I love to shoot guns. I haven't always been a huge fan of guns. Actually I was deathly afraid of guns up until about a year ago. My husband, his Dad, his brothers are all "gun guys".
I just whinced in fear everytime they brought them out. I remember staying out on the farm in 1998 for a few months while we transitioned to Atlanta from Florida (see, adventure have always been a way of life) and my father in law took me out in the yard and told me I had to learn to shot. I did what he asked of me but I hated it.
Guns have been used in deaths of people that I love. I blamed the gun and not the person for years. Not anymore. I have a new love for guns. I love the way they "kill" my victim mentality. I love the power that I feel in that moment. I love unloading it down range and reloading it. It eases my tension and reminds me of how delicate and fragile life really is. What I know is that it makes me love life. I love to be on the range. I love the smell and the soreness I feel the next day.
Yeah, I still shut my eyes every time and that's something that will end with more practice. That day, I shot over 100 rounds of ammo. I love my Baby Glock... and I found that I love to shoot Ande's hand gun as well. I hate shotguns and don't have to prove anything by shooting them. I like rifles, but prefer a handgun. Who would have thought? Not me.
But if you ever want to put a smile on my face... play me some Miranda Lambert Gunpowder & Lead and take me to the range. The smile lasts for days. Sort of like this one of my daughter after shooting her own 22 rifle.
Until next time.
Don't know if I've commented on your blog before, but I just wanted to say, me too! I grew up around guns, though. My mom was a firearms instructor for the state department of corrections. I say guns don't kill people. People do!
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