“Ahh…nothing half so much worth doing as simply messing about with guns.”

Tractor Papa drove us out into the desert and let us shoot stuff.  The boys leaped out of the pickup in rapturous joy.  “Look at all the shiny things in the dirt!  BULLETS!”  Ahha!”  It was so much fun.  You can only imagine.

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As we were driving out the all the hills sparkled in the distance with broken glass.  Spent ammo was heaped in piles for acres.  The military base does all their shooting out here as well.  They had a sign up warning us not to pick up any of their unexploded missiles.  To make matters worse, we went so far as to not let the boys pick up any live ammo, period.  They would stand over like-new rifle cartridges and shake their fists at the heavens.  It’s a cruel world.

Daddy identifying finds.

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Ric trying out is new range finder.  Boy trying out his new, old range finder.  They were getting ready to sight in Boy’s rifle for hunting season.  He thought this year it would be a good idea to shoot the deer he was aiming at and not the one behind it.

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Hauling in the loot.  Be still my beating heart.

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We got to try out my new pistol as well.  I can tell already that I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying scrape together enough money for a box of bullets.  They go fast.  I should get a special depression glass piggy bank for that.  “Mommy’s 9mm Fund.”

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But I did share.  This is another example of Gideon breezing into a situation with more optimism than it merited.  Like the time he casually tried to ride a bull.  In this case, he claimed the recoil “electrocuted” his whole body.  That, and later he got popped in the head with a hot shell casing.  He probably doesn’t want to shoot guns ever again.

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My new holster.  Hand-crafted by my brother.  The perfect accessory for any outfit.

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Jael learning about sights.  She never actually shot the gun.  Daddy decided it was too big for her.  She sure liked Reuben’s .22 and we didn’t want to ruin it for her.  Next time he comes we’ll go out again.  The boys were just starting to learn which shells were valuable and are even more excited about finding them.  Like Easter, but dirtier.  Reuben says a lot of the brass ones are around a nickel a piece.

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And so far I really love my gun.  I’m even appreciative of the fact that we have one in the house.  As opposed to just being freaked out.  I’m glad to have the opportunity to raise my kids informed instead of afraid.  And there are so many teaching opportunities.  Some good citizens in the making I think.

Also, if you haven’t seen this episode of Blandings, I suggest you do.

We don’t machine gun our elders.  If we are machine gunned, we do not limit our disciplinary remarks to, “Don’t call me Big Boy.”

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