Girls with Guns....

Easy steps to becoming a sharp shooting redneck in one hour or less:
First, you need a lesson from SuperNan on how to hold the gun. My dad will also probably accost you at this point and demand that you make a triangle with your two hands and look through it at a point on the wall. You'll be confused, but because he's my dad, you're going to listen. An hour later someone will explain to you that the point of this exercise was to determine whether you are right or left eye dominant.

Then, you need to go out to the shooting range, also known as the field behind the house. The boys will show up with four-wheelers and big trucks, and you can stand beside them smoking a cigarette and feeling like the ultimate redneck.

After you'd declared yourself an official redneck, you get to learn how to stand with the gun. Here you can see that Mal has, indeed, learned the rules of gun safety: Her finger isn't on the trigger, nor is it pointed directly at her own face. For a first timer, Mal did pretty well hitting one of the three clay pidgeons she shot at. After her first hit, she decided to call it quits for the day, probably because at this point, neither her nor I could feel our fingers any more.

After you'd made yourself the sharpest shooter in all of CowTown, you get to pose beside your redneck friend with the guns. And you get to make fun of her for wearing a coat that bears strong resemblence to a sleeping bag you brought to camp with you in the seventh grade.


When you're not out shooting stuff, you get to go to the rink my great Grandfather built and have a sword fight on ice. The Precious Boy is learning how to skate this year, and what a skater he's become! He's finally mastered the art of using two feet to skate instead of pushing with one and sliding with the other. While we were learning how to do this, it was quite a bit like the blind leading the blind, seeing as I can hardly remain vertical on ice myself. If nothing else, he got a kick out of the fact that I fall down just as much, if not more often, than he does.

It was a grand spring break; probably my best yet. This one didn't involve some strange illness, having my wisdom teeth out, working eight million hours, or any family crises. (These are all things that my spring breaks usually consist of. Sigh.)

I have a few more random pictures from break that will be up at my site later in the day, so stop by and check them out if you have a minute!

Toonses