Monday, March 24, 2008
Strawberries, cream and lead
Easter Sunday was a fine one at my folks. We had a delicious dinner followed by the annual ditch litter clean-up. Got about a pickup load full. Interestingly enough, with the exception of the old carpet, the debris represented vice.
From the number of Busch lite cans on the east side of the road, one may easily picture a man, driving home from work, drinking a beer or few, and casting the last to the ditch before he rounds the curve. Do the cheetos and chips bags caught in the dirt and brush belong to thoughtless teens or cheating dieters hastily discarding the evidence of their latest salty fatty binge? Who knows? But, it does make you wonder.
After the clean-up, we went inside for angel food cake with strawberries and cream. Twas delicious. Then the boys, my dad and I took to target shooting with a couple of .22s. It was kind of difficult to get a solid aim on the target with the cross-wind, but my shot pattern was tight enough that the boys allowed I might be of some use on a zombie defense squad.
Then dad broke out the Savage .308. I blew two cans to ribbons, tearing a hole through a hay bale, and ripping a small trench into the dirt. Of course, the .22 instantly lost its luster. After planting the stock of the Savage into my shoulder and pulling a bead with that finely balanced heft before hitting my target dead-on, there was simply no return to the too small, too light twitch in the breeze .22, so Dad and I returned to the house. I had tea and Dad gave me an online tour of fine guns and revolvers. Later, I got a gun cleaning lesson.