Got me one of these here. They are pretty slick. I have all the Circle Models I own in it, which is one of everything but two units, and there is still room for more. The design of the bag is also really cool, with plenty of pouches and pockets.
It was damn expensive, and I wouldn't have gotten it had I not fallen into a little extra cash, but now I am glad I did. I will say that the bag is not for everyone. If I had to decide between like, finishing an army or buying the bag, the army would win out.
The other bummer is that the stock cut 'jack size tray isn't deep enough for a Feral Warpwolf to be on his base and not have the spikes sticking up out of the slot. On his side he rests on shoulder spikes, so one way or another it is a bit of a pain.
Great bag, looks swank, glad I got it. Now I just need to write my name on it so I can distinguish it from the bajillion others that I am sure will be at Privateer Press HQ this weekend.
Thanks for reading,
T
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
There
This last Saturday I got to spend the evening with a couple of old friends, and some new friends, at a bachelor party. In many ways this bachelor party was typical of others, but it many other ways it was not.
The venue was a cabin, on some lake north of Spokane, whose name I really should find out so I can answer all the people who ask me. There were no strippers, but there was booze and other bachelor party accoutrement. Quite a few things have stuck with me since this joyous event, some good and some bad, but one thing in particular was something said by a guy named Brad Baxter.
Brad Baxter had another claim to fame that I learned about that night, but I won't go into that. Instead I will speak to how overtaken I was by the gravity of a very small moment.
Choosing to not be much of a drinker lately I spent the evening in a camp chair sitting around fire with my buddy Matt. We kinda held it down as people came and went for poker, more booze, or apparently to jump in the lake. At one point, Brad Baxter pulled up a camp chair and with a simple smile and nod to everyone around the fire said, "I'm there man, I'm there."
At the time I remember thinking how cool it was that he had arrived where ever "there" was. His "there" was not my "there" but you have to be happy for a guy that made it "there". After that I was kind of distracted by other conversations and shenanigans so I didn't think much more of it.
Since Saturday, there have been at least three times where I have remembered Brad Baxter's proclamation of arrival, and each time I feel a little sad. See I am not "there" in much outside of my new family life. I want to be "there" with my hobby, but I don't know if I remember how. I was pretty sure I was "there" once, when I was painting and playing my Dark Angels. Does one only get to go "there" once in their hobby and that is it?
I spend and hour each week night painting my Tau and counting down the 59th minute until I walk away from my table. I am pretty sure it isn't supposed to be like that. I have 3 months and 16 days to get this army done, and I am in entirely the wrong head space to do accomplish it.
So what is the trick? How does one get "there"? Maybe I just need a few beers like Brad Baxter and the path to "there" will clear. Either way, I got to do something to get my mind right.
Thanks for reading,
T
The venue was a cabin, on some lake north of Spokane, whose name I really should find out so I can answer all the people who ask me. There were no strippers, but there was booze and other bachelor party accoutrement. Quite a few things have stuck with me since this joyous event, some good and some bad, but one thing in particular was something said by a guy named Brad Baxter.
Brad Baxter had another claim to fame that I learned about that night, but I won't go into that. Instead I will speak to how overtaken I was by the gravity of a very small moment.
Choosing to not be much of a drinker lately I spent the evening in a camp chair sitting around fire with my buddy Matt. We kinda held it down as people came and went for poker, more booze, or apparently to jump in the lake. At one point, Brad Baxter pulled up a camp chair and with a simple smile and nod to everyone around the fire said, "I'm there man, I'm there."
At the time I remember thinking how cool it was that he had arrived where ever "there" was. His "there" was not my "there" but you have to be happy for a guy that made it "there". After that I was kind of distracted by other conversations and shenanigans so I didn't think much more of it.
Since Saturday, there have been at least three times where I have remembered Brad Baxter's proclamation of arrival, and each time I feel a little sad. See I am not "there" in much outside of my new family life. I want to be "there" with my hobby, but I don't know if I remember how. I was pretty sure I was "there" once, when I was painting and playing my Dark Angels. Does one only get to go "there" once in their hobby and that is it?
I spend and hour each week night painting my Tau and counting down the 59th minute until I walk away from my table. I am pretty sure it isn't supposed to be like that. I have 3 months and 16 days to get this army done, and I am in entirely the wrong head space to do accomplish it.
So what is the trick? How does one get "there"? Maybe I just need a few beers like Brad Baxter and the path to "there" will clear. Either way, I got to do something to get my mind right.
Thanks for reading,
T
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