personal

The other day, Victor changed his Facebook profile photo to one of him at Wade’s Eastside Guns. Within minutes, Mike commented that he’d like to go with him next time. Because of FB’s clever cross-post-update-notifying, I saw the thread and invited myself, “I’d go with y’all. I pack my own heat ;)” Within two hours we had made plans to go five days later.

Here we are at our lane (you can have up to three people at each lane, which saves some cashola; first person fee is $15 and the next one to two are $10 each).

Here’s Victor getting some impromptu gun wisdom from a friendly Wade’s worker. ALL the staff that night were extremely helpful, knowledgeable, and encouraging.

The following two paragraphs in gray are about death (so skip it if you’re squeamish or don’t want to read it)…
The first time I heard about Wade’s was in 1997, right after a new friend was at the range with a girl who was trying a pretty powerful, unfamiliar gun. She had shot one bullet at the target. The gun recoiled up and shot again. That second shot pushed the gun back once more so that it was pointing behind her. Automatic reaction is to pull the gun down to the front, but in doing so her finger put pressure on the trigger and another shot fired and he was behind her, getting shot in the neck. He died before reaching the hospital. As soon as we all heard, shock fell upon us and remained for most of the week as his family came to town, we helped empty his apartment, and funeral arrangements were being made. It was an open casket funeral. At first I didn’t want to look (I’d rather his cute face show up in my memory instead of one without his spirit in it), but I guess that curiosity got the best of me because I got in line to pay my condolences see for myself how the mortician managed to mask the wound. They ended up wrapping his neck up with white fabric, making it look like an old-fashioned high collar, Mr. Darcy style. He looked, lovely. Really. As much as you would expect in that condition.

I’m not sure where the girl is now. She moved about a year later and we all lost touch with her. I think of her randomly; more often than him (sad). She’s probably felt alone since the accident, so that’s probably why it’s only when I’m alone that thoughts of her pass through. Hope she’s found peace. I know he has.

This is Mike, a.k.a. Bonnie’s dad, taking out Zombie Tom…

…Victor working on a target with my .38 special (wasn’t his favorite)…

…and me, concentrating on Zombie Tom. Victor bet me a dollar I couldn’t get Zombie Tom “downstairs” in one shot. Yeah, I’m a dollar richer ;) See the last picture for proof of my money shot, just under the belt buckle (close enough). Oh, the other thing about this action shot is that one of the staff tried getting me to change my posture EVEN THOUGH I HAD FIRED 3 SWEET ON-THE-BLACK SHOTS (he didn’t see them, just noticed my stance) and didn’t ask for instruction. But I listened and did what he told me for several rounds before I shook it off and went back to my way (straighter back, not bent forward at the waist like I’m pushing a grocery cart). That’s probably good form for others, but it did a number on my back muscles.

Mike proudly showing off his cluster of four shots. That would blow his head off if we were being attacked by (paper) Zombie’s!

Vic couldn’t show you where he hit Zombie Tom with the .38 because I’m not sure that he did, but he was able to get him a couple times with the 9 mil he’s holding in the photo.

I might’ve gotten him once with the 9 mil but my .38 worked just fine. It’s a gun my dad got for me in my early 20’s after I went shooting with him at an outdoor range. My first shot with a .22 hit my metal target and I was hooked. Guess all that practicing at Circus Circus as a child paid off! I’m a master at winning the watergun in the clown mouth to blow up a balloon until it pops game. Too bad the prizes aren’t worth paying to play.

Here’s a better close-up of Zombie Tom. Well worth the 2 bucks for him (the other small, bullseye targets are only four for $1). My aluminum bullets aren’t allowed on the range, so I had to buy (at a premium price, I’m sure) bullets from them for $19 ish (eye and ear protection is free).

The place was packed on a Friday night. Lots of guys firing LOUD hand guns and some just popping them off as fast as they could pull the trigger. Definitely a building full mostly of testosterone, a few geeks with really good aim and many trying-to-be buff guys showing off to each other. They run a tight ship at Wade’s, making sure that people follow the safety rules and help out willingly. I’ll be going back… maybe on a Tuesday when it’s Ladies Day 1/2 Price ;)

[remember to check yesterday’s post to enter the Nie Nie Dialogues 2011 calendar]

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Nautilus Cottage, Rm 4, in South Africa

Desi (Ricky, really) & Lucy had the right idea… separate beds.

But did you know they didn’t ALWAYS have separate beds? A little trivia for you from IMDB.com:

Although they slept in twin beds throughout the entire run of the series, during the first two seasons of the show, 1951-1953, Ricky and Lucy slept in twin beds that were pushed together in the same box spring. Once little Ricky was born CBS suggested that the beds be pushed apart to diminish the impact of the suggested sexual history of Lucy and Ricky. The only time we see the Ricardo’s in two bed pushed together again is when they first move to the bigger apartment in the Mertz building, however, subsequently after that the beds are pushed apart again.

I’ve been saying it for years now, but my husband won’t agree to it. Last night (and the night before, and a few nights before that when I was sick, and… you get the idea) I shuffled myself down the narrow, dimly lit hall, passing the miniature lazy guarddog in the front room, through our pretty, glass paned, French doors, to the TV room sectional couch for some ZZZ’s. (Woah, that’s a lot of comma’s and I don’t know if I used them right. Sorry.)

But by then, I was awake enough that it’d take me another hour or more to fall asleep. And I hadn’t been to sleep yet (even though I crawled into bed at 10pm). It was 2am ish (Yes, I use “ish” as it’s own word. On my blog, you will find several made-up words; 1) as an unpredictable connector, and 2) because I talk like that in real life.) and I felt just as tired as I did at 10pm.

You know how much stuff a person could get done in four-plus hours of solitary awakeness?!? No kids, no husband, no noises in the neighborhood. But when you’re lying there assuming you’ll be falling asleep in the next few minutes, you don’t realize you could just get your back end up out of bed and accomplish something other than conquering another Angry Birds level (pesky helmeted pigs).

Instead, I Tweeted my dilemma:

• Who’s idea was it that married people had to sleep in the same bed? I want to punch that guy in the neck. #desiandlucybeds
• Why does the snoring spouse get to stay in bed while the awoken spouse shuffles to the couch? #im2nice
• King size blankets are never wide enough for adequate cocoon-style coverage. #breezy
• Good thing about sleeping on my couch: raindrops on the skylights. #natureslullaby
• Men: how do you keep your underarm hair from being tugged when you move your arm forward and back?

Alright, so the last Tweet had nothing to do with sleeping arrangements. But it’s a perfect example of how my brain works when it’d rather be sleeping. Argh. And I have been doing much better about not waking in the night to potty, so I’ve actually been sleeping through the night and avoiding insomniac episodes (My tip: I get all my fluid intake in before 5pm and try not to drink at all/much later).

After all that complaining, at least my family let me keep sleeping. The kids whispered (they must have, I didn’t wake up) and tiptoed getting ready (the italics make those words quiet, huh?) Daddy, the wiggly blanket hog snorer, got the kids off to school (“Thanks, Daddy!”) And the dog snuck up on the couch with me where she would be content to rest until I woke and NOT bark at the noises and people outside.

We have a semi-public walking/horse-riding trail directly behind our backyard. It’s awesome annoying when people literally high up on their horses don’t look away when we make eye contact.

I won’t tell you why they should watch where they’re going instead of peer into our house. (But if you know me at all, you know why.)

P.S. Don’t forget to enter this week’s giveaway!

P.S.S. My Green Smoothie this morning almost made me gag. THAT’S NOT USUAL and I’ll tell you why. I should have added frozen blueberries (I have them, just forgot to pull them out of the freezer) or at least some crushed ice. It was too room temperature and frothy. See, that goes to show you that you shouldn’t give up on GS’s because of one bad batch. ALL my others since the beginning (there were a couple that were so-so) have been refreshing and delicious. I promise ;)

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