Many Things Are Better with a Possum Gun

Recipe for a rocking Mother's Day: Take one already dead possum. Make it a cape marked "SP" for Super Possum. Attach a Happy Mother's Day banner to its tail. Shoot it from a possum gun (which some people call a potato gun). Shoot it again ... and again ... and again. When done, dispose of it in Viking fashion using a flamethrower.

Hmm?

Chinese food on Thanksgiving and Christmas Eves is another family tradition; this was my fortune from last night's dinner. Perhaps this is not the time to say that my Christmas presents included an unsuccessful attempt by the sons to purchase one of the guns sold after my dad's death. Let's just say that if I encounter the problem of having too much free time, I have several new books, fiction and crafty, and several new yarns with which to fill it. And a new gun, a near duplicate of the one that was Dad's favorite.

Dad Would Be So Proud

I completed a class today that meets the educational requirement for a concealed handgun permit in Virginia. Unlike the one I completed for the permit I already possess, today's class actually included real handguns and the firing thereof. Dad would be proud that it was a National Rifle Association class, the political activities of the NRA being something on which we somewhat disagreed. This one's for you, Dad.

First Annual Mombat Birthday Shoot

Best day shooting yet. I got the sight zeroed in by myself and then discovered just how boring shooting with a bipod and a scope at 25 yards can be. Next time, I'll shoot at 50 yards. Eventually, I'd like to be able to shoot standing and holding the rifle on my own; from there, it would be nice to be able to use just the rifle's iron sight, not a scope.

Happy Birthday, Jean!

My kids want me to be more of a badass. What more can I say than that the item between the books is a 50-round magazine for Miss Timmi, my second rifle. I never thought I'd be a gun owner, but I am and actually enjoy shooting, but only at targets.