The 9 Millimeter MeatloafPosted: March 21, 2012
The BIG gun show was in town this past weekend, so Bill and I went. We’ve never been to a gun show before, but we’ve been talking about getting pistols so we could go to a range and shoot at something that wasn’t Mom. Just kidding. We both love her, she’s great and we’d never consider doing her any harm. It’s just that we need some kind of release because we can’t get away for more than an afternoon. We can’t consider an overnight trip, much less a full-blown vacation where we’d be gone for several days in a row. What happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas, but that won’t be us anytime soon. We also need to have dinner on by 6:15 at the latest, 7 days a week, so we can’t have a couple or three adult beverages in the evening and then decide to only have a plate of cashews or a package of Oreo’s for dinner. Mom needs to be fed and we’re here to do the feeding. Even going out to dinner requires prep work to make sure she gets a decent evening meal before we leave.
We’ve talked about getting each of us getting a gun for at least a couple of years and finally rationalized that, since Mom didn’t want us to bring our alarm system from Boise and she won’t let us get a dog, which is the best home protection there is, buying a gun was the only thing left. Plus, not only does everyone else in the family – our kids, their spouses and both of my brothers – have guns, Bill and I thought that it would be fun to shoot at stuff.
To make what could be an extremely long story short, we had way too much fun and left the show packing heat! We each bought a 9 millimeter and, we hope, the right ammo, a cleaning kit, and a gun tote. We made our way home, giddy with the power of owning a firearm and making plans to take lessons at a near-by range.
Mom would have a cow if she found out there were a couple of guns in the house, so we had to sneak them in. But that’s what kids do, right? Thank goodness we joined the Moose. Now we can tell her, in all honesty, that we’re going to the lodge for a drink and the meatloaf special. We just won’t mention that we’re stopping by the gun range first for a little target practice. Nothing like blasting away at some benign, inanimate object to make you feel a lot better about just about everything.