I’m late to this game, learning how to use a firearm. Like really late. You see, I grew up with the guns are bad indoctrination— standard issue living in SoCal. “No one needs a gun,” they said. “Just call the cops,” they said. “There’s no safe use for a gun,” they said.
And I believed it.
So, this SoCal girl? She went and fell in love with a guy from Idaho. Did you know that in not SoCal firearms are considered tools that need to be very respected and but not feared? Wild right?
Okay, cool. Firearms are interesting, but for me? Nah. It couldn’t possibly be safe in my hands.
So, check it out, I love the zombie genre. I wrote a whole series of books about the zombie apocalypse. My characters were all proficient with their respective abilities with guns. I had a solid theoretical understanding of firearms; but no practical.
I was tired of that. For my 46th birthday, hubby and I loaded up and went camping, and during that trip I talked to my father in law about showing me how to handle a firearm.
Holy hell, that was a rush. .22 rifle. .22 revolver. .45 1911. 30-06. Instantly I was hooked. I probably sent more rounds into the dirt than i did the paper, but maaaaannnnn.
And so it began— my new favorite hobby. This blog? It’s just me going on about this journey of getting comfortable and hopefully competent with a firearm. Or two. Or