Fire on The Mountain

People.

This weekend we went to Virginia to to celebrate my Dad's birthday.

Now, you should know, I am a great daughter.

Quite possibly the best.

You aren't surprised, right?

However, I'm pretty sure my sister will beg to differ with me on this one.

And you should know, I can often be the very worst gift giver on the planet.

For instance.  

This year, for his birthday, I bought my dad 2 new dress shirts with matching neck ties.

Tell me this.

What 50+ man wants new dress shirts and neck ties for his birthday?

EVEN IF he asks for them.

We all know those things are just list fillers.

But I went and got them for him.

While my sister got  him a new badge wallet (Dad is a retired police officer) and my brother got him a flame thrower.

Maybe I should say that again...

FLAME THROWER.

Neck tie.

neck tie.

FLAME THROWER.

Believe me, I don't blame him.

I mean, Id' rather have a flame thrower too.

It's like Kanye vs. Kris Humphries.

There's just no doubt about which one you want to be your baby daddy.

Again.

Why do I know this crap?

Or a wallet for that matter.

But under these circumstances, some quick thinking was necessary on my part if I was going to give my Dad something he has always dreamed of.

Which led to me sweet talking Dad into taking all of us kids shooting.

As if it took much effort at all....

Because.

PEOPLE.

My dad is a loyal NRA member.

And yet, this hasn't happened in years.  

And I mean, like decade-years.

Dad absolutely lit up like a Christmas tree.

Within the hour, we were at the range with every handgun we own.

And we all got a turn...

My sister in law...

My brother in law...

My sister...

Me...

TECHY...MMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

Unfortunately, there are no pics of my brother and/or my dad shooting.

But I promise they did.

ALOT.

Until it started snowing.

And then we all just wimped out.

Or we ran out of ammo.

Whatever.

But here's proof that we survived.

Because the real kicker is...

The guns we used DIDN'T KILL ANYONE.

And my dad didn't stop smiling for HOURS.

SUCCESS.

(Full Disclosure: We may or may not be rednecks at heart.  And we may or may not have gone home and watched hours of Duck Dynasty.  Feel free to judge us.)