My first experience with real world research-or the first time I shot a gun

I was writing and was trying to figure out what kind of gun my character should have. Hours spent going over websites didn't really help, I wanted to see the gun and how it would feel to hold it. A website pops up, Red's indoor range. There is a picture of a buxom blonde with man hands holding a gun pressed up against her cheek with a big smile on her bright red lips, Ladies Day at Red's was the invitation. I laughed, couldn't help it, this I have to do. At the time I ran a girly chick lit book club and I decided to make it into a group event, I didn't want to go alone because I was sure I would chicken out. 

The day arrived and there are five other women and everyone was excited and talking at once. The sales floor looked into the range and even through the thick glass the sounds of guns going off came through. A gruff, portly guy is behind the glass case filled with guns for use for free on Ladies Day. I point at one I've seen, a Glock 9mm, I want that one. He sighs, 'If you've never shot before then you should start with a .22' and begins pulling out a selection of smaller guns. I point, I want the 9mm, I'm annoyed. He pulls out the gun and begins going over the mechanics of loading, unloading and the all important safety. One, he's going way too fast and two, all I can see are the wicked, shiny guns. 

He sets us up in two lanes with the group split up side by side. The minute he's gone, everyone comes over to my lane and looks to me for direction. Shit, being the leader isn't always easy. I'm fumbling, I have no recall of anything he said after he released the magazine and started working the gun. No one else does either because all they could do was stare at the gun. It can't be that difficult, I think as I remember the movements he made. I drop the clip and start loading it. Um, so much heavier and cold than I thought it would be, and I'm doing the .22 for the women in the other lane. Everyone's eyes are on my hands and I'm shockingly able to work it right. Loaded and ready, I take it back to the other lane, tell the chick to flick off the safety and she's good to go. I lay it down like he told us and she picks it up and I move back and she starts firing. 

I go back to my lane and pick up the Glock that no one has touched, everyone's just looking at it. I load it and it's even heavier than the other one and much harder to load. I can only load ten bullets before it's too much and I shrug. I slam the magazine in and pull back the slide, it's ready. I clip a target to the slider and send it out to ten feet. Picking up the gun my stomach flips, I take aim and fire. Holy fucking shit, it bucks and it takes everything in me not to throw it down and running screaming from the room. Oh yeah, that's why there is a small group of women watching me with their eyes wide. Taking aim I fire again and by the fourth shot, I have total control of the gun and the bucking and it's better than any high I've ever gotten from a drug. I bring in the target back and no fucking way, I have hit the bullseye. (I'll admit, I don't think it really counts if you weren't aiming for it.) Knowing I have to share, I offer the gun to the next woman and she begs me to prep it for her and so I do. It's quicker and smoother than the first time. 

Three boxes of bullets and an hour later, we come tumbling out of the building. In breathless chatter, plans are already being made to go again. 

I did end up going again and again and over the last five years, I've shot nearly everything in the glass case.  I have also used the target as a security system in one very sketchy apartment I lived in. The target had the center more or less demolished by bullets and just for a kicker there was one shot to the groin area. 

Real world research is important and sometimes it can end up being really damn fun. 

My favorite memory of a friend who died and kicked my ass into writing

Getting a little personal, but this is my favorite memory of a friend, been missing her lately and thought I would share.

We had a great friendship, she got my sense of humor and called me a bitch when I was a bitch. She was old enough to be my mother when I met her but she didn't seem like it. She was one of the few people I told that I wanted to be a writer and she was after me constantly to do something about it. What are you waiting for, she would harp on me. If you don't do what you want to do with your life you're just going to be a more miserable bitch than you are now and damn I couldn't take you being that bad.

When she died all of those pushes she tried to give me came back in one hard smack across the face. She wasn't old when she died, for all intents and purposes I thought she would out last my ass. Cervical cancer, she promised to fight and I believe she did but she was gone fast.

We had a lot of fun as friends and roommates and out of all our crazy times, this was my favorite. At the end we laughed so hard she swore she cracked a rib. For almost a week afterward she would just look at me and laugh and I'd know and we'd laugh like idiots together. She would tell this story again and again to her family who already suspected I was a moron and this just confirmed it. Stealing this from a personal blog I had written awhile ago. 

***Okay, so yes this is a little old, as people of Austin know we got our bins switched up for a standing trash can like thingy but here is my attempt to be green, so I thought I would share. ***

Okay, so I am trying to do the whole, be a better person thing all the way around. But it just seems to be really hard for me. One of the things I am now working on is that whole earth thing. I bought a bunch of the bags at Wal-mart they say plastic, paper neither. And I felt really good about I mean hell, they were only a dollar. But the first time after I bought them and then went shopping-I left them all at home. Smart, so now I keep two in the car and that seems to be working-for now.

So one other way I am bad and do genuinely feel bad about is that I can't stand the taste of tap water and so only buy bottled water, gallon of water at Wal-mart only 63 cents, you can't beat that. But considering I go though about 3 gallons a week that is bad. So Austin has this recycling program which is great, you just put your items for recycling in a bin beside your trash. However I have a roommate as bad as me for remembering things and she has supposed to have been calling to see how we can get one for like a month now but hasn't not once. So now there are like sixty one gallon jugs in our pantry that aren't going in the trash because they are supposed to be recycled. So last night we get into a squabble-about the jugs and how she was supposed to get one and then she goes why don't you. Well, fine I will. Monday is trash day and there are trash cans and recycling bins lining the streets as we drive home. So, I spot a recyle bin less than half full and say loudly-fine I will get a recycle bin. I then swing the car to the wrong side of a the road-what the streets are empty. And without stopping reach out of the car for the bin. Okay-upon reflection there are sooooo many things wrong with this scenario-

1. The bin is large, I wouldn't have been able to just toss it in the back seat or something or even pass it to my roommate in the passenger seat.

2. The car is still in motion and I am driving on the wrong side of the road.

3. I have shitty depth perception-I was nowhere near that bin when I reached for it and

4. Stealing is bad. Even if it is so you can do a good thing by recycling.

So the events that occured shortly after my moronic pronouncement come as no real surprise-but kind of like -Here's your sign.

I reach for the bin, in no way closer than a foot to it, with my foot on the brake but the car in drive, I of course can't reach the bin I fall out of the car with a resounding thud-still reaching for the bin. Rollover on to my back believing that any moment my car will rollover on me and crush me to death-or at the very least break something. My car thankfully does not run over me but it is still rolling-right on to the curb and I am sure a parked car. I jump up in time to hear a crash and see my car stop-positive I have managed to run into a car without actually being in my car I run to the front see that it is only a trash container and my roommate managed to out the car in park I jump into the car and gun the car off the curb and home.

So, lesson. Stealing is bad and park your car if you are going to be almost half way out of it