It’s a rainy and cold fall day outside. I love it. Rain makes me happy. Inside this old farm house it’s warm, there’s coffee in my tin cup and the wood stove is stoked. Days like this make me feel froggy. Ribb-it Pabb-it! As I sit and watch the rain fall my mind drifts to the huge gun show we went to this weekend.

I love gun shows. (You know I’m a sniper, right? And even taught Bo to shoot.) Ben loves gun shows too and the kids are starting to think gun shows are the coolest. Ben had a few ideas of what he needed. I was looking for a small pistol with a lot of punch to carry after I get my concealed carry license. (If they’ll even give me one after my episode bailing Russell out of jail.) W was looking for some throwing knives. And Barney, well, you just have to know Barney, he wasn’t looking for anything. He likes to save his ‘spend’ money for a rain-er day. His forte at gun shows is visiting with folks and schmoozing them out of some free candy. Different strokes for different folks. Right?

Anyway.

 I found a sweet little shooter for a nice price and decided I probably couldn’t leave the show without it and a concealed carry holster. There are all sorts of holsters you can carry: right hand, left hand, cross draw, inside the pant outside the pant, ankle, shoulder…Well, you get the picture. If you have a body part big enough, you can strap a gun to it.

Since I’m such a petite little thing. *cough cough*  I thought I would try on an inside the pant holster. So I went to a booth with acres of holsters and fake guns to fill them and commenced to looking. It was then I had a realization. The same realization I have every time I try on a swimming suit or underclothes. Did the people the people before me wear underwear? Was is a thong? If so. How many days have they had them on? I started to panic, as I am somewhat of a germaphobe.

While I was panicking…Barney was sticking holsters in every crevice and pocket to practice his quick draw. With a “Hey Mom, watch this…Hands on da hind…Draw, Hippee!…Bap-bap-bap!…Stop or I’ll shoot…Freeze dirt bag!!!”

He watches too much Cops, I thought as I started to get dizzy. Feeling a little sick, I started digging through my purse for some hand sanitizer. That’s when another dilemma presented itself. When I finally find the hand sanitizer, is it appropriate to douse the holsters with it before trying them on? I missed that tidbit in the gun show etiquette class Ben presented us with before going in.

“Can I show you something, Ma’am?”

Oh good Lawd, here we go… 

“Uh, yeah. I’m looking for a inside the pant holster with a strong clip.”

“It doesn’t get much stronger than this one. ” He said holding out a holster as he grabbed somewhere below his belt. “It will hold it right in there for you…”

I threw up a little in my mouth.

“Uh, okay. *Glup* Can I try it on?”

That’s when he paused, looked me up and down, at Barney the Deputy, around like we were making a illegal deal and said with a shrug and a whisper…”Uh, yeah…I’ll let ya.”

I was insulted. I wanted to shout, “I’M CLEAN! I WEAR UN-DER-WEAR! FRESH ONES–EVERDAY!”

Instead. I picked up the holster and fake pistol stuffed it into my pants before he changed his mind and commenced to doing squats right there in the middle of the aisle.

Barney was gut laughing joining in squats beside me saying, “This is fun!”

Is that what you call it? Fun? It reminded me of being in a Victoria Secrets dressing room trying on underclothes while the neon sign flashes *STRIP*, the stripper music plays and the lady outside says…’remember to keep yer panties on…’ Worst day ever was more like it. Fun is not the word I would use to describe sticking something foreign in your pants, contorting yourself into erotic positions in front of thousands of people while your six year old gut laughs and shoots bad guys.

To make matters worse, my self respect, self image and any hopes of dickering well lay scattered around me like the bleeding hoodlums Barney had just shot in his imagination. Today there would be no haggling about money. No dickering. No ‘is that yer friendliest price?’ I had been robbed of my dignity while trying to protect myself.

I paid the asking price and was walking back over to Ben while trying to figure out how long it takes before you know you have some sort of venereal-holster disease.

“Did you get it?’

“Yep.”

“Cool, can I see it? Sexy! You gonna wear it to bed?”

Normally that would be funny, but I threw up in my mouth. Again!

The next day Ben’s friend came over.

“Can I shoot yer new gun Sis? I brought some ammo!”

“Sure, Chucky, go right ahead.”

“Is it okay if I try it on?”

What was I supposed to say? Remember to keep your panties on? I was feeling dirty, like I was some kind of a pistol pimp. I would have to change his name from Dr. Reginald to just plain old Reggie.

“That would be fine, if you would just shoot me first.” I said, looking around for a sword to fall on.

Simply,

Sis

SINthia

PS ~ Shoot low, Sheriff, they’re riding shetlands. Yeah Baby! The evil twin is back. (If you haven’t had a taste of my bi-polarness, you can check it out here.) Sis is such a pistol packing panty-waist. That’s why I try to drag her to all the gun shows I can. Lord knows she doesn’t go to Victoria Secrets anymore. The next gun show I drag her to will be like this one…

 If you can’t tell, I love guns. I have a thing for snipers, you can read about it here. I grew up with them. In fact, I have ditched the pursuit of fine perfumes for a little Hoppes No. 9 cleaning solvent right behind the ear. Besides Wranglers by the bed, is a turn on to Ben.

I have a few guns of my own. Ben bought my first shotgun while I was on my back in the hospital with early contractions when I was pregnant with W. I was trying to breath through the contractions while trying to listened to his sales pitch…

“It’s brand new….on clearance…half the price of a new one…”

He left me at the hospital to go buy it…and that was okay with me. It’s a fine gun.

I name all my guns sexy, manly names like Samson (one of my big pistols) or Elvis, a flashy six shooter. I haven’t looked up their skirts, but I’m sure their guys. I would never hold a woman that way. Ben name’s his guns too. From sexy to silly, they all have a girls names.  I call them his harem. The other woman in his life seems to understand too and doesn’t say much.

It’s just easier to say, “Honey, grap Shamacka, quick! There’s a opossum on the porch…” Instead of…”Honey grab my .22 pistol…” That would just leave me confused on which one. See, around here it’s all about simplifying.

I married a guy who loves guns (and banjos). He studies both. I love this t-shirt he found. It’s so him.

We’ve gone to bed with a Guns and Ammo every night for almost 15 years now. In the process, I’ve learned a few things. I haven’t memorized the ballistic trajectory charts  (how the bullet travels over distance) or learned the technical nomenclature of all their parts. But, I can talk intelligently different guns and shoot almost any basic gun lying around.

We are raising our kids to respect guns too. When they are old enough, they will have to take the hunters safety course just like ever other shooter has to. We go to church as a family, play as a family, go fishing as a family and hunt as a family, just like our families before us. Everyone needs a passion, right? Dub-ya is a great shot and Deputy Barney’s skills are coming along. Of course, like everything else in raising kids, it has it’s days. It’s all about using the teachable moments, isn’t it? Talking to your kids about guns, money, sex, and drugs is real life stuff they have to learn.

So where does that leave me on gun control? I’m all for it. I think you should always know what direction your gun is pointed and how far the bullet will go when you pull the trigger.

Seriously, my stance on gun control is probably just to the right of Teddy Roosevelt’s. Teddy Roosevelt said, “unbridled government leads to corruption…” Our forefathers wrote the second amendment, the right to bear arms, to control an out of control government.  “A well regulated Militia being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms shall not be infringed. …” Is how it reads.

I think all law-abiding, noncriminal, hard working, tax paying U. S. Citizens should be allowed to carry a concealed weapon if they want to. (That narrows the field quite a bit, doesn’t it?) Law enforcement officers have to treat everyone like they are packing heat, anyway. Let’s arm the good guys.

Here’s just one of many reasons why. This lady lost both parents to an insane gun-toting maniac in a Luby’s Cafeteria in Texas.

Teddy Roosevelt  also said, “Speak softly, but carry a big stick.”

I believe I will. Only, mine will be stick that throws a lot of lead.

Bully, good ol’ chap. Bully good.

Sandhill Sis

If you agree with this post and aren’t a National Rifle Association (NRA) member. It doesn’t cost much, and they need all the help they can get battling this gun control issue. You can check out their website for more info… http://home.nra.org/#/home