Son says to me tonight, as I'm reading a bedtime story to him, "Daddy, when will you be old?" After I told him not for awhile, and asked him if he was worried (he nodded), I asked him why. "'cause I don't wanna lose my reading spot." There's something special about those young buck eyes and the way they see the world.

After a couple decades (okay, almost three if you count college) of being too busy doing other things and livin' in condos and postage-stamp suburban fakers of real neighborhoods, we finally moved to a spot of land of our own. It's not big enough to shoot a gun, but it is big enough our son is too afraid to go all the way out to the back corner by himself.

Fellow Cowboys, Cruel Girls, and AC Fans,

It's been long overdue for me. I grew up in the West. I rode and rafted and lived the life growing up (we had riding access to 10,000 unspoiled acres in Northern California near Redding). And I can shoot better than any of my "fancy" friends would ever believe.