The best part of this 2 weeks on 2 weeks off schedule is spending a good chunk of time with my family. it’s different when you know you don’t have to get ready to leave in just a few days. I think my dog Addy notices it too. He seems happier, more drooly.

Yesterday I went to the gun range with my dad and Uncle Pak (not my real uncle). It’s a father-daughter bonding thing we do. Uncle Pak jokes that Jennifer usually falls asleep on these trips. I like going to these because 1) I like my dad 2) I like practicing guns, political leanings aside 3) Uncle Pak gives me random unsolicited advice. Like, I now know I should take the cruise ship Celebration because it’s less crowded, 720000 square feet, passenger capactiy d approx 1,420 people. Ok, I wasn’t really listening and the numbers are off, but he’s antisocial and so I trust him. And I learned I should invest in the Japanese yen. It’s 80:1 to the dollar right now. Or Swiss francs. I chose the francs because I like saying francs. Francs.

We get to the range and after some guidance I’m shooting fair- enough to pass a concealed weapon course for sure. Um…not that I am going to. Uncle Pak offers me one of his guns.

Pak: “It jams after every 4 shots. But hey, it’s free.”
Me: “So, if someone comes after me…”
Pak: “Shoot them 4 times, then throw the gun at them and run”

They let me practice since they get together to do this often. I’m firing away. The shells are hitting me in the face but that’s what goggles are for. I can feel the burning brass, but since it only touches me for a second it doesn’t hurt.

Until one bounces off the goggles and down my shirt. Oh yeah, I forgot to wear a closed collar shirt.
And I’m wearing a sports bra. Where it gets trapped. It’s hot. I, ashamedly, scream like a girl and turn around grabbing my chest, jumping up and down. I also forgot that that morning I was labelling a package with a red marker, and the red marker had leaked all over me. So my hands and arms had random red marks over them- unnoticable on casual observation, but in a gun range, on a person yelling and jumping- I can see how someone would mistake it for blood.
After the initial shock (also, I didn’t put the gun down right away either so it was second of chaos for sure), i finally get them to understand I had a shell down my shirt, and they finally got me to understand to PUT THE DAMN GUN DOWN.

we all had a good laugh. My dad let me choose where to go to lunch afterwards. I chose chicken fried steak. Uncle Pak poked me in the lovehandles and said “there’s your chicken fried steak right there.”
I said I was ok with that, and all in all in was a good outing.

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Published in: on August 9, 2011 at 3:55 am  Leave a Comment  

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