...I'm falling asleep. Went to the Indy 1500 Gun Show (picked up .22 conversions for my 1911 and AR-15, Ciener and CMMG respectively. Walked the entire show, much of it twice after I met up with Tam and Shootin' Buddy.
...Then went home and Joanna dropped by, having been out bicycling (!!!). Tam and S. B. arrived about ten minutes later and the whole group of us went out for lunch (Naked Tschopstix!), after which I went bicycling with Joanna.
...Which was all very fun but I have walked over five miles and ridden as far; so I'll expand this post or add another after a nap.
Update: saw the term "tacticle" in use on a sign. Pretty sure that's what Army Rangers and U. S. Marines have, at least a pair each, olive-drab and MARPAT respectively. It's how you sort 'em out from the rest of the litter.
Update: I spent a little time at the table of world-famous SF writer Michael Z. Williamson and somehow missed the Strike-Hold table; there were two aisles I only got a little way down, encountered huge people-jams and gave up on. Strike-Hold demos tend to draw a crowd! (And FWIW, the local bloggers on their midwest sales team did give me a sample-sized can at the previous gun show. It's good stuff).
Update: Aside from the underwater light-bulb and electric drill at Strike-Hold (yes, it works -- you do need to refresh the treatment from time to time), the largest traffic jams were at tables selling handguns. And not the guys with a stack of slag guns, sad beaters and anodized-aluminum junk, nor the top-dollar dealer with shiny collector pieces; what slowed traffic down were tables of workin' guns from reputable makers. Sure, the old wisdom says of your handgun, "it's what you use to fight your way to your rifle," but it's also become the quintissentally American arm. Take that, IANSA and Bradys: there's a blue million of 'em in our hands and they're not goin' away.
CHICAGO RAILROAD FAIR, 1948
3 days ago