I Love the Smell of Gunpowder in the Morning

There, while describing the end of her first marriage and the pre-nuptial discussions we'd had about expected and mutually acceptable behavior. Christie broke down her two pistols and gave them a thorough cleaning right in front of Kathy's dumbfounded gaze.

Unfortunately, considering the sentimental value it had acquired for her, Christie never got back her old reliable .32 caliber Bulldog revolver from the police.

To replace it, she rewarded herself with a restored 1921 blued-steel, 8-round clip, Colt 1903 Pocket Hammerless .32ACP semi-automatic pistol. Her hands are small enough to comfortably control the small grip. I've always admired the design but my hands are too large to get a comfortable and stable hold during the recoil.

As my gift to my beloved spouse upon our second wedding anniversary. I gave Christie a Hammerli's 208s series, 8-round magazine, .22LR semi-automatic target pistol.

I, half-jokingly, told her as she greedily fondled it. While she was crooning something about "My Precious".

"If I ever did anything to disappoint her moral standards. If I ever was disloyal to her. If I ever betrayed our marriage vows. That she had my permission to use this pistol to shoot me."

She looked at me thoughtfully during my pledge. Then graciously nodded with a heart warming smile upon her pretty face and promised me that she would make good on my offer. If, in her opinion, circumstances should ever warrant.

I may want to reconsider my offer......d'Yah think?

When I used to patronize bars with colleagues and customers, there'd always be some drunk going on and on about how evil women are. Bitches never seem to appreciate how handsome and dashing they are, how brave their masculinity, how strong their swivel chair tested muscles are, how vigorously voluminous their virility, how clever their humorous jesting, how brilliant their paternalist wisdom.

Especially after this self-proclaimed Man of Wonder has consumed a quart or two of alcohol.

For some reason I never fathomed, they spend a lot of time whining about 'Once a Cheater. Always a Cheater!'

..................and my thoughts responded Once a Loser. Always a Loser!

Then I found out, I was one of those sadsack losers......twice! Twice bitten, thrice shy?

And that brings my twisting thoughts back to my third wife, my beloved Christy.

Once a Husband Shooter.......Always a Husband Shooter?

I wonder how many of her husbands Christie could get away with shooting?

Shall we start a betting pool?

Last man running collects?

Where the hades do these crazy thoughts come from?

The garage was where George and I found our Loving Wives when we returned from today's abbreviated fishing trip. Hmmm, well I'm happy to have refused that hook!

It was amusing to watch George and Kathy scurry away, muttering an urgent bye-your-leave.

Christie came up to give me a hug and I put my arm possessively around her waist. We could see the both of them whispering frantically at one another before rushing into their home, as we waved with our free hands.

I idly wondered if George would remember to retrieve his bait can and cooler with his catch out of the back of his SUV. He'd left it parked in his driveway. Another hot, sunny Florida afternoon and it won't take long for them to cook into a stinking mess.

Oh well, I snorted. Goes to show how stupid the big head is when it leaves the little head in charge of the thinking.

I put my bait can in our garage ref/freezer and took the cooler with both my eight pound bass around to the sink in the garden shed. After I got them cleaned and filleted, Christie took them to our fancy BBQ setup to do her cooking magic.

I hosed everything down and poured all the scraps and water across the garden where I used a hoe to mix it with some fresh dirt. Makes a great natural fertilizer.

Of course, most every night the garden is visited by one nocturnal prowler or another attracted by regular applications of nature's own oderous. We can see them while we are wearing the night-vision goggles I had swapped for, with an old friend who wanted my antique odyllic detector to add to his collection.

The goggles were some of the souvenirs he had saved from when he flew [redacted] helicopters, for the DOD [redacted] Section [redacted] during the [redacted] crisis in [redacted] with NATO [redacted] Order [redacted] by SecDiv [redacted]. Per Official USG Dept. [redacted] Advisory, Under DOJ Directive [redacted], by [redacted] HS Office of [redacted] and counter-authorized by [redacted], so ordered by HUAC Secrets Act [redacted].

Christie uses a low powered, lever-action pellet air-gun to discourage and chase off the cats and skunks. They are rather noisy in expressing their indignation at her plinking their haunches into getting along back over the fence.

I have my semi-automatic high-pressure gas-powered pellet-gun for the coons and possums. They are mighty good eating! And I gotta a guy who pays me for the skins. As a kid, I had run a trapline to earn the money to buy my first truck, so I know how to handle a skinning knife.

After carefully scrubbing my hands, I went in to take a shower and change my clothes. I came out to find that Christie has plates of grilled bass filets with sides of multi-colored fried, sliced garden tomatoes and her famous peppery-bacon dressed six-bean salad ready for us. With a pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade to wash it all down with.

Holding hands we bowed our heads for a short, silent grace. Then we sat down for our dinner. As we ate this delicious meal and casually chatted, I looked across at my loving wife. She blushed at my gaze then smiled happily back at me.

I was thinking how blessed our lives are now. And happy, that as a spousal team we had firmly slapped down any seductively devilish whisper of betraying our marriage vows.

Christie must have shared my thinking as she drolled "I'm guessing we'll have to be looking around for a better quality of friends?"

With a sad look on my face, I nodded agreement "Yep Sweetie, you're right about that. We can't help being neighbors and I would hope that all us can remain publicly friendly or at least courteous."

She bit her lower lip, then pensively pointed out "We'll have to be cautious to not be alone with them, in circumstances that could be misconstrued."

I had put down my fork and with my elbows on the table, clasping my hands right under my chin, I mused "I am disappointed that the people on this street have been so standoffish. It would have been nice to have friends living conveniently close-bye."

Christie put her fork down, wiped her napkin across her lips and with her other hand reached across and took one of mine. A serious look to my wife's visage, alerted me to listen carefully.

"You know Love, I have been wondering about that..."

Quirking an eyebrow I asked "What do you mean?"

"Well, uhmm, think about it, Jason. Remember that George and Kathy were about the first people to introduce themselves as we were moving in."

I nodded, she continued "And then they had us over to their place several times that first couple of weeks. I suspect the other neighbors are deliberately avoiding us, thinking we were already part of those two's swinging set?"

Gollydammit! That would explain the reluctance of the rest of the neighborhood to associate with us. An angry flush to my face matched Christies glower of humiliation.

"Jumpingjacks, Lovey. I think you are right. Others must have been approached before and everybody must be wondering if we're also perverts. Now what are we going to do?"

She squeezed my hand and with a shrewd tone, she suggested "Last Sunday at Church Services, I remember there was a notice in the Ladies Auxiliary bulletin. Asking for volunteers to help out with setting up next Memorial Day's Observation and the Church member's picnic to follow. I think it will be at the Flowering Park Veteran's Cemetery on the other side of the Church rear parking lot."

"Good thinking, Christie! That would give us the opportunity to meet new people who haven't yet heard the tarnish to our reputations."

"Better yet, Honey. I noticed that at least a couple of our neighbors attend the same church we want to join. The Smith's, across from us and I think the Washington's, on the corner?"

I nodded to encourage her to continue expounding upon her thinking.

"Next Sunday we will sign up to volunteer. When Services let out, we should approach both the Smith's and the Washington's directly and ask for pointers about assisting at the Church."

My face must have reflected that this was sounding good to me. She plunged on with "Let them feel that they could mentor us and help steer us away from the Saunders. That would quickly put scotch to any wild gossip on this street about the McTavish's being swingers."

I stood up and pulled her to her feet and gave her a big old bear hug and twirl as I chuckled "Thank God I married a genius! You are so smart, Darling. You're right, gaining their friendship would have the rest of the neighborhood a bit more friendly towards us."

Sunday Schooled

Late that Sunday morning, after Church Services, Christie walked over to the Washington's who were conversing with another couple. While I made a beeline for the Smith's who were just walking away from talking to the Assistant Pastor.

Not wishing to intrude on a personal conversation, Christie stopped a few steps short and waited to be noticed. The other couple with the Washington's remarked that they had to go collect their daughter, she taught Sunday School for the younger children. As they pulled away, they nodded politely to Christie who nodded back before stepping forward and introducing herself to the remaining couple.

The Washington's were courteous, if cautious, they let her explain "Good morning, I am Christie McTavish. My husband Jason and I have begun attending services at this wonderful Church since we moved to this area a few weeks ago. We bought the house inside the cul-de-sac, I believe your home is on the corner?"

"I am Olivia and this is my husband Ernest Washington. Yes, we do have the house on that corner. We are happy to see you applying to this Church, this is a wonderful congregation and Pastor Cornerstone is so inspirational!"

"Yes, her sermon today, on the contemporary relevancy of Paul's Letters to the Corinthians. Should encourage all of us to reflect upon the moral concessions we each make to maintain our relations with the society around us. How can we fulfill our obligation to be Observing Christian's, bearing true witness on behalf of our Faith, to those around us who do not have a personal relationship with Christ."

From the look on their faces, the Washington's were mildly astonished and impressed that this seemingly average housewife could so clearly digest and simply explain such a complex message.

Meanwhile, across the milling crowd of worshippers enjoying the after-service ambience, I was introducing myself to the Smiths, Thomas and Jenny (for Genevieve).

Together with the Washington's and the Smiths, we strolled out to the parking lot. Ernest looked at his wife then at Thomas who looked at his wife, then he asked if we would care to join them at brunch. We beamed our acceptance and followed their cars several blocks over to the Floral Mall and parked near them inside the parking structure.

Together, we all walked to Pappy Pat's Palatial Pancake Palace. We were fortunate that there was only a short wait for a table. The ladies of course took the opportunity to go refresh themselves enmass. While we men gave a quick run down on our professional lives. Our ladies returned cheerily chattering about their grandchildren. We all placed our orders and the conversation covered some of the volunteer work the other two couples do through the Church.

Finally there was a lull. That was when Mrs. Washington looked at Mrs. Smith, who nodded a silent agreement. Turning to Christie, Olivia bluntly asked "Did the Saunders try to sound you out about wife-swapping?"

Christie looked at both women and with equal bluntness replied "Yes, they did. And, NO! We Did Not!"

We three men just sat there, looking embarrassed at the emotional release of this confrontation and contributed by staying silent except for loudly slurping at our coffees. Uttering a chorus of sighs of relief when the waitresses brought us our orders. We all took hands and bowed our heads in a short grace of thanksgiving by Ernest for good food with good friends.

I added "And with good intentions!" which sentiment we all agreeably amened.

Then we dug in with hearty appetites.

After the first rush of hunger was off and we began to talk and eat in a more leisurely manner. I think it was Thomas who asked about how we handled the Saunders.

Ernest snorted and muttered darkly "Those two have no shame and wouldn't take a hint!"

Our three ladies all expressed their agreement and distaste at facing those two profligates.

Christie allowed me to reply "Yes, I know what you mean. We were totally clueless right up until they came right out and openly asked us to join their little coven."

Everyone chuckled at my choice of words. As I went on, I barely noted that Mrs. Smith was sharply gazing at Christie, as if Jenny was trying to remember something.

"Christie and I have both had terrible experiences with our former spouses. As we had previously agreed, our mutual response to such a provocation was brinkmanship. Flat out let them both know, that both of us were off limits and together, we will violently respond to any attempt to breech our breeches!"

That provoked laughter except for Jenny, whose eyes got large and waving a fork across the table in the direction of my wife, excitedly blurted out "You're the 'Frying Pan Lady'! The one on YouTube smacking your husband with a frying pan! I knew I'd seen you before!"

Christie, mortified at being thought a celebrity, blushed so red I thought she was about to combust. As an excited murmur ran around the table, I hastily jumped in to correct the missedimpression "Whoa Nelly! Back that wagon up! Not Her Husband. Her EX-husband! Not me! The preceding deceased husband. The one she shot. She hasn't had to shoot me. Yet. Hopefully, never!"

Still excited at being at the table of a semi-celebrity, Jenny insisted "But didn't he try to kill her first?"

Christie decided that she better take control of this conversation before she wound up having to give autographs to all the women in the restaurant and face the glowering glares of all the men.

"The frying pan incident occurred when I caught him in our home! In our bed! In our maid!"

She got an angry look on her face as she grumbled "He didn't understand how difficult it is to find good help, these days. When I chastised him for his incorrigibly incorrect behavior, he tried to punch me. One, Last, Time."

The other women shook their heads in sympathy at the sad news of losing a decent housekeeper because some idiot man couldn't keep it in his pants!

"Instead, he punched the cast iron and then I delivered a few good smacks of chastisement to his fundamentals! That's the part most people see on the YouTube clip. It was a couple of months later, when we met with both sets of attorneys to work out our divorce settlement, that he tried to shoot me."

Finally, to all of our rapt attention, she drolled "He missed, twice. I didn't, once. Justifiable homicide, case closed!"

The women listening loudly applauded, all of us men responded with slightly less enthusiasm. The ones preferring not to sleep on the couch were careful to avoid expressing an honest masculine opinion.

But, we were all thinking, Real hard! We need to get out to the Shooting Range and get in some practice. And perhaps, get rid of all cast iron cookery!

Ridden Hard & Put Away Wet

One of the nice things about being retired is that fun activities can be enjoyed during the week when the venues are less crowded. One can enjoy the amusements without feeling rushed or getting stuck in a long queue. One of the McTavish's favorite entertainments was their membership at the Reserved Equerry Ranch. The opportunity to shift their membership to this Ranch from the one back home, was one of the major incentives for their move to Central Florida.

Jason and Christie preferred to go and spend one or two nights from Wednesday thru Friday morning. The mounts needed Monday and Tuesday to rest from the heavy usage they endured during the weekend. And the McTavish's always left by noon Friday, before the more obnoxious members began to arrive and started drinking and carrying on like fools. Plus the advantage of driving against the heavy end-of-the-week traffic on their return to Floramora Village.

From the freeway, I exited onto Flank Road and stopped at the service station to fill up. This way, when we leave Friday, we won't have to contend with the busiest day of the week. From Flank Road, we turned onto Private Circle, then Dead End Drive. Halfway to the end, we enter the accessing S driveway.

Christie tapped the transponder for me, causing the first gate to swing up. I drove ten yards forward into the outer postern, as the first gate swung down behind us. Stopping by the post with the card reader, I swiped our card through and waited a half-minute until the CCTV had made a positive ID of our faces. Then the Snap gate ahead of us, descended into the ground allowing our car to roll forward into the inner postern. Then rising back up behind us.

We stopped again beside the guard-shack, as I pressed the button to pop the trunk lid. There were two guards and a dog, some sort of large shepherd mix I think. The first guard politely greeted us by name as he scanned for electronic devices. Then he accepted our mobile phones and the little digital camera I always keep in the glove compartment, into the shielded bag he held out. We would pick those up as we leave at the Exit postern guardpost, Friday.

The second guard, with the dog, walked around our Buick. Checking for anyone trying to sneak in and for contraband such as drugs. Some members are so competitive that there has been suspicion they dope their mounts for the races. Never could understand such stupidity!

Then the inner Snap gate descended and we rolled past the outer buildings into an underground parking garage. Helicopters and other aircraft are generally not encouraged but once in a while air traffic gets diverted over us but all that is visible are some obviously agricultural buildings and residential wings and the Manège is roofed with sail panels.

Geez! your thinking. Heck of a lot of security for a Dude Ranch. This is a very private association of like-minded enthusiasts. Some very wealthy and very powerful and very recognizable people are members and they all share a fetish for privacy. They would become very petulant if the public ever learned of their attending such an exclusive and privileged club.

As I had said, there are races and other competitions for big stakes. Including high-stakes card games, cutthroat bocce tournaments and vicious badminton matches. A number of our fellow members enjoy having somewhere they can let their hair down, so to speak. Get wild and crazy and get their groove on, without it winding up on the news or YouTube. Those people are why Christie and I choose not to visit through the weekends. The Ranch becomes a lot more boisterous and promiscuous then either of us care to participate in.

And for the biggest gambling of them all.

Out for a stroll, enjoying a cool evening for a change. While Christie was having a chat up with some old girlfriends we ran into at the dinner service. I myself inadvertently recognized a couple of notoriously hostile-in-public CEO's walking around a deserted part of the grounds and with their heads close together, quietly talking. Discretion being an important part of the services I render my good customers, I faded and took a different walkway.