Cough, cough...

It's been a week since I saw a doctor about my cough. At that time, I was told my “issue” started as seasonal allergies, then became a sinus infection, then bronchitis, then bronchial pneumonia. Three new prescriptions and a week later, I am coughing less (a good sign). Today, I am much less congested, but I am wheezing and dry coughing. It's like my system is trying – hard – to cough up the remaining phlegm in my lungs, but to no avail. I cough the least when I am sitting still and not talking, which sucks for me, as I am a radio DJ by profession.

Sometimes, I Suck

Sometimes, you have a revelation. It could be an "a-ha" moment about your life or something in it. It could be a moment when all becomes clear for the first time. Sometimes, though, it's a painful reminder of poor life choices in the past, or a reminder of just how much you consider your childhood self as a waste of space.

I try to do good by others, and try to do good by myself, because - when my mind wanders - I am reminded of just how much of an asshat I think I was when I was younger. And there are times I think I am less-than-worthy as an adult.

I was a much different person when I was younger, and the structure I give myself today is my way of trying to atone for the kind of person I used to be. Nowadays, I am quiet, cautious, even-tempered, and accepting - everything I was not when I was younger. My childhood behavior is not acceptable by adult-me. It's an albatross around my neck, and something I regularly need to address. As a human being, I'm tarnished.

Most days, I'm fine with it. Some days, like today, I feel very guilty for being me.

Curse Me and My Gun Enthusiasm

Somehow, I managed to bugger-up my favorite handgun, my .45 Colt revolver. Disassembled it for cleaning, got it cleaned to factory spec, then missed a part while re-assembling it. Not it's all jibbered. I've got a friend looking at it. Hopefully, she can get is functioning correctly.

I Can Cook, Yet Sometimes I Can't

I have been told by a few more people than my self that I can cook, and I can cook well. Lately, though, I have found it very difficult to come up with dinner at a moment's notice, or when time is short to have a meal ready.

Granted, my culinary specialty is “comfort food”, and that slice of cuisine is definitely off the menu these days (Wifey and I on a diet). But I would think I could come up with SOMETHING in a pinch that is diet-friendly. I used to. With the diet, Wifey and I are buying much fewer grocery items. Perhaps I am intimidated by the lack of ingredients to choose from? Perhaps I am intimated by the questionable meat products that would require lengthy defrosting times to get a meal put together? I don't know. What I DO know is my wife is coming home from puppy school shortly, and I have yet to come up with a decent meal for the two of us, and I hate the idea of asking her to just “pick something up” on the way home, or to repeat the go-to meals we've been having – heating up hot dogs (leftover social gathering foodstuffs).

Such a conundrum...

That Guy With The AK (That's Me)

This past weekend, my wife and I went on a double-date with two of my coworkers (married couple) to our local shooting range. They, like Wifey and I, are gun owners, and go to the range as often as we can afford to, to improve our accuracy with the firearms we own. This past weekend was a “fun” date – meaning, we brought some of our favorite firearms for all of us to try. Among the ones I brought to the party was my new Century Arms C39v2 (AK).

Late in our double-date, I invite our guests to give my new AK a try, with quick instruction on how the rifle works, safety, aiming, etc. One of our guests (who is very familiar with firearms) had initial difficulty with it – difficulty seeing the target with his bad eye, and being shorter than I, he ended up putting a hole in the ceiling of the range. Knowing what he had done, he put the rifle down, and said he would not be shooting it again. In most cases, “no harm, no foul” and move on. Nope.

A gentleman a few bays down from us immediately come over to me, and offered to ask the range officer to supply me with some extra cardboard to lower my target (to accommodate my shorter shooting companion). I thanked him and waited for said cardboard. This gentleman (whom I will refer to as Range Nazi from this point on), proceeded to bang on the range officer's window, yelling, “that short guy over there (my guest) is shooting your ceiling!” “That guy with the AK is shooting up your ceiling!”. Range officer comes out with cardboard in hand, and proceeds down the bays. Range Nazi (pointing at me) - “no, THAT guy with the AK! That guy with the AYYY KAYYY!!!!!”

The range officer – a very nice young man, by the way – provided me with extra cardboard from which to hang my target (for the shooter who has now moved on to one of his own firearms in his own bay), and tried to give me a quick course on angular momentum (which I already knew – just didn't know my friend would shoot the ceiling). I thanked the range officer, and looked down to where Range Nazi was. He seemed pretty pleased with himself for calling out the dangerous goings-on in my bay.

Now, I've seen Range Nazi at our local range before. He only shoots an air gun (I have heard him boast about to anyone within earshot as being VERY expensive). Perhaps he competes, I have no idea. The time I have seen him spend at the range has been fine-tuning his air gun accuracy. Not once have I seen this guy smile, or give any other indication that he is having fun at the range, outside of “calling me out” for being a danger to others by having a friend of mine try my new rifle. To him, it's all business, and no fun. For anyone. Including me, my wife, and our guests. I learned afterward that - from the moment I brought out my AK - he was watching my bay like a hawk, waiting for me or someone else shooting my gun to make a mistake. Perhaps, if I was shooting an air rifle instead, he would have been less of a jerk. I can only guess that my rifle - much more powerful than his air gun - was was too much for his own shooting experience.

My response that day to Range Nazi? I mounted a new target, sent it down to the end of the range, put 10 out of 10 shots in the middle of the target, packed up, and walked out.

Water cooler talk at the office today – the consensus is that I should get a t-shirt made with “That Guy with the AK!” on it. If' grumpy-ass Range Nazi is going to be there next time I go shooting, I want him to see me wearing it. I'll happily own (and wear) that moniker.

I know range safety, as did my friend who declined to shoot my new rifle again, after landing a round in the ceiling. One round in the ceiling, with a rifle new to a shooter, was the only "glitch" in our range time.

Screw you, Range Nazi. Screw you.

SIDE NOTE: During our range time, I was able to determine ammo load issues with two handguns, increase my accuracy with my .45 Long Colt revolver, try a few new-to-me firearms, including a .357 revolver, and discover my accuracy with the AYYY KAYYY is better than I had originally thought. Screw You, Range Nazi!