Thursday, February 23, 2012


Given that Bonnie was out of town a few weeks ago, I was forced to go on a field trip. As in: a trip to the grocery store! And... I'm not talking a quick run in, grab something, leave again trip, either. I'm talking MAJOR SHOPPING TRIP. Oh man. I hate that job, believe me.

I needed lots of items but I some how lucked out that day. Apparently the "newly" designed store was getting ready for a grand opening of sorts, thus there were store employees ALL OVER the place. Which was good, since I have no clue on which aisle anything was displayed. I must have had to ask four different people for directions. Natually, the one direction I didn't need at all was the one department to which I can no longer go. THE BAKERY DEPARTMENT. Damnit. I used to love grabbing a delicious doughnut to help me make a bullshit chore turn into something almost enjoyable.

Anyway, I had my trusty little list in hand and sure enough got what I needed. I was tired though, so in the end, although I still needed liquid Palmolive dish washing soap, I decided the hell with it. Bonnie can get that for me next week. Check out was a breeze, btw. I not only was the first in line, but also had plenty of cash to pay for my items. Yippee. No charge needed. I even had a couple of bucks for the bag boy to help me to the car.

Now comes the hard part. UNLOADING MY CAR ONCE AT HOME. Geez... so hate that job, too. I worked out a great plan, however. I brought all the bags in, placed them upon kitchen counter and boom. WENT TO LIE DOWN FOR A NAP. What?? I should have unpacked everthing right then and there? Yeah... well YOU might. I might not. Actually, I was headed out to dinner later and I used the time after I got all dolled up to THEN do the unpacking. Worked like a charm, actually.

So basically, alls well that ends well. Except for one little glitch. EEEKS. I had to shop at ANOTHER store later in the week. Turns out I was entertaining and I never go to the regular grocery store for my meats, fish, etc. So actually... I didn't have to dread it all THAT much. This other grocery store is the upscale gourmet sort type and is a way different experience.

Which makes me think: since when is paying the highest price possible not so good? Are you kidding me? Turns out it almost made grocery shopping like a field trip. Well, almost.

Friday, February 3, 2012


Actually, that's the name of the place I went Wednesday... BEAR ARMS. Baring my arms? Bingo. I'd do that in a heartbeat. But BEAR ARMS?? Oh man... so not a place I'd normally ever visit.

Unless that is, I ever wanted to learn how to protect myself one on one against a robber or rapist. Both of whom I hope to avoid like the damn plague. My greatest wish is that should anyone ever enter my home... PLEASE DON'T LET ME BE HERE. Not only would I have a heart attack right smack on the spot, but you can be sure I'm not running to my nightstand to pull out a weapon telling them: STAND BACK. IT'S LOADED. Mind you I'm not saying it's not a fantastic idea, but when push comes to shove, like I said: I'd have a heart attack in a second. So basically... in reality, who even needs to bear arms??  

Well my wonderful friends, The Pistol Boys do, for one. Actually, make that three. It was they who allowed me to join them on a field trip they go on a few days each week. And this week was MY chance to add a little perfume and nail polish to the mix. I WENT PISTOL SHOOTING! OMG... never in a million years did I ever imagine I'd be writing THAT sentence. And, get this... it was GREAT. Not since my days at sleep away camp, over 50 years ago, have I since picked up a rifle and aimed at a target. Yet there I was, ear muffs and all, pointing and shooting a .22 caliber Smith and Wesson handgun!!! I bypassed the goggles, btw. Regardless, I so wished I had a picture of this. EEEKS. I'M SUDDENLY A GANG MEMBER?? Whoa. Besides, it certainly gives a whole new meaning to a senior citizen fun packed gang bang, don't you think? 

In the meantime, there's the picture of my target up above. Just one of three, actually. And, good news! I hit it each and every time! Granted, the target itself was much closer than normal, but hey... this WAS my first time out. It was decided which of the boys would be my instructor and man, was he ever a kind, patient teacher! Experienced, too. Hmmm... let me think.... the barrel, the stance, the hammer, the trigger, the position for holding the gun, the chamber, how to load bullets, all sorts of safety practices, squeeze don't jerk, etc. etc. God... you have no idea how much goes into all this. Plus, I was told this was only 2% of what else I have yet to learn!! The other 98% will apparently be taught to me in future lessons. If I'm lucky, that is. Granted... classes are offered all the time for women interested in self defense, but given these guys... I'm sticking to the best, only.

Supposedly this is all going to help my noted fear of having someone break into the house and either rape or kill me. Learn to use a pistol and boom. I'll be good to go for protecting myself in no time. Well, maybe. I still vote for having a sexy burly guy sleeping next to me and letting HIM to the dirty work. But whatever. As I mentioned earlier: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? I'M GOING TO SHOOT SOMEONE?? I'm going to keep a gun under my pillow or beside my bed?? OMG... SO NOT HAPPENING.

Of course all the Pistol Boys have THEIR guns in their nightstand, but me??? Who the hell has room given all the polish remover, seam rippers, lotions and creams, pens and pads that are in mine? Not to mention the fine chocolate. Now THAT is what I call a woman's drawer. 

Anyway, this was an incredibly happy day for me. Way different than let's say... shopping for shoes in Nordstrom's. All the men made me feel welcomed and offered up some great tips, too. Besides, they get credit for making a great day even better... lunch and WalMart afterwards! Oh yeah... I almost forgot. You should have seen all the extra supplies the boys need to haul around. You think I carry alot in my purse?? Man, going pistol shooting almost requires a mini duffle bag of sorts. 

But I'm glad they do. I like being with people who can slay a dragon at the drop of a hat. All I know is... when I begin attending antique gun shows then I'll KNOW I'm onto something. In the meantime, in turn their for fun and frolic, I've invited the gang over Sunday for Super Bowl. During which time I can only pray a big black bear doesn't come walking along in my back yard. Then I really WILL want a gun at home. To shoot myself, of course. Not the bear.