I'm legal!

I just received my Utah Concealed Carry permit. If you recall, toward the end of June I took an eight hour course to qualify for this permit, which allows me to carry concealed in 35 other states including, crucially, Washington.

Since I go into Spokane about once a week, I will now be able to carry my revolver with me. There was a horrific murder in Spokane recently, and since crime in general is on the rise, I like knowing I have a means of protection with me at all times.

Thanks to my trusty bra holster, I'll now be armed and legal in the state of Washington while grocery shopping or doing other errands. Whoo hoo!

Qualifying for my Utah concealed carry permit

Last Sunday I attended an eight-hour class to qualify for my Utah concealed carry permit. And oh my, it was fabulous.

I left very early (6:15 am). It was foggy.

The reason I left so early (the class started at 8 am) was because Sunday was the Ironman Triathlon in Coeur d'Alene (swimming, biking, running). I knew the highway was used for a portion of the biking part. Sure enough, the northbound direction was completely blocked off...

...requiring a careful threading at slower speeds through endless miles of traffic cones in the southbound lanes. Kinda freaky, but everything was clearly marked.

The class was held at a facility called Center Target Sports in Post Falls, ID.

Inside the building is this prominent sign.

The course was taught by Ed Santos, the founder of Center Target Sports. He has astoundingly solid credentials, listed here.

The class came with a 25-page packet containing a detailed course outline, as well as a CD containing additional information, laws, etc. There is no excuse for ignorance once this class is over.

The part that had me the most nervous was the proficiency test. Not because I doubted my shooting accuracy (I'm actually quite good), but because I had to drill a target the size of a pie-pan at seven yards with 20 shots in 2.5 minutes. No biggee, EXCEPT loading the magazines in Don's .380 is devilishly hard. I had two magazines which held six rounds each; which mean both magazines had to be full-reloaded twice, plus reloading another two rounds a third time. All in 2.5 minutes. Not good.

Here's the shooting range. Each student stood in a little open-backed booth and shot into the open range at targets in their own lane.

My equipment. (I was already wearing the ear protection.)

So what happened? Well, I discovered a fascinating little detail: I couldn't see the gun sights.

You see, I'm terribly nearsighted, so I wear either glasses or contact lenses. However my near (close up) vision is extraordinary. I like to call it X-ray vision. If anyone ever needs a microscopic splinter removed, they come to me because I can see it clearly.

However when I wear contact lenses (as I usually do when I travel into the city), then my focus changes. I can see far things clearly, but I desperately need reading glasses, go figure.

So when it came time for the proficiency test, I was at a double disadvantage: I wasn't wearing my reading glasses and so I couldn't see the gun sights; plus I had to load the devilishly difficult magazines on Don's .380. I was literally shooting blind, and I ended up hitting the target only 12 out of the required 20.

How humiliating.

But Mr. Santos, the instructor, quietly handed me a store-owned .22 with an easily-loaded magazine that held 12 rounds, as well as a bag of .22's. I was the only student who had to re-take the proficiency test.

This time I put on my reading glasses under my protective goggles, so I could see the gun sights. Everyone was watching me, since no one else was shooting (they'd all passed their proficiency without a problem). When the timer started, I nailed -- NAILED -- 19 of the 20 rounds into a diameter about four inches across (the 20th round was still within the pie-pan sized target, but not clustered with the others). I did this in under a minute, including popping out the magazine, re-loading it with eight additional rounds, and re-inserting it. Amazing what you can do when you can SEE. And LOAD.

Phew. Glad that was over. The instructor had us all sign and date the targets, which are then kept on file in the facility as proof that we qualified.

The proficiency portion occurred early in the day, so we all trooped back to the classroom for the rest of the course.

I learned a great deal about when deadly force should be used (hint: it's NOT to shoot pickpockets who are running AWAY). Situations under which deadly force is justified include:

- The immediate or otherwise unavoidable danger of death or grave bodily harm to the innocent.
- The ability of the perpetrator to kill cripple. "Ability" can take various forms, such as the perpetrator having a weapon, a disparity of force (such as armed against the unarmed); able-bodied against the disabled; male against female; physical size and strength.
- Opportunity (the perpetrator is capable of employing that power).
- Jeopardy (the person is acting in such a manner that a reasonable and prudent person believes they intend to kill or cripple).

The instructor also touched on the best place to shoot to take someone down. Not a fun topic, but a necessary one.

We were also told that having our firearm on our person is one of the safest places it can be. While carrying, our firearm is accessible when we need it (because, after all, no one KNOWS when they'll need their firearm) and not likely to be stolen or taken off a nightstand by a child.

During the course of the day, we peppered the instructor with endless "What if?" questions. He also gave us many many anecdotes (some verbal, some on video clips) of various situations when firearms were used properly, and when they weren't.

The thoroughness of this course was underscored by Mr. Santos' promise: We can all repeat the same course, whenever we want to, for free (as a refresher); and should the need ever arise where we need his testimony in court, he will provide that testimony for free.

Later in the day, Peggy Santos (Ed's wife and co-founder of the facility) fingerprinted everyone and walked us through the paperwork. Each of us left fully qualified and ready to send off for our Utah concealed carry permit.

I can't recommend this course highly enough. I know there are some places where people can get quickie Utah CC classes, but I wouldn't trust those. I wanted the longer course for two reasons: (1) to demonstrate that my commitment to safely carry concealed is high; and (2) to learn the legal ins and outs of responsibly carrying concealed.

Center Target Sports offers dozens of classes. I plan to enroll with our girls in some of the courses on not being a victim, self-defense, and other useful subjects for young women to know.

Great class. Glad I took it.

Preparing for my Utah concealed carry

Day after tomorrow -- Sunday -- I will be spending the entire day taking my Utah concealed carry class.

I already have my Idaho concealed carry. Why Utah?

It's because the Utah concealed carry allows me to carry in 33 other states including, crucially, Washington. Being right next door to Washington State, and traveling as often as we do into Spokane, I want to be able to carry during my trips to the city.

Besides the extensive course work necessary for this permit, there will also be a proficiency portion requiring me to shoot 20 rounds at seven yards into a target the size of a pie pan, within two minutes.

Must. Practice.

Shooters these days face a quandary: we need target practice, but ammo is far too precious and expensive to waste on target practice. Catch-22, anyone?

Nonetheless this morning Don built a target and we set it up against the clay berm in the pasture. Don measured seven yards.

Seven yards turned out to be right where this cow plop was located. Good marker.

Accouterments: Makarov .380 handgun, box of .380 ammo, two magazines (six rounds each), eye and ear protection.

Twelve shots, fairly rapid fire. No bull's eye, but certainly within a pie pan diameter.

Don taped over the holes while I reloaded the magazines, then I shot another twelve rounds. This time Don timed me. It meant I had to remove the empty magazine and replace it with the full magazine; then remove the second magazine and reload more ammo. I ended up with twenty-five seconds to spare, and had similar accuracy.

Younger Daughter also received a bit of instruction.

This photo was a nanosecond after her shot (which is why the handgun is aimed high -- you can see the puff of smoke). She shot five rounds total and rivaled my accuracy.

Wish we could practice more! -- but can't waste the ammo, not with the present prices and scarcity. Grrr.

For ladies -- the beauty of a bra holster

This is my revolver.

It's a sweet little Rossi .38 which I've had for, oh, about fourteen years now. We bought it after I got my concealed carry permit back when we lived in Oregon. I wanted something good-quality but small, something I could slip inside my purse.

It's biggest drawback is its weight -- nearly two pounds.

After we moved to Idaho, naturally I got my concealed carry permit for here as well.

So here I have a nice purse-sized revolver, and my concealed carry permit. So what's the problem? The problem is how to carry, concealed.

Women have a lot of problems with concealed carry because there's hardly any place on our person to hide a weapon. Waistband holsters are immediately apparent on a woman (and I live eternally in sweatpants anyway, which doesn't have a sturdy waistband). Purses can either be made for, or adapted to, carrying a firearm, but it makes for a heavy purse...and purses can be stolen.

For a few years I solved the concealed carry issue by wearing a wrap-around-the-waist Neoprene holster which secured my revolver in the small of my back. It worked fairly well -- it was virtually invisible underneath a shirt -- but it had its drawbacks. I couldn't drive while wearing it, nor could I wear a backpack. Plus the Velcro band holding the revolver in the holster started to lose its "grip" over time, resulting in a loose firearm.

I thought about getting a Flashbang Bra Holster. However this consists of a specialized strap fastened to one's bra.

Frankly I'd need a nuclear bra to hold my two-pound Rossi. Plus I've read reviews on this type of holster that indicated the concealed firearm jostles and dangles too much, and its outline is apparent under certain conditions. For me, this wasn't an acceptable option.

So for a long time I simply didn't carry my revolver. Until recently.

A few years ago a friend started a cottage business making bra holsters. She calls her business Naturally Concealed.

"Bra holster" is something of a misnomer because the holster is a separate garment, not part of the bra. But what it does is nestle the firearm against the bust. The handle fits between one's cleavage (incidentally giving a bit of "lift" into the bargain, if you get my drift) while the body of the firearm is held securely under the bust.

The means the holster is virtually invisible under most garments.

The holsters are custom-made according to a woman's measurements, the type and caliber of firearm, and whether you draw right- or left-handed (I'm a leftie).

I've coveted one of these ever since my friend started her business. In fact, I ordered one almost two years ago -- and never got around to picking it up or paying for it until recently. So for the last couple of months, I've finally had a chance to try this gizmo out.

And oh my. I became an instant convert.

Here's my holster. The "dip" is where the barrel of the gun fits. This side faces outward. The fabric is thick and smooth, erasing any outline of the firearm under a shirt.

On the side facing my skin is the pouch (the revolver actually fits further down into the pouch than is shown). When worn, the exposed grip nestles into my cleavage, rendering it invisible under all but the tightest shirts (and I don't wear tight shirts).

The strap even has some sewn-in slots for additional ammo.

On the first day, I wore my revolver (empty) around the house and barn, doing ordinary things, just to get used to wearing it. I even drove into town to see how it feels driving (no problem!). I was astonished at how comfortable it is. My two-pound Rossi, which is normally pretty durn heavy when carried in my purse, feels feather-light while strapped to my chest.

I've taken to wearing my gun whenever I leave home (as long as I stay in Idaho, of course). No one is the wiser. I've even hugged friends and they don't suspect I'm carrying concealed. The only movement restriction I've found is I can't lean into something because I'll be leaning into the firearm.

I haven't yet worn the holster during hot weather, but another friend who's worn her holster for a couple years says that the bra holster is no warmer than wearing any other garment during hot weather. The fabric of the holster includes a waterproof barrier, so sweat won't harm the finish on the firearm.

In short, ladies, I can't recommend this holster highly enough. It fits both small- and large-framed women with the utmost discretion. In these lawless times, carrying a firearm is one of the smartest things you can do. Here's a way to do it while still dressing like a lady.

UPDATE: As of 4/19/14, Naturally Concealed has closed its doors for business due to too many outside commitments and projects. What a pity.

Random pix

The older neighbor whose wife had a stroke last week has been the recipient of tons of food from all the wives in our neighborhood. We're convinced this smart, efficient, intelligent businessman is entirely incapable of feeding himself, so we've all banded together to bring him easy meals. This apple pie is for him. (My name is on a piece of tape on the handle so he'll know whose dish it is when he's finished.)

In truth, feeding the man is our way of helping out. There's little we can do for his dear wife except pray and occasionally visit (she's in a hospital an hour's drive away). She's improving greatly due to therapy, but she still has a long road ahead of her.

Older Daughter making a notation on a new piano piece she's learning.

Lydia in "play" mode. Older Daughter has dashed behind my chair and Lydia is trying to figure out how to get to her.

Aha! Gotcha! Attack!

While Lydis is clearly just horsing around, it demonstrates one thing: this dog would viciously defend us should we be threatened. Frankly if those teeth were around a stranger's arm and Lydia wasn't horsing around, there wouldn't be much left to the arm.

We have one last cow, Jet, who still hasn't had her calf.

She is massively pregnant.

The other day we noticed she was bagging up (meaning, her udder is filling) and she had a string of mucus hanging from her vulva; so, thinking her time was close, we pulled her into the barn.

False alarm. For three days we watched but nothing happened, so we finally let her back into the pasture.

103 tankards, ready to ship out. The Kansas City Renaissance Festival (where we own a booth) opens on Labor Day weekend, and we're frantically making pieces to stock the booth prior to opening. It's our goal to get our booth managers about 350 pieces by opening.

On Thursday I re-applied for my concealed carry permit, which had lapsed. The sheriff's office is located in the courthouse building. I'm pleased to live in a county where the Ten Commandments are still able to be displayed on the courthouse lawn, and I hope the ACLU never sees this blog post.

In the Sheriff's office where I had my fingerprints taken, I noticed this sign.

Afterwards, the girls and I joined some friends and we went to the county fair. It was opening day and not crowded... though "crowded" is a relative term. Our county is nearly the size of Rhode Island. For purposes of comparison, Rhode Island has about a million people. Our county has 10,000, only 2700 of whom live in the county seat. So the fair is small -- but charming.

Here's the 4-H display for my friend's daughter's group.

Here's the display for the county animal shelter, where my girls have volunteered for the last two years.

This town's economy is heavily dependent on logging, and a few years ago the city put up a beautiful monument to the loggers who have died in the line of duty. This photograph was taken on Memorial Day when someone had placed roses on some of the loggers' stones. What you see is a photo of the photo (click to enlarge), but it was so touching I wanted to record it.

I was pleased to see it got a blue ribbon.

An outstanding piece of needlework. The canvas was only about 10x12 inches.

In the livestock barn, the fellow in the blue shirt caught my eye -- typical small town rancher.

This young boy was lounging with his prize-winning pigs.

Early morning sunshine across hay bales.

We had one final stretch of fencing along the road that needed to be reinforced with sticks. Yesterday the girls and two neighbor boys finished that task. (A very distant photo, sorry.)

Here, Younger Daughter and one of the neighbor boys are going back to the fence after fetching another load of sticks from the woods. The reason I took this picture is because the girl is carrying the sticks, rather than the boy. These boys are usually quite gentlemanly, so I wonder what was up? I never did ask.

They did a fine job on the fence.

I promised all four kids some fresh chocolate-chip cookies in exchange for their hard work. But after finishing the job, they all piled into the kitchen and preferred orange sherbet (since it was such a hot day), so we made that as well. I was also working on chicken pies for dinner. Suddenly the kitchen was another disaster. I tell you, I have the most amazing talent for being able to dirty every dish and countertop in the kitchen, over and over.

I was trying to get a photo of a hummingbird at the feeder, through a screen.

In this photo, the camera focused on the screen rather than the hummer, but I liked the way it turned out.

Someone accidentally hit a deer on our road, a young buck whose antlers were still in velvet. Another neighbor stopped and claimed the head from the carcass. No sense wasting it, I guess. I didn't ask what happened to the meat.

"You know you're in the Lewis household," observed Older Daughter last week, "when even the mice are Preppers." She opened one of her dresser drawers...

...and found a tidy stash of rice grains.