Mud, Guns, and a Sore Shoulder, Part 2

[N.B.:  I added some pictures to the previous post--check 'em out!  And if you haven't read Part 1, do that first.]

After having trudged to the top of a hill for a shooting match, those who had brought their own guns started getting everything out of the cases, cleaning things out, and setting up sandbags on the shooting bench.  Matt's uncle stapled targets to a large plywood board...

...and walked it 100 yards away from the shooting bench.

Whad'ya mean you can't see the target?!  It's the small yellow thing right in the center, of course!  And that's why the first round is rifles with scopes.

We got protective ear muffs on (those guns are loud!) and the shooting started with last year's winner (who is a friend of the family).  He had brought his own rifle and took his sweet time getting everything set up just the way he wanted. 

After taking his six shots, Matt's cousin was up next.  He also had his own gun:

Matt's uncle was third.  He had yet another gun:

Matt was up fourth. 

He decided to use the first gun:

Yours truly was fifth.  I was nervous about this round because last year, the gun I used kicked something awful.  So bad, that by the time you take your fourth or fifth shot, it's hard to pull the trigger because you know it's going to punch you in the shoulder!  Self-inflicted pain isn't really my thing.  Matt said the first gun really didn't kick bad at all and that I wouldn't need a "sissy pad" (extra padding for your shoulder).  So I gave it a shot:

Not too bad!  I didn't need a sissy pad, but my shoulder was still a bit sore afterward.

The last shooter took his turn:

After we had all taken our shots, we trekked up to the target board to count up points and move it closer for the second round.  Matt had only scored 2 points higher than me.  Certainly not insurmountable by any means.  However, I had beat him in the first round last year, so I wasn't too pleased.

The second round is my favorite.  I love the old .22-cal rifle they have everyone use.  It was Matt's grandfathers.   I was determined to outscore Matt and give him a run for his money!

The targets were moved in to about 35-40 yards since the .22-cal has iron sights instead of a scope.

We went through the same order as the first round.

We collected targets after the round was over, and Matt's uncle added up the points again.  I had outscored Matt by 7 points!  Splendid!  I even tied his uncle at 56 points a piece.  That meant that collectively, I had 5 more points than Matt.  All I had to do was hit some good shots in the last round to secure victory!

The last round is pistols.

I hate pistols.

Last year, they were my downfall.  This year, though, I knew which pistol to use and I was ready.  The targets were moved in to about 15 yards and we took our shots.

The targets were taken off the board.  And the points were totaled.  In one round, Matt had outscored me by 11 points.  That meant overall...he was five points ahead of me.  FIVE points.  So close.  He wiped some proverbial sweat from his brow, barely having dodged a humiliating defeat.

The final results were as follows:

1st place:  Matt's uncle, 131 points
2nd place:  Matt, 119 points
3rd place:  Last year's winner, 115 points
4th place:  Me, 114 points
5th place:  Matt's cousin:  103 points
6th place:  Family friend, 70 points

I improved my standing from last year's 5th place, but I'm not satisfied.  Next year, I'll be back and beat my husband.  That's a promise.

Mud, Guns, and a Sore Shoulder, Part 1

The main reason Matt and I traveled to visit his parents this particular weekend is because there was a family reunion in good ol' West Virginia. 

Yea, that kind of West Virginia.

We went to the reunion last year, too.  We have to drive about an hour and a half to get to his uncle's house which is half way up a mountain.  There were several family members there who had all brought various goodies to eat.  Eating is the first event.  But the real event--the MAIN event--comes after the eating is over.

The main even is a shooting match.

Last year, before we went, Matt had told me about this shooting match.  It takes place up on a hill overlooking his uncle's house and they've been doing it for over 15 years.  There are three rounds and blah, blah, blah...I didn't really care.  The only gun I've ever shot (besides a BB gun) was an old shot gun.  And you don't really aim with that.  I figured I probably couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, much less a small target 100 yards away.  I thought I'd just go watch, since there wouldn't be anything else to do.  We got up on this hill and they started setting everything up, got out guns, and cleaned things out.  Matt's uncle laid out targets and started labeling them with names.  He looked at me and said, "You shootin'?"  I said no, I'd just watch.  He said, "Nah, you're shootin'," and put my name on a target.

Long story short, after the first two rounds, I was ahead of Matt in the points.  I couldn't believe it.  Matt couldn't believe it.  His uncle turned to me and said, "Have you been practicin' or somethin'??"  The last round, though, was my downfall.  I had the worst pistol ever and I think I only managed to get a few points.  Matt shot several bullseyes and overtook me in the points, and ended up in 3rd place.  I finished in 5th (out of 8).

While this was certainly not a bad result (seeing as how I'd never really shot a gun in my life), I was not happy losing in the last round.  Just to clarify, I didn't care about winning the whole thing--I don't think I could ever beat his uncle.  But if I could beat my husband in a shooting match?  That would give me bragging rights for centuries, people.  Centuries.  I was determined to return next year and get those rights.

The last couple weeks at our house have been ripe with taunts and jabs, hints at humiliating defeats, and plenty of (friendly-ish) fightin' words.  I wanted to beat him.  Bad.

Yesterday, we headed out late morning for West Virginia.  It was hot and humid, but not as bad as it's been recently.  We arrived and after some chatting and food fixing, we all sat down to eat.  About halfway through eating, it started to rain.  Just a drizzle.  "It'll pass," Matt's uncle said.  We could all see blue sky just beyond.  Well, the rain stopped.  Then started up again.  Then briefly stopped.  Then more rain--lots of rain.  Pouring rain. 

Half an hour later, it's still pouring down.  Hopes of a glorious shooting match are slowly dying and the rain keeps coming.  Some people leave, some people putter around waiting to see if the rain will let up.

After about 45 minutes, the rain slows...then comes to a stop. 

 Some of the men clamber up the hill to see if things are dry enough to get up there.  They come down and report that the top of the hill isn't muddy at all!  The trail up the hill...whole 'nother story.  Muddle puddles and ruts with mud are all along the hill's trail.  Matt's uncle tries to get his truck up through it, but no go.  Even 4-wheel drive doesn't do it in this stuff.  So in our sandals, we grab duffel bags, gun cases, and other paraphernalia and trudge up to the top.  We are shooting today; mud or no mud.

Finally, we're all up there.  There will be six shooters (down from last year's 8):  Matt, me, Matt's uncle, Matt's cousin, and two friends of the family.  The rules are as follows:

-In each round you have six shots at the target.  You must take one standing shot; the other five you can sit down and use sandbags to prop up the gun or your arm.

-First round is hunting rifles with scopes at 100 yards.  These things (for those of you who don't know), kick like a mule.  Not my favorite round.  Ouch.

-Second round is shooting with the family .22-cal rifle with iron sights at about 40 yards.  I love this round.  I scored better than everyone in this round last year and the .22 kicks about as bad as a BB gun (i.e. not bad at all).

-Third round is pistols at about 15-20 yards.  I learned last year that pistols are inaccurate and terrible and I hate them.  It's what ruined things for me and saved Matt from defeat.

-The winner gets the trophy (yes, there's a trophy) and a year's worth of glory over other family members.

And so we started.  The riveting story and stirring results are next!

Odd Happenings on Long Drives

Matt and I set out early this afternoon to drive to his parents house.  Tomorrow is a family reunion in West Virginia (more on that tomorrow!), so we're spending the weekend here.

We've driven down to visit his parents many times since we got married last June.  It's about a 4 hour drive and we usually end up chatting and dialing through radio channels.  We have radically different musical tastes (for the most part), so sometimes we have to suffer through songs that the other one likes.  I usually have to suffer through things like the Beatles, the Who, Genesis (*gag*), or *shiver* RUSH (*double gag*).  He usually has to suffer through dance/club/disco music or cheesy pop music.  Now, just to be clear, I certainly have wider (and more eclectic) musical tastes, but when I'm in the car on a long drive, I want something upbeat to keep me alert at the wheel.  I also enjoy dancing in the passenger seat.  Never dancing in the driver seat, though.  I would never do that...

Anyway, on these drives down to visit his parents, and through our channel surfing, it seems like we always, always, always end up on a channel playing a certain song.  I happen to love this song and promptly turn it up, start dancing and laughing, and generally enjoy Matt's misery and the amazing coincidence that we are hearing this song again!!!  Seriously, there's maybe been one or two times in over a dozen drives that we've not heard this song.  Each time we hear it, the coincidence is more and more hilarious (in my opinion).  In his opinion, it gets more and more annoying (but I think secretly he's starting to see the funny side).

So, are you just dying to know what this song is?

Are you?

Well, here ya go:

 

 

So, did you enjoy it?  Or are you like Matt and rolled your eyes and sighed loudly?

Shrinky Dinks

How many of you have made a shrinky dink in your life?

Remember, the things where you draw on special paper, cut it out, put it in the oven, then watch it magically shrink into a cute piece of colored-on plastic?

The thing that middle schoolers typically play with?

Matt and I decided to be middle schoolers last night and make shrinky dinks.  Matt had never made one (*gasp!*) so I showed him the wonder that is shrinky dinks.

We sharpened our colored pencils.

We colored super careful.

And cut oh-so slowly to make sure they would look awesome.

We put them on a cookie sheet...

...and slid them in the oven.

And waited.  Soon, they started to curl up.

And when they had flattened back out again, they were so cute and shrunken!!

It was so fun, Matt even made two.  Can you guess which two are his and which one is mine?  ;-)