Deb and I went archery shooting again last night. We were lacking any proper targets… we tried some of those annoying magazine postcard inserts. Ok, in size but a bit dull. I happened to look in the kitchen (adjacent to the range) and found a box of latex gloves and instantly knew I found a good substitute target.

Initially, Deb was shooting the improvised balloons, while I focused my attention on a salt packet someone else had stuck to the target butt (that's the technical term). On my first volley, I stuck three arrows into the same packet, had two close and one flyer. Sweet. But it was a feat I was unable to duplicate. As soon as I start to tire, my shake makes accurate shooting progressively more difficult.

Meanwhile, Deb was putting a hurting on that glove. We made progressively smaller balloons out of the fingers, and she continued to dispatch them. That's when she started talking smack… (she's new to the artform of smack, but I know it when I hear it.). So up went 5 new golfball-sized balloons, and it was on.

Deb's first shot and I was one down. A half-dozen shots later and she was up 2-1 with 2 to go.

I'm always facinated at the difference between target practice and competitive/hunting shooting. For me, it's one of the few times I can stop “thinking” the shot and just shoot. I just acquire the target and the body goes on autopilot. This is apparently the state that good shooters can easily reach. For me, it's money on the table or the thrill of the hunt that sometimes does the trick. It worked this time and I broke the last two with consecutive shots. That was fun, but it wasn't half as fun as competing with Deb on a somewhat level playing field. I'm secretly proudest of her attempt at smack-talk… it's like seeing your baby take its first steps.