I’ve mentioned that I spent a ten-hour Concealed Handgun training class on June 24 with three friends and thirteen strangers, and happily, we all passed. The following Monday, I sent off my Concealed Handgun License application, and I’m now waiting for the sucker to arrive in the mail.
I mentioned this to my dad today, and he gave me that “Heh, good,” look of approval, the same look when I told him that I was doing kickboxing three days a week. My mom didn’t hear about the CHL, which is just as well, since she whistfully wishes that I was more lady-like anyways.
Since I’ll be doing the fourteen-hour road trip to Georgia, beginning this Thursday, by myself, a part of me wishes that I had my CHL *now* so that can bring my .380 with me. But the trip ought to be uneventful, as I wing my way down Interstate 20 and try to avoid having my butt fall asleep too much. Still — pick-up truck, rock music on the radio, road trip through the Deep South, and a little lady behind the wheel: *obviously* all that’s missing is a semi-automatic pistol in my glovebox to keep me company. 🙂