Growing Up

Growing Up

Kara Keough hits up the shooting range with Simon Barney.

I had an amazing time with Simon at the shooting range. I've always wanted to learn how to shoot a gun - I think it's the independent woman in me. I want to be able to protect myself and provide for myself. Those are a couple of my life goals. I want to be able to do anything a man (by stereotype) can do - or at least do anything a man can do that I have a desire to do as well. Nothing's stopping me from driving a stick, learning to play golf, shooting a gun, kicking someone's a** if they mess with me...Although, unfortunately, my mother taught me better than to "resort to physical violence." Blah blah blah.

Anyways, back to Simon. I think we get along really well because he's funny as hell, and I like to laugh. He has such a quick wit that sometimes I wonder if people around him are actually hearing him and getting it. Sometimes I have to do a double take and think back, "Oh my, did he just say that? Why aren't more people laughing?" Tamara says she's heard his jokes for 10 years, so she just ignores the one-liners. She's probably already heard everything in his arsenal.

My mother and I really love Simon, he's such a great father and I think my mom secretly hopes his amazing qualities will rub off on her children, specifically her boys. My mom is very aware that boys have a deep connection with their fathers and that they need that figure in their lives in order for development. So, she tries to bring as many great dads, supportive husbands, and successful men into my brothers' lives, in hopes that Shane and Colton have sufficient examples of what it means to be a "good man." Thankfully, Colton and Shane are finally getting the hang of it. We've all grown up so much in the past 5 years - I can tell you that Shane, Colton and I have come a long way. And we still have a long way to go. In the meantime, I have to get back to studying for finals. Once finals are over, I'll be back home for a much-needed Christmas break. Thank goodness. Nothing says "Christmas" like 80-degree weather and my mom's pseudo-Evergreens.

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