I am a total wuss.  I have been all my life.  I used to sneak into my parents’ room at night and sleep on their floor because I was scared of the dark. I don’t mean when I was three years old…more like twelve.  To this day, I can’t watch movies that have even a hint of horror to them, and don’t even get me started on the “I see dead people” kid.  So fate would have it that a scaredy pants like me would marry a man that travels from time to time and leaves me at home…alone.

Ken’s traveling has been an issue for the majority of our marriage for both of us.  For me the reason is obvious. But he got tired of  getting frantic phone calls from his crazy wife,  scared out of her wits.  So for Christmas last year, my sweet husband bought me a very thoughtful gift.  A gift he researched and had to shop around for…yep, my very own Remington 870 tactical shotgun (insert cocking gun noise here).

Every once in a while we take the shotgun to the shooting range to practice. You see,  it doesn’t do me much good if I don’t know how to shoot it.  Our good friend, Scott, who is on the Pell City SWAT team was gracious enough to lend  his services. As it turns out  you can’t take a shotgun to just any shooting range.

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This is his M4 that I am holding in the picture, not mine.  In the interest of full disclosure, he let me borrow his gun after I cried while shooting mine.  I just about broke my birdie finger because I wasn’t holding the gun correctly (yes, I am a wuss in more ways than one).

However, in the event the Boogey Man decides to pay me a visit, I want him to know beforehand that I will not be worried about my birdie finger while he is in my house.  When he rounds the corner, he will be staring down the barrel of my 12-gauge because this momma is packing heat.