Archery

Last night I went out with Wilbur and shot my bow at a target. He purchased this bow for me in the early 1990's, but I rarely got to shoot it. He would come home from work and target shoot. Unfortunately, after running kids to school, home from school, to piano lessons, to basketball, volleyball, to track, to tennis, to drama practice, to ...... you name it, the unreasonable dwebes always wanted to eat dinner. So target shooting was put on the back burner for the last fifteen years.

Once he mentioned selling my bow. I was put out. I WANTED to practice, but my unreasonable family wanted clean clothes and regular meals. The big babies. Besides, who knows what would have happened had I become truly proficient with a bow. Would Child Protective Services frown on shooting a teenager in the rear end who ignores the directive to clean his/her room week after week after week? Clearly, waiting until my teenagers were grown promoted the entire family's health, well being, and clean court record.

At any rate, I never thought I'd have white hair by the time I got back to shooting with it. Now that I have white hair and the time to do lots of the things I want to do, I look WAY too old to be doing them. Well, either Miss Clairol and I will have to become intimately acquainted or Society will have to get used to a white haired lady:

practicing shooting her bow
riding her mountain bike from Cottonwood Lake to Blackfoot Meadows
cross country skiing
mud packing her face in a muddy stream during a hike
riding her four wheeler wherever
and a lot of other things.