Shootin'

One day Josh was all,"Let's go shooting with the ward extremely early on Saturday morning."

And I was all,"Srsly? Remember I have a gig the night before and another one that Saturday night and I won't be home til the wee hours of the morning?  I'm gonna need that sleep."

And then he was all," But I really want to! You'll be fine. You can do it. *puppy dog eyes* "

And then I was all," Fine! but YOU are gonna take care of the kids when we get home so I can take a nappy-noo."

(At this point in time we didn't know that a birthday party was being planned for me and Josh's visiting sister that same afternoon that I was supposed to do my napping...)

Danielle drew that heart on the inside of the driver's side window with window paint.  I'm pretty much in love with it and probably won't ever wash it off.

I was worried that I wouldn't be able to wake up that Saturday morning, but I was actually the one dragging Josh out of bed.  We took a drive way out into the middle of nowhere right past Cedar Fort, UT.  The directions we had said to turn onto a certain dirt road. It looked and felt like no one had driven on it for centuries, but then in the middle of the road we saw a fresh spare tire that had been ripped from under its vehicle and we knew we were headed the right direction.  We made it just as they were finishing up breakfast, which means we made it just in time to eat, which means we were right on time.

After eating we went four- wheeling in our van (poor ms. periwinkle) up a mountainous hill to the "shooting of the guns" location.  It was so wide and open up there in the middle of nowhere right past Cedar Fort, UT. Refreshingly beautiful.

We had a little safety pow-wow and prayer, which I was grateful for.  While I did grow up shooting the family "22" at old, beer cans out by 5- mile canyon in Arizona and had done my share of girl's camp shooting, it had been a few years since I had fired a weapon or been around others firing a weapon.

How could you not feel safe when people around you look like this though?  

Aren't those earmuffs to die for?!

The low down was that the ward had provided at least 10 rounds per person to shoot clay pigeons with the shotguns and then if others had brought other ammo and guns they could be used as target practice on the other side of the hill.  If you wanted to shoot those guns, you just had to ask.

Josh and I pick our weapons.  

And now I want to apologize to any gun lovers/aficionados that might read this and die a thousand small deaths.   I will be posting numerous pictures of guns and people handling guns and I will either call the firearm by the wrong name or I won't call it anything and it will probably drive you crazy and you will yell at your computer screen, "That's a .540 mag shotgun, you amateur!" Then a bit more quietly and full of loathing, "You don't deserve to handle that weapon."  I totally respect your love for the firearms, but I'm sorry, I just don't have time to do my research and when they would tell me their actual names while we were up on the mountainous shooting hill all I would hear was, "wah-wah-wah safety. blah blah blah trigger."  not kidding.  The sleepy Amy on that Saturday morning and the still sleepy Amy on this day thank you. Feel free to comment with the corrections, you know, for the greater good of civilization.

Which pose makes me look more legit?

Never mind, don't answer that.

A sweet, little pigeon about to meet it's maker either by rifle round or free falling from a significant height. I find it best to think about these as actual fowl.  That's how I hit the ONE that I did. So, it's a pretty good system.obvi.  All those hours of holding the gun controller up to the television while playing Duck Hunt really paid off.

When I was out of my rounds I kept myself busy by shooting pictures with my camera instead.

box o' slugs? shells? rounds?

The one that wouldn't go down without a fight.  Quite inspiring, really.

I took so many pictures trying to get a shot of an exploding clay pigeon, but was never really sure I  actually captured the moment because of the camera screen glare.  The result with such marvelous marksmen, was multiple frames to choose from.:)

  There ended up being extra rounds. I bowed out; extremely satisfied with my ONE hit. So satisfied with it that this conversation took place too many times:

Me:   Guess What?!

Anyone who happened to make eye contact with me:   What?

Me:   I HIT ONE!!!!

Anyone who happened to make eye contact with me:    Good job?

However, you know that guy Josh? Well, he chose to keep shooting because when he shoots his trigger compressions ratio to pigeons hit goes up; when I shoot, mine go down.  Yeah, I stop while I'm ahead.

Pigeon Graveyard- You must never go there Simba.

 I ventured to the other side with the handguns and figured I would watch the long and short distance action over there; kinda wanting to shoot some, but too shy or scared of rejection to actually ask. 

This was the side that scared me the most.

That fear had everything to do with a certain surge of power that I get anytime I fire a handgun.  All that power in the palm of my hands gives me a good-sized thrill.

Sometimes I worry about myself.

I talked with my dear friend Sherilyn for a bit. During that time I took one of my earplugs out for a second, so I could hear better.  Big mistake because right then a shot was fired from one of the super "louder than most" guns and I immediately heard ringing in that ear.  whoops. lesson learned.  

A little bit later, Sherilyn spotted a lovely, little lizard skittering through the sun; seeking the shade of our vehicles.

You can run, but you can't hide from me, my camera and my color- enhancing editing.

This little sweetie kept us entertained for a good while, until Sherilyn's husband convinced me to try out his...well the big black gun on the stand gun pictured below.

I mean really it didn't take much convincing.  I appreciated him offering since I was too yella-livered to ask.  Remember, this side of the mountainous hill was the side with the people that brought rounds paid for with their own money.

This fantastic, little baby had a scope and the back end of the gun was propped up on a sand bag.   So really all I had to do was pull the trigger and I would hit the long-distance target head on.  It felt pretty good until it got too easy and I was like, "Psh, anyone could be a military sniper with this set up."   I found myself voicing my question of where the challenge was in just squeezing a trigger.  Another lady there replied with something about men and their stuff and it's all about who has the biggest and longest .....then it all made sense.  (Yes, that IS a five-dotted ellipsis.)

Josh was brave enough to ask if he could use one of the handguns and he let me shoot it too. 

So much easier for me to control than a rifle, and let  me just say, the "ding! ding! ding!" from that metal target was music to my muffled ears.  

While the scoped baby was was sleek, fancy and fun; I preferred the feeling of accomplishment with the handgun.

Guess what?!

Yes, I DID hit one!  I also got to shoot the above pictured beauty. NO, the gun!  The only casualties on this trip were the pigeons and the targets, oh, and that spare tire. This firearm also had a scope, but it was a laser!!  It was resting on the table with the middle part, but you had to move it and line the red laser up with your target.  More challenging and more of a sense of accomplishment.   Loved being able to aim and hit specific places on the target.

  "Yes, I did aim low on purpose....." *angelic smile*

 Then they whipped out this vintage Russian bad boy.  It was pretty neat and the dude could shoot it pretty, dang well.

Towards the end of our time there, the men decided to play a little shooting game. Pretty much like "Bump" or "Speed" for basketball, but with guns and clay pigeons.    All the shooters were good, but up against Josh aka the man who wins everything, they really had no chance.  Didn't they see his shooting earlier!?  I felt a bit guilty for not warning them.

Last two standing.  

Josh, maybe you should let the bishop win...?

Nope.  Josh takes the game. :) So proud of my man, Yosemite Sam.

There's no pictures of this but we, the women, then attempted to take our own turn at the game.  Too bad none of us could remember the rules

or hit any pigeons.   After a few attempts we "supposedly" ran out of  ammo.

 During the game, the bishop was going around making sure we had ammo when we needed it.  He ask me if I needed some. I said I didn't because I had one left in my pocket. I then reached in and pulled out...

my lip gloss.  Everyone got a good laugh out of that, including me.

pictured actual size

On our drive out to the middle of nowhere right past Cedar Fort UT, I saw some sort of monument on the side of the road and told Josh we HAD to stop by and see what it was for on the way back.

I was completely delighted to find out it was for the Pony Express Trail!  Maybe it's because I am the daughter of a postal worker, or just the fact that history fascinates me or both. 

Do the Pony!

This discovery was like the satisfaction of a smoking gun and ended our early morning on a great note.  So, even though I ended up going straight to that birthday party with a cloud of dust following me around and not straight to a shower and a bed, it was all worth it.

Ms. Periwinkle's never felt so dirty.