Close your email client, yes, I'm antiwar, but shooting a gun.  The big difference?  I'm shooting at paper and cardboard not flesh and blood.  

I enjoy shooting.  I admit it, I do.  It's an interesting hobby and one of the few hobbies I can share with my husband.  We don't go often, but, when we do it's an enjoyable couple of hours. 

I stepped in the door, before I had gone two steps, the acrid smell of gun powder, gun oil  and testosterone was almost overwhelming.  I walked on, towards the hunter's lounge looking sofa, covered in browns and tans.  The couch of a MAN.  One you would never see in the living room of a house where a woman had ever been. 

I sat amongst the gun magazines, the various weapons, the wild boar mounted on the wall and set down my pretty red and white gingham purse.  Barely peeking out of the top, you could see the edge of a black plastic case. 

I sat there, breathing,  in, out, in out, ever deepening to calm myself.  I heard a muffled bang from behind the solid steel doors.  My heart raced, I could feel the adrenaline starting to flow. 

Tony signed us in, got our targets, handed me my ear plugs and safety glasses.  I took my time roll the lime green foam into a small shape to fit into my tiny ear canals.  Not in a hurry, not at all. 

The first few minutes are always like that.  The anticipation of the first few trigger pulls always do this to me. 

I know that as soon as I'm on the line, my gun pointed towards the black and white silouhette, I have to pull the trigger, hear the boom, see the muzzle flash, feel the recoil.  All in the space of a fraction of a second.   

If I look close enough, I'll see bits of paper flutter down from behind the target as my 9MM bullet passes through the ink and wood.  The first few shots are always frightening.  If not for the noise alone, but, for the knowledge of what this weapon could do were I to point it at a flesh and blood person. 

A magazine or two later, and I'm much more comfortable.  Now, I'm aiming for a better grouping.  Hitting within the same few inches preferably near the center mass, not the right kidney area. 

I pull the first target back to me.  A little off, but, I have definitely corrected my trigger pull issue.  I'm proud of that.  I'm not jerking the trigger and throwing myself off, this time. 

I'm more comfortable, I'm even challenging myself to do better.  I shoot round after round taking turns with Tony.   

After a couple boxes of ammunition have gone through each of our weapons, he goes to rent a larger gun.  A fully automatic MP 5.  It's big, it's heavy, it's very menacing. 

I let him shoot it, thinking I won't this time.   

Eventually curiosity gets to me, he loads the magazine, sets me on the bench and shows me how to work the safety, how to switch between single and automatic and I shoot it. 

It's not a bad weapon, but it's much harder to control than the UZI I shot in October.  I leave him to it, concentrating on taking pictures and waiting to shoot again.  I'm patient, I know we have as much time as we wish.  My magazines are already loaded, waiting for me. 

It's an enjoyable day, one that a year ago I couldn't imagine. Yet, one, I don't want to give up now. 

PS.  My weapon is an HS2000 9MM, Tony's is a Glock 30 .45. 
Suzy