Annie Get Your Gun

December 2, 2014 at 9:29 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , )


I had a super great trip down to Louisiana for our annual Deep-Fried-Southern-Thanksgiving (complete with a turkey stuffed with shrimp etouffee). I spent a good deal of time visiting my family and the cousins took a day trip into New Orleans, where we took a horse-drawn carriage ride tour of the city – I’ll be writing about that another day this week because it was so awesome it deserves its own post. Some of the other awesome things from the trip included eating a Schlotzsky’s sandwich both times I was in the Houston airport (because this delicious restaurant no longer serves any area anywhere near me, the jerks), cooking s’mores around a bonfire, dying my hair with my cousins after having a little bit of wine and of course, shooting my great-grandmother’s old rifle. I never got to meet this woman as she passed before I was born but she was a tough old broad known as Miss Bessie to just about everyone. Apparently she used to shoot turtles and snakes to keep them out of her yard (and probably put them into a dinner dish) and the gun has been passed down in the family. It currently belongs to my dad, who took me out to the bayou on some family property so I could shoot for the first time since I was a senior in high school.

The leaves feared me.

30 seconds later I was crying in the truck after my battle with the ants.

Surprisingly, I was a fairly decent shot. I didn’t want to aim at anything that was alive so I marked leaves and large sticks and had a strong accuracy with everything I shot. Which was extra surprising since it was all moving in the current of the water – even my dad was legitimately impressed. I shot my dad’s handgun after going through all the bullets we had for the rifle and I did NOT like that nearly as much. It was incredibly loud (my ears rang for a while) and was so much more powerful that I had a harder time with my accuracy. That rifle though – that I could (and did) get behind. Unfortunately, after I took my first few shots my feet started to feel the burn and that’s when I realized that my dumb ass had planted myself right on a pile of fire ants – while wearing sandals. It’s a small miracle that I didn’t shoot off a toe in my scurry to get away from the biting bastards. I eventually wiped myself clear of the little devils and found another place to stand but the damage was done – my feet still have bite marks on them. Oh well, at least I didn’t lay down in the pile while pretending to be a sniper.

After our shoot-fest, my dad and I walked through a cemetery where some old family members are buried. Some of the tombstones are hundreds of years old and it was pretty interesting to walk through everyone, though it was a bit strange to see my last name on so many headstones. Thinking back, I think I spent the majority of my trip down South firing guns, walking in cemeteries and wandering through Wal-Mart (which happened to be the only store open in the small town I was in). I guess I really am a Southern girl at heart!

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