Back to business as usual.

Aaron left this morning, the last of the blogshooters to head home. He stayed a couple of extra days to drink whiskey and binge-watch Breaking Bad with me and the dogs. Keads left yesterday after stopping by the visit the hounds, who, upon figuring out that he had some peanut-butter dog cookies in his pocket that Nancy made for them, promptly bum-rushed him, which Belle actually going into his pocket and taking them as he worked to fend Murphy off from the front.

They did eventually remember their manners and play nice though...after the cookies had been seized. Nancy--you'll need to send them more. They really, really like them.

Yesterday, Aaron and I got a bit more range time in, and then we went to see the movie Fury dwn at the Alamo drafthouse, a place where while you watch the movie, they bring you dinner and drinks to your seat.

At the range, we shot pistols a bit, including two that I'd brought to the shoot but not fired.
I started out with the S&W Model 1917 .45acp revolver that I had fired at the blogshoot, although this time I had decent ammo for it and no squib loads interrupted my pin-shooting.

I do love this pistol the more that I shoot it--it hits point-of-aim perfectly on the 25-yard line.

At the shoot, I'd also been carrying a back-up to that .45 in the form of a Glock 21, a slightly more modern .45 pistol. It didn't get shot at the blogshoot but it sure got shot yesterday.

It shoots a bit high, so I need to shoot with a six o'clock hold to bust clays at 25M with it, but it wasn't designed or bought by me to be a precision clay-buster; it was meant to hit goblin-sized targets with 14 rounds of .45 defensive loads, and it'll definitely do that just fine, which is why it usually resides on my nightstand next to my bed.

Then there was the black-powder underhammer, a .44 caliber single-shot percussion pistol that was made for Numerich Arms back in the 1960's. And yes, that's the hammer on the bottom. I'd brought it to the shoot to show Nancy but mistakenly brought .50 lead balls instead of .44 ones, so it didn't get shot.

It got shot this time though, as both of us put it through it's paces. I was able to hit the steel plates with it and knock them down when I did my part.
Here's Aaron with it.

Cool, eh?

Now everyone's gone, and it's just me and the dogs again. So I'm spending the rest of this morning drinking the few beers that we had left and cleaning a ton of guns...while watching Tim McCoy in good old American westerns. Ask your grandparents who he was, kids...or ask Old NFO. (I heard that they roomed together in college before the war.)