Can't think of where else to put this, so...

[Walkalong]

My maternal grandfather would occasionally mention having a “haint.” Being a devout Southern Baptist, he never openly acted superstitious, but a “haint” seemed to be something outside the house, rather than indoors

Can be anywhere is my understanding, but mine was outside. A sobering experience.

 

[doubleh]

I am not superstitious in the least. I love black cats, well, all color of cats if you want to be specific. Don't throw salt over my shoulder or believe any of that other mumbo-jumbo crap. Walking under a ladder doesn't bother me unless someone is on it. No telling what they may drop on your head. On the other hand those blankety- blank gremlins that run off with all my dropped parts are damned annoying.

 

[halfmoonclip]

I've told the story before, the barrel bushing for the 1910 Browning is still lurking somewhere in my shop. I can't blame anything but a bad bounce...but I'd like to blame it on a snark or a boojum.
Moon