Until this is resolved, have you thought of looking around for a place where you could borrow/rent a black powder rifle and try it out at a range? There's got to be some re-enactment group around you who'd be delighted to help, especially when you say you're doing research for a novel and want the details right. You'll learn more about the practicalities of weapons than you'll ever need.

I'm already planning to meet some re-enactors this summer, since my plan is to buy the gun after I've sold the book. Maybe I should try to get DH to come along, too--it might freak him out a little less conceptually. I think this is just a City Boy marries Country Girl thing.

My allergies have been particularly vicious this spring.

What idiot decided we need money to live? I discovered this morning that I'm broker than I thought I was (read: more overdrawn than I've ever been, which caused a mild meltdown before I showered), and while we will be able to cover it thanks to some juggling, we're going to be living off whatever we have in the house for the next few weeks.

Ugh.

Hate this. Hate having to fret about funds. Hate trying to work and care for Lily and myself, and hate that I'm not doing a better job of it (read: bringing in more funds through working more hours).

ION: What's the deal with allergies? I mean, I assume it's kind of like your body's reaction to a virus (foreign body? Attack!)

Yeah.

But why is my body so convinced that dust, dander, mold, pollen, etc. are such DANGEROUS INVADERS?

Because they are. Until proven otherwise. They certainly don't belong.

And why-god-why does it think that the most effective weapon to combat it is snot?!? Why?

Because it knows you'll sneeze the invaders the fuck out. Mission accomplished.

Man, P-C knocked all the wind outta my rant.

I still miss breathing free.

I'm sorry. It was a science question. I bit. Be lucky I actually have no idea what I'm talking about, and so I didn't go into what histamines actually are.

Maybe I should try to get DH to come along, too--it might freak him out a little less conceptually.

I know I was freaked the hell out by handguns until Hubby took me to the range. I had to psyche myself up to shoot it--then something primal in the back of my head said "Big noise bright light boom neat!"

The snot idea may seem fine, but post nasal drip is a bitch. And not you know, fun.

Popping in to say whoo-hoo a tad late to P-C. That totally rocks!

Plus ~ma to Fay, and anyone else who needs it.

Turns out, they kept it in my dad's sock drawer.

And that is how adolescent boys wind up dead. Especially depressed adolescent boys. Jesus.