Last weekend was a fun one. We visited a local farm owned by one of the farmer’s cousin’s in-laws.

Did you get that? Ok.

Anyway, she had planned a little get-together for lunch and then some target practice afterwards.

This farm, by the way, is absolutely picturesque.

It sits in a bottom bordered by beautiful, tree-covered hills. This little driveway is lined with mature pines and a little further down the hill is Brush Creek and it runs right through the middle of the farm.

It runs year-round and I’m so jealous. The rugged beauty of what Missouri has to offer sometimes takes my breath away and it causes me to  think that if God’s creation can already be this beautiful with weeds, rocks, bugs and other things that come with an imperfect world, that Heaven is going to be this beautiful to a degree of which I cannot understand at this point.

I didn’t get a chance to take all the pictures I wanted to take. There was this old red barn in a field that was really talkin’ to me, but the farmer had to get back to our farm so he could milk. The farmer thinks he’s self-employed, but from my observation, the milk cows are the real bosses around here. They run a tight ship.

Anyway, we got away for a little while and enjoyed some pulled pork from a local barbecue joint and various sides and desserts brought by everyone else.

I even met some more of my husband’s family that I’ve never met.

And I had to scold Peanut for picking ticks off the dog.

After I doused her in a full bottle of Purell, I eventually got over it.

I absolutely inhaled my pulled pork sandwich. One of my favorite things in life is a pulled-pork sandwich, Memphis style. For those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s pulled pork on a bun slathered in some barbecue sauce with a heaping dollop of coleslaw. Top it with the other half of the bun and you’ve got it Memphis style. My mother introduced this to me and I never looked back. My husband is a convert, as well.

It was so nice to get to visit with family. However, the talking didn’t last long because there was shooting to do.

Peanut was one of the first to do it. That little tyke is always gung-ho to try anything. She’s ready!

The farmer apparently doesn’t think it’s too young to teach our daughter a healthy respect for weapons, and I trust him. But, I’ll have to admit I was a little nervous even though I knew she wasn’t going to actually shoot. She was just going to stand between Daddy’s arms while he did it.

This picture’s a little grainy, but I just love it.

It speaks to my heart. No matter what he’s doing, he has a helper.

She wanted a gun her size, so she chose the .22 pistol. And they were off!

I don’t think the farmer has enough weaponry attached to his person, do you? I’d say if a shoot-out ensued, he’d be ok.

Daddy shows her the ropes and then they fire.

This is her running back to Mommy. She wanted no more of that, but I gave her a high-five for giving it a go. It may be a while before she wants to do that again and I am totally fine with that.

And now for a picture montage of the shooters:

Leslee’s cousin, Deborah, and her husband, Tom. They’re the ones who got everyone together.

I had to throw this one in the mix because I love how ear muffs make the little kids’ cheeks pooch out. He started hiding from me because I was stalking him and Peanut with my camera.

My husband.

Some first time shooters.

And then you always have those people that aren’t first-time shooters and look like they might know what they’re doing, but actually have no idea whether or not they’ll hit the target. Ya just never can know.

I like that about myself, though. There’s an element of surprise there, ya know? If I ever DID have to protect myself, there’s a 10/90 chance that I will hit what I’m aiming for. Unpredictability, folks. That’s what I strive for.

Now a rifle is a different story. Although I wouldn’t necessarily say that I’m accurate… I am consistent.

How that benefits me? I’m not sure. But, it sounded good, so I said it.

This inability to be a good shot is one of the many ways in which I am humbled in life. It doesn’t mesh well with my quiet, but intense competitive streak.

If I could have thumped my husband at shooting, it would have made my year. Maybe my life.

I’m pretty sure that’s why he never finds the time to work with me on my shooting skills. He’s scared. Yep…

Anyway, it was great to visit with family and be surrounded by beautiful scenery.

And I’m definitely going to work on my shooting. I must be better than him at something…someday.

Pretty sure I can’t write myself out of a dangerous situation,

Breauna