PlazaJen: Passion Knit

Stealing a line from last week's Six Feet Under (numb arm, NARM NARM), I have a Sore Arm, SARM, SARM.

I shot my new shotgun for the first time ever this weekend, and I have a nice little bruise and a fair 'mount of ache in the crook of my arm/shoulder. It was extremely hot, I was not a very good shot, but I did finally show that milk jug I could hit it. I had a big long post written up about why I now have a shotgun & all that, but it went on really long & while the whole incident that sparked my decision to get a shotgun was really dramatic at the time, in the re-telling (especially in written form) seems really soap opera-ey, melodramatic & over the top. The Cliff's Note version: Someone was ringing the doorbell at 2:30 a.m. a few weeks ago, JWo was gone, the dogs went ballistic, I would not go to the door, but despite that, and the dogs, the person kept ringing the doorbell & did not leave until 15 minutes later, and the police did not get there in a timely manner AT ALL, and by the time they drove by, the doorbell-ringer was long gone. And whoever they were - knew my name & said it, repeatedly. But nobody ever called the next day to fess up. Didn't recognize the voice, didn't recognize the vehicle. So. Coulda been someone we know? Coulda been someone going through the trash. I wasn't taking any chances by answering the door. Suffice it to say, I was Absolutely Scared Out Of My Gourd, and the most scared I've been, ever.

So, now I have a shotgun I know how to use, and more significantly, I'm just that serious about the decision - because it wasn't an easy decision for me. I'm a liberal, I believe in some degree of gun control, I disagree with my husband over these things. I hope I never, EVER have to use it anywhere but on the firing range. Those fifteen minutes were the longest minutes of my life, it took far too long for a police response, and the 911 operator wasn't much better. If you think I'm wrong, you're entitled to that opinion - but this comes down to one of those time when you can walk a mile in someone else's shoes - and still not know exactly how it feels. And the next morning after basically no sleep, I told myself: I will never feel that way again.

As for Six Feet Under, don't even talk to me about this week's episode, because I've already had the emotional upheaval and next week's episode is going to rip my heart out and throw it off the deck. (Good thing Polly is such a good retriever, she'll bring it right back to me - but then she'll want me to throw it again.) Alan Ball is a brilliant man, and I should have absolutely predicted this path the show is taking, student of American Beauty that I am. Sigh.

Sore Arm, Sore Heart.