I Take It Back

The comment about getting a gun license...I totally take it back.
So this weekend I went out to my friend's farm. It was damn hot yesterday...37 degrees at one point. There was a fantastic electrical storm - my first prairie electrical storm - which was spectacular with the lightening forks on the horizon, and the distinct storm systems in the clouds above. The whole weekend was an adventure in itself: we roasted meat, I cut meat, I went quadding through the slough, I saw cows, and wheat, and buffalo, and horses, I roasted marshmellows and shotgunned beers, I had a summer fling with my friend's cousin, and we made out like 14 year olds in the hay loft and under the stars, and in the freak torrential downpour. The whole thing was so innocent and playful and juvenile: picking hay out of eachother's hair, losing an earring in the grass, getting thrown into the pool, worrying about getting caught by his parents. It makes me giggle and blush just to think of it...Of course it didn't help that his family thought the whole thing was worth a good tease, and he - the bastard - decided to sleep in late this morning and let me take the bulk of the ribbing. I guess I can still blush like a 14 year old too.

He woke up in time for his family to bust out the arsenal for some target practice. This whole weekend I fought the city slicker label...and I was enthusiastic to try shooting. This enthusiasm turned to pure fear as soon as the first shot was fired. I'm jumpy as hell and the guns were really loud...much louder than I had expected - especially the shot guns. Every time someone shot a gun I jumped two feet in the air, and he thought this was really funny. So, in spite, I decided that I was going to fire a damn gun if it was the last thing I did. They gave me a hand gun and a whole list of instructions and pointed me towards the target. I fired the first bullet and it was so loud that my ears rang, and the kick back was way more than I thought so...involuntarily...I screamed. Well it was more like a shriek, really...but apparently this was the funniest thing ever. I made it through the rest of the clip...badly. They kept on telling me to hold the gun steady, or to hold my breath before firing...and I tried...but the fact of the matter is I was shaking so badly, I couldn't have hit an elephant at ten paces. So maybe I exaggerate slightly, but the point is that I have no further desire to ever shoot a gun ever again - I suck at it, and it scares the crap out of me.

As an aside, one thing that has changed from summer flings when I was14 is beard burn. Admittedly, I do find the whole stubble experience damn sexy in a somewhat masochistic, Marlboro man kind of fashion (I believe that I'm somewhat compromising my independent/feminist side here but what the hell, I'm still on a sort of high). However, just like hickies in highschool, come work/school you still have to come up with lame excuses for the bleeding obvious. Cue the giggles and blushing.