Work in progress… that edge is going to need just as many coats as the door body has.
That green was also brushed — it’s under the black. I’m not even sure what to call that particular shade of green. Lime green? Seafoam? Pear? Pea? Parakeet? Meh… it’s a variety of white now. Marshmallow? Coconut? Swiss coffee?
By the way: it needed six coats of white to cover the black. Granted, the paint was thinned slightly to improve its flow through the HVLP, but six coats is a bit much.
It was an “old-money” paper target — imperial, not metric.
By my estimation, the figures work out as:
110 m away.
7 cm low — in my defense, I hadn’t started adjusting the elevation yet.
A 1 cm “group” — although I’d still argue that firing three shots provides a more accurate distribution from which to average.
Century-old, bolt-action rifle — a .257 Roberts that will accompany me whilst I sit quietly awaiting a deer.
A 40 year-old 2.5x(!) scope — practically open-sights.
It’s an older rifleman, sir… but he still shoots fine.
Homie don’t need no $4,000, custom-made sniper rifle in some exotic chambering with a $2,500 sniper scope. There will be no Shelf Queens in my safe, thankyouverymuch.
This is one of those things that I knowingly dismissed a few years ago when we bought the house. But now I’m getting more exposure directly to the doors, it’s kind of bothering me:
I like the fact there’s a cat-door allowing access to the utility room–and their cat boxes…
…but if you’re going to go through the effort to cut a hole in the door, maybe make the additional effort — not going the extra mile, but at least the extra 24-inches — to at least get it roughly centered.
It’s not the only one. There’s also the fire door to the garage that’s also endured the same slapdash home-improvement.
Fortunately, the steel fire door for the outer garage has its dog door centered.
Because I have a whiteboard in my office and hardly anyone ever sees it (sometimes, they do) this is something that I wrote up there as a reminder to work in smaller chunks and not to try to fix everything at once.
You cannot boil the ocean. Don’t try. You can only raise the temperature of an extraordinarily minuscule fraction of its water.
Or, put another way, aim small, miss small.
Right, so why is this notable?
Primarily because it’s also occurred to me that my ability to simply wield a pen has improved. And I’m actually rather proud of that.
I had lost the ability to write (agraphia? not sure what it’s called) associated with the fall. I could read just fine, and I could type, albeit rather slowly. Comprehension wasn’t at all an issue. But the ability to make consistent pen-strokes was lost. It simply felt unfamiliar.
Certain letters were more problematic than others, particularly those that had arcs: B, D, O, P, S — I just couldn’t make my hand make the shapes that I wanted.
Now, it’s not as fast as it used to be. But it’s aligned, consistent, and legible, which is quite good, thankyouverymuch.
the rest of me 