Would you let him carry a gun?

Ah ha! We are getting closer to knowing names now aren't we? Here is my wonderful husband. He has recently been turning into Ted Nugent. A bit scary. By this I mean he has developed a bit of a gun, I wouldn't say fetish, but strong interest. He has been dragging us to countless army surplus stores in the ghetto. You know the kind that you actually require a pistol to safely survive the neighborhood. I will pretend it is enriching my kids life, yeah that's it. Sports warehouses? Know them like the back of my hand. This is odd since I am in no way out doorsy. In fact I don't run unless someone is chasing me. So here we are, house full of ammo. Shot gun hidden for protection(completely out of reach of my children!!!!! We aren't stupid), safe nestled with pistols. I am not certain how it all happened. We have had a 2 handguns for many years. I thought we were safe and happy. Then a few months ago the Montana in my husband began to surface. Now he has done a smashing job at stifling his inner hillbilly. Granted it does pop up by ways of beef jerky, strong love of explosive items, and automotive grease. Still, when I was married I thought he had it in check. 10 years later it comes out full tactical force. It was so fast I didn't have time to brace myself. One day it was a shot gun, a few weeks later it was his now beloved Desert Eagle. You know because shooting them isn't enough. We have rapidly progressed to the concealed weapons permit. I really want to meet the officer that was reviewing my husbands application. At what point did he look at this picture and think," Why sure! That man looks like he should be carrying a gun!" Did the idea of," maybe we should pass on this one" ever cross his mind? And does Bracken really need a concealed weapon. Seriously, if you ran into a guy looking like him on the streets would you mess with him, probably not. Now, I am truly fine with it all. As long as my children aren't in danger and he is entertained, whatever. In fact it has given me hours of comic material. It's like the icing on the making fun of my husband cake. I do question why he needs to be packing heat on a pleasant Sunday walk around the neighborhood, but he doesn't question most of what I do. I figure if I start pointing fingers he could easily point a dozen back in my direction. Besides I have to admit it's kind of hot when he comes in from shooting in the desert with a shot gun on his shoulder! Scrumptious!