Lip Gloss and Bullets

Lately, I have been super-focused on getting my second book out this fall.  I just realized the other day that I had not blogged in a few weeks.  Almost a month.  But I am now waiting for the results of the editorial review by my publisher, and I have a little more time on my hands.

So yesterday, two of the highlights in my day were 1) getting my new lip gloss from my Avon lady and 2) attending Ladies' Night at the ATP Gun Shop and Range, where they teach you how to "shoot like a girl."  I had not shot a gun in nearly 5 years, so the results shocked me a little (see photo below).  Granted, I grew up around guns, because my father hunted, and I was taught from a young age how to shoot a gun and handle one safely.

Rewind:  It's 1980, and I'm turning 8 years old.  My Dad comes home a little after dark and tells me to come out to the back of his car.  I follow him out there with some anticipation, figuring there is a surprise for me in the trunk.  Maybe a Barbie townhouse.  Maybe a new bike with pink and purple streamers.  The trunk pops open.  The light flickers on to reveal a 4-10 shotgun.  "Happy Birthday!" Dad grins.

"Oh."  I say.  After a short pause, I follow it up with, "Thanks" and walk back into the house.  I think I shot the thing at the skeet range like 3 times.

Fast Forward:  Tuesday, August 16, 2011.  Inside the ATP Gun Shop is a picture of Obama with the title "Gun Salesman of the Year."  (Slapping my knee.)  It's so true!  I'm wearing pink glasses, pink headphones, and just received my hot pink "I Shot Like a Girl" t-shirt.  And I'm tearing out the heart of the paper dude in front of me.

So, I suppose the message is clear.  If you were thinking about breaking into my house, prepare to meet your Maker.  Because we live in South Carolina, folks, and the Castle Doctrine applies here.  Oh yeah.  I'm proud to be a South Carolinian, y'all.