Sigboy Sneaky Sack

Okay, Okay, I know it's more of a bag than a sack, but it sounds better.

We all know that chest rigs are cool, but when can you wear them? No matter what happens you run the risk of looking like a mall ninja, and nobody wants that.
What can you do to keep the Grey man image, but still carry enough gear?

Just put it alll in a sneaky bag.
It consists of two zippered pockets and the external mag pouches.

External mag pouches-
1 pistol mag
Flashlight
2 AR mags

First Pouch-
Pistol (in maxped holster)
M6 light/laser combo

Rear Pouch-
TQ
Pressure dressing
4 123 batteries
Pistol mag
AR mag
small fixed blade knife

The bag is a Maxpedition Active Shooter Bag with Mag front


Currently I'm only using this as a car bag, with the pistol and everything in it except the rifle mags. It goes in and out of the house everyday, and it has not gathered any undo attention. It also is very handy to carry into hotel check in at the end of a long day driving. I've never had anybody look twice at it.

Do Blogs Have a Soul?

Thanks to SnarkyBytes, we have a new meme that reminds me I have a blog.

Wander Lust

The time has come again for me to give into my wanderlust. To pick up these wonderful Texas roots that I have planted and to travel to the Pacific North West. To trade Tornadoes for Volcanoes and Earthquakes (I've missed earthquakes). The decision was not an easy one to make, Mrs Sigboy actually pushed this one very hard. Her health should be better in the mountains (and contrary to popular opinion, I'd like to keep her alive at least a bit longer). But everything fell into place once I finally gave into it and allowed myself to follow that star that always seems to be pulling me anyways. The pull towards the next great adventure, to see and learn new things, to not live my life constrained by what society says you must do.

As you read this, the Sigboy caravan is heading north, enjoying a family vacation as we make our way to Spokane. Many stops are planned, Rushmore, Little Big Horn, maybe even an old gold mine or two. But the leaving of Texas will be bittersweet.


To all my Texas friends that I am leaving behind, know that you are the best group of people I have ever met in my travels. From liberals to conservatives, religious zealots to hippy's, door kickers to zombie hunters, from college students to the old and infirmed, you have all touched my life and made me a better man for it. Never have I lived in a place where I felt so welcome and appreciated. Never did I think that I would live in a place where mother's would come up to me and thank me for the influence that I have had on their son's life. Never have I felt more at home then I do here. Thank you for your hospitality and your open arms. Never have I felt like I truly contributed to society, and been blessed for it. Thank you for letting me be a Texan, at least for a little while.

My friends, until fate brings us together again. I leave you with the words of Tolkien, who captured this far more eloquently then I could.


"All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king."
J.R.R. Tolkien

Lack of Practice

Last weekend, a few friends and I hosted the Second Annual Zombie Fry, a weekend event full of shooting drills and practical classes. I will post a larger AAR later, but for right now I want to talk about me.
I have not been shooting as much as I like, and as a result, my dryfire has fallen off as well. It was very evident this weekend that my skills had slipped. Sure, I had a great time, and even learned a few lessons. However, I was not happy with myself in any way.



Here is one of the stages we shot. Start at 7 yards, draw and engage 4 steel targets with two rounds each. Run 75 yards back to your rifle, and engage the same 4 targets again.

This stage is awesome, you are able to get your heart rate going with the run, and we intentionally did not paint the steel, this made them harder to pickup in the background.

But you notice that my pistol handling looks slow. When it came to the rifle, I didn't get it loaded and into service quick enough (granted you missed my sudden slide into my rifle after the run). All things that are easily remedied by practice and dry fire.

It's time to get back on the training. I have let myself go. Will you help me hold myself accountable?

The Man in The Arena

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.