Right now it's 28 degrees, to cold to play outside unless you're a penguin... or a young'un who has yet to experience the pleasures of an aging body rebelling against physical indiscretions of times past. With a fire blazing in the wood stove, a steaming cup of 'holiday peppermint' mint coffee and Dawg playing with one of her dozens of chew toys it would be the perfect time for some 'indoor activities'. Alas, a slump in the female companionship arena of life, a slump which seems to becoming a norm rather than an aberration, crying: I really need a woman), leaves but one option. Cast up a bushel of bullets! Over the last day or so I've created three thousand cute little 121 grain RN for a .38 training load I'm developing for the grandson. Today it's time for some big boy bullets. A thousand or so each of 200 grain SWC and 225 grain RN. (The G30 prefers a diet of RN, has something to do high cholesterol or triglycerides or some such medical malady... I'm not really sure.) As we speak, well, not really 'we', and not really 'speak'... more accurately, as I type, the furnace is plugged in and warming up, transforming well traveled wheel weights into 20 pounds of glistening molten lead. (For the less informed Newbs in the group it is often referred to as the 'Nectar of the Gods', well, after Dewars scotch of course.) The NFL pre-game starts in twenty minutes and immediately after that the Jets/Colts game followed by the Vikings/Saints game. (If NASCAR were on I wouldn't even be concerned about the lack of a woman. Well, except for the possibility of a little action during the commercials of course.) Not being a purchaser of commercially cast bullets I don't really have an accurate estimate of how much four or five thousand cast bullets would have cost me but given the recent savings in the Viagra budget coupled with the bullet savings I suspect I could cover the cost of a new gun... or a trip to the Bunny Ranch in Nevada. Decisions, decisions... life doesn't get any easier. Be it bullets cast by your own hand or delivered by the big brown truck I wish you happy and safe shooting. (Any Heather Locklear look-a-like nymphomaniac ladies out there who want to learn how to cast? Hey, if you don't ask, you don't get.) Jack Wanna kill these ads? We can help!