When I woke up this morning, I had no intention of shooting. With Bill on the other end of the planet on his annual trip to Argentina for a few weeks, my schedule goes from hectic to quasi insane…not to mention lonely (days are good…nights stink…see reference to my co-dependent nature).
Self admittedly, I could probably go a bit easier on myself and not bury every waking moment in so much work during Bill’s absence but that would go against my urge to be a martyr nature.
So, there I was this AM standing in my closet planning for a slow day downtown (think Wednesdays in the southern bible belt) anticipating the load of paperwork I will catch up on while desiring comfort over all else. So, I wore my pants that look suspiciously like pajamas.
Around 10:30 at the shop, I looked up from my computer and found Ian, Derek and Hunter staring down at me…here’s how it went…
Hunter: Let’s go shoot.
Me: Now? No.
Hunter: Why, come on!
Me: No. I am in my pajamas.
Derek: Is there anything I can help you with?
Me: (insert snarky tone here) Do you want to try and navigate all of this obnoxious paperwork?
Derek: I will if you want. Let me try to help you. (okay…now I feel bad…a little)
Hunter: Come on Shannen…Bang, Bang! (insert some strange dance Hunter does here)
Me: No.
Hunter: Why? (now think begging man child)
Me: What will I do with Veronica?
Derek: Ian and I will watch her.
Me: How will Cutter get home from school?
Ian: I’ll pick him up. No problem.
Me: I sold my favorite gun.
Hunter: I’ll go to your house and pick up what you need and bring some of my shotguns that you love to shoot (think pump gun…yeah, I said it…I like pump guns).
As I systematically placed obstacles in my way tried to explain that I can not just leave in the middle of the day and I was convinced that I had taught them all an important life lesson with my unwavering commitment to bamboo fly rods…I heard my little voice…
Go. Let go of the martyr for just a few hours.
That’s all it took…well, that and Hunter whining in my ear…
Bye.
Hello Bang Bang!
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Station 10 always reminds me of why we moved to the Blue Ridge mountains (it’s easy to forget sometimes…or take it for granted…gasp). |
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Even in the absence of my favorite shotgun (sold it…waiting for my new favorite shotgun )…I had a beautiful day and shot just for fun. Shooting sporting Clays and letting go of my martyr allowed me to connect with three important things today that I otherwise would have missed:
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| Station 3 Clay Graveyard |
(1) My bamboo fly rod community of wayward boys that were so willing to help me have the break I needed.
(2) Blue Ridge and the mountains that lured us here to begin with…
(3) My pajamas that held up even under the pressure of several hundred rounds.
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| Pajamas are the newest in chic sporting gear…pass it on. |
EDITOR’S NOTE: Oyster's original blog was on the google platform, Blogger, in 2009, before moving to WordPress. You may find a copy of this post on “The Bamboo Fly Rod Maker’s Widow” blog HERE. I have tried to preserve the integrity—or lack thereof—of each “Widow” post, especially to reflect the resources—or lack thereof—available at the time, as time and technology continue to freak me out.