Sunday, September 23, 2007

Jobs and Ducks and Guns -- Oh, My!

I've been phenomenally busy as of late, that type of busy where you sleep for two hours at a time, and each time your body reaches proximity to your bed, you are unconscious before you even make contact with your down duvet.

Not that I'm complaining, mind you, because my sleep has been deep and luxurious and well-deserved.

I had one of those nights at work on Friday that leaves you standing in your horse's stall near midnight with silent tears working their way down your cheeks. I haven't posted much about my job here, other than that I have one, for confidentiality reasons. I'm working with kids and I'm not allowed to talk about them, much less write anything about them on the Internet. I will say that thus far, I'm feeling really good about my job. I feel like I'm getting the hang of how things work, like I go every day and am part of the grown-up world of those who have jobs in their field.

Like every new thing in life, however, it has its ups and downs and I think that working with kids is particularly frustrating.

Fortunately, my mood was quickly changed when my parents returned from The Big City bearing yet another gift: A Mossberg 500 12 guage pump shotgun. It comes with a rifled barrel as well, so I can use it for ducks and deer.

I need to put a note in here and say that this purchase was entirely by surprise and entirely the fault of my father. He simply refuses to share his 12 guage Remington Wingmaster with me, the selfish type of dude that he is. Personally, I think he's just scared of how damn good I am with his gun. Nothing quite like getting your butt whooped by your own daughter with your own gun, I'm sure.

At any rate, yesterday was the opening day of duck season 2007 and this morning, after being at work until one thirty, I was up before the sun getting ready to sit by the river and wait for some ducks to fly overhead.

At one point my father called in a whole flock of them and, as luck would have it, we all must have decided to shoot at the same duck. The ballistics came back and it turns out that my mother hit it in the chest, and my father hit it in the neck. However, my dad and I were shooting the same type of shot, and since I'M THE ONE WITH THE WEBSITE, I'm telling the Internet that I SHOT THE DUCK.

So there.

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