Gunfighter: A Modern Warrior's Life

Tattoo Story (2)

How can it be Sunday, already???

The last thing I remember, I was getting a new tattoo on Thursday evening.

Where was I ?

Oh, I remember, it was Thursday night... date night for me and Mrs Gunfighter.  SoccerGirl was at summer camp, riding horses and so forth with the Girl Scouts in the hills of central Vriginia.  Since SoccerGirl was out of the picture (we really missed her... you know we did!), I had planned to get my new tattoo from the aforementioned primo custom tattoo artist, Paul Roe, of British ink.

Well, let me tell you... when Gunfighter does date night, he does it right, full stop.

Here's how it went down:  After teaching all day (and I could tell you what a pain in the ass last week was... but I'll spare you), I left work a wee bit late, but in plenty of time to pick up the Mrs.  We immediately headed to the Washington National Cathedral, because we hadn't been there together in months and months.  We spent a lovely little time chatting as we drove to the Cathedral, and after parking the the brand-spankin'-new underground parking lot, we went to the Cathedral gift shop which always has some great books, CD's and other treasures. 

Both of us spent a bit of money there, with me buying a new book on living life according to the Benedictine rule, which is awesome, and Mrs GF bought some books on Christian art (correct me if I am wrong, here, but I thought there was some art, and you know that I know nothing about art).

Anyway, we left the Cathedral and proceeded back to the Washington Navy Yard area, where the ARTOMATIC festival was being held.  We got there in short order, having driven through some areas of the city that we used to enjoy when we were in our youth (seeing some of those people made me feel positively ancient!).

We felt a little nostalgic passing by the old news agent on Connecticut avenue, and the area where Rumors lounge, and The Sign of The Whale were/are.  Does anyone here remember the Mad Hatter?  Dude, I used to rule those places in the late 80's!

Ahem (ask me the stories later!).

So, we arrived at the festival, and parked a block away, near Nationals Park.  Securing a parking space, we walked to the ATM so I could score some cash to pay Paul, and while we were getting said cash, a woman walked past us, wearing what would have been a long t-shirt, if she had been eight years old.  As it was, she couldn't honestly be considered dressesd, what with her backside hanging out and her rather ample boobs exploding out of a bra that was clearly two sizes too small.  Mrs GF, can I get a witness?  Holla!

Anyway, we got to the festival about 30 minutes before my scheduled appointment with Paul, and had the chance to browse through the exhibits on the second and third floors.  We saw some of the performance artists setting up, and one young woman who was clearly there with her parents, was setting up her cd's for sale... she looked like a nice enough sort, so I bought her cd right there and then..... hey you have to support your local artists, right?  So, here is a free plug for Margot MacDonald, of Fairfax County, Virginia.  Her latest CD is called Walls.  While a couple of the songs on the cd are covers, most were penned by young Margot herself.  Give here a fair listen... I think that you will like her music.

After buying Margot's CD, we saw some really interesting art... as well as some things that I could have done without.  I'm not a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but some of that stuff was downright out of hand!

No need to catalog the weirdness, but I will say this:  To the "Guns Into Art" guy:  Good on you, my friend, but you'll probably never see the artistry that goes into a long-range headshot in a crosswind with unenhanced sights.  'Tis a thing of graceful beauty, indeed.  Violence isn't always evil or morally wrong.

So, eventually it was time.  Time to go visit Paul nad get my next piece of...  art?  Art, for sure, if you are an artist like Paul.  Art, if you are an artsy type of person.  For me... not so much.

If you know me at all, you know that my tattoos have stories behind them.  You know that all of them means things that are deeply held and important to me in the depths of my soul. This tattoo was to be no different.  I told you a couple of months ago, the sketchy basic design for this piece, so you already know most of what it was going to look like.

Paul greeted us warmly, and invited us into his shop away from his regular studio.  When we got there, we were greeted not only by paul, but also by his lovely wife, his son, as well as Leah, his new apprentice.   British Ink is a family affair, my friends... believe it.

So, we got down to business right away, and Paul cleaned and shaved my forearm, and immediately be began my stencil.  If you have never been tatooed before, please understand that this isn't just some crap that the artist dedcided to scrawl on your arm.  This is serious stuff, and since you will likely carry this to your grave, you had better make sure about what you are looking to get!

So, the stencil being done, it was time to get my outline done.  The outline took practically no time at all, while Mrs GF whiled away that time snapping pictures. 

I spent a little time getting to know Leah, since she had become part of the British Ink family, it only made good sense.  I won't go into Leah's professional life without her permission, but she is an educator who works with multiple media, which should serve her well in the world of custom tattoo artists.

Now, with the outline done, it is time for the shading and coloring... which is always the least comfortable part of a tattoo... at least for me.

In a fairly short amount of time, Paul was finished.  I have to tell you, this tattoo was the most pain-free (relatively) of any of the four that I have.

You might notice that we departed from the black and grey that we usually do, and opted for  a little red shading to make that image pop out at you just a little bit.

The picture that you see here was taken as soon as the tatoo was done.  It still looks a little angry, but since then, it has begun to heal quite well.  I will attempt to post a picture of the finished product in a few days.

I've said it before, friends.  If you want good custom tattoo work done, here in the Washington, DC are, go see Paul.  I promise you that you will go home happy.

Mrs Gunfighter and I plan to interview Paul at his studio later in the week, so please, when that happens, give it a read and pass it on to your friends.

OK, it's 1230 and I have to be awake in less that 4 hours... I have to go to sleep.

Good night all.

Happy Anniversary!

Dear Susan,

Can you believe it?  Fifteen years....  Fifteen years of beating the odds.  Fifteen years of fun.  Fifteen years of making a pretty cool home with lots of books (Yay!). 

Fifteen years of pissing off your mother!  Bwaaahahahahahaha!

Fifteen years of community activism; political activity; joy; good food; interesting conversations; shared experiences, and love.

I'm glad you still like me... um, you do... don't you?

Just checking.

Happy Anniversary, baby!

Fatherhood Friday: When Your Child Is Away

Time for me to man-up for a minute.  I have to make a confession... and since I am not a practitioner of the Roman faith, I'm not going to have to go to the local priest to do it.  I'll just do it right here.  My confession is simply this:  I often wish that I could have some child-free time.  There... I said it.

Have any of you ever felt that way?  Probably.  You have probably wished for a few hours of quiet time in which to do nothing, or have some respite from constant chatter, or some quiet (or maybe not-so-quiet) time with your spouse.  Well, even if you haven't... I have, and child-free time is what we had in spades this week.

Soccer Girl is at summer Camp!

Yup. Two weeks with the Girls Scouts, in the Virginia hills... riding horses, canoeing, rafting, campfires, singalongs... the whole shootin' match!  I'm sure that she is having a good time, but I have to say that I miss the little so-and-so something terribly.  I am really looking forward to Saturday, when Mrs GF and I drive off in the early morning hours to pick her up.... no, she isn't coming home yet, but even the two week campers have to go away on saturday morning.  This gives the camp staff a short break, and lets them get the camp ready for the next week of camp which starts on Sunday afternoon.

So, my family will once again be intact... at least for about 24 hours.

See you tomorrow, baby.

PS:  I know that I promised you all a post about my new ink, but it will have to wait until Sunday evening... I'm doing laundry as we speak.

****NOTE**** This post is brought to you by... well... me, but in conjunction with the great folks at The Dad Blogs.  When you have a minute, come on by and see what my brother fathers are talking about this week.

New Ink Tonight!

I've been patient.

I've been selective.

I've waited.

I'm not waiting anymore.

I'm getting a new tattoo tonight.

Not only am I getting a new tattoo, I'm getting inked (again) by primo custom tattoo artist Paul Roe, of  British Ink! 

Now, as if getting a new tattoo by Paul (who really is a cool guy) wasn't enough, I will be getting this new tattoo at ARTOMATIC , Washington, DC's annual, month-long, art festival... and Mrs GF is coming with me!

Talk about date night!?!

Awwwwww yeah!

Expect photos (and even video) of the event soon!

O Canada!

It's July first, my firends... and you know what that means, right?:  It's Canada Day!

That day, just three days before my own national holiday (and wedding anniversary) when our friends to the north celebrate their own national day!

Canada Day has a special place in my own gunfighting heart, not because of People like Celine Dion or Jim CCarey (both of whom I plan to execute when I am King), but because of my Canadian Friends.  People like Lloyd, Kathleen, Claudia, Kenny, Joey, The Old Cranky Bastard, Katie, Catherine, Tanis, Cori, Mick, Zanne, Cheryl, and so many unnamed others, have been on-line pals of mine, in some cases, for as many as 10 years.

I have other reasons to be celebratory on Canada Day, you know.  I love Canada for it's grace, it's natural beauty, and great people like William Shatner, Neve Campbell, and Sarah MacLachlan (hey, don't hate!).  I love Canada because of Slancha M'hath and "Congress".  I love Canada because of their colourful money.  I love Canada because... well, because Canada is cool, and I'm not just talking about the temperature.

I love Canada because of Vancouver, BC.  I love Canada, despite that evil cow, Prunelle, in Montreal.  I love Canada, for many reasons, but this one most of all:  I can sing their national anthem without straining my not-very-gifted-in-range voice.

Happy Canada Day, my friends!

 

Michael Jackson: Dead

A lot of the people that I know of that read my blog with any regularity are in the same, or are at least close to the same, age demographic as me.  I'm 45 years old and vividly remember songs like "I Want You Back", "Stop, The Love You Save",  "I'll Be There" and others, that were made famous early in the career of Michael Jackson, while he was singing with his brothers in The Jackson 5.

Michael Jackson has traveled a long way from the early days at Motown, and a long way from his most famous solo albums "Bad", Thiller", and others, which garnered him incredible numbers of Grammy awards as well as other accolades.

Michael Jackson was a musical genius.  No one who has a shred of honesty within him/her can deny this.  Michael Jackson will (and should) be remembered as one of the most influential artists of the twentieth century.  There can be no doubt about this.

Right about this time, some of you are going to talk about his problems.  The accusations against him... his arrests, his surgeries, his wives, etc.... etc...  I'm hearing none of it today.

Whatever Michael Jackson's frailties, failures, alleged crimes, etc... The world... most of it, anyway, mourns the loss of this important figure. 

Call him a freak tomorrow, ok?

WTF Wednesday: What Kind of Man Does This?

I know that I mentioned this last year, but I hope you won't mind if I talk about it again.   I'm talking about that crisis of men who don't get it (MWDGI).  Men Who Don't Get It are guys like the two particular examples that I saw yesterday at the Magic Kingdom.  Mrs gunfighter and SoccerGirl decided that the first thing they anted to do at the Magic Kingdom was to ride the train that circumnavigates the park, all the way from the entrance, around the park and back to the entrance.  Fun, right?  Sure... why not, it's vacation, eh?

So, there I was, in Mickey Mouse ears, and my really boss Wiley X sunglasses, getting on the train... when I saw a woman struggling to get her child's stroller on the train.  Well, whats a Man to do?  I put the (heavy a**) stroller on the train for her, for which she was grateful.  Hey, I don't mind, it's not that big a deal, ok?  Well, at least, I didn't mind until I noticed that the man smiling at me sheepishly wasn't some guy who thought I was hawt, it was this lady's HUSBAND!  The father of the child whose stroller I just put on the train!

Dude.  What's that all about?  Why weren't you doing that for your wife and kid?  You don't get it, and when I am King, guys like you are going into the penal battalions.  That is, after you are neutered.

The next example comes from the area over near Splash Mountain.  Now, I don't do flume rides, but this one is a particular favorite of Mrs Gunfighter and SoccerGirl.  They decided to brave the long line (or line-up for you Canucks) while I waited and fiddled with my Blackberry, trying to make it do more cool stuff.  I was waiting near the entrance/exit for the ride, in a place that is on a bit of an incline (there is a bridge there), which is a great place to watch people.  While I waited, watched, and fiddled, I saw a woman, a pretty little thing, pushing this huge tandem stroller (two kids included), up the incline.  She was really leaning into it, and huffing and puffing as she did so... all while her husband walked along-side, with nothing in his mitts.

Now, I realize that I only saw what I saw, and that what I saw may not have given me the whole story in both of these incidents, but from where I sat, I saw what I saw and I didn't like it.

Men:  We can't be good and decent men while the ladies in our lives (or ladies who are strangers) struggle to things that we should be helping with.

Ladies:  Don't get mad at me for suggesting you need help.  I know that you are strong, but a man should at least OFFER to help when you are struggling.

In a few minutes, we are heading for Disney Studios... and if I see any more guys like you, there might be... problems.

Soccer, Travel, Random Thoughts, Music, Father's Day

Item:  Right.  It's Father's Day.  Happy Father's Day, Dad... sorry my call caught you just as you left church.  Anyway, I'm glad that you heard from everyone by 1 P.M.  I hope everyone reading this got to talk to their dad's today.  If your dad is still living, and you haven't spoken to him yet... hurry!  You still have time.  It'll make his day.

Item:  This weekend was the Annual Father's Day soccer tournament that is put on by the Police Youth Club of one our local counties.  I was told that this tournament attracted nearly 450 teams this year.  In Soccer Girl's division (U-10), hers was the only team to go undefeated!  Oh, hell yeah!  I'm so proud.

Sorry I had to miss today's games, baby... but I was driving to Florida... which you and mommy are flying to as I type this from across the street from SeaWorld (woo hoo!).  Anyway, I am proud of you and the goal you scored yesterday, and the assist you made today.  Better still, I loved getting to talk to you at various times during my long drive (12 hours from Woodbridge,Va to Orange County, Florida, baby!).  I'll see you in just a couple of hours.

Item:  I realize that I shouldn't do this, but I have to confess that my drive to Florida was made much more pleasant by the electronics that accompanied me.  I had my Ipod, my Peek, and my Blackberry.  'Twas a well-connected ride.

Item:  I got involved in some dangerous thinking for Father's Day.  I did.  It involved music... yeah, I know, things get a little strange when GF starts thinking music, but hey, what can I say?  Anyway, I was thinking about one of my favorite recording artists, and the most popular song he ever did.  It has to be one of the shortest, and most simplistic songs ever written, but I suppose that's what makes big selling hit records.  I'm talking about Johnny Cash and his recording or "Ring of Fire".  Sure, sure... laugh at old eccentirc Gunfighter, why don't you (you young folks should show more respect... if not for me, for Johnny Cash).  Well, no matter how you feel about it, I still love it, and present it to you today for your own reading pleasure.

Love Is A Burning Thing
And It Makes A Fiery Ring
Bound By Wild Desire
I Fell Into A Ring Of Fire

CHORUS:
I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire
I Went Down, Down, Down
And The Flames Went Higher

And It Burns, Burns, Burns
The Ring Of Fire
The Ring Of Fire

I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire
I Went Down, Down, Down
And The Flames Went Higher Higher

And It Burns, Burns, Burns
The Ring Of Fire
The Ring Of Fire

The Taste Of Love Is Sweet
When Hearts Like Ours Meet
I Fell For You Like A Child
Oh ,But The Fire Went Wild

CHORUS
I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire
I Went Down, Down, Down
And The Flames Went Higher
And It Burns, Burns, Burns
The Ring Of Fire
The Ring Of Fire

I Fell Into A Burning Ring Of Fire
I Went Down, Down, Down
And The Flames Went Higher Higher Higher

And It Burns, Burns, Burns
The Ring Of Fire

The Ring Of Fire

Thank you!

Hey!, I hear gunshots!... no, wait it's fireworks from SeaWorld!  I have a PERFECT view!  Dude!!!

Ok, I have to grab a shower, get a sandwich or something, and head to the airport.

You kids play nice together while I am gone!

***NOTE***  I know.  It's not time for my acation yet, you are right, but my bosses were sending me on a training mission to Orlando, and suggested that the family visit while I was there.  Great, right"?  Well, it WAS great until non-refundable tickets were purchased... and my trip was cancelled.  So, I drove, they flew, we have  a short stay and then will be back here in August to do this properly.

Geez... and the fireworks are still going!

Fatherhood Friday: Male Bonding

A couple of weks ago, one of the bloggers at DC Metro Moms, where I blog as the lone dad, posted an entry about what she loves about womanly bonding.  She went on to discuss about what she loves about sharing and connecting, woman to woman.  After her post I made a comment about how different it is in my world....  I'd like to talk about that in some detail, today.

A few weeks ago, I got a phone call from a colleague/buddy from a different agency that went something like this:

Colleague:  Hey, GF! What's happening man?!

GF:  Dude!  Whats up?  It's been a while... where've you been?

Colleague:  Busy, man... you know how it is.

GF:  Yeah, I hear you.

Colleague:  Hey, I need a favor

GF:  Name it

Colleague:  I'm heading out of town... I need to sight in my M-4... can you give me a little time this afternoon?

GF:  Sure, come in at noon.  I have shooters at one, but that should give us time

Colleague:  Cool!  See you then!

When my friend arrived that afternoon, we set up some zeroing targets, and I broke out the binoculars so I could call his shots and help him get his scope sighted properly.  Between strings of fire, we talked about the usual stuff, and then settled in to our usual topic:  Our children.

Now, in your world, it might seem odd that two men who are trying to sight in a tool that is made only for killing would spend most of that time talking about their children, but I am her to tell you, that is exactly how it went down.  While making sight adjustments between strings of fire, we talked about his daughters who are both in college, and what they plan to do in the future (one is doing a double major in Mandarin and Business).  About my oldest who will be a college junior this fall (I'm so proud) and my little one, just finishing the fourth grade.

We talked briefly about his new rifle, and in a generous gesture, he allowed me to put some rounds through it to get a feel for the rifle's accurized trigger.  In return, I let him shoot Goliath (yes, my pistol has a name!) as his agency uses a different gun.

We spent a very pleasant hour talking about our families, the peculiarites of our jobs, and what retierement will hold for us (he plans to teach high school... I am still considering the Seminary).  We talked about the current events that took him out of town for a few weeks, and evaluated the new generation of firearms instructors that are learning their trade now... who will be us in ten or fifteen years.

Until that day, I hadn't seen my friend in months, even though his office is only about 5 miles from mine... that's just how it is in my world.  IT was good to see him and to talk to him, and when he left, it was like we had been shooting the breeze daily for months.

No, we don't bond via shopping.  We're men.  We are wired differently.  We talk about guns, food, beer, our old military days (he was a Ranger, and served in the Grenada invasion... I was in another part of the world, at the time).  But to tell you the truth, we spent most of that time talking about our kids.

I suppose that despite the fact that men and women are substantially different (to which I say amen!), our commonality resides in parenthood.  Once we strip away various gender-specific things, we all, at the end of the day, want to talk about our families... the thing that makes us happy, and gives meaning to our lives.

Fatherhood Friday is a weekly blogging event that is sponsored by The Dad Blogs.  Drop by if you can, and see what my brother fathers are talking about.

It Was A Dark and Stormy Night....

...after the dark clouds of the late afternoon delivered a driving downpour on the tired, hungry, sleep-deprived soldiers. 

The sergeant, whom the soldiers called "mother" (behind his back, of course), checked their positions, inspected their weapons, and saw that they were fed, even though all they had was cold, canned rations.

"Dig deep fighting holes, boys!", mother said, "and make sure you have something to bail out the water!... and for the love of God, stay awake tonight.  They're here... close.  I can feel them."  The soldiers were terrified, of course, they were untested, minimally trained conscripts, facing the best trained, best equipped infantry to ever take the battlefield. They hoped that their Sergeant was wrong, but in their 6 months together, he hadn't been yet. 

One soldier said to his friend (they came from the same village) "Old mother is always right.  They are coming, and I don't think that I will survive the battle."  His comrade replied, "oh, come on... everyone knows that mother is as full of crap as anyone else.  If he is so smart, why isn't he an officer?  Instead he is a lowly sergeant... at his advanced age!"  His friend thought about that for a moment then smiled in the dark, wet, gloom.  "Well, mother is kind of old.  Somebody over in second squad said that he is actually thirty!"  They sat in silence, keeping watch in the inky black night and wondered what it would be like to be that old.

While the soldiers wondered about living to the old age of thirty, dark, camouflaged figures crept away from their positions until they were far enough to get out their map and mark the position of the two friends foxhole.

Not far away, an officer from a different army waited.  When his men returned, he said curtly "well?  How's it look?"  The older of the young men said "it's lookin' good, skipper, half of those idiots are asleep, the other half is miserable, wet, and not paying any attention.  We got within ten feet of them.   It's good place to break the line and roll up both flanks.  "Alright, boys, it's on for zero-three hundred.  Pass the word for the platoon commanders and Staff NCO's".

The company formed, by platoons, only a hundred yards of the enemy position, and at the designated time, began to silently creep through the gloom.  They made rapid progress, as the heavy rains had softened the leaves and the twigs to the point where they wouldn't make much noise.  Whatever noise the did make was muffled by the rain, and the fact that the rain pattering on a steel helmet makes additional noise.

The young soldiers holding the line almost didn't see it coming... there was a shadow that moved, and then all of a sudden, out of the darkness burst several dark-clad figure heading straight for them.  Too startled to even let out a scream, both young men were bayoneted through the chest and throat, their dying gurgles also muffled by the sound of rain.  This scene was played out among many of the fighting holes on the line until some alert soul started shooting at the attacking forms.

The other holes in what was left of their company began to shoot (mostly at nothing), and were met with a fusillade of well-aimed, disciplined fire. The ghostly apparitions advanced as they fired... and they began to scream.  None of the young soldiers understood what was being screamed... or at least they wouldn't have if anyone was left alive when the attack was over.

The attackers consolidated their postitions after they swept through their objective, and reloaded their weapons, checked for wounded, and took stock.  "Skipper, we got two wounded in first platoon, one serious, he broke his ankle, stepping in a hole, the other is a scratch, and no KIA"  "Thanks, Gunny", the commander said as the first inklings of dawn appeared.  "The rest of the battalion is moving up, and we'll be ready when they get here... Jesus, I love the rain!" 

There were two young Marines within earshot of their company commander (whom they nicknamed "Sybil" because of his mercurial nature).  Hearing their skipper's good humor and satisfaction, they gave each other a vigorous fist bump (known by some crass idiots as a "terrorist fist jab") and repeated their company motto "Infantry weather, baby!  If it ain't rainin', we ain't trainin'!" 

 

***NOTE*** If you noticed, this category is called mostly fiction.  It is called "mostly" fiction, because parts of this story begin in truth.  When I was a young Marine in the early and mid 1980's, I had a Company Commander, a certain Captain Stephens, whom we referred to as "Sybil".  He was a good officer, but you never knew which one of him woulld show up for duty on a given day.  In those days, we frequently used the term "If it ain't rainin', we ain't trainin'" because of the rainy nature of coastal North Carolina at certain parts of the year.  We also called that weather "Infantry Weather" for the same reason, as well as the fact that night attacks, around 0300 (thats 3 A.M.) are preferred because most people are at their lowest ebb at that point.  Add rain, the great silencer, and you have the makings of a great assault.

The main reason that I wrote this little story is because of the incredibly wet weather that we have had here in northern Virginia this spring, but I have decided that I may add a weekly or bi-monthly feature here, called "It was a dark and strormy night"... it may be fun.