working two full-time jobs.

Or so I hope. Ultimately, my future is in God's hands. I will miss woodworking quasi-full-time if things play out the way I think they will, but at least I can call in sick and not worry about paying the
bills as much.

We'll see what happens. I am knee deep in making chairs right now and they are awesome and
fun to make. I have stated today my desire to become the chair guy and make chairs like a bonified BAMF. Most of the work would be ideally suited for my shop in the making at home, but alas,
all that remains to be seen.

God Bless,

--Nick-Dog

Thoughts on Craftsmanship

Hey there.

Just a few thoughts that have been spinning in my head that I thought I should write down for the sake of writing.

Woodworking is a creative outlet that I get paid for. Sometimes its a good deal and sometimes not the best deal, but overall its fairly rewarding.

To stay inspired, I hit the woodworking blogs to see what other people are up to and look at the pictures.

All cool stuff, but like many things, a lot of woodworkers spend more time on the internet reading about woodworking than actually getting out and doing it.

Granted, tools are expensive and not always available and wood, even the expensive stuff, can be hard to come by. So the net can be a fix for those short on cash or supplies or just looking for inspiration, but at the end of the day, you just have to get out and do it and see where the rubber meets the road.

Just do it.

Most of what we do at the woodshop is off plan, meaning that with the exception of a few general parameters/measurements, we just build it. It's not the best way to do work, but somehow this works.
I've done simple drawings and stuff for customers and worked from those, but when I look at professional drawings, even for some stuff as simple as a workbench, I get confused. But then I look at the picture and I am all better.

Anyway, some people do a couple projects a year and end up with a disappointment at the end of their journey when the look at their work, even with tight "fine" joinery and nice materials. My joinery is pretty basic, a level or two above monkey work and yet a piece can come out looking amazing.

What I am trying to distill here is that its not about the joinery for me, which it is for some who call themselves fine woodworkers. It is about the wood.

I got into woodworking because I love the wood. I love to be surrounded by it. I love to burn it. And I love to work it. What I attempt to do every time I got into the shop has nothing to do with joinery. It has everything to do with celebrating the wood and producing something that looks awesome and will be awesome for someone. The fact that most of it is glued and screwed with the domino joinery from Festool for the most part, well, it is what it is. The wood is still beautiful, the piece is still functional, and it's all built like a brick shithouse.

Though it smells much better.

This concept was confirmed for me earlier this week when Clare and I visited a new cabin-like general store near Crabtree Falls in Virginia. In exploring their cabin, I looked at all the joinery, the wood, the finish, everything. It was beautiful rough-sawn pine and poplar from the mill nailed to the walls and ceiling. Simple. Gorgeous.  Righteous.

It was nothing fancy or complicated in terms of high art, but the whole place was pretty damn beautiful.

So I will close with this thought. Being a purist doesn't always add up. Sometimes you go with what works, what's comfortable, and what, at the end of the day, kicks ass.

God Bless.

--Nick-Dog

Dog Walk Gone Awry...

Tonite I had an experience I do not want to repeat.

My new found four-legged friend and I took our nightly walk down to the fields near the small car dealership at the beginning of our road. There is a very large mowed field next to do the dealer that is perfect for staring at the sky or horizon. This evening the moon was out and shining bright.

We had just returned from our trip, so in justice to the dog who stayed behind, I took him on his normal jaunt after our initial return.

After staring at the moon a bit, it was time to turn around and make our way back. Ollie (that is our dog's name) however, gave me a look that said he wanted to go farther and so started trying to play with me. Harder than I'd like. When I met his resistance and tried to get him to stop in ways that had work before. He chose not to listen and baited me to challenge him more.

At this point, I felt my authority as master being challenged. There was a change in the air with him, one that I had not seen before. I was damn near about ready to release his leash and put a bullet in him. Thank God I had my gun. I basically always carry now. He is a huge dog and the little voice inside my head was starting to tell me to be afraid.

So before going that route, I tried the one thing I know that works on both animals and humans to regain control of the situation. I ignored him. This put him off me and he was instantly at attention and began walking like a normal dog again.

But the air had changed. He had openly challenged my authority, using violence as a possible way to get attention and possibly the upper hand. I know he is a dog. I have had dogs all my life, but none ever made me question my safety with them. This one did and now he will have a short trip to the pound.

The truth is, I had a dream several days ago in which there were 2 Ollies. And in one, I pulled my gun and put a bullet in him. This made me sad, and when I woke up, I shook it off, believing it be nothing.

But it wasn't. I was being warned that something was afoot. Sometimes God sends or allows a signal to be sent to us to prepare us for the road ahead. Thankfully, this isn't the first time I've been given a "heads up" on an issue. I just didn't want to see a problem here. But now I certainly do.

Among others, that lessons that stand out to me from this experience are carry a gun for your own personal protection and have multiple options, if possible, for dealing with any conflict. It makes me sick that I nearly had to shoot my own damn dog. And make no mistake, I would have unloaded the clip in him. It's just not something I would have ever wanted to do.

God Bless,

--Nick-Dog

Some Summer Highlights...

Home Projects

Well, as you know, I've figured out the master plan, as it were, to getting this place ship shape.

My commitment is to spend an hour or two each day tacking the things that need to be tackled around here. If you were to walk my house you would see that I am living in a half-finished construction zone, or something like that.

The first order of business has been to wrap up a bench project for the house. Kieran is obsessed with moving chairs and leaning on them, so we have been trying to get a bench put in the house for a while now.

The good news is that the bench is basically done. The first coat of finish is on as well as some oil. Today, I will resand as necessary and do what is hopefully the final oil finish. And then it comes home.

I had taken pictures of my weapons, but somehow they have escaped being uploaded. Those are still to come.

Finally, I've ordered the CZ P-07 Duty, as some (ok one or two) of you know. The idea is that this will be my new carry weapon, as it is a slim profile, light and concealable weapon with a double-stacked 9mm.

I picked it up at Gander Mountain some time ago and it just clicked with me. Most weapons usually do. Imagine that. Anyway, I found a good deal on Gunbroker.com and am just waiting the FFL. I look forward to taking it out to the backyard. Yes, for moderate practice, I've just sorta said screw the neighbors' misgivings. I will just go out back and shoot.

While I have strayed from discussing the subject of economic apocalypse for some time, I am of the firm belief that essentials should be in order by the election. I am hoping for an unexciting fall where the President becomes a one-termer and that's it, but I am not counting on it. When things go to shit economy wise, it's usually in the fall for some reason. Add to that the election and you have a major ingredient for mayhem.

So yah, shit here is good. Can't complain. Gotta get outside and cut up my firewood, clear the garden for fall crops, and build a dog run. Plenty to do.

Over and Out,

--Nick-Dog

Figured it Out...Finally...

Four more than 4 years, I have scratched my head every which way to figure out just what to do with our house.

During that time, there have been many moments of despair interlaced with my perpetual optimism and general belief that one day "I would figure this out."

I have been flummoxed since the first round of dust settled on how to go about making this place a home that fits our lifestyle. It's been really very difficult, and we began turning the corner on that score more than a year ago when the floors were refinished and a new barnwood table entered our kitchen.

Still, the wanderlust and belief that the grass is always or at least possibly greener on the other side nagged at me. It seemed a voice would whisper sweet nothings into my ear while driving the countryside, perpetually asking, "Would this be the perfect spot to move?"

Finally, I got tired of this and my response has simply become "just shut the hell up, ok?"

Even though I've been met with silence now, the feeling still persisted that life is crazy and something needed to be done about it. I went on a drive to a place I had never been, checking on cheap land, prayed to St. Joseph, drank a Coke and thought about my situation. Something's got to give. My family is going nuts in that small house.

And then, sitting in my kitchen, leaning up against my table, it all came to me in a moment.
The wall. It's gotta go.

My house is actually a series of additions cobbled together, ending up, basically, in the shape of a U. This is bad feng shui. All the rooms feel too small and disconnected, and my hallway, which is long and dark, is essentially dead space. The heat from the wood stove in the winters has a hard time flowing to the rest of the home because of it. The only solution, really, is to remove the wall.
So here's the plan in a nutshell:
Take out the (load bearing wall). Add in a new oak beam (8x8) mounted and braced
on two 8x8 posts. Add built-in hutches on the opposite hallway wall to handle storage,
build a new base cabinet for a recently acquired farm sink and dish washer. Replace
the existing work table (peninsula) with a larger and more functional island.

I am really eager to make this happen. I have a few other items to finish first, but once they are done,
it's gangbusters.

When I am finished, you are all invited over for tea.
Peace-Out homies.

--Nick-Dog

On Evil

As news reports broke on Friday about the mass shooting in Aurora, I had several reactions all at once:

At first, why? Why did this dipwad have to go ruining the lives of myriads of people he never met? What motivated him to do this? We will find out more details in the coming days and weeks, and I don't believe it was because he was insane. It was because he was evil.
The second, a general "day-um" and then a prayer for the families who recieved some inevitably bad news that their loved one had died or had been shot in the rampage.
The third, the realization that no one fired back, and in some ways, that's what bothers me the most.

People, what the f has happened to us? We are being conditioned to be sheep, to accept violence done upon us with no answerable recourse other than to call 9-1-1.

F that. I took the time to read through some of the victim's profiles. Some of them died as heroes, taking bullets for loved ones or those they were with and felt a responsibility for. I am sure each of the these dead, would have preferred the option to return fire and answer violence with more violence. When I think of this incident and others, I wish some law abinding citizens were armed and could have returned fire, dropped the mutha-Fbomb, saved lives, and have been done with it. That would be a better story.
Instead, I get to see pictures of a Glock, Carbine, and Remington 870 broadcast all over the news media as if that was the problem, as if I should be horrified. No, f-bomb media, these are things law-abiding citizens who care about their lives, their loved ones, and their country should have in their house or on their person, not be worried about. No, the problem was that this neuro-science Ph D. wannabe knucklehead dipwad maniac did not self-diagnose and go straight to the nearest asylum. Instead of checking himself in, he chose to check out and take down as many people with him as possible.

I am disgusted at how this story is being played and the unspoken (and sometimes spoken, I'm sure) theme is that we as citizens are to accept violence done upon us by evil people with no recourse for our own protection. That people with guns did this. It was the guns man, the guns. It's part of the gradual sheep-i-fication of the society the Left desires.

This was supposed to be a gun-free zone. That did not work out so well, did it?

I also want to point out something else that is ironic in this situation. All these people showed up to see a movie that depicts a hero delivering justice to any and all douchebags on the big screen. Ostensibly, because everyone loves Batman, and with good reason. We empathize with the hero. And we should, but when it comes to real life, to protecting ourselves and our loved ones, so many among us take for granted our personal safety, it's actually kind of appalling.

Oh sure, we can play games and go see movies and pretend happily that we are hero ass-kickers, but when it comes to actually living out one's role as protector of the family, of one's environment, and broadly of the civil society, that, that my friends, is largely not taken seriously. It is ridiculed and then discarded and dismissed as fear-mongering until the next incident comes along.

How many more of these active shooter wannabe douchebags are out there? If the answer is one, it's too many, and I know it's more than that. How do I know that? Simple. I know evil.

Evil does not rest. It will not leave all that is well and good alone. Evil seeks to disrupt, to destroy. You could be a happy, peacefull hippie moefoe, but evil will still squash you and laugh at your demise if it has the chance.

As I study 20th century and prior history, it is more and more apparent to me that evil can never leave anything alone. It is always on the march in some form or another. The only thing that can stop it is good men who are willing to pay the price of enduring and delivering violence to stop it, possibly at the cost of their own lives.

I know a lot of people believe in peace and finding the peaceful path and way to deal with those evil and violence. Those are lofty ideals and should be pursued, but at the end of the day, sometimes it just comes down to brass tacks and brutality to overcome unwanted aggression.

Most people don't like to consider that violence can ever happen to them. It's an uncomfortable thought. My only consolation on the matter is that an armed society is ultimately a polite society, and that we can still choose to be armed and protect ourselves. But it is up to us to create that mentality and urge others to do the same.

God Bless,

--Nick-Dog

Weaponry

Pics to come, very soon.

Clare and I visited the Smokey Mountains last week and it was quite an adventure, and nearly a continuation of our previous visit to the region last year after Labor Day.

At any rate, we stopped at Smokey Mountain Knife Works on a lark, as we had to change Kieran and I needed to use the restroom. So what better place to do that then a large knife store?

The store was all kinds of awesome, with blades of every kind on all three levels. I could have spent half my day playing with stuff there, but in the 30-40 minutes I had, I came out with a short fixed blade from Bear & Sons that happened to be on sale. It was a good purchase to be sure, but the scabbard did not hold up to hard use. Withing 24 hours I had punctured a hole in it, rendering on-person carry unsafe and undesireable. I will likely purchase another sheath for it and see what happens, but to be honest, carrying a fixed blade on one's side is a bit bulky and uncomfortable. The Glock carried inside the waistband
is much better.

The quality of the knife is better than a China or Pakistan blade in the same range (~$30). I scoured the knife cases for an USA Made blade in this range, and the only thing I came up with was Bear and Sons. Other than the sheath, I am happy with the product.

Our drive through the Smokey Mountains and throughout the area was hella impressive. The Smokeys have something of the feel of legend to them. The main, twisty two-lane roads through the park were pretty much packed, but it was also good to see locals chilling out at the swimming holes and creeks in the park.

In the past I have asked myself when I go to a place if I could or should live there. I have tended to be on the hunt for the perfect spot, but on this trip not so much. My new opinion about things is that no matter where you live, there is a trade off. You can be here, but not there. Visiting places is fun, but starting from scratch somewhere else is not. One also loses any time invested in a previous location when they pick up and move somewhere else, even if it's across town, though that surely is not as radical as across country.

Some people have no choice but to move. Despite my frustrations with my house and the hillbilly code with which it was built, I am content where I am at. My neighbors are generally low-key rugged individualist mountain folk, heavily armed, and overall, good folk. Trying to find another community like that and starting from scratch now makes no sense to me. So unless God kicks me out of here, I guess I'll be in the Olde Dominion for a good long time.

Anyway, I've digressed. The topic of place is one that I like to ponder, so there you have it.

The other new purchase is a new-to-me shot-once-by-the-previous-owner Mossberg 500 8-Shot, set up
to kick ass and take names by the boatload. I ran this gun today and, with the recoil-reducing Knoxx stock, I pretty much made my decision this morning that if I have to walk to the end of the world, this is the gun I'm reaching for. Hands down.

Not that I'm leaving anytime soon, of course, but you get the drift. Smooth. Powerful. Boo-yah!

Pics to come for all you weapon loving fiends.

Over & Out,

--Nick-Dog

Observations on Freedom

Well ok, it's been two weeks since I made the switch from commuting 126 miles each day and being responsible for a massive facility, including a church and school, to working from home or very close to it, grading history and woodworking.  It's time for a report.

One of the first of two things I noticed after I stopped commuting was my spike in energy levels. Even though my drive was not that bad, it was slowly destroying me. My attitude, energy level, optimism, and level of stress changed almost instantaneously. I now have an abundance of energy, don't have to deal with the dipwads on the road, and I can actually slow down on some days and smell the roses--or in my case, the wood chips--around me.

Furthermore, I don't feel like life is passing me by, that I am missing out. I don't feel as if I have to entertain myself on the internet. I don't find myself dreaming about what life would be like living in a cabin in West Va. or Montana or wherever anymore. I find myself making my present situation better and being as real as I can be regarding my present circumstances and taking on tasks that actually need to be done.

The second major thing I noticed was that I have, at long last, regained some measure of patience with those around me. What would set me off on an epic rant, at least in my head, laced with a colorful MF-laden series of epithets, now seems like a very small matter. Because of this, I am a better father and person. I still think people are bullshit when appropriate--while recognizing my own--but it concerns me much less. They can go screw, whoever they are, and I will stay home and grade papers and smile at my AR-15 when I need a pick me up, and then go down to my personal woodshop while imagining it to be larger, grander, and more well-appointed with tools than Vahalla.

Yes, I will do all these things. Repeatedly. And not give a damn about they guy next door or wherever. None of that shit really matters now.

In a word, my shackles have been broken. I have my freedom, my liberty. In our day and age we piss away our liberty and freedom so casually, in part because 99% of the jackasses around us are doing the same thing. What our Founding Fathers fought and pledged their sacred honor for, we freely fritter away.  Yet time is our most valuable commodity. How we use it, or fill it, will determine the core result of our lives on a day to day basis.

For 5 fast years I enjoyed serving the Church, doing my job, and being the Johnny-except-my-name-is-Nick-on-the-spot savior for the entire complex. It became routine to solve everyone's problems.

People often called me for the most bullshit things, however. And so for the past two years I steadily disappeared into the background, moved my office to the mechanical room, and tried not to answer the phone. Nevertheless, I found that my new boss was also finding creative ways for me to run around in circles, re-invent the wheel, and carry his water.

While this was still relatively light duty in some ways, I found myself carrying more stress than I really wanted and began evaluating my future: do I blink again and watch another 5 years of my life go by, commuting 2.5 hours a day, or do I make a radical change for the sake of my family.
I chose the latter course, and now see very clearly that the Lord has set His people free.

I am rambling now, but my point is that the taste of freedom is ultra-sweet. Whatever freedom means to you, it's goodness cannot be underestimated. We give that up if we are not careful when we enter the work force. We give that up when we don't make doing what we love or believe in a real priority. We give that up when we chose to become a slave.

I understand that the world still needs janitors. In fact, I performed those duties as needed for 5 years. To those who wondered, I was a maintenance director, not a MF janitor. I don't have a problem with janitors. Some are geniuses, though most are not. It simply displeased me when the haughty felt sorry for me, you know, because sitting in an office, under a blinding flourescent light, staring at a bluish screen for 8 hours is sublime and uplifting.

Save your sympathy, jerkfaces.

Anyway, I've digressed.

While I may be in what still might be considered the honeymoon period, I do a lot more work and find that having both intellectual and creative physical work in my day is both challenging and satisfying for my personality. I don't mind editing American History tests and commenting on them, even when I am tired.

I simply enjoy kicking ass. So I think that's what I'll continue to do.

Godspeed,

--Nick-Dog

Do or Die

Sink or swim. Dominate or be defeated.

The Tuesday after Easter, I gave 3 weeks notice that I would be leaving work to pursue woodworking and grading as my full-time occupations.

I have been chomping at the bit to make the switch for some time. My boss, for the next week or so, is a nice guy, but he is also somewhat maddening to work for. The kinda person who schedules you to meet endlessly with new groups of people, to rehash and come to the conclusions you have already reached time and again. In addition to all my other responsibilities this new one of being accountable for others' recommendations and decisions, and then pretend to be happy about it, was probably the last thing I could endure.

I know I could have kept along to get along, but the door I had been waiting for finally opened. I got a phone call the Weds. before Easter, letting me know that there was an American History grading position open in Front Royal if I wanted it, one in which I could work from home. Are you kidding? The clouds had parted and a light from Heaven beamed upon me. F-yea..., I mean, Yes!

By Easter Monday, I had a solid part-time to possibly full-time gig, alongside my work at the wood shop. When I got the phone call I felt so much peace, I knew it was the right thing, and now I am finished with training for grading and prepping to go balls-to-the-wall on both fronts.  No more commuting for over an hour each way. No more worrying about D.C. blowing up while at work. No more bullshit, for the most part, unless it is self-induced.

I can deal with that.

The main consequences of my decision are peace, freedom, joy, energy, and hope. I have more energy and excitement than I have experienced in a long, long time. The security of a stable 9-5 ain't nothing, but there comes a time when you grow out of a position, where you know you need to make a move or risk becoming a mindless drone, living in a tolerable and comfortable rut.

Ruts and comfort, though, have never been my cup of tea.

For the first time since I exited college, I will be using my degree to obtain a living. I will continue as well to follow the path of woodworking. I can also now see a way forward to building a much-need addition to our house and finish the zillions of half-finished projects I have left for myself.

Raising my cup of tea to all those who read my blog. Pray for me that I may succeed, and I will in turn pray for you that you will never cease to kick ass in your life.

Over and Out,

--Nick-Dog