A long day.

.
.
The ride, as you may have guessed, started out earlier than I had hoped possible. In spite of giving myself more sleep after waking up several hours before I actually rose, I was a bit groggy most of the day. I suspect that is true any time I do not sleep or rise within my regular routine until I get used to a new routine or get back on schedule a few days. Nothing new there. I think it is a general rule for most.

The drive was not that long, actually. I doubt if it took an hour to get there. Once in Ogden, however, driving became a real time eater. It is a typical city as far as summer road work, long lines, and many vehicles on the road goes. That is the way of things, especially near a summer vacation area. Then again, it might be that way year round, with spring and fall campers, summer lake visitors, and winter skiing. The city is not too complex to navigate with just a little insight. My neighbor provided that. As well, the Mormons build cities correctly, aligning them at great pains with roads running the cardinal directions if at all geographically possible.

We did not stop at a gun store. We stopped at three. I picked up some .22 ammunition at each. The first only had faster bullets, but since I was not sure what the other stores would have, I picked up a box of 500 (for about $27 with tax). I also tried to buy a rifle there, a Henry Repeating lever action. Since I have not been in Utah long enough to be a resident (6 months for this case, fishing and hunting, but 1 year for school), I had to apply as a resident of Iowa. No problem I thought, I have a current license to buy handguns on the spot from my county sheriff. What could possibly go wrong? It did.

I was refused purchase. No reason is given, only a rejection code is offered. The man was embarrassed. I was not, at first, I was more miffed. As we finished looking around in the store, it became apparent that word had spread. Then it was embarrassing. And it seems to have spread to the other stores too. Really. The man gave me a number to call, here in Utah, to get this corrected. And though I will call it, I am first going to call my sheriff. I am going to ask him, or his office, whether my license to buy is still current, and if so, why the state of Iowa refused to allow me to buy a .22 rifle in Utah as a resident of Iowa. I think he or his office can (and will) act faster than some anti-gun bureaucrat at the state office. If he will, and has the power to fix that, or run through whatever channels he has, and once that is concluded, then I will call the Utah phone number. Iowa, what a loser socialist new Kalifornia state.

The next shop we stopped into had some .22 bullets I do know and like. I grabbed five 100 round boxes and went to check out. That bullet, they said, was on their limited list, they could only sell me two boxes of 100! They told me this was nation wide, though I wonder if it had something to do with my refusal of purchase. I thought about having my neighbor buy some, but decided against it. We then went to a final gun store, this one run by an independent owner. It was the only store of those who carried powder for my neighbor's pistol and revolver reloading. They also carried those same rounds which the other store would only sell two boxes. I asked if he had a limit on purchase. Heck no, he said, buy as many as you want! I already had two boxes, so I grabbed three more boxes to fill my initial want.

I know where I will go for ammunition, supplies, and guns if he has them from now on. Whether he costs more or not, I believe the last gun shop and really shop owner, is not just in it for a few sheckles. He loves guns, he likes to shoot, he believes in being armed, he shares and wishes to extend those, and he keeps stuff in stock. I believe he does a lot of work to make things available, something big chains often cannot or will not do. He has a real face and it is his reputation on the line. Should I be able to clear up Iowa crap soon, I will call and see if he has or can get a Henry Repeating .22 in a timely manner.

I did like the man I was dealing with at the other store, but after word got out and spread quickly, my discomfort with the whole thing and the store has bittered that initial feeling of trust resulting from that initial open conversation. I may stop there, to look around, but I probably will not start a strong business relationship there. I will only buy a gun there if the other shop does not have it.

After shopping, I drove up the Ogden Canyon road. I looked for the cabin. With my neighbor and myself looking, we could not find the place. On the way back, we looked again. I saw one potential cabin, so pulled in. It was not the cabin. We were headed back to Ogden when I suggested a meal. Sizzlers was the recommendation, initially, so we headed that way. My neighbor then started not wanting to eat there. So, on the way, we looked for another place. Not much was to be had by the time we arrived at Sizzlers, so we pulled in and went in. We both ordered a steak and lobster meal, at a temporary bargain price. It was okay, but nothing to write home about. But in the sense that it was a whole, cooked, actual meal, the first for me in over a month, it was great.

After that the ride was a relatively quiet drive over a pass, or it seemed like a pass. As my neighbor gets tired, his hearing gets worse. His hearing is not the best to start with. Though I suppose, too, when I get tired, I do not speak up as well. It was better to not talk than to repeat. If he said something, whether I heard it or not, I would often just nod. The reverse being true as well. But the ride home was good. If nothing else, I think both of us wanted to get home and rest. A cursory nod and a "Later", as we entered our perspective apartments, and we were in our caves.

I looked over my purchases, used a few cloth bits I had purchased to swab the barrel of my .45, called the new potential renter, and hit the sack at about 20:30, waking at about 23:48 or something. I do not need the swipes for my .22s, as I have a gun snake for those. After waking a bit, I thought about whether to blog about the gun purchase refusal or not. It is still galling. And, I still carry some embarrassment. But I decided to write it and begin planning how to deal with it.

The lady who is possibly going to rent the house over the winter called during the trip. Each time she called, however, I was either busy dodging traffic or taking heavy turns up the canyon road. I checked the messages when I returned home, and tried to call her. All I received was a message service from her phone, so I left a message accepting her preferred time for a visit tomorrow. Thankfully, it is later in the afternoon. It will be good to have that business tended, whether I get the place or not. Oh, I also did get my rent check in before we left, and checked my mail. A long, busy, mostly good, day. One which leaves more work for tomorrow, of course.

Ah, right, one other thing. While living in Iowa, I had been a retreatant at a monestary. I had been looking for the monasteries here in Utah and found one near a town called Huntsville. As it turns out, the road that travels the lake atop the Ogden Canyon leads nearly directly to Huntsville. I had not realized it was that close. So, since I was right there, I decided to go on in and see if I could find it. There were, surprisingly, signs right to it. So, I drove in, took a look without stopping really, before heading back. I did read that they allow longer stays, even for those not intending on permanent living. There is an application process, if approved then a 4 to 5 day stay within the cloister. Then after a brief cool down, and if that works for all parties, then a 3 to 4 month stay.

The conditions are primitive, the food is vegetarian, the hours are long, and it is rather regimented. My difficulty is not with the will, but the actual means of following such structure. I simply may not be capable of extended stays. Going to bed at 19:30 and rising at 03:15 hours. Celebrating the hours, working, eating, studying, and praying fill the waking hours. I do not mind most of that, probably only the vegetarian fare but I could deal with that. Maybe I can only be a retreatant. We will see.

The gall, though. In the last 4 years I have bought a pump 12 gauge, a .45 acp semi-auto, a .22 semi-auto pistol and rifle, and an AK-47 variant. Why refuse a lever action .22? Too many guns? I will not return to that state if at all possible, ever.