OK, so here is another entry
Mood:  lyrical
I have been neglecting this blog, pretty much by design. When I ran for office last year, I started using blogger.com for a web site where people could read what I had to say about the issues. After the election, I just kept writing in it and left this one alone, pretty much. Sorry. troylaplante.com is my other blog.

I will write something here, anyway.

I took the wife to the gun range today. Just before we decided it was a good time to leave, I was getting pimp slapped by my lovely wife. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time.

She was shooting the Ruger 22/45, as she likes to do. She has a unique stance and grip that I have been trying to help her alter, but she doesn't want to change. Oh, well, at least she is shooting.

A month or two ago, she caught a casing on her arm and got a small first degree burn, just redness. Last time we went, she caught one against her cheek that she felt, but no redness. Today, however, was da bomb.

I heard "Ow! Ow! Ow!" and saw her dancing around, pulling at her shirt. A casing landed down the collar of her t-shirt and went into her bra. At first, I didn't know what had happened. Then I saw her digging at her bra, pulling out the .22 casing.

Here's a little tip: It isn't polite to laugh your butt off at your wife's pain. I absolutlely lost it and couldn't stop laughing. I had to put down the rifle and just continue guffawing at her. Then the beating began.

It seems that she didn't much care for my laughter or my finding any humor in this. She was so angry that she went back to the shooting bench, grabbed the pistol and was putting it back together. She pinched her finger pretty bad on the slide, which caused her to bleed profusely. She went out to get a paper towel from the bathroom to help stop the bleeding and a bandage. It was time to put things away at that point.

I started sweeping up brass when she came back in to the range area. I was trying real hard not to laugh any more. Then she said something that just set me off laughing at her again. The beating resumed. I am still chuckling, she is no longer furious, and we are both relaxing at home. It took going to dinner for her to settle down. It was funny, though. At dinner, she took an ice cube out of the water glass and put it on her lower neck, where the hot casing left a nice red mark. She is complaining that she will be permanently scarred, but I doubt it (baaaa haaaa haaaaaa, slap, slap)

Before going to bed tonight, I will try to give a thorough inspection of the burned area. I'll probably get slapped some more for even thinking about it, laugh, and get slapped some more.