This is Texas, so naturally, the gifts we get for Christmas are just a tiny bit different than what the rest of the world gets. For instance, my husband got himself an AK47. A real one. Why? Because Obama may try to ban them again. Yeah, you say he should? Why? For Christ’s sake, my husband has rifles in his gun safe that are more powerful than that stupid ratty gun. My opinion is this: any gun/rifle I can actually lift to my shoulder, is not worth worrying about.
Anyway, I was truly glad he got his AK47, he was so happy about the damned thing. I love weapons anyway. If you know me, then you know I’m heavily into martial arts, and therefore, weapons. Of course, the weapons I use are somewhat different. Mostly they come in long poles, knives, and throwing stars and weird shaped knife-looking things that are, in the proper hands, quite dangerous. I’d like to think of myself as dangerous. It has a nice ring to it.
So this Christmas, you can just imagine how excited I was to find under the tree, my very own, brand spanking new, shiny (well not really) Glock. That’s right. I am now the proud owner of a 40 m Glock. Here it is:
Now, I’ve never in my life shot a gun of any type, so I’m a little stupid when it comes to them. I took the thing from the case and immediately was met with shouts from the entire room, “Whoa! Don’t aim that at me!” “Point at the ground, dummy!” “Hey! Watch where you’re aiming!” and “Somebody please take that away from her!”
After I was shown how to properly handle a gun that had no clip yet, and shown how to cock it, etc… everyone around me calmed down by several degrees. My husband took me out back (we own several acres), and without bullets, proceeded to give me lessons. How to hold it, how to sight, and then I was to try cocking it. And that’s as far as we got because… well… because to my horror and utter embarrassment, I just couldn’t do it!
I clearly pictured in my mind being attacked by some gun wielding frenzied killer and me going:
“Hmph. yiaaagh. Hmmmph!”
“Look; I’m sorry about this, but I can’t seem to find the strength to cock this damned thing. Would you mind coming back to get me after I’ve built up my arm strength? Or better yet, go try to rob and kill somebody with skills closer to your own, will ya?”
There’s much to be said for a plant that is impervious to my less than adequate ministrations. I can skip weeks of not watering them, and even though they may droop, turn a bit yellow and some of the leaves fall off… a quick splash of water brings them right back. They are the only plants that have the audacity to survive around me.
Need I say more? A picture is worth a thousand words in this case.
Especially at Christmas time, is the place to be. I loved ice skating there as a child, and many years later when I tried it again as an adult, I still got that same mushy feeling inside, skating by that wonderful giant Christmas tree over and over again until my husband had to come out on the rink to yank me away.
On warm English muffins or on scones. But the highlight of raspberry jam is actually making it. At my house, it was always a family affair, where the grandparents (who raised us) and all the kids joined in to make the gooey stuff and have raspberry jam fights in the process. The grandparents never minded the mess we made. Sometimes, they joined in.
Call me crazy, but I actually enjoy rush hour, stuck in a car. I love singing, but not in front of people, so when I’m stuck in traffic, the radio goes up — loud — and I sing my fool head off. I also enjoy people around me looking directly at me and laughing.
It is my favorite European city. The architecture, the charm, the people, the food! Did you know the word Lasagna actually translates into “cooking pot”?
Wheee! It is the only ride I can actually get a thrill out of. Nothing else does it for me. Every other ride, people around me scream their heads off, vomit and the like, and I remain cool as a cucumber, totally unaffected. On a roller coaster, my heart pounds, my blood pressure rises, adrenaline rushes. My all time favorite ride is still Space Mountain at Disney Word.
The simplicity of a rose, especially when it is a single white rose, is awesome. I love the texture, the color, the smell. I love the fact that you can wear them, eat them, display them, dry them, and… a rose by any other name….
It is my life long dream. I dream of retiring to Barbados, to live in a rented Villa overlooking the ocean. The villa will have a full daytime staff which I will never see, but they will always be there to prepare and serve my meals and clean up all my messes. Retirement means I will spend lazy days out by the pool with one of those umbrella drinks in my hand, baking under the sun.
Allison's Journal 