Squeeeeeeeeeeee!

Calmer Half is much more romantic than I am. I should have realized that Dead Saint Day would mean I'd get flowers and dinner, as I'm finally in the same state as him at the right time... yeah, that one blindsided me. I wasn't expecting gifts, either, and he knew I didn't want any - especially as I'd rather the budget be happy than have some piece of clutter.

Not that that stopped him.

Now, buying things for someone is always an interesting exercise in how well you know them, fraught with cultural and personal assumptions. Clothing and shoes are a minefield ripe for disaster - especially women's clothing, where sizes are more like "rough estimates from a distance by a drunk with a lazy eye" than a standard. Personal adornment like jewelry is highly variable to the woman's taste - and Calmer Half knows that it's almost a miracle that my wedding ring has lasted this long, with the titanium already covered in scratches and oxidized to a dull grey. (I rarely wear my engagement ring; it's too nice for working on airplanes or in an industrial setting.)

So what did he do? He paid attention to what I liked, and bought something that I really, really wanted and borrowed several times from a friend, but refused to buy for myself due to tight fiscal grasp on the budget.

I am now the very delighted owner of a Keltec PMR-30! Squeeeeeeeeee!

I don't get to play with it just yet, though - it's going on a road trip to Dennis of Dragon Leatherworks, where it'll be used to make a holster custom-fit to my gun. Which has me torn between utter squeee! and the panic that shopping for awesomeness on a deadline inspires - he makes so much awesome, and anything you want, how can I possibly decide on just the perfect holster design?

Right. Tomorrow, Calmer Half and I will test the limits of his patience and his three boxes of holsters. Form follows function, and once we've got function well-covered, we'll come back to the incredible ostrich-leg leather inlay versus beautiful celtic knotwork versus beautiful smooth glossy black leather you could almost shave in....

If you ever wanted a practical example definition of ferret-shock, when a brain spazzes out from too many delightful things at once, well, here it is. Squee!

And, of course, it's only natural I follow it up with a girl's night out at the range, taking part in Matthew's quest for .22 and .22WMR dud statistics...