This weekend, I got to shoot a couple of guns. I've never really been interested in guns much, but neither am I against them. I grew up surrounded by people who thought guns were cool, and so if nothing else, it was a normal kind of thing in my world.
My grandfather had an impressive collection of guns. In the last house he built, he installed a secret room accessible through part of the ceiling. He filled it with his arsenal, you know, just in case of attack. Or something. Grandpa Glen was both a man and law unto himself and he didn't often share the inner workings of his mind. I'm sure it would've been fascinating. When I was about 14 or 15, I got to shoot one of his antique rifles. All I came away with was the impression that guns are extremely hard to shoot, and therefore, no further interest in them.
On Monday, in honor of Labor Day (??) or perhaps in honor of a day of fun, my very manly husband and our country-dwelling friend set out to shoot some stuff. Out in the yard. I'm not sure, but I think that makes us rednecks. *Resigned sigh* But again, that doesn't really bother me. I'm used to it. I have a gun rack in my otherwise Country Living-esque bedroom.
What did start to worry me, though, was when it started to get dark and the menfolk still hadn't come in from target practice. Right around the time I couldn't see them, I took it upon myself to go suggest they wrap it up. Yes, I'm the police. I'm all about responsibility, especially to a point. *Cheeky grin* So I went out into the yard and was relieved to see them loading things back up. I didn't want to actually be the one to break up their fun, as I don't particularly care for the labels that some men give women who "try to be in charge." I've come close to kicking my neighbor, as he persists in calling me "Boss" whenever I come to see what Matt's up to at his house.
Once I got closer to the guys however, they immediately asked if I wanted to shoot. I glanced up at the very dusky, darkened sky and said, "Isn't it too late to shoot?" The reply alarmed me a little, "It's never too late to shoot." Um, okay. I told them that if they hurried, I would shoot, but it had to be fast, 'cause I was ostensibly there to break things up and ensure safety. Gun police, that's me.
They sprang into action, throwing safety glasses and ear coverings at me. Within 60 seconds, I was standing with my hands wrapped around a big gun. I think it was some kind of shotgun. I was given strict instructions to press its butt firmly into my shoulder, which at the time, I couldn't possibly see as being important, but I did as I was told. My husband explained where to put my hands and when to pull the trigger. I obeyed and was rewarded with a sound blow to my upper arm. Evidently there's this thing called recoil...that's when the gun tries to attack the person holding it.You have to hold on tight or you might sustain injury. My arm is bruised today.
Next they handed me a smaller gun, some kind of pistol. This one was fun. After I got used to holding on tightly so it didn't flip back into my face, that is. I started doing something with my wrists that gave me some small illusion of control, which was comforting. And fun.
I came away enthralled and ready for my next opportunity to shoot, preferably at a time when the sun was up and I got to do it for more than 5 minutes.
Then last night, my darling husband wrote a post about me shooting guns. No, I will not give you a link to it, because I'm hoping that no one else finds it. Let's suffice it to say that my face stayed red all evening and that I evidently am a Gun Diva in disguise. I'm feeling some major conflict. I'm not sure what to do about shooting again. I like shooting quite.a.lot. but the thoughts that will be running through my head might disable my ability to keep the gun from recoiling into my body. And my face might be red. I'm not sure I'm comfortable with being a Gun Diva.
Just keeping you on your toes.
"When I'm with a pistol I sparkle like a crystal, yes I shine like the morning sun." --Annie Oakley We have women in the military, but they don't put us in the front lines. They don't know if we can fight, if we can kill. I think we can. All the general has to do is walk over to the women and say, "You see the enemy over there? They say you look fat in those uniforms." --Elayne Boosler
"I'm not a bit changed--not really. I'm only just pruned down and branched out. The real ME--back here--is just the same." -Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables/
I am married to a strong and handsome Mexican-looking Japanese guy. Our four children are as adorable as all the kids in high school said they would be. I love to sing, play piano, take pictures, read, and be outside (when it's not too hot OR cold). Sometimes I write. I love it when it's quiet. I'm thrilled that God is showing me how to love, obey, and praise Him.