Therapeutic musings mixed with humorous ramblings and sometimes spiritual notations of life as I know it in written form. A diary of my heart inspired by life.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
His Executive Decision - My Executive Opinion
My husband came home from work a few weeks ago and informed me that he had made an "executive decision". I hid the smirk that threatened to spread across my face and asked him what his (insert air quotation marks here) "executive decision" was? I was quite intrigued, because he isn't the executive decision kinda a guy, which may be why we were able to celebrate our 31st anniversary the same week as his "executive decision". He explained to me that he wanted us to get our conceal and carry permits Let me just remind you that my nickname around the house is... Lucille Ball. My unofficial nickname around the the office is... Destroyer (which has nothing to do with the fact that my daughter was deployed on a destroyer). Another interesting note you might not know about me (and probably could care less about), is I have fantasies of being a detective, or an FBI agent (in stilettos). I even considered joining the security team at church until I found out they wouldn't let me carry a taser :-( And I even have my very own set of handcuffs (but that's a whole other blog). I love reading mystery/thriller, which only feeds my desire to catch the bad guy. My favorite movie is Aliens and the best scene in the movie is when Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) finds the Mother alien and her nest. The two lock eyes with an unspoken agreement.... "You let me take the girl and I won't torch your pods". The Mother alien makes a signal which turns out to be a grave mistake. I love the look on Ripley's face when she cocks her head like.... "I warned you" and then torches the whole nest, which sends the Mother alien into a hysterical fit. Ripley is the bomb in the Alien movies and that's how I envision myself when I'm packing a power tool, vacuum, or any object of irresistible power. Keep in mind.... This is all inside the imaginary Jackie world, not necessarily your Disney adventure park (please keep all hands and feet inside the tram at all times). Anyway on the way to buy groceries, we stopped into the gun shop. The place was packed, like Walmart packed. My first question was.... "Where are the pink guns?" When the owner asked what kind of gun we were looking for (besides pink), I said... "A Glock". My husband kind of looked at me strange, because he knows I know nothing about guns (at all), in fact I had never shot a gun. I wanted a Glock because that's what the women detectives in the books I read carry, and because it just sounds cool.... "I'm packing a Glock". Unfortunately, they didn't have any pink Glocks but we ended up getting a Ruger, but it's black, which is really ordinary, but the one he had in stock had a laser (!!!!) which canceled out the fact that it was black. I was so excited to get to work the next Monday and tell everyone at our Monday round table meeting, my husband had got me a Glock. When I said it, one of my bosses, just stared into space with an expressionless face. Finally he took a deep breath and asked.... "Has Mike thoroughly thought this through?" To which I answered.... "Probably not, but it's too late because he's already bought it and that's beside the point!" Then he suggested I be treated like Barney Phief on the Andy Griffith Show and be given only one bullet that must be kept in my pocket (where's the respect!?) That weekend we went out to a friends land. My husband lined up several empty cans, showed me what to do and then handed me the gun. The first shot I took, I missed but not by much. Every other shot was dead center which means.... All that reading about detectives and FBI agents must have paid off, either that or maybe it was the Holiday Inn Express I stayed in one time.... That's my executive opinion.