Disclaimer: So while it may not officially be the hobby of the week, it definitely was a Hobby Hoarder thing to do. Normally, when I am itching for a change, I buy a plane ticket and country or state hop soon after. With a full-time job, this time around, I had to choose something more quick and more accessible. Dying my hair felt like the right choice. Guess I’ll really find out if blondes have more fun. Stay tuned for another hobby later this week. But for now: Enjoy.
Inhale. Exhale. Aim. Shoot. Fire. Inhale. Exhale. Do again.
The last time, and only time I shot a gun, I was on a camping trip with my sixth grade boyfriend at the time. His father, his brother, he and several other men were excited to head out to middle of the woods at a deserted camp site and shoot guns. As a guest, I went along for the ride, believing I wouldn’t have to touch a gun.
Half-way through their target practice, the older–very good looking–brother handed me a gun–a pistol–and said here–aim at the target and shoot. Nervously, I took the gun. I shot, and I fired. Shaking, I handed the gun back to the older brother of my then boyfriend and said, “Not for me–not again–this is scary.”
I believed that my first time pulling a trigger would be my last time. But as the hobby project came into play, I decided that learning how to shoot a gun–for real–and safely–would be interesting and useful–in case of an absolute emergency. You see as an avid Law and Order SVU watcher–as well as action movie fan, I have always predicted that I’d be the girl to try to shoot the gun and discover very quickly that the safety was still on. In real life–this could be the difference between my living and my dying (in worse scenario–of course). The lesson at the West Side Rifle & Pistol Range served as the perfect educational model for learning to use a gun.
Two of my friends joined me, and we anxiously awaited our instructor on the day of our lesson. As our teacher described the parts of the gun, my palms began to sweat more and more. “I was really going to pick up a gun again.” As he told us that we needed to find out which eye was our dominant eye, I stared at him, and attempted to mimmick him…He laughed. “You are doing it wrong.”
I began to shake a bit more. “If I can’t get the parts right where we don’t hold a gun…How will this guy ever trust me pulling a trigger?”
But he did…and I shot-I aimed-I fired–safely–fifty times. Looking a bit nerdy too: