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.

Erin over at Lurking Rhythmically is asking the blogging community to help a friend of hers and she asked me to help spread the word. This is an excerpt from her blog post…

This last piece is more of a request than an update. I have another friend, Miakoda, who lives in South Bend, Indiana. She’d like to know more about guns and how to shoot them, but she is very ignorant of how they work. I mean absolutely no disrespect here, but she literally did not know the difference between a semiauto and a revolver before she began speaking to me. I’ve tried to educate her as best I can, but it’s difficult to do over chat and she’d really benefit from some hands-on training by an actual instructor.

If there’s anyone in Indiana who is willing to take her to the range and give her some basic instruction for little to no cost, I would really really appreciate it, and I know she will too. Contact me — you know how to get in touch. 🙂 

If you can help or if you know of anyone who can help, please contact Erin.

I knew a person once we said to me “I know that if someone wanted to harm me, I could not protect my self or my children and I am fine with that.”  “If it is my time to go, it is my time to go.”  Of course she said that, but she didn’t really believe it, otherwise she wouldn’t take her child to the doctor or wear her seat belt or turn on the alarm in her house, but it’s what she tells herself because thinking about being mugged, raped or murdered is scary.  Thinking about your children being harmed is unimaginable and it is easier not to, until of course you have no other choice. Often what appears to be easy, turns out to be the hardest thing of all. I understand that mindset.  I was pretty much the poster child for that mindset.  When I get a comment like I did yesterday from anonymous I am not angry with him or her because I was him or her.  I told someone last night that this person who keeps posting anonymously, it feels personal to me.  I keep thinking it is someone who knows me. Someone who is close to me, but maybe it is just that I can so intimately identify with the thinking that I feel a connection to him or her.  I don’t know.

While, I understand the thinking, I also know how dangerous it is.  I can promise you sticking your head in the sand and crossing your fingers that the bad guy won’t kill you is not a good strategy.   Even if one is prepared to die, most are not prepared to live with the aftermath of survival.  Death sucks, but living comes with it’s own set of issues and in my case, not dying was when the real fight for my life began.

When you survive an attack, for most people there are all the usual feelings of fear, shame, embarrassment, and anger,  but for me I also felt completely demoralized and an enormous amount of guilt.

On that day I did not fight. I did not protect myself or my daughter. I know, I know, we have been through this a number of times and I am not feeling guilty today. This is not about that. This is about the cold hard facts that someone who isn’t willing to think about the consequences of not fighting needs to know.  It has been said  “You did everything you needed to because you are here and you are alive”, but that isn’t true.  I did nothing.  One of the things that the bad guy said to me when he was on top of me was, “We are going to get up from here and you are going to leave with me.” and I would have.  I know it without a doubt.  He knew we couldn’t stay in that parking lot, eventually someone would come along.  There is no way to know for sure what his intentions were when he first spotted me, but I have done a lot of reading on instinct and have learned that people do actually know more about a person and their intentions then we give ourselves credit for.  As I have replayed that day in my mind, I have come to believe that he was a bad guy and probably had committed many crimes before, but I also believe he just wanted a few bucks.  The way he approached me and the way things played out, I believe he became bolder and bolder the more compliant I was.  He went to take a little, I gave it without issue, so he went for a little more and a little more.  I don’t think his plan was to knock me on the ground and drag me out of there, but as I lied there with fear in my eyes, I think he thought, “She is weak”. “She will leave with me.” and he was right, I would have.  That is something to think about the next time you tell someone it might be easier to just give them what they want. I did nothing.  I did not fight because I thought it was the best way for me to survive. It wasn’t a choice.  I didn’t assess the situation and decide that not resisting was my best option for survival. I did nothing because not fighting had been so ingrained into the fibers of who I was that I did not even have the natural instinct to protect myself or my child. The cold hard truth is that, had those 2 cars not pulled up, this story would have more ugliness, that I am sure of. Not having the courage to face the possibility of an attack nearly cost my everything. It’s not about having a gun or not having a gun, it is about mindset.  My mind is what almost got me in bigger trouble that day.

After something tragic happens there are really only 2 choices: give into it or get over it.  Let it beat you with depression, alcohol, withdrawing, anger whatever, or move on.  Moving on might seem like the easier choice, but it is a hard and painful road.  Death is hard, but surviving is no cake walk.

In my determination to change my mindset and to find joy and happiness again, I lost much. I lost myself.  I lost parts of me that I had identified with for so long and parts I loved.  I lost several close friends that I had before the mugging.  The new me was not to their liking and even though they said they would always be there for me, when things got tough, they rather coldly and brutally walked out.  My children suffered and so did my marriage.  My family and friends needed to protect me and I needed them not to.

There are people who read this blog that have known me a long time and they can tell you that our family was the perfect white picket fence, annoyingly happy family that no one thinks exists.  Of course, we had ups and downs and hard times, but our foundation was solid.  Our kids are good caring people and my marriage had been the kind people dream of.  Twenty years with a man I have always adored and who has always cared for me and put me first.  I have my faults and he has his, but somehow we just fit.  I have always been able to be me and to get through life’s obstacles because my husband was by my side.  When my brother died, he was the rock.  He took care of everything as my father and I tried to get through the day.  When our daughter A came home from China and our family was reeling from the realities of what life had tossed her way, he made sure everything was taken care of, so I could focus solely on her.  He is kind and generous and strong and he has always been who I turned to, but this time I couldn’t.

There was no conscious thought process.  I did not decide I could not depend on him or others, I just did what I could to get through the days, move forward and not go crazy.  As I began to depend more on myself, my family and friends didn’t know where they fit in.  We are all protectors of each other, not really talkers.  We are all ‘suck-it” uppers.  If something bothers me for the most part I don’t say anything and that is the kind of people I surrounded myself with.  They knew I was hurting, so they didn’t say anything when their needs were not being met and I was too focused on myself and E to pay attention.  A huge chasm began to develop and those relationships suffered. By the time I was healthy enough to notice, most had already been destroyed.

My story has a happy ending.  My children are happy, healthy and carefree.  My marriage is more solid,  more connected and more pervy than every before.  The friendships I have been able to maintain are deeper and closer and the new ones I have made have added a richness to my life that I never experienced.  I meant it when I said I am the happiest I have ever been, but I would have preferred to have thought about these things prior to that day.  I would have preferred to have been prepared.  I would have preferred to have not lost so much.

Fighting for my life, for my family, for my marriage, was a painful, gut wrenching process and when I look back on the mindset that got me into the fight, it hardly seems worth the price I paid.

I do not understand the male obsession with scratching themselves.  I also do not understand the need to do it so often.  I almost never have an itch, anywhere, let alone, ya know, in the lower regions where one might find shrinking Polar Bear genitals.

Yesterday in my post about Hunting, RabidAlien left a comment about sitting around a camp fire bonding after a days hunt.  Talking, drinking and scratching.  Huh, did not know that was part of the deal.  Did not see that anywhere in Zercool’s posts, but I thought about my weekend at the range with the guys and there was a fair amount of spitting and scratching.  Then yesterday I have this conversation(edited slightly for brevity sake) with Arete.

He is telling me we are going to do this and that and I need to focus on this when he says,

“But, it isn’t like I am going make you scratch yourself in public.”

Me- Thank god, I don’t even want to scratch myself in private.

A- You must shower a lot.  Sorry you have never known the joys of a good scratch.

Me- Lol, well a good back scratch can be satisfying, but I really don’t have all that many itches.  So, glad I am not a boy.

A- Well, now I have a goal.  Gotta get you to have an itch so bad it needs to be scratched.  It’s my mission to get you all itchy as we ground fight in the grass.

Me- I seriously have to stop telling you stuff.

He can turn even the most innocent conversation into some kind of psychological warfare training.  I am just hopeful, I will have learned how to get out of whatever hold he has on me, so I can scratch the itch and I hope it doesn’t set off some kind of domino effect where I just go around scratching myself for the next week.

Moving on…Mrs. Groundhog has a new toy.  Go check it out.  You might be interested.

If you are not visiting the Gun Blog Black List and clicking around, you are doing yourself a great disservice.  Lots of good stuff out there.

Someone left a rather strange comment on my Open Letter post last night and that prompted me to read it again for the first time since I wrote it.  I think I have been afraid to re-read it because I was so emotional and wacka back then I thought I might feel embarrassed about it, but nope.  It said exactly what I was feeling and still feel to this day.  This has been such an incredible journey and I can tell you honestly, I am the happiest I have ever been in my life and I have had a very happy adult life.  Even when life happens like it always does and the suck factor is in full force, I am still beyond happy.  Thank you all so very much for supporting me, encouraging me, and advising me.  You are the best!

At least in my heart I am. I have never actually been hunting, but I have wanted to for a year, longer really.

I have always known where my food came from and I have never had a problem with it. Well, once when I was about 11. I decided to become a vegetarian because I saw something on TV about the killing of animals and it made me sad. I was not very committed though because on the third night of my conversion my mom made tacos and the smell of the hamburger was too much for me to handle. I am not a big portion eater, but I think I ate 4 tacos that night and have been a carnivore ever since.

When I was younger I did a lot of camping and fishing with my dad. My dad would catch a fish, gut it, clean it, and then cook it.  That never was a problem for me. I wasn’t grossed out. We ate a lot of trout from the Truckee River. 

On my journey this year I have tried to pin point my thoughts and how I came to be who I was.  I also wondered why I so quickly fell in love with shooting and the life style that surrounds it.  The bad guy thing aside, I am a full fledged gun enthusiast.  A few people have said to me that they are waiting for this gun phase to pass.  They have been thinking once I got over the ordeal of the parking lot, I would slide back into the routine of my life and guns would not be such a central focus. I have bad news for them…Not. Gonna. Happen. 

There is a sense of calm and peace about me now that is separate from feeling like I can defend myself.  It is more like I found a part of me I lost. As a kid, I loved to hike and be outside. I don’t remember being afraid of guns.  I don’t remember it becoming an issue in our home until I was a little older. I think that I allowed myself to become something I really wasn’t. 

I loved my life.  I was happy and confident and didn’t feel I was missing anything.  I had no longing to find a missing part of myself.  I thought I knew who I was and I liked it.  I liked being delicate and soft.  I liked being taken care of.  I identified with that person and I liked her.  I liked her so much it took me sometime to let her go, but I think I have always been more.  I think over time between my violent childhood and the brainwashing of my family, I buried a part of me. I think I am fighter.  I think I am a survivor. I think I am hunter.  I think I always have been.

Once I got over my aversion to guns and all things associated with them, I immediately  said, “I want to go hunting.”

Problem was I didn’t know anyone who hunted. But, now, I do.

The other day I was reading a post by Weer’d and read a comment left by Zercool. He was talking to Weer’d, “Come hunting with me this fall” or something close to that. I then left a comment saying I wanted to tag along. To my surprise and delight, Zerccol said, come! I sent him an email saying I was serious and he said great and sent me a link to his blog where he talks about preparing for a hunt and all that goes into the actual day and what happens afterwards. Very interesting! Beyond excited.

The next day I get a call from my husband telling me his has good news for me. He was talking with a friend who asked about me? How is the wife kind of thing. My husband tells him I very well and that I am a now a gunnie. He tells him I am all pumped up to go hunting later this year with new friends. My husband’s friend is completely blown away because we haven’t seen each other in years and he remembers me fondly, but he also remembers me as a “delicate” prim and proper, not a violent bone in her body kind of gal.  Anyway, he tells my husband, “I will take her hunting.”

He has some books on hunting he wants me to read and then his plan is to take me along with him on his hunts.  I think my husband is going to come too.  He says we can hunt for turkey and deer, which apparently are much smaller than the deer where I will, hopefully, be hunting with Zercool. He says a person has to shoot 6 Virginia deer just to make a sandwich. He also hunts dove and black bear. Don’t know that he has ever shot a black bear, but they do have bear on Quantico and it is legal to hunt to them.  I think it would be hysterical if the first year I went hunting I saw and shot a black bear. Don’t laugh…I dream BIG people.

Now, I need to sign up for a Hunter’s Safety Course, get my licenses, get a gun or two and do lots and lots of reading.  I am living the life!!

I have little kids, so if someone says backpack, my mind automatically goes to the song from the cartoon, Dora. 

Anyway, as I mentioned before I was contacted a few weeks ago by a gentleman who asked me if I would be willing to review a shoulder holster.  I said sure.  That never arrived, but he also asked me to review a product of my choice under $25 from PXSupply.com.  They are an Army/Navy supply store. Finding something I wanted to review was a feat because they offer so many items and I had no idea what to choose. 

Since I have been shooting, I have had an issue with my purse.  Mostly, I just don’t like carrying it anymore.  I have always carried it on my left side, but my gun is there and it’s just a pain.  I tried moving it to my right side, but for the life of my I can’t get used to it and it is so uncomfortable.  Before it would be no big deal because I would just have to carry it into the store and then toss it in the cart, but I no longer to that.  It stays on my body the whole time.  Hate it. In addition I don’t want to carry my lovely Coach purse into the range when I go shooting, which is a lot.  Just feels wrong, but there are things I need in my purse, so I usually end up taking my CCP, DL, money, ect from my purse and tossing it into my range bag, but I sometimes forget to put it back and I have, more than once, been walking around town carrying concealed with my permit back at home.  I thought about a backpack, but they are either too big or too small or too girly.  I like girly.  I like feminine, but I have never liked to draw attention to myself and nothing says, I want attention like a bright pink backpack bedazzled in crystals.

When I was perusing the website I saw a smallish backpack that had a retro look. It caught my eye and I thought it looked like something I could carry to the range and also something I would feel comfortable carrying around town, so that is what I picked.

The black bag on the left is my husband’s and the nice brown one with the red star is mine.  As you can see it is quiet a bit smaller, but still a good size. 

It is extremely well made.  The stitching is solid and I have purposely been rough with it to see how it would hold up.  I took it to the range the weekend I worked and it got tossed all around between my car and John’s truck.  I was in and out of it all day in the rain and mud and not a fray to be found.

The backpack has a lot of pockets which I like.  I can carry all the things I would normally carrying in it plus a bigger first aid kit.  For me my normal daily carry would be chap stick, gum, 2 pens,  my wallet, checkbook, small first aid kid(I have always carried one by the way), a small knife(it sucks), some kind of healthy cereal bar, mace, paper, small cosmetic bag that has needle/thread, kleenex, other girly essentials and sunscreen. I do also carry a flashlight, but that is on my body along with my gun.

Everything fits nicely in all the different compartments and I still have room to toss in a bottle of water if I want. My only tiny annoyance is that it does not have a specific place to put a pen or pencil.  I am always taking notes and writing my my name for someone, so it’s nice to have quick access to a pen.  There isn’t a place for one in this back pack, so even if I put it in the small pocket up front I am forever digging around to find it.

That aside, I have carried this backpack every single day for 2 weeks and I love it!! 

Last week the Deaf Education instructor at my children’s school emailed me and asked if I would be willing to contact and then meet with some friends of hers.  Her friends are a Deaf couple couple in the process of adopting a little girl from China and since I have been there, done that, she thought I might be a good resource and provide support for them.

Yesterday after my morning at the range, I rushed home to spend a few hours with the kids and then I met up with the couple at Starbucks.

First, I have to say these two are some of the neatest people I have ever had the pleasure to meet.  Had a fabulous time talking with them.

Talking with them in a public place was a new challenge for my situational awareness because since they are deaf we were signing.  Eye contact is incredibly important for the politeness, but also if I looked away to check the doors, I would miss what one of them was saying.  They had arrived before me and found seats, so the only seat available left my back to the only incoming door as well as everything happening at the counter.  Fortunately, the chair was not bolted down and I could move it a little to give me a better view of things and still be able to see them.  I was amazed at how much I have actually learned and processed.  I was able to scan the room, count how many people were there, converse with my new friends, and be aware enough to find times that I could take a quick scan of things.  It was pretty natural. Eventually they asked to see pictures of my kids and I moved to sit on the loveseat next to the wife.  That was a much better place to see the haps inside the coffee place.

We had been talking for about an hour when the wife asked me if I worked and if so where.  I told her that I work for a firearms instructor. The husband immediately lit up and says “I want to take your course”  I explain that I am the gopher girl, but that if he took the course from John, I would make sure to be there. He told me there was no way his wife would go for it.  She does not like guns.

I have mentioned before that every time I go somewhere I have no intention of talking guns or about being mugged.  It never crossed my mind in a million years that I would spend an hour discussing shooting and my attack, but I am starting to think the universe is determined to squeeze every ounce of good it can from my misfortune. Even with gun people I try not to bring it up, but generally when I meet new gun people they are curious and often ask me how I got into shooting.  I say a bad guy encounter and try to leave it at that. Men don’t tend to ask me for details.  Women always do.

After the husband tells me his wife will not go for it, I look at her and she smiles.  “Guns scare me.”  I smile back and say “I get that”.  “Guns used to scare me too.”  I tell her the traditional once I realized the gun is just a thing and I control it, I was better able to open my mind.  I tell her that my kitchen knives tend to be more dangerous because I am not as careful with them.  I am so comfortable I will pick one up and start chopping food while chit chatting and signing and oops, I just took a slice out of my finger.  I tell her I am always aware and careful with my guns, so my confidence in dealing with them is high.

We get back to talking about adoption for the next 30 minutes or so, and she says “I want to meet your kids”  I said sure, lets set up dinner.  She looks to her husband who says “Yeah, great, I want to take her shooting course.”  Again, she smiles.

She explains to me that her husband grew up hunting and likes rifles, but has never shot a pistol and she does not understand the need.  He chimes in with “What about to protect our home?”

I want to say this was a very friendly light-hearted conversation.  There was no tension at all and I did not feel like I was put in the middle between these two people.  He genuinely cared about her feelings and she about his.  Honestly, it was sweet and tender to be a part of their conversation.  I loved to watch them loving each other.

Anyway, I do decide that I will share that I was mugged.  No details, no tears, no drama, just me saying, your husband has a point.  Self protection is a concern and I know of what I speak.  She is shocked that something like that happened right in our town, to me, in the day time, not too far from where we were having coffee.

She listens and then starts to asks a lot of questions.  Lots.  She would make a good detective.  I do end up going into the full account, in more verbal detail then I ever have before.  I am fine.  Not traumatized at all.  She gets teary eyed once, but I do not.  At one point I am talking to her and I come to the part where I put E in the car and she looks me in the eyes and says, “Why didn’t you get in the car?”  I am taken a back for a minute because I thought, What? Wait?  Why didn’t I get in the car????

In all the times I have recounted this story I have said I should have ran into the store, I should have yelled, I should have done this or that, but I have never said I should have got into the car.  Why didn’t I just get into the car?

I look at her for a few seconds and I very softly say, “Why didn’t I.”  “Good question.”  “I did a lot wrong that day.”  Then I told her that at the start of every self defense class the question is asked what does a criminal need?  He needs a victim and then I tell her a good deal of the class is spent discussing how not to be chosen.  She asks me why I think the bad guy chose me and I tell her, “Because I was the perfect choice.”  “I made it easy.”  She said “How?”  We talk about what bad guys look for and how I fit each of them.

I loved this conversation because she was honestly wanting to know.  She was not being judgmental or harsh or accusative.  We were discussing things she had never thought of and if I did nothing else yesterday, I got her thinking.

Somehow we get back to adoption and we talk for another 40 minutes.  At the end the wife says, I can’t wait to come to your house for dinner.  Her husband says, I can’t wait to take her shooting course.

I laughed and said, “Yep, I am a full service friend”.  “I am here for all your adoption and shooting needs.”

This morning  MSgt B, CTone, Nancy R, David, and Angry Andy , who is aparently actually Broken Andy, were getting together at the range and I was able to join them!!!  I took a picture, but it is all kinds of blurry.

We met at the range an hour before it opened and just did the chit chat thing.  I was going to make a joke about how they were all jerks and I didn’t like them at all. Every time you read about one of these bloggy get togethers it is just one big lovefest, so I thought I would shake things up a bit, but I couldn’t do it.  I just love them too much. 

They are all great and let me tell you about Nancy R’s sweet daughter…precious!! Smart as a whip that one.  Unfortunately this range does not allow children under the age of 7, so she was not able to shoot.  Big time bummer!!

We got 3 lanes and, of course, the generosity was in abundance…aka they let me shoot everything! 

I shot MSgt B’s Sig Pro and his Ruger SP 101 with .357 Magnum bullets.

 With his Sig

The lower shot on the left is where I was aiming his Ruger.  I shot 4 shots and got 2 on the white and 2 a little to the right in the black.  I am not entirely sure how far out this was, maybe 7 yards.

I also shot an HK P30 which I loved. A Kahr 9mm which I didn’t.  I shot a Walther of some sort. I shot a .22 with red dot something.  That was pretty cool!! I typed the names, calibers and who they belonged to in my phone, but between my hurrying and the iphone’s devilish spell check I can’t tell what I meant, so if I got something wrong, I apologize.

A couple of people shot my M&P and then we headed to a local coffee place where MSgt B treated us to a cup of coffee.  I really enjoy getting to know these people as much as I love to shoot and you all know how very much I love to shoot.

Had a blast.  Thanks so much for inviting me!!

It has come to my attention that I am in no way a perv. I have lived under the false assumption for years now that I was. It has been a somewhat painful and totally embarrassing, public realization, but after hanging with you all, it is obvious I can no longer continue in my delusional state.

My earlier post was meant to showcase my stellar fighting skills and was not my attempt to share with the world foreplay with my husband. The first version on the post included a statement about how, had Arete been present, he would have been proud of me. Sure, take a moment to visualize that threesome. Apparently, God had mercy on me and must have quietly nudged me to remove it.

I read that post so many times and I got nothing risque from it. My only attempt at any sexual innuendo was the “I am extremely fond of his groin area”. I was so blind to the nature of my writing I let me 13 year old read it and thankfully, public school has not corrupted her mind completely because all I got was “Eww, gross.” “Who says groin?”

I feel confident that I am in the right environment to cure my problem of clean thinking and I’m hopeful that my conversion will be a quick one because I am getting tired of accidentally sticking my clean thoughts into your filthy minds.

Feel free to email me “educational” material that you think might be helpful.  Pictures are appreciated.

**My husband’s says he would appreciate it more if no actual pictures were sent:)