I shot myself in the face with a shotgun.

It's true. I done did it. A truly exhilarating experience and a bit freaky too. Granted, I did only take a single BB to the lower lip area, but still puts a little fear in you to follow a very loud blast with a strike to the face. More on this later.

That is the sort of activity that I get involved in when I ventured southward to visit far southern Iowa and my relatives who reside in that area.

Following my fight last Wednesday I ventured home and got to bed nice and late so that I could wake up very sleepy at 6 AM to get started on my trip south with Cousin Whitney. Nothing eventful other than having to detour to Des Moines to pick up Tate and a few hours spent listening to Whitney complain about one thing or another. (Hehe, she even tried to convince me that I would need to spank my children later in life. Her proof? My bratty childhood.)

On Thursday night I was fortunate enough to pay a visit to the new homestead of a young man my age named Shane, a bandmate of Tate's. The lucky fool owns 600 acres (I believe they came through his grandparents in one way or another), a bunch of goats, some peacocks, an eight-track player, and a crappy TV that gets a fuzzy vision of NBC (I think). What a life! I am so jealous, but only of his current situation. We'll see how it works out for him and hopefully I can wind up in such a situation on of these days.

Back to shooting myself in the face. My family seems to enjoy shooting guns and I seem to enjoy it a bit too. I found a new appreciaton for my .222 (much stronger than a .22) while I was attempting to shoot the hood hinges off of Tate's old Pontiac 6000. With Uncle Leon and Cousin Kurt it seems that shotguns are the game. We really didn't spend too much time shooting, but we really took advantage of our last thirty minutes before darkness each day.

It was at the end of a quick session where we had each emptied a few boxes of shells rather rapidly (how wasteful) that I got into my previously described situation. We were fulfilling Kurt's lifelong dream of shooting a car when I took a shot at the gas tank cover and felt something come from the dark and slap me in the mouth. Turns out I was perfectly fine and continued to shoot the that evening, but now I can forever say that I once shot myself in the face with a 12 guage. Isn't that just special?

I have other stories to tell since I took a break from blogging and blog reading for quite a while, but I also have class to get to and bit of reading to take care of.

Peace.