Shooting in Pajamas, Bamboo Fly Rods & letting go of the Martyr

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!



 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). 

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: 



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.



Pajamas are the newest in chic sporting gear...pass it on.

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