Pulp Nonfiction

A catch-up phone call with mom revealed that she did not like target practice with Her Brother's .38-calibre gun. She thinks she'll sleep better with a gun in the house, and since Louis isn't using his anymore, she claimed dibs. Unfortunately, the kick of the gun was too much for her, and she now wants to downgrade to a .22. She also wants to forgo the license, which is a bad idea. It means two things:
1) She won't be able to buy the gun from a legal source. I assume she's going to buy a gun from a friend of a friend.
2) She can get charged if she's discovered. She doesn't intend to carry it in her purse, but if she drives with it and is pulled over, she's in trouble.

My Wife wants a bike, and My Mom's packing heat illegally. What kind of drive-in-movie reality did I wake up in?

I ran 5k yesterday along the heartbreak hill route. Because our pub moved to the foot of that hill, I get to run by the smokers twice as they wait for a table. Running past an Irish pub on St. Patrick's Day -- again, twice -- is a damn depressing thing. I wanted to run farther, but the hill tightened up my legs, and I walked for part of it. But that was after I finished 5k. I got an email this morning from someone who wanted to start training for a 5k, and I'll be her running buddy. We ran together in a 5k last year on the morning Dad took ill.

Picture of the Day
After taking last week off, Lost returns tonight!