Nothing Says I Love You Like A Glock 9

When a Groupon for the gun range came up recently I decided to get it.  And today, our anniversary, was the day to use it.  I've never been good with those traditional gifts--paper, gold, glocks, they all just blend together.

I have been wanting to go to the gun range for years now.  I have never shot a gun.  Unless you count a BB gun.  I'm not sure if that even counts, because that was in the 70s and I wasn't good at it anyways.  Ask my brother.  I shot him in the leg; I was aiming for the tin can.  If I had actually aimed for his leg there was no way I would have hit it.  

To be honest, I was a little nervous to hold a real handgun.  The guy kept on giving us so many simple instructions I was afraid I was going to go in there and totally mess something up.  And die or administer death to my baby daddy or someone else.  I was glad I had my tall, dark and handsome in there with me to guide me along.

As we were getting instructions, not only was I scared I might mess something up, but I kept nervously glancing at the people inside the range.  What if one of them went cray cray?  It's not like they're going to just yell obscenities or something, they have a gun in their hands.  They might yell obscenities first, but they have a gun in their hands.  Even if they don't pop a cap in me on some insane whim, what if they are one glock short of a glock 9 and haphazardly wave that thing around and accidentally shoot me?  People are nuts.  I'm just sayin'.  Those are the thoughts that kept flying around in my head.

And oh my gosh, it was so loud.  Loud noises don't bother me, but it made it scary.  The first one or two shots were my best.  Once I started shooting and felt the power of death in my hands and heard it in my ears and dodged the flinging bullets (those little things were flying everywhere), it made me gun shy.  {The first and only time I have used that term literally.}  There were a couple times I meant to squeeze the trigger but didn't do it hard enough and I caught myself shrugging away and squeezing my eyes instead.  I did that every time but it was only obvious when I didn't actually shoot the gun and just shut my eyes and shrugged for nothing.

This is my 'kill shot' like the cool people in the movies do when they mean business.

The hubs and I shared our target.  All but 1 or 2 actually hit the paper.  Not too bad for a scared and slightly freaked out little girl.  Don't ask how far (some may say near but let's not get hung up on semantics) the target was when it was my turn.  Could have been my shots that missed, could have been Abe's.  I'll let you decide for yourself on that one.

 

We topped off the gun range with some exercise together.  Is that romance, or what, ladies?  Oddly enough, it works for us.  It has for 11 years so far…why mess with a good thing?

I want to give a shout out to our July 28th buddy--happy birthday, Sister!

Thanks Grannie and Grandad for watching the kids.

Happy 11th Anniversary to us!