Yes, our park rangers have absurdly dangerous jobs. The Everglades are frequently used for landing planes smuggling drugs, people, and all kinds of bad stuff.

I've known way too many people that are responsible but still had their guns stolen. My back door neighbor 3 times! (and I have never been broken into, which shows some targeting there, pun intended) One time they knocked his dog out with a shovel (he recovered), another time they hauled away the huge secure gun safe. Of course after the first time they probably made return trips at intervals assuming the weapons were replaced.

I like what David says about gun ownership.

In my western PA hometown and surrounds, there are a lot of people who count on whitetail deer hunting for their winter food.

And there are gentlemen farmers around who raise game birds for big shoots, literally it was one of the places Cheney used to go to to hunt and raise $.

I don't know what you do to argue against guns for either of those groups.

This makes me think of The Walking Dead by the way. All the shooting in recent eps. I hate it, and I'm sick of it. I think Kirkman is sadist or sociopath or something. I'm on the fence whether I'm going to keep watching. Their PR effort to reach out to fans is the only thing that got me to watch the first ep of the new season. The last two deaths by Negan may have been too much killing of core cast. I don't care if they want to emphasize that their world is precarious, they have to have characters I care about to keep me on board.

Brought to you by, I'm supposed to paying my bills and doing other important things on the computer instead. It's just like old times, when I was working!

I really don't care if you like to go target shooting or whatever. I don't really think you're safer with a gun in your purse. Nobody needs some of those high-powered ones. On an unrelated topic: I wish my mother could believe in me without acting like I'm still a college freshman with the world on a string. I think 44 is a little late for "other fish in the sea," but I could be wrong.

I don't really think you're safer with a gun in your purse. Nobody needs some of those high-powered ones.

Wrod

Hubby ran across lots of drug farms in the National Forests of California, though no guards, only some booby traps. Though his shins were absolutely covered with shrapnel wounds because a fire cooked off some survivalist's ammo and weapons store.

Hallelujah, I've finally found a comfortable, pullover, sports-styled bra that fits! It only took about 4 online orders to find it.

[link]

Hooray for Amazon.

I have that one, Connie, but tbh I am not in love with it. It's fairly comfortable but doesn't offer a lot of support. But it works for at home days.

Tim's ex's son, the one who he has a close relationship with, who we helped move down to Texas like 6 or 7 years ago (and who moved back like 4 years ago, for reasons I still don't understand), got a DUI and got evicted and is in a complicated mess that is the result of consistently bad choices that boil down to him being jobless, homeless, and carless. And Tim is trying to help him out, which means that he's sleeping on our couch tonight, and I am trying to not flip out. I don't want him here. Today has been a ridiculous clusterfuck of getting this dude's belongings out of the apartment he was evicted from and into a storage unit. I have no idea where he's going tomorrow, but he won't be staying here. Or else I won't.

I cannot fucking believe this is happening and that Tim is dragged into saving this guy's ass yet again. Actually, I *can* believe it's happening, because this guy makes consistently bad choices and experiences the natural consequences of them and then doesn't change his behavior.

I'm in the bedroom trying not to flip out while they're in the living room trying to come up with a plan. I don't care what the plan is, as long as he is out of our house tomorrow. I am finished with him fucking up his life and coming to Tim to rescue him. He is 38 years old, not 18. I know I should have compassion, but this is bullshit. This is the third time that Tim has rescued him at significant expense to himself, time-wise and money-wise.

I feel like I could power a city with my anger right now, and I'm not even sure who I'm most angry at: ex's son, or Tim.

Oh Tep. I'm so sorry. You are not in any way wrong.

Tim and I are so very much alike, my heart goes out to him. But you are completely correct. Sometimes an ultimatum has to be put out there, and it sounds like this is one of those times.

Anything I can do to help, just let me know. I don't know offhand what that might be, but who knows, something might come up.

But the thing is, I feel like a MONSTER for setting these boundaries. Because this guy apparently has no other resources or people to turn to and he is literally homeless. So if I say he can't stay here, I am the monster who put him out on the street.

We don't have an extra bedroom. We have a couch. I work from home, usually on that couch. I absolutely cannot have him here. I cannot.

But that makes me the monster who is putting a homeless guy on the street.

There is no win here for me. If I stand firm on this boundary, I get my house, which I need to work to earn money to make up the part of the household budget that Tim has spent on this jackass -- but then this jackass is homeless because I stood firm on this boundary. So I get to be the monster. But if I cave because I don't want to be the monster, we have someone living on our couch and all up in our space in our very tiny house, where I work from all day, every day. Because he will not get a job because he cannot drive.

In the end, I have to be the monster. And I have to live with that.

I get that. But you are right. I'm sorry it takes being the monster, but that is the situation, not you. A situation you did not create.

You are so very much in the right here. For yourself, which is enough, but also for Tim and Ex's Son. It may feel like it but you are in no way wrong.