Reloading Obsession

  The redhead asked me when I was going to be finished loading ammo.  Ha!  The answer is: Never.  Hard to stop when this scratches my obsessive itch so well.  You sort, clean, size, trim, load.  Many steps in a certain order.  I just pile my shoes in one area, don't lay out my socks, iron my jeans or count my staples but when you need twelve more LC 04s to make a box of 100 it's like playing Go Fish.

  Lotta ammo on the table.  Need more.  Got any WCC 05s?

  The Kid came home last night from his first overnight visit to his dad in four years or so.  He borrowed a rifle from me and shot a coyote and a 450 lb hog.  As revenge his dad sent the coyote hide and most of the pig meat home with him.  Divorce is an ugly thing.  God only knows what lice, ticks, fleas and vermin a December hide has on it and pig meat?  He called me looking for a freezer for a hind leg.  I passed.

  At the coffee shop we saw Trish the Dish.  She gave me the bit of shocking news that a mutual friend- Joanna Jones, had been shot to death by her boyfriend at her job.  Jones was a pixie-like Englishwoman, mother to a 10 year old girl and a delightful person.  And it's not just the accent and laughing at my jokes- she really WAS a wonderful person with disastrous taste in men.  She'd been in my studio as a stylist for several photoshoots.  Her boyfriend, Michael Scott Hudnall, killed her and then botched killing himself, shooting off his jaw instead.  I wonder who he thought he was killing when he shot my friend?