Excuses Excuses
Sometimes it's
easier to start at the end and work your way bottom-side up. As I
type this after an amazing home cooked meal of stuffed pork chops,
yams, cranberry sauce and some sort of cheesy veggies...I am awed at
how I got here from there. “There” would be the Grand Canyon
State Shoot in Queen Creek AZ. “ Here” being Lynn and Scott
Walters' beautiful winter home outside of Wickenburg called “The
Nine Iron's Ranch.” Then it dawned on me...”Oh yeah...I invited myself!”
We had two stages
left to shoot Sunday morning beginning at 9:00 AM. They were using
both arena's, so it would go pretty fast. Rylee was unable to fix my
gun due to not having the right parts. Her brother Dylan needed his
gun back before he ran his stages. I'd shoot my two and swap guns
after my last run.
Stage 4 would be
my only clean stage of the shoot. I checked and double checked the
borrowed gun to make sure I chambered it properly this time. J'Bird
put me exactly where I needed to be. It felt good to get a clean run.
I was beginning to think it would never happen again. As we exited
the arena, a lady stood in the alley. She'd been there all weekend. I
never paid attention to what she was doing other than pointing up at
the ceiling. I kept looking up where she was pointing. Every stage it
was the same thing...I'd run, exit the arena and there we stood
facing each other; her pointing up and me looking up trying to see
what she was pointing at. Finally she spoke up: “No – look over
here...at my fingers and smile big. I'm trying to get your picture!”
I need to get out more.
I thought I was
back on track. I fully intended to shoot my last stage clean as well.
I was hoping Dylan's world champion'ness would flow through his gun
and help me out a little. It didn't. J'Lo ran another flawless run. I
tried to focus on pulling the hammer on that bisley thing to no
avail. The trigger is a lot closer to the trigger frame than on my
gun. I pulled back the hammer on the number 10 balloon and pulled the
trigger at the same time...essentially going off half cocked. The
only think consistent with my runs this weekend was balloons left
standing and that lady pointing up at the ceiling.
I ran the Lawson's
gun back to Rylee and picked up my Taylor Runn'in Iron. Rylee
apologized for not having the part to fix it and I thanked her
profusely for loaning me theirs. She said if I couldn't get it fixed
before the next shoot at Queen's to send her a text and she would
make sure to have the part.
I sat through the
awards and watched several of my new friends pick up there's. I kept
thinking I should be disappointed, but I wasn't. That is the way it
goes. Sometimes your gun breaks – sometimes your horse has an off
day. Some day's the winds blowing the wrong direction and
sometimes...it's just Tuesday and you suck.
If nothing else, I
learned a lot. Now I see the importance of trying out different guns
in case yours takes a dump and some nice shooter is willing to lend
you there's. I learned I can shoot as fast as J'Lo is running right
now and confident I can keep up as we pick up more speed. I've
learned not to be intimidated by “big shoots.” There's probably
more than one person out there who's as nervous as you or more so. I
learned to sign up for shotgun. You only need one good pistol for
that!
Lynn and I set
about tearing down our camps. We both needed to find an RV dump. I
told here of one in Wickenburg but I didn't know how easy or
difficult it is to get to it. I also needed to do laundry and Lynn
wanted to go on a trail ride behind her place. Before I realized it,
I was invited myself over. I suggested if she had room for my LQ and
a spot for a couple horses – I could stay over in Wickenburg – we
could find an RV dump and go for a ride. Maybe make plans to go to
Tombstone if it works out. Etc. Etc. It would save me from having to
drive all the way back to Wickenburg from Aguila. Lynn agreed.
I don't know what
I expected. A manufactured home maybe...or one of those cute little
tiny homes. I was not expecting a hacienda style home with 20 foot
ceilings and room for a pony in the walk in closet. It is likely the
coolest house I've seen.
We were greeted in
the driveway by Peter, Lynn's brother. Peter is deaf. Peter is also a
hugger...and a dang good one. Coming from me, that says a lot.
Normally not a big hugger myself – one can't help but be wrapped up
in the pure jubilation of a Peter hug. I wouldn't trust anyone who
didn't appreciate the unadulterated joy that man puts into his
embrace. I wish I knew sign language – I would like to have been
able to communicate with him better.
Lynn and her
husband, Scott, helped get my horses settle in. We hooked together
all the hoses we could find for water. After being cooped up in
stalls for 4 days, they were happy ponies to get out in a large
enclosure.
Another day of my
adventure comes to an end. When I look back on the weekend – I find
I do not think much on the broken gun and missed balloons. Instead I
remember the handful of people I was blessed to meet. The kindness
and courage of Lynn that is indicative of a cancer survivor.
Kathleen; her innate ability to put others first shone through as she
became our tour guide and local resource. I will remember Jean's
welcoming and vivacious personality. Scott's hospitality. Rogers
plethora of Snowbird knowledge. And mostly I will remember Peter as
proof that pure joy comes not from what you can see or hear – but
from what you feel from within your heart.
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