"I have some .45 reloads for that Norinco I borrowed from Ed.** Why do you ask?"
"I'm just wondering. Do we have any regular stuff, a box of Winchester maybe?"
Mike looked puzzled for a second and then he realized what I was up to, "Ohhhh. You want to rent that Colt again...your gun."
I sighed. "Yeah. My gun." My gun that I can't afford, the one that I keep visiting at the range. My bittersweet love affair with a 1991A1. I must be a glutton for punishment because once in a while, when I'm feeling a bit blue, I like to rent it and torment myself. We spend a deeply meaningful and blissful hour together and then I look at it longingly as I leave it behind. "Maybe someday," I think, as I watch the man behind the counter put that beautiful gun back behind glass. Someday.
Anyway, I went to the range quite prepared to wallow in the little funk that I've been in lately but ended up having the absolute opposite experience. Life is funny like that.
I walked into the range, said hello as I usually do to the men who work there, and walked past a customer who made eye contact with me and exclaimed, "I know you!"
"Umm. No, you don't." I continued walking to the counter, getting ready to sign in.
He said something like, "You're on the internet! I read you all the time." (I can't remember the conversation verbatim, because at this point I was freaking out. Everything was lost in the blur of the giant zOMG! going off in my brain.)
I said,"I have no idea what you're talking about," but I'm sure I was blushing like a big goofball. I was also thinking, "Aw, crap. Why didn't I wash my hair and wear makeup today?" I mean, if I had only known...but I was wearing my "Action Hero" t-shirt, so I guess that's better than nothing.
At this point, Mike was so delighted he couldn't contain himself. "Yep! That's her!" I didn't look but I'm sure he had a huge grin on his face.
I owned up to authoring the blog (& by now the range guys were all asking, "Blog? What blog? Wait - are you famous? Why didn't you tell us? Give us the web address!") and talked politics and pistols for a long while with John, a local blog reader. John, an artist with a day job (sounds familiar), is somewhat new to shooting and is working on getting his CCW. I also learned that he has a wife who has never tried shooting and so, being totally shameless in my quest to create more chicks with guns, I immediately gave him my number.
So I've been smiling all afternoon - laughing at my tiny bit of fame, amazed at the wonderfulness of the internet, giddy at the tight little groupings I got from the Colt 1991A1, and just plain enjoying the last official Sunday of summer.
(And to all of you out there who read my blog but I may never be lucky enough to meet...thank you, thank you, thank you.)
*I'm so full o' squee that I can't think of a better title. (and you know, often the hardest part of writing a blog is coming up with titles. Sometimes I'm so stymied that I just scrap the whole post.)
** Ed and Mike have been best friends since the year I was born. Ed was also the best man at our wedding, and has since become one of my very good friends too. Ed's father is currently teaching Mike how to cast bullets and reload.