As every parent has experienced, the day the baby takes his first steps is filled with mixed emotions. As parents we are filled with pride that the little one has finally embarked on the journey of self-reliance and independence, but equally remorseful in that we knew the day would come but are not emotionally equipped to admit that as mentors we are no longer needed as much as we once were. It is with both joy and sadness I must announce to our family of GT loaders that our baby, Little Stevie, (C4W), has taken his first steps into the wondrous world of casting. Oblivious, and/or uncaring of the blizzard conditions Little Stevie made the treacherous journey to my abode, conveniently located almost two miles closer to heaven than you sea level dwellers. Standing on the deck at the back door I was more than a bit perplexed to see our comrade sucking oxygen through a plastic tube with three extra oxygen bottles under his left arm... although the blue tinge on his face added a festive atmosphere to the falling snow. Expecting to see some type of luggage for his anticipated overnight stay I was instead surprised when he drug in a complete level 4 contamination Haz-Mat suit. Before I could query about his strange burden he explained that it was for warding off the toxic, and most assuredly fatal fumes from melting led. I had to brace myself against the wall to keep from falling as flashbacks of ex-wives permeated my mind. I had looked forward to conversing with Little Stevie during various breaks in the Super Bowl but that was plan was quickly quashed when I was informed that we would not be wasting our time with sporting events but rather improving our minds and social stature by watching a Life Time special entitles Mikhail Baryshnikov's greatest ballet performances. (While he was inthralled with a scantily clad leaping man on the television I spent my time looking for a gas pipe to suck on... oh, who won the Super Bowl?) The sun rose around 6:30... Little Stevie rose around 11. After his breakfast of strained prunes and carrot juice, coffee and cigarettes for me, we adjourned to to loading room. Little Stevie had been thoughtful enough to bring his own bucket of WW's. If he hadn't the only thing he would have seen melting would have been snow. He also brought his recently purchased Lee 6 cavity mould for little sissy 9mm caliber bullets. Having never used an aluminum mould before I sent urgent PM's to bob2223 requesting guidance as to the proper method of breaking in and seasoning the new mould. Bob replied post haste with detailed instructions on his ideas of achieving desired results. We followed his instructions to the letter. Little Stevie was less than pleased when we had to call Midway, purchase a new mould to replace the one that was totally destroyed due to bob2223's instructions. The fact that he had to hire a charter jet to fly the mould to Colorado did not improve his attitude. (I had to explain to him that we couldn't afford to lose a day of tutoring due to my shorter than normal life expectancy.) With numerous fire extinguishers strategically placed around the room we fired up the furnace and commenced to melt some lead. This is the first photo of Little Stevie actually engaged in the evil activity of casting bullets. Please note that he is not engulfed in flames nor is he passing out from noxious fumes. (I think I'm going to have this picture bronzed and hang it from my rearview mirror.) Here's our little boy dropping sprue into molten lead and trying to cause the most splatter possible. (The new curtains should be here on Friday) After the first 40 minutes or so this is the pile of bullets he had produced. More than pleased with himself and developing a head of gigantic proportions I was compelled to inform him that the impressive production was the result of superior coaching... not his robotic mindless repetitions. (Raising a child takes a firm hand and authoritative demeanor.) You guessed it, the adventures of Little Stevie is continued on the next post.