My love is like a...

Brian walks in to Pat's room, back from a late night at the office. Glances down at Pat in bed, who looks up at him groggily and snuffles.

"Missed you," she murmurs.

"Sorry I was so late, Carol called me unexpectedly at ten," he said. Brian gazes at the characteristically rolled-up ball of blankets and grins.

Leaning over her ear, he kisses it lightly.

"I love you dearly," he whispers. "More than I can express."

"I cleaned my toilet." she mumbles in return.

(pause) Brian's jaw drops.

"Uh, I hope that's a non sequitur?" he says. And collapses on top of Pat on the bed, rolling in uncontrollable laughter...

(no subject)

I'm home now, and my arms and shoulder are tired. Note to self -- more upper-body weight training would be great.

Hollywood skews and distorts the way firearms are used, as far as things like presentation, holds, loading,etc goes. Just like they distort relationships... firing a .44 magnum with one hand, a la Dirty Harry? Yeah, riight...

Four hours of classwork in the morning, followed by five hours on the firing range. It was stressful at first... it was hard to relax while holding a loaded weapon. Mental focus was needed all day...

I can understand now a bit of the seductive allure of these things, though... there are power elements, and sensual elements, and hyper-focused-induced endorphins. And a sense of accomplishment, sometimes. Although firearms are lousy cuddlers afterward...

I've got no weekend plans, except for a couple of Little League games tomorrow and doing my tax returns. But I might see Barbara Sunday afternoon if she comes down tomorrow from Eugene...