Gun lessons

M, our security chief, informs me that every young woman needs to know how to use a gun. The perplexing part of this is that he realizes I will never own a gun, but just in case... just in case what? Just in case I find one on the street just as I'm being attacked? Just in case my nonexistent martial arts skills are enough to grab my attacker's weapon? It's unclear. But I figured it never hurts to learn, and now I'll be able to tell people I learned how to use a gun from a hard-core retured Iraqi Army captain. For some reason M is convinced that a 9 mm is more practical than an AK (in Iraq, it sure doesn't seem like it!)

Lesson one was all about safety (a good place to start). I practiced taking the magazine out, checking the chamber and aiming. It's not the sexiest stuff, but M promises he'll take me to a range at some point. Right now I'm mostly just aiming an unloaded gun at the clock in his office.

I've got some cousins back in Kentucky who would be pretty proud of me. I have a very distinct memory of sitting in a much-older cousin's truck a few years ago and being horrified when he pulled his handgun out of his waistband to rest it in the cupholder. Turns out Kentucky has slightly less restrictive rules than, say, Berkeley.