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28 December 2017

356/365

(DPP22- what?! TWO light shows in ONE season?!)

"You are NEVER going to guess what I did this morning," I announced to my family at lunch.

"Got a tattoo."
No. I have nothing against tattoos on other people, but have no desire to ink myself.

"Got a massage."
No. I have never had a massage. Well, I did have a touch massage last year, given by a kind lady visiting the mission, but it didn't really seem like much to me. I came close getting a massage at the beach last summer, but I'm not ready yet...

"Got another piercing."
No. Although that is not a bad guess because the last and only "another piercing" I received was a second hole on my left ear about 25 years ago, and I was with the same friend...

They got close when they guessed "paintball," but not quite.

"I went to the shooting range."

"YOU shot a gun?!"
"Mom is packing heat?!"
"Whoa." (followed by some laughing as they considered it all...)

It sounds a bit ridiculous to me, too.
Sort of like tattoos, I have nothing against reasonable people going to the range to shoot guns, but I have not had any desire to do it myself.
But, one of my most dear friends in the world is shooting these days. And the range was right up the street from the hotel where I was staying.
So, on a Friday morning just before Christmas, I visited the shooting range.

I'd like to throw around the names of the firearms I shot, all 9mm, but I don't really remember. I got registered and the really professional young lady behind the counter gave me some safety instruction and got my ear protection (I was already wearing my glasses) and then, I'm stepping into the range.
It was loud.
I realized instantly, I know what gunfire sounds like. And when you know the sound of shots, not from hunting, not from hypothetical-at-the-range-firing, but from real life, maybe it changes your perspective about guns.

I did ok at the range. Not great, but ok. I got better as we went along. We shot at a paper outline of a guy, and if had been real life, I probably would have scared him, maybe wounded him.
But here's what I realized- I am not confident that I could ever shoot to kill.
I'm not saying that other people shouldn't. I, too, hear stories about mass shooters and am grateful when someone takes them down and saves other lives in doing so.
But I don't think that I'm the girl cut out for concealed carry. Or any carry. I have always figured that the problem with having a firearm is that I might try to use it. My morning at the range reminded me, for plenty of reasons, I'm not the girl to use it.

(And for the record- none of this should be considered a comment on gun rights or gun control or any of that. It's just a few thoughts about myself after I spent a morning at the range.)

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