"Hey! Turn off that damn light!"
Hallowe'en. My son's birthday, my daughter's wedding anniversary, and my holiday from forever. As usual, I carve a jack o' lantern. This year's, I was kind of in a hurry -- we had somewhere to go, and I cranked, so this is about an hour and a half from start to finish.
Not my best, but not bad.
"Who you callin' 'Slick?'"
(Addendum: After three days ...)
Rory has weighed in with his comments on one of my earlier posts, and focused on that area between what I thought he meant, and what he thinks he meant.
It mostly works for me, since he's closer to his mind than I am. Mostly -- I still think it's been so long since he was a civilian that his memories of that time are maybe a bit faded. Soldier, bouncer, deputy, armed contractor in an active war zone, author of books on, and teacher of ways to deal with violence -- I think he has to reach way back to dredge up what it felt like to be a civilian. Got scars he doesn't remember where they came from? Been in so many dust-ups he lost count long ago?
But even that? I can go with it. So I learned some stuff, and we're good, Rory and I.
We always were.
(And those of you who feel the need to run to his place and tell him I said something about him -- Ooh, Rory, Rory, didja hear what Perry said? Didja? -- can save yourself some trouble. He's got a link to my blog on his, so what I post shows up there and if he wants to read it, all he has to do is look.)