In the aftermath of late nights, 12 ounce New York strips, small-shop bourbon, and fly-fishing events, the host realized they loaned “someone” a shotgun so said guest could go shoot clays with their photog pals while said host worked like a dog.

While said guest did offer to clean said firearm, a last minute run for Philly Cheese Steak sandwiches put that plan in the proverbial crapper. In retrospect, a kitchen floor and a cardboard box can be a surrogate friend.

MG signing off (answering to “Swabbie” from here on out)