This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

Today marked the second meeting of the Department of Labor Country Gentlemen's Rifle Club. It was founded by four of my fellow DOL-ers and I about a month ago when we all discovered that we shared a common interest in flinging lead. Incidentally, the site of our inaugural meeting later burned to the ground. So this time we decided to patron an open-air establishment with moving targets.

You want some of this? Huh? Didn't think so.



This is John, fellow founding member.



Here are four of us loading our guns before one of our rounds. That's Drew on the left and Aaron on the right.



Here's me exhibiting perfect form while Drew and John look on in amazement.



For the record, I hit 65 of 75 pigeons. Woo.

This next picture has nothing to do with shooting, but after our excursion we stopped at this fine institution for dinner. And in the men's bathroom this sign was hanging over the baby-changing table:



I guess it was in the men's room of a Virginia Cr@cker Barrel. Some patrons might need the reminder.

At any rate, any day where I use a 12 gauge is a good day. Now, off to finish ridding my home of dirty, dirty yeast.