Went to the bowling pin shoot this morning and just about froze to death. But Turk (mah hero!) had brought a huuuge bag of chemical handwarmers, and saved the the day. (Update: I was shooting my 9mm Star BM: it has fair sights and I have plenty of mags for it. I removed the magazine safety in the car on the way to the match, so the mags will now drop free [No, Mom, I wasn't driving, I was a passenger]).
Caleb didn't even try. He used some little cow-college sporting event as an excuse but you know it was the cold.
In one round, fought right down to the wire (i.e., we both ran out of ammo with a couple of pins hanging, twice, and had to run back to the ready table for more. By the second trip, we were both laughing almost too hard to shoot. I totally rock!
"One out of two isn't bad," Tam reminds: the first time we were head to head today, I fell to ignominious defeat, knocking two pins down (but not off the table) in 28-some shots while she swept her table with eight shots. Pure luck, says I. Or maybe superior skill. Umm, yeah, that second thing. But I try hard.