I made a goal when I began blogging last December that I would post at least one entry per month. At first, that wasn't too difficult. I have a tendency to find adventures in the most obscure places. I'm very aware that I'm young and have a lot of livin' to do, so I do my best to be in the thick of things, no matter what the cost. Last month, however, I hit a road block. It felt like nothing worth reporting happened: no injuries, no brushes with death, no earth-shattering existential insights, no new soapbox to rant on. None of the usual material that tends to fill the cyberspace that is my personal online memoir. However, that cannot be said about this month. I have had many grand adventures within the past few weeks and the only excuse I have for not documenting them is that I have no pictures. I feel that it is my duty as a Mormon woman to not only present an insightful, inspiring blog, but also to embellish it with the most aesthetically pleasing layout, worthy of a true domestic goddess. But, domestic I ain't, so I'll just have to narrate.
My brother made the comment a few weeks ago that I 'thought' I was outdoorsy. I don't know where he's coming up with these conclusions; we speak to each other on average about once a month. However, instead of feeling affronted, I am merely going to present my case with an overview of the occurrences of this season:
Bonfire:
A couple of weeks ago, the first counselor in my Bishopric held his annual bonfire for our ward. I've been told that bonfires in Utah are child's play compared to the roaring infernos that teenagers and college students gather around in other areas of the country. Of course they are! The great state of Utah burns to a crisp like a fatty slab of bacon every summer due to irresponsible practices outdoors. Maybe it's that old adage 'better safe then sorry', but we'd rather keep our beautiful playground for further use. However, this doesn't mean Utahns don't have any stamina. It rained almost the entire day, not just sprinkling, misty light rain, but a persistent, demanding deluge of fat rain drops. And yet, Brother O'Connell's ranch style home out in remote Benjamin was alive with activity as the college students of the BYU 43rd ward buzzed around his property, riding horses, playing basketball, shooting rifles and shot guns, and driving four-wheelers. Where was I? In the thick of it, of course!
Four wheeling:
Many a friend and loved one has forbidden me from ever touching an ATV ever again, due to an accident I was in last winter. I smashed into a ditch and was thrown off, tearing several ligaments in my wrist and thumb. I personally don't think it was that big of a deal; yeah, if I hadn't landed on my feet, I could very well be dead, but I did land on my feet, so it's all good. After the cast was put on, I was fine. It was waterproof and I didn't allow it to slow me down. There was, however, a need to face that vehicle again, just to gain faith in myself. I asked a gentleman in my ward who I felt had sufficient experience with recreational vehicles to take me out on it. He did an okay job, but I guess that it had been a while since he'd driven a four-wheeler. I did end up getting knocked off again, only this time, I only bruised my fingers. Maybe next year I can look forward to an incident-free ride.
Shooting:
I don't think I've ever disapproved of guns themselves, just what they represent. As someone who is dedicating their whole life to saving lives and caring for animals, hunting is not exactly something that is on my agenda of things to do. I've had the hunting debate with friends a dozen times and in the end, it's always something that we have to agree to disagree about. It's a hard thing for me to handle, and it takes a lot of maturity on both ends to stay on congenial terms. For this reason, I decided to give recreational shooting a try. Hunters are always saying that animal lovers are hysterical, irrational, uneducated, and unfair, as some of the greatest advocates for environmentalism are the sportsmen. I'm aware of this, but I wanted to understand the thrill that comes with firing a shotgun. Quinn owns a couple of them, so when Brother O' Connell told us we could use his property as a shooting range, I agreed to join him when he got a group together for one of their shooting expeditions.
That was last summer. The boys were fantastic about teaching me about gun safety and how to hold it right so the gun wouldn't bruise me into oblivion when it kicked. And kick it did! I felt like I was going to knocked completely off my feet. Quinn said I did okay, though. Since then, I have gone shooting twice this month, first using a 203 rifle and later firing a .22. I'll admit that I'm not a big fan of shooting the bigger guns. I haven't touched Quinn's 12 gauge since that first time, and don't know if I ever will, but there was something satisfying about shooting with the .22-especially after Quinn set up one of his badly made ceramic cups for a target at about 20-30 feet-I pinged it on my second shot! I don't know that I'll ever get enough practice to ever become proficient with a gun, but by stepping out there with a bunch of experienced marksmen, I hope to win points for animal lovers everywhere. I show them I can be open minded- to a point, they in turn show me respect by not destroying anything living. We keep to our inanimate targets: clay pigeons, stuffed animals, water bottles, balloons, bad ceramics, broken appliances, and paper targets. Oh, and we always clean up afterward.
This was last year, and my first time with a .22 gauge. It's nice because it doesn't kick and it's easier to load. Maybe it's wussy that I don't love the big guns, but I am a little lady, after all.
Motorcycles:
I don't believe there is a girl out there who doesn't at some point fantasize about jumping on the back of a motorcycle with a muscular man and riding off into the sunset. I know I do. There was a gentleman in our ward who drives one and I made a joke about how I needed to figure out how to find a way on to the back of his bike. I guess he found out because one night after we were all playing at night as a ward, he asked me if I wanted to go with him, he just so happened to bring his second helmet. YEAH! We zipped along the streets of Provo, weaving in and out of traffic and beating everyone else home. It was a fun experience, but I hope someday I get the chance to do the same thing in the desert, without a helmet.
Frisbee:
If you had told me a few years ago that I would become a frisbee fanatic, I would have laughed and continued picking dandelions. That's how I used to cope when my ward would play ultimate frisbee in the old days. Last summer my guyfriends organized a game of glow-in-the-dark ultimate frisbee and invited me to play. I shrugged my shoulders and thought, hey I might as well be social. It was such a success that we continued to do that every Tuesday night for the rest of the summer. I was pretty pathetic at first, but Quinn and Jason decided to throw a frisbee around one night, and it turned into frisbee boot camp. They ran drills with me and taught me how to throw it straight. By the end of the night, I was hooked. This summer we began the tradition again and have been so die-hard that we played in the rain and hail. On the field, I do okay; I usually make at least one touchdown a game. But I don't allow myself to slack off! Quinn's latest thing has been frisbee golf, and I go with him because it improves my throwing range. We also go out and toss it around several times a week and a hour before each game. It's an awesome feeling to watch people scramble to guard me because they perceive me as a threat. It's also a great feeling to see Quinn and Jason beam with pride at their protege when I make an impossible catch.
Bikejoring:
I actually have intentions of expanding on this one in a future blog, so I won't say too much it here, just know that Arctic Rescue is still a major part of my life. I only have one more sled dog left, and he is a prince among huskies. It's been fun because we have been training each other, me as his handler, and he as my team. See, bikejoring is a Swedish sport in which you hook up your dog to a bike or scooter and fly over a mountain trail. Any kind of outdoor dog would enjoy this, but it's especially ideal with huskies because it's a fantastic way to train them to pull a sled, especially in the summer. It's also more access able for the terrain of Utah; we truly have it all! You just need your dog, a leash, and a bike and you're good to go. I've done a bit of dabbling with this, and it has been AMAZING!
If this is not enough to prove myself to Lynn, the summer is still young and there are several plans in the works. I have to make it to Zion's before the summer ends, because it may be my last opportunity to do so. There's also been talk of hiking, rafting, and cookouts. At any rate, I intend to live it up!
