I (semi-unexpectedly) spent the last three days almost entirely unplugged. First, because a late September snowstorm knocked out all power at the office until surprisingly late in the weekend. And second, because we embarked on an exciting three-day Hunter Education course with all of the boys.
Yep, you heard me. ALL. THE. BOYS.
As a result of the former, I’ve spent most of the morning being terrified of my feedreader/inbox and responding to emails as quickly as possible. And as a result of the latter, I’m try to recover from the realization that the only thing scarier than putting “David” and “Muzzle Control” in the same sentence is NOT being able to put “David” and “Muzzle Control” in the same sentence.
I’ve also spent much of the morning listening to this:
I know; I know. That’s random. Only it’s not. Not really. But it took me a while to figure out why it popped into my head this morning, and why it has simply refused to go away.
When I was growing up, one of the first computer games I ever played was a shooting gallery game called…wait for it…Shooting Gallery. It was a ShareWare program developed by Nels Anderson and featured seven mini-games that tested one’s shooting (OK, mousing) skills. I don’t even remember all of them now, but I do remember that the graphics were as limited as one would expect from that era (thought they seemed amazingly lifelike to my neophyte gamer mind), and that there was something about the soundtrack that drove me nuts until I figured it out.
Eventually, after much emotional stress and painstaking research, I realized that the little theme at the game’s open was actually a snippet from the finale of Haydn’s Trio in G Major — a piece known as the “Gypsy Rondo,” and performed above by The Mendelssohn Trio. And it is also — apparently — a piece that I will always associate with shooting, at least subconsciously. Yay?
The whole trio can be heard here. It’s great fun. Almost as much fun as having your 4th and 5th sons fighting with one another and shouting loudly in an effort to get your attention as you attempt to shoot a .243 from a prone position while squinting at an absurdly small square of paper 100 yards away and babying a shoulder that was a bit more …impacted by the 12-gauge shotgun that it was expecting. Almost.