The corporate overlords have finally left our little Midwestern outpost. They are safely aboard the mothership, headed to trendier places and friendlier faces. Go with God, Mr. CEO. If you can finally get our books into the black, then huzzah to you, Sir.

My job is weird in that it has cycles of No Work (Zzzzzzz-z-z-z)  and cycles of A TON OF WORK RIGHT NOW NOW NOW! I never know when the dam will burst. I don’t care anymore. I enjoy the downtime. I even enjoy the stressful times, if for no reason than it’s good to feel productive. And I’ve been around long enough to know that nothing lasts.

This week was a ball-buster.

It’s all good.

I had plans to help my parents this weekend, but mom pulled the plug on those. We’re definitely getting out to the range to bus’ a few caps. My Beautiful Wife is taking her conceal and carry class on Sunday and I want her confident and relaxed when it is time for her to qualify on the range.

So… The gun thing.

Our broker is a rather conservative guy, and when we met with him this week, he seemed really surprised to hear that we shoot. Shocked even. It surprised me that it surprised him.

We mentioned getting to the range in passing, a subtheme of a different conversation. He held up his hand to Whoa! my motor mouth. “So…” he said, raising his eyebrows. “The gun thing…”

To the casual blog reader, I probably sound like a bigger gun nut than I am. We only own a few pistols. Three. No ARs (yet). No rifles. I don’t hunt. I don’t want to hunt. I’ve got nothing against people who like to hunt, it’s just not my thing. I don’t want to kill Bambi. I don’t even want to kill bad guys, and I’m thankful that there are people who put on a uniform and do so in my stead.

We went to the range last year more often than we ever have before and that was a grand total of… Six? Seven times?  Usually I try to get to the range at least twice a year, once in the Spring and once in the Fall. God forbid that I should ever have to draw my pistol in defense, but should that day come I have an obligation NOT to hit bystanders. With great firepower comes great responsibility.

So… The gun thing.

It’s stress relief. To shoot well, it takes a certain ability to calm yourself inside, quiet your mind, and breathe efficiently; all while holding a heavy piece of steel that makes a fuckload of noise and jostles your entire skeletal system every four seconds.

And MBW is actually good at it. Better than me, at this point. (I switched pistols and now I can stand in a boat and not hit water with my new one.) We had a stressful year, which explains why we’ve been to the range more often in the previous twelve months. She was never a big sports athlete. She likes shooting, and it’s something we can do together.

So, that’s the gun thing.

Whatever your thing is, I hope you get a chance to partake. It’s shaping up to be a glorious weekend. Make it a good one.