I reconnected with someone at a church dinner. The dinner itself, a fundraiser for a new sound system took place at my old parish. Meeting the new pastor, new to me, at my old parish warrants an entry. This story involves women, bows, and arrows all glowing in the dark.
The person I saw again belongs to a women’s group devoted to getting together to do interesting tasks. This outing involved a local archery range waaaaay down on Portage. I haven’t shot an arrow since high school phys ed class. My most vivid memory, other than the forearm bruises, involved one person in my class shooting an arrow in my direction. It missed my head by inches. I don’t think she meant to do it, but I have a strong memory of this person as a dimwitted-sort of person.
This time around we had a young man assigned to our group, giving us the basics and calling ‘stance’ and ‘clear during our shooting rounds. I guess his age at around 17 or 19, with strong arms, compact build, and honey-blond hair combed in a conservative fashion. I wanted to advise him to head down to a local comic book convention and dress up as one of these guys.
After some instruction, including determining our ‘dominant eye’ used in shooting an arrow, the group munched on some pizza, and then it’s off to attempt a bulls eye. No bulls eye on my end, but I came a wee bit close:
I came away from this good time with a little souvenir. Back in high school, despite the forearm protection, I had bruises up and down my left arm. In the present day despite pulling my shoulders down, bending my elbow, the bow still whacked me on the forearm. The bruise started to form at the range:
I iced the spot, but I didn’t feel any pain. I only felt an ache if I touched the centre, but things felt, and look, fine. I didn’t realize the perfect strawberry bruise started to take shape until…
There’s a little bit of swelling at the centre, the only place with a hint of an ache, but I have a conversation starter for a few weeks. I wear short or three-quarter length sleeves, which will motivate people to ask, “Where did you get that?”
The stories I can spin with this bruise.