I am happy to see Monday come because the last 3 days have been a whirlwind.  All good stuff, but man was it packed. 

I will start with Saturday.  The last ACCT class we had at FPF Training got cut short due to rain, so John rescheduled the last 3 hours of that class for this weekend.  We met at the range at 9am.  In addition to 4 of the students from the original class we also had Mr. & Mrs. Awesome join us.  Always a treat, at least for me.  I did try to steal Mrs. Awesome’s Lula, but the chic has a keen sense of observation and snagged it right back out of my bag. 

I don’t know exactly what I am doing, but I am sure I am rocking it.  You can’t tell, but there are actual targets up to the left.

Most of this portion of the class was up close and personal kind of bad guy, hands on you stuff. I don’t know why, but punching someone is still an issue for me.  The drill was to strike the face of the bad guy, while withdrawing, draw and shoot.  These were paper targets, but I still had a hard time in my mind striking. I am constantly amazed by the mind and how I can be standing there knowing full well that the “bad” guy is paper, can’t hurt me and that I know in real life I am going to beat the crap out of anyone trying to hurt me, and yet, some things still takes me right back to that day.  The main thing is that I can control it now or at least overcome it.  When it was my turn to do the drill, I used all my fear as energy and I was extremely forceful with my punch and I am not sure if it was loud to anyone else, but I think it was the loudest “GET BACK” I have ever screamed.  It was guttural. After that one drill I was fine.  I did lots more punching and grabbing of the bad guy without issue.

John had his mentor and friend out there with us and I really enjoyed finally meeting him.  He did some one on one drills with us after the formal part of the class was over.  He helped me fine tune my distance shooting and offered some advice on dealing with a bad guy encounter. He, like John, is very calming.  He talked about front sight and trigger manipulation.  John claims he has mentioned that before, but I don’t recall ever hearing it:)  There is something missing in my application of sight alignment for distance shooting.  I swear I do the same exact stuff at 25 yards as I do at 15, but I can’t seem to shoot where I want.  My shots are always low.  Mostly good groups, but low.

Sunday morning I headed up to the NRA range to take the shooting part of the NRA Basic Pistol Instructor Course.  Each person who wants to take the class has to qualify first by showing they understand gun handling, safety, the different types of trigger action, a revolver etc.  Funny story, when I was doing the revolver portion, the instructor kept saying put the revolver in your weak hand to load.  I had the first time and all 3 times after she told me. She was getting frustrated and then I finally understood the trouble.  She forgot I was left handed.  I had the gun in my right hand which she thought was my strong hand.  Us lefties will mess you up every time. 

Then I had to shoot a green dot at 8 feet, I think.  Then a bullseyes at 25 and 50 feet.  Done. Passed.  Next Saturday and Sunday are the classroom portion of the course.

If I pass the class, I will not be hanging out my shingle and opening up A Girl And Her Gun Shooting School.  I am getting the certification because if I am going to be working at a range, I think it is important for me to continue to hone skills, become more educated in the field and get proper qualifications.  I will be working with and under John and I will be attending several more trainings.  I hope to go to TDI soon.  I have lots and lots and lots left to learn and I know it.

After the test, I came home to my family who spent the day spoiling me. They bought me the Ranger Up Sheepdog shirt I have been wanting.  I don’t think I am the Sheepdog, but it’s cool and inspiring, so…

My daughter A’s class made traditional coupon books for Mother’s Day.  In addition to one free hug, I got this coupon…

Translated…”help clean gun”

E made me a book full of good stuff…

As a treat every few weeks I bring fast food to my kids at school and eat with them.  E got this in her kids meal.

E and me hanging. She loves to go on walks

Me shooting

She is a little off on some of these.  Chicken is not my favorite food, but we do eat a lot of it because it is healthy and versatile and Justin Bieber(JB) is not my favorite singer…he is hers.  The rest are spot on.  I do like green, I do love to run and shooting bad guy movies are my very fav!

The boys in my house are not so artistic, but they made me yummy food.  You will notice this is pretty much what they always make me because I love it so much and they love me.  The menu was grilled ribeyes(ribeye fat is actually my favorite food) asparagus, and shrimp with bok choy gratin, a martini and for dessert my daughter, M, made me chocolate covered strawberries.

 Shooting, friends, family, good food, and some tasty alcohol made for a delightful weekend! 

They ain’t for me. In many ways I love these pants.  They are very well made, nice thick material, but not heavy and, of course, the pockets.  Lots and lots of pockets, but the 5.11 pants I bought just don’t work on my body.

When I bought the first pair of pants I tried on several sizes.  The first size I tried on fit at the waist, but were too short, so I tried on bigger sizes to see if those sizes allowed for more length, they didn’t.  I thought no big deal.  I will look like a goob, but I needed something other than jeans and  I was willing to sacrifice a little aesthetics for function.

The pants seemed ok until I started wearing them in action. They ride up on me terribly and aside from the extreme discomfort of their 65% polyester/35% cotton seam riding up my backside and my crotch (my daughters favorite word beside groin), I am also not willing to give up that much aesthetics.

My husband was able to find me a pair of longs and again I was hopeful that this meant everything was a little more roomy, but they weren’t.  Especially once I put all my gear on, things get very uncomfy. It’s back to the drawing board and today at the range I will be wearing my world famous Johnny Cash black jeans with fake rhinestones on the pockets.  And I will be Looking good. 

I received this comment from someone who is hurting on my post “Don’t Be An Idiot.” I assume it is a woman and she said… 

“I read this and it made me cry. You make it sound so easy. I have followed you for a long time and I get inspired by your honesty about your struggles, but then I get sad because I can’t seem to get passed the pain like you have.”

My intention was never to make “it” sound anyway.  I have struggled a bit with how much to share here. As I have mentioned before when I first started writing this blog it was for me and my daughter and no one read it. I wrote what I felt without regard to anyone else, but as people started to read and as women started to come forward and tell me I was helping them, I did feel a responsibility to be strong.  I was in many ways strong, but even on days I wasn’t, I tried to be.  I think there are several posts on here that show just how “not easy” it has been for me. Everything I have said was/is honest and true, but it isn’t the entire picture of me or my life.  I didn’t write every single time I had a hard day. It hasn’t been easy.

Some struggles I didn’t share because I wasn’t ready.  I wrote several times about “his” breath on my neck, posted the post and then went back and removed it.  Reading it made me sick.  I wanted to be honest, but I couldn’t be.  Those days were the days I wanted to scream and yell and I would write a crazy venting post and then I would stuff it.  I never fully lost it, but there have been glimpses. I felt ashamed that I had covered up so much of my attack, but I just couldn’t have those words out there yet, so many times I took them back.  I was ashamed and embarrassed, but I didn’t want to be.  I was internally and externally fighting myself.  I didn’t want to be sad or hurt, but I was and as I tried to process that, sometimes I wasn’t able to share it fully. Things came out ugly and disjointed or at least that is how it felt. I wanted people to see the reality of what I was going through, I just didn’t always know how. I didn’t want to paint a rosy picture, but I also wanted to do things that would help me move on positively. That in itself was a struggle.  It was not easy.

Some struggles I couldn’t write about because they involved other people. When E was hurting and my 13 year old was angry and my marriage was aching, I couldn’t write that.  I couldn’t hurt them anymore than I already had.  That 2 month period of hell was excruciating. It was during this time I met Arete.  My mind, unconscious to me, saw him as a safe place. I didn’t know him well.  He was nice, but I knew he didn’t care about me; I couldn’t hurt him physically, emotional or mentally, so my mind let me unload.  Unfortunately, this was not really constructive unloading.  I didn’t talk about my attack or my fears or anything rational, I would just lose my mind and say incoherent crazy things. Fortunately, it was a pretty short breakdown. When I say breakdown, I mean when I was around him or would talk to him I was crazy, but when I wasn’t I was fine.  It was a very strange time. It was the most miserable I had ever been, but I also had moments of great joy. It was the end of many things, but it was also start of me finding my place again. As insane as that period was, it was good. Letting myself hurt was a great catalyst(an agent that provokes or speeds significant change or action).  It was what I needed and it was the beginning of a very healing time in my life. But, it was not easy.

I had been moving forward almost since the first day after the mugging with a few set backs here and there. I can honestly say everyday has been a step forward into a better, happier life. But, it was not easy.

I was determined.  From the minute “he” got off of me and I got into my car, I was determined. I was determined to not only learn how not to be a victim, but to be secure and happy again inside myself. The fear, the pain, the loss, the uncertainty, the set backs, didn’t stop me.  I was resolute in my determination not to let him win.  I was determined to have a life of joy and of peace.  All my energy went into that and for the past 14 months, that has been my constant focus. But it was not easy. 

As I worked through the pain, as people supported me and offered me advice I was able to add tools to my healing kit.  Bit by bit, I decided I would not feel guilty anymore.  That I would not feel ashamed.  That even when I said or did something embarrassing I wasn’t going to beat myself up. Writing was very cathartic for me, but I had to follow through.  I had to not only write I wasn’t ashamed, I had to have the courage to say the things I had been hiding.  I know that words are helpful, but the action of doing, that is what heals.  Writing this blog may have helped a few folks, but my words only having meaning if they inspire action. The power is in the doing. But, it won’t be easy.

I am not a counselor, I don’t know how to help anyone beyond listening and sharing my story.  Maybe something I have done or haven’t done will help, but I think the most helpful thing I can do is offer you encouragement. I think it is important to find something positive that you can do to help yourself and if the first thing doesn’t work, keep looking. Maybe my story is discouraging to you, then please look somewhere else until you find someone doing something healthy for themselves that maybe you can relate to.  I did not seek counseling, but that was probably a mistake.  There is no shame in doing so.  Reach out and keep reaching out.  It most certainly, will not be easy, but easy or not, you have to fight for what you want, for what matters to you.

This journey has been painful and it has sucked in every possible way, and some of my days have been dark and filled with much sadness, but I have been able to find ways to turn all that nastiness into a whole heck of a lot of good.  I have said it before, but I will say it again, I am calmer, happier, and more fulfilled than I have ever, ever been.  I am so sorry if I ever made it sound easy. It hasn’t been easy, but it has been worth the fight.

Last weekend at the training several of us were sitting around chitchating about random things.  Guns mostly.  One of the guys was saying that he likes to attend one training a year.  I jokingly said, me too.  Mr. Tea gave a chuckle and said, you have been shooting about a year and I think your on your 7th training. Slight exaggeration to make his point. I have not been to 7 formal courses, but I said, Yeah, I take training pretty serious.  His reply was, “I would say anyone who can turn a visit from the washing machine repairman into a exercise, takes training pretty serious”. True, true. Then someone asked me how many rounds I think I shoot in a year.

I had no idea, so when I got home I decided to try to figure it out.  I go to my local range about twice a week.  I shoot at least 150 rounds each time.  There have been weeks that I have missed, but not many.  I have also attended 4 formal training courses where I shot between 400-600 rounds plus the many times I have met informally with John at his range or other ranges around Virgina.  In addition, I have hooked up with other bloggers many times for an hour or so of lead therapy, so I decided for easy math I would just use the average weekly range trip of 300.  300×4=1200.  1200×6(you know, half a year)=7200.  That is very simple math, but I have recalculated that a million times, because that seems like kind of a big number. 

It is getting warmer and I have been doing a lot of experimenting with my clothes and my new gun.  I know a little more then I did a year ago when I did 7 Days Of Conceal Carry which turned into a bit of a mess, so I am going to restart that next week.  I think you will be pleasantly surprised at how easy it really is to conceal.  Warning…if you want to wear Daisey Duke shorts and a spaghetti strap shirt without a cover garment, get the Flashbang and call it good. 

In the spare 2 seconds I had yesterday(I volunteered at the kids school serving taco salad to the teachers, plus last minute errands for my daughter and then her Spring Chorus Concert…she won the solo and she ROCKED it!!) I popped over to Female and Armed, while I was there, I clicked on a link she had on her sidebar; Rounds and Roses.  The blog writer had an interesting post on getting women into shooting courses.

As you know I have been trained almost exclusively by men(The only exception is my course taught by the phenomenal Cornered Cat) and for me it worked. All the people that have come into my life have been the exact right people, but her points are well taken. I do think that many women are intimidated by men and shooting and as she points out, many women have had previous experiences that make learning from a man difficult.   I, of course, think that the entire world should learn from John, but that probably isn’t to realistic, so if your a women looking for encouragement her post is worth reading. 

I am now off for a run and then there is a slight chance I will get to meet with Arete later today, but if not, I might just snuggle up on my couch and try to finish up J.D’s Above Reproach. It is a good book and I hate putting it down, but I am so busy I have to sneak in a chapter here and a chapter there.  

When I very first started out on my journey, I didn’t know anyone who knew about guns.  I knew a lot of military people, but they were not gun folks and I had no idea where to go to find information.  I needed a holster for my first Conceal Carry For Self Defense Class, so I think I ended up going to Gander Mountain, but there was nothing for a lefty.  I am pretty sure it was there that the salesman told me about an upcoming gun show.  He suggested I try looking there for a holster.  It was at that gun show I met My Glock Guy. 

I actually call him My Glock Guy.  That is how he is listed in my contacts. He was really the very first Gunnie I ever met and he was the very first one that gave me a glimpse into the character of the people that make up this community. He is exactly who I am talking about in my Open Letter.

He is one of those individuals that says what he means and means what he says. He told me I could count on him to help me and he has never let me down.  As he helped me learn about my Glock, we developed a friendship.  He and his lovely gal have come to our house for dinner.   We send texts of silliness. I email him when I have a Glock issue.  He calls me when it’s midnight and he has had a bit too much jack and coke.  Those are fun!  For the most part our relationship has been light-hearted and carefree, but recently that changed.

About a month ago, he called me to tell me he had prostate cancer and it was bad. The cancer is pretty aggressive, so an aggressive form of action is required. In a few weeks he will be going into surgery and I am asking all of you to join me in sending him words of encouragement, good thoughts and if you are the praying kind, prayers, lots and lots of prayers.

When I am angry at someone, I call them an idiot.  It is my big what were you thinking word.

Yesterday, I was reading a post by 45er and it included a video. The video is of a robbery and it shows a woman being robbed, stabbed, then running away and leaving her child behind.  Idiot.

Some of you might think that is mighty harsh coming from a woman who essentially did the same thing.  You might assume that I would feel a kinship with her. That I could relate to whatever left wing crap was feed into her mind to bring her to that point.  That I would understand the bullshit of lie that was so convincing to her that not only did she think it was ok to leave her child in a vulnerable spot, she actually did it. You might say to yourself, talk about an idiot, have you looked in the mirror lately lady? 

The truth is, I do feel a kinship with her and I do wonder how she got so far away from her natural instinct to protect her child.  I do look in the mirror and I see her face staring back at me. I thought a lot about her last night and how gut wretchedly sick to her stomach she must be over the reality of her actions.  I want to find her and hold her and support her the way you all have supported me.  I have cried more tears for her then I have ever cried for myself, but, no matter how much I feel for her, for her child, the fact still remains she was an idiot.

Just to be clear,  I say idiot in reference to myself and my mistake too. My husband always takes offense to it.  He does not like when I say it, but I have never been much of a sugar coater and there is no point in pretending. I was an idiot.  It doesn’t matter if I was only doing what I knew, what I was conditioned to to do.  It doesn’t matter if this woman panicked because, she like me, didn’t know any better. True or not, it was stupid and pretending it was anything else is dangerous. 

There is a HUGE difference between self pity and truth.  I am speaking truth here. I speak it for one reason and one reason only, I don’t want anyone else to know this kind of truth.

Some of you reading this blog have not done all you need to do to protect yourself or your family.   You know there is something more you are suppose to be doing, but something is stopping you.  Maybe you are afraid or maybe you are pretending that bad things don’t happen all that often, I don’t know, but if you keep pretending, I fear you are in grave danger of becoming an idiot. 

My kids came home from school and I did their homework with them as I cooked dinner.  I made roasted chicken thighs, my husband’s favorite, and mock succotash. I was out of corn, but I added bacon and cream, so no one noticed.  We had a lovely dinner and then we put the kids to bed.  Well, all except E.  She needed to read a story for school and since my kids are required, by me, to read every night, she chose to do her school reading then.

She climbed into my bed and began reading.  She was reading very monotone.  She is, after all, deaf.  I said, wait, listen.  I read the way she was reading and then I read with pauses and inflection.  We have done this many times before, but it is an area she has struggled with. I asked her which sounded better.  Which sounded more interesting.  She thought my way did, so I said you try.  She said OK and began to read and by golly if she didn’t get it!  She sounded awesome!  I could hear the difference in her voice and so could she. The Marine and  I sat there listening to her and marveled at the progress this child has made.

Later on in the evening our 14 year old, M, came to us to talk about being a foreign exchange student somewhere.  We have talked about this pretty much every night for a month.  We told her she could enroll in the program her sophomore year. She wants to go this year.  She also wants to go to England.  We said no to England.  If we are paying that kind of money she is going to have to learn a different language and experience something far more unique than England.  She is determined to go to England so she brings it up daily, each time with a new perspective for us to think about.  We listen and then say Not. Gonna. Happen. But, last night she says, “What if I work for the money and pay for it myself?” Now, she has our attention.

My husband and I look at each other and I say to her, “If this is something that is that important to you, that you are willing to work for and pay for the trip, then yes, absolutely you may go to England.” She said, “Really?”  My husband replied, “Really.”  We just might be teaching her a thing or two.

Our 6 year old came off the bus all excited because he had lost his second tooth. He is the youngest and has been waiting and waiting to lose his first tooth and have the tooth fairy visit him.  He has now lost 2 in less than a weeks time.  Exciting! In our house the tooth fairy brings books and just in case, it is the fairy’s busy season, my husband ran out to the bookstore to get a few things.  While he was gone M said to me “I don’t want to go to school tomorrow.”  This is from a straight A student who adores school, so I asked why.  She told me she just didn’t feel like it, so, of course, I said, “You’re going.”  She said “You wanna fight?” “If I win, I can stay home?”

You all know I said, “Yes, lets go.”  I started tossing little hits her way.  When I say hits, I mean I am more than an arms length a way, not really near her and I am not even extending my arm.  Never touched her, plus we are laughing and chit chatting at the same time.  So, I am tossing my hits, all of which she deflects.  Eventually, I say, “At some point you have to stop being on the defense.” “You have to stop deflecting and start being on the offense.”  “You have to throw some punches yourself.”  She drops her hands to her side, looks at me sweetly and says, “I can’t.” “I just can’t.” I drop my hands too, wrap my arms around her and with tears streaming down my face say, “You know, I just want you to be safe?”  She says she knows.  I hold her for a little while longer when she says, “You know, I could knee you in the crotch right now?” I pulled her in a little a tighter, smile and say, “Yes and if you did, I would be so proud.” She giggles her cute teenage giggle, I kiss her on the check and she skips, literally, off to bed.

My husband came home from his errand and did the fairy thing then we went to bed.  We chitchatted about different things for an hour or so. After my husband turned off the light, I smiled again and thought, man I love these people.  I feel an overwhelming sense of joy.  I am so very, very blessed. Being with them is one of my most favorite places to be.

This weekend was my weekend to work at FPF Training.  There is another person who works for John; I work when he can’t.  This weekend’s class was the Conceal Carry For Self Defense.  This is a basic shooting course, but generally most of the people who take the class have had experience with shooting.  This was a special class. This class was full of first time and novice shooters.

We had 12 students in the class about half were women and 4 had never touched a gun before. Only 2 or 3 had their own guns and gear, everyone else used our equipment.

We had a husband and wife team.  I can’t remember if the wife had shot before, but her husband had never shot a pistol.  I believe he had shot a rifle or shotgun a couple of times.  They were a really fun couple.  They also brought along a friend.  Not sure about his background. I didn’t spend a whole lot of time with him, but he turned out to be quite a shooter.  In addition we had 2 females, they were friends, neither of whom had ever shot a gun before. I let one of them use my M&P for the weekend.  She and her husband(he is signed up for the next course) are serious about buying a gun for her and after talking with her and talking about what she is looking for, where she is at and her size etc, John decided that my gun was probably a good fit(I had told John he was welcome to borrow it way before he had talked with her, so he knew it was ok to make the offer).  Day one I carried John’s M&P .45…sweet!  Day two I carried my Glock.

We also had a Navy Commander.  He had some experience and was comfortable with guns. Nice, nice guy. We had a gentleman who has carried for about 3 years and has taken other classes, but he wanted some fine tuning.  Another gentleman that was in the Army and again, he knew his way around a gun, but I don’t believe he had a lot of experience with self defense type shooting.  He had a great sense of humor.  I really enjoyed chit chatting with him.  We had another husband and wife team. They are gun bloggers, but I will wait and see if they post about their training.  If they out themselves, I will link them here(edited…I got the go ahead for the link Country Tea And Bullets. Her and her husband Mr. Tea rock).  I have met and shot with the wife before, but it was the first time I had met the husband in real life.  What a treat.  Unbelievably kind folks.  They kept my hot water cold in their cooler and I can not tell you how much I appreciated that. They both have guns and carry them daily and they most certainly can shoot well.  I think they were looking for more intense training for self defense and that is why they took our course. ***Edited***As an aside, Mr. Tea read my blog first and in those beginning days offered me a lot of support and advice.  He then told his wife Country Tea about my blog and she sent me an email asking about carrying with one in the chamber.  We developed a friendship and started getting together to shoot from time to time. When they signed up for the class I wasn’t working for FPF Training  yet. I was tickled that I got to work the weekend they attended.  We made some fun memories and developed our friendship a bit more.

Finally, we had a family of 3.  A mom, a dad and their 17 year old daughter.  The mom and daughter had never touched a gun before.  Neat story.  Their friend bought the course for them.  He wanted them to be trained and he paid for all of them to attended.  Crazy cool.  The dad was a hoot.  I spent a lot of time down on their side of the line, so we bonded or at least I did.  The 17 year old was a powerhouse and took to shooting like a fish to water.  You all would have really enjoyed watching her develop.

It is strange how in the course of 2 days one can feel connected to 12 people she had never met before, but I do.  I loved them all.  Every single person there impacted me in someway.

I was deeply touched, in particular, by two of the women.  One woman, a brand new shooter, asked to talk to me.  We were in the part of the class where John is giving context to the training.  He shows videos and discusses the many issues surrounding self defense.  Anyway, watching those clips and listening to John, she was reminded of her own fresh experience and she was a little emotional. At the break, she shared a story(not a bad guy encounter, but a gun story) that had happened to her just a week or so earlier. I asked her if she had told John and she said , “Oh, no,  I haven’t told anyone.”  “Please don’t tell anyone.” I thought it was a great story of her personal fortitude and mental toughness and I thought it was a story that should be shared, but she was not ready to do so. I was blessed and humbled that she would share with me something so personal to her.  I do hope she decides to tell the story to more people, because it’s a great story.

The other lady was the mom of the 17 year old daughter.  Super lady.  I probably identified with her because for her own reasons(not from a bad guy encounter) she was not fond of guns or the damage they do.  She was very nervous and timid as she was shooting,  I tried to be a support to her without interfering with John.  By the end of the class her skills and confidence had grown tremendously, but, of course, I never thought I had any barring on that.  After the course she gave me a hug and told  me she felt better just having me there.  I was glad that my presence was a tiny bit of a comfort for her. 

No secret that I love to shoot.  That I love to be around guns and do gun things, but my life has always been and to this day, remains about relationships.  I care about people.  This job is amazing because I work for a man I respect and I get to fulfill my passion for all things firearms, but it is the people that show up weekend after weekend that make it worth it.  It’s cheesy.  It’s a cliche and it’s a 100% true. On the weekends I work, I get up at 4:30am and I don’t get home until about 7:30pm.  Your gonna have to take my word for it, but I am pretty much on the go and on my feet all of that time. This weekend I did not fire one shot, NOT ONE, but it might have been the best time I have ever spent on the range. The days are long, but the people make them short.  Being with them is one of my favorite places to be.

Outside of chit chatting with the folks, I did my usual stuff: cleaning gear, putting up targets, fetching things for John, taking pictures(when I remembered) and because there were a high number of new female shooters, I got to talk a lot about peeing with a gun on.  Much of my time working for FPF Training  revolves around peeing.  Who knew?  What is even more odd is that I actually enjoyed it. I know what you are thinking, “Really, that excites you?”  Why, yes, yes, it does.  I loved that these women felt comfortable enough to come ask me and I loved that I could help. 

It is quite an experience to see someone hold a gun and shoot it for the first time.  To see them nervous and shaky, but determined to take that first difficult step forward and to actually pull the trigger, it was like no other experience I have had. With each new shooter that took that step I had tears in my eyes.

Inspiring.

The first shot is inspiring, but it is the last shot, that very last one, that one is exciting.  This is true for each and every person who comes through the training. I love to watch their confidence grow and to see them improve upon whatever skills they have, be it none at all, or seasoned.  They all walk away with more tools than they had when they first arrived.  Witnessing immediate and tangible results is crazy cool.

I am thankful to everyone who came out and let me be a part of their lives for a weekend.  I was truly blessed.

P.S. I would like to point out that not only didn’t I cross my legs one time, I also noticed every single time someone else did and I was kind enough to point that out to them.  I am not entirely sure they appreciated it as much as I did, but  I like to share the love.  More good news. John name a move after me.  It is a move starting out with legs crossed and followed by a twist. It is used when addressing a threat from behind.  It is not as flattering as it sounds, though.  It is a move NOT to do and the honor comes with a fair amount of mocking.

Yesterday I went to Zercool’s blog where he had posted a comment from Sean, that Sean had left at Jigsaw’s Thoughts blog.

Of course, I popped on over to see what all the fuss was about.  Essentially someone who appears to be anti gun engaged in a conversation with Julie.  Nothing really new or earth shattering in his argument and Julie, of course, handled it brilliantly.  When I got to the comments, Sean said…

“The fact that you would demand that Jigsaw stand meekly and get hurt or killed rather than fight back makes you effectively a co-conspirator with the attacker”. 

I read that line and it was an ah-moment for me. I thought that is exactly what the defenders of criminals are; they are co-conspirators, but then they are in it for their own reasons and I am not sure I have any hope of effecting their thinking or their behavior, but as I thought about his statement, I thought, what about me?  What about you?

When, we refuse to take responsibility for our own safety, our own lives, when we sit back and find reason after reason to justify doing nothing, we are in effect co-conspirators with our attacker. Now, the main difference being that unlike many anti-gunners there is no malice in our actions.  Bad guys are bad and someone who doesn’t prepare for their own defense is not really culpable in that manner, but by doing nothing or very little, we are helping them.  A victim of a crime does not deserve the blame, but why make it any easy on these people?  Why help them to cause you harm?  


JD at Guns, Guns, and Gosh Darn More Guns has an interesting post up this morning.

The day before we left for North Carolina on vacation our washing machine broke. I have had way too many oh-crap-life moments to let something like this annoy me in the least, so I just said, whatever and went to plan B.  We didn’t have that much dirty laundry and there was a washing machine at the house we rented, so we just packed whatever was dirty and washed it when we arrived at the beach.  We did call the repairman right away though and set up service call for when we returned.  I will spare you the 3 week oh-crap-life momment is starting to piss me off saga and jump right to this morning.

The phone operator had scheduled the repairman to come to my house between 8am-12pm.  Of course, 100% of the time whenever a company schedules me for a time slot, the repair person shows up about 5 minutes after the latest time.   Since I know this, I was not concerned that 8am is the exact time I am running around getting my kids ready for school, but I should have been.

I woke up this morning and put my yoga like pants on and I had a little spaghetti strap top on. No gun, no cover garment.  Just me in my morning attire.  Let’s not tell any of the people who train me that my gun was not on me even though it has violently strongly been suggested, ad nauseum repeatedly that I wear it at all times.

I am in the kitchen packing snacks for the kiddos when my daughter says, “Hey, mom there is some guy at the door.”  She did not open the door she can just see him standing there. I look at sure enough there is a man at our door, it is the guy from Se@rs. 

I open the door, he hands me a card, says his name and I let him in.  He seems very nice.  I show him to the laundry room and he starts to work on the washer.  I was not at all concerned that my gun was not on me.  I was expecting him, he was driving a company van, he was wearing the company uniform, he handed me a card, his posture towards me was fine.  Not a big deal.  But then I started to think about all the stories I have heard and read about repairman not really being repairman.  I have read a lot about repairman who don’t commit crimes every time they make a call, but sometimes, some of them might engage in a crime of opportunity. I look at a him and think he seems nice, but he is rather larger.  I think I probably should put my gun on, but this is easier said than done.  My gun is in a place where if I went to grab it, the man could see me get it from the laundry room.  I have other guns upstairs, but my kids are waiting on the sitars for the bus, so I don’t want to call them up with me and I don’t want to leave them alone with him, so I am in a quandary.  What to do…

Also, am not wearing the right clothes.  Can’t just grab my gun and slide it on. I have to figure that out first.  Again, I am not really concerned about this, but I am half way thinking idiot, should have had my gun on and half way thinking this is good training.  Probably don’t need to get my gun on, but it’s a challenge and I want to finishing thinking how I can solve this dilemma.  I go into my downstairs closet and grab a jacket which I am sure seemed strange because it is like 80 degrees, but it was just a little windbreaker and not my huge winter jacket plus regardless I needed something for a cover garment.

The bus comes, I send the kids off and I go into my kitchen where I can see him clearly and where my gun is.  I do busy work and wait for a chance to get my gun.  He turns his back and I seize the opportunity.  Grab my gun, go into the next room, slide my Remora on, tuck my gun in there, tighten drawstrings on pants, fix jacket. Success! I am armed. 

Again, I had no reason to be concerned and I wasn’t.  I also know the gun is not a magic answer to whatever could possibly happen if the washer repairman decided to go all bad guy on me, but I feel more confident in my skills to handle bad guy situations with my gun than without it.

Fortunately, the third time is a charm, he fixed the washer!!! He is standing inside our laundry room which is small and with really bad lightening.  He asks me to come in there so he can show me the paperwork and have me sign a few things.  I decide that just for practice, I am not going to go in there.  Normally, if I don’t want to do something, but someone asks me to, I do it.  I was not worried about going in there, but I have done things before that I felt uncomfortable doing and I wanted to practice saying no, so I said, “Actually, would you mind coming out here and letting me look at those?”  He said, “Oh, sure the light is probably better for you in the kitchen”.  I said, “Yep, sure is, thank you.”

I read. I signed. He left.  All is well.