For my birthday the year before last my husband bought me a Smith and Wesson.

Yep. A gun, and not just a gun, an automatic.

My dear father taught me how to shoot a rifle when I was about ten, and for several years of my younger life I worked in a job that required me to carry. That was in the days (dating myself here) when our agency carried revolvers. I’d been wanting for years to shoot an automatic, not that I’m a gun nut, I’m not. I compare it to learning to drive a stick shift. Every woman should know how to handle different types of weapons. Plus, I’m working on book number two of a series where each heroine has a gun and knows how to use it.

Well it took over a year, but here I am at an Arizona pistol range:

Yee haw! If you’ve never shot a pistol, go get some training and do it. It’s fun. And note the pink ear protectors my hubby bought for me. Love that man. I think I have to work them into a story.

But oh my gosh, revolvers are so easy compared to this gun. The button you push to bring the slide in for shooting was tight as could be. And then he said, “Try to reload this magazine. Do you think you can do it?”

Well I couldn’t. So he bought me this magazine loader:

Happily, I found I had not lost my ability to hit the target:

The photo is a bit fuzzy but you get the idea. Apparently, with the availability of body armor, and energizing illegal drugs, the stopping power at center mass isn’t what it used to be, thus my successful attempts at head shots.

This was invaluable research for my writing, as well as a lot of fun, and good bonding with my guy.

Oh, and–who knew–the store sold some pretty nice Western purses with special zippered pockets for concealed carry.