When I got home from work this evening, I had this conversation with my daughter, who is often here for supper.
Me: “Hi there. How are you feeling?” (Day before yesterday, she had a lil bug.)
She: “Great! I went to the range today.”
Me: “Oh that’s right. How did you do?”
She: “Pretty good. I stopped the bad guy.”
Me: “Nice.”
We went about our evening routine. We visited by the fire, we discussed how to structure the fettucini Alfredo (mushrooms, no mushrooms; broccoli mixed in or on the side), we laughed about the daily phone call from Pammy.
And we scrutinized the bullet holes in the targets that my little girl brought home from the range.
ginnygram 