A couple of months ago Cory and I got to spend an adult day together, just the two of us. So of course we ended up doing what we do best- drinking. But since we are sophisticated, mature adults we called it “touring wineries.”
On the way to our first winery, we passed a gun shop. And since Cory is always in the market for a new gun, despite having a gun safe filled to the brim with guns, he wanted to stop and take a look at their selection. Gun shops are never my thing. I didn’t grow up around guns. I buy my meat at a grocery store like every other over-privileged white girl. But you know me, I’m a giver so I sucked it up and played the part of supportive wife and I didn’t object. We pull into the parking lot and I took one look at Cory and said, “If this gets political, I’m out.” He just looked at me and winked without saying a word.
We walk up to the front door of the business and the first thing my eyes land upon was a sign that read, “No masks. No Liberals.” (Of course, the word Liberals wasn’t capitalized on the sign, I did that for my own satisfaction just now.) Cory turned his head to me as he reached for the doorknob with a smirk on his face and against my better judgement, I entered behind him. (I feel like this is the theme of our marriage... following Cory against my better judgement and Cory leading me astray and finding full enjoyment out of it.)
Not far into the store, after we passed two gentlemen wearing "Make America Great Again" hats, I see another sign that reads, “If you are vaccinated, you should leave.” Again, in support of Cory I stayed and listened to him as he talked about everything guns. Who has what gun. What gun shoots what animal best and yadayadayada. Nothing I have an interest in, but I’m trying to play the part of a good wife (which is a role I’m more suited as an understudy in, instead of the leading role, but much like the munchkin role 7-year-old Jayme played in the community ed’s version of Wizard of Oz, I curtsied to the audience and faked a smile.)
I must have really looked like I was better suited in Munchkin Land because an onlooker interrupted our conversation to not ask, but more comment about how, “I must not be a gun person.” I politely smiled my liberal, vaccinated smile and continued listening to my husband talk about everything I don’t know, or even care, about.
Cory picked up one gun and asked while propping it on his shoulder, “How about this one?” and I replied, “Why that one? It doesn’t even have a looking glass on it.” Cory quietly put the gun back, dropped his head to the ground defeated and whispered, “It’s called a scope, not a looking glass,” as if me calling a scope a looking glass was the most embarrassing thing happening in this store and then continued, “You really don’t belong here. We can leave.”
Any who, I ended the day using my body as a human puke bucket, which oddly enough was a better experience than going to the gun store.
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| Excuse me while I'm busy teaching my child valuable life skills, like how to do a Jello shot without getting a stained pointer finger. Leave teaching the ABC's to the trained professionals. We all have our own talents to pass down to future generations. Don't worry Karen. There wasn't booze in the tiny tot's Jello shot. |
