I went to Cuba. To an all-inclusive, no less. It seems weird to go to Cuba and not have a mojito, so I figured I’d try one.

It. Was. Amazing!

So it seems that I like mojitos after all, they just have to be made right. And I drank enough of them (and paid attention!) that I think I can do this. I need to go shopping… and I need to grow some mint.

I got home, walked into the kitchen, and ordered a mojito. Nothing happened. Damn.

Anyway, so Cuba! Right, Dan & I just spent a week in Cuba and it was simply wonderful. So as not to completely bore the fuck out of you, I’m going to write a bit about it, but in little bursts here and there. Come to think of it, this might actually be worse as I’ll keep jamming it in everyones faces until I’m tired of talking about it.

Which may NEVER HAPPEN, because CUBA.

So, I’ve actually been wanting to go to Cuba for years. To the point where my ex & I had a running joke about going. For Christmas one year, we even got each other (different) Cuban guidebooks. Obviously, that didn’t pan out (neither did the relationship) but I still wanted to go to Cuba.

So… Dan & I started talking about taking a vacation, other than little bits & pieces of “get out of town” things that we’ve done locally. My last “go far away from home” trip was to Zimbabwe in 2007. His last real vacation was to Israel in 2001. Well. This needs to be rectified, obviously. So when I got my part time status at work last November, and got to actually sign up for vacation time, we both thought Cuba sounded like a fantastic idea.

And we were right!

We started planning it for real a few months ago. As it turned out, Kimli & co went to Cuba last year, and so I asked her about the resort she stayed in. She recommended Breezes Jibacoa, and after googling the heck out of it, it sounded pretty good to us. 14+, all inclusive, and closer to Havana than most of the resorts in Varadero.

So my original intention was to do a lot of solo trips, but when we had our orientation… well, as much as I hate to be the “look at things from the bus” type of tourist, the three excursions we booked actually covered all the bases. Also used up our excursion budget, so that made it fairly easy. The trips we booked were:

Thursday: A day out on a catamaran, with a chance to swim with dolphins, do some open water snorkelling, and then finish off the day with a late lunch & swimming at Cayo Blanco before heading back to Varadero (and then bus back to our resort.)

Friday: Varadero tour. This was the only one I was a little disappointed with, as it was very much a “look out the window at things, then stop at a few places to wander around for ten minutes”. However, we had a few hours of free time in the afternoon to wander around downtown Varadero which was loads of fun, and we met a great couple from the UK who were in Cuba for their honeymoon, and we ended up hanging out with them for a good portion of the rest of the trip. (Yay, we made friends!)

Monday: Havana. After Friday, I was a little concerned this was going to be another “look out the window at things” tour. And it had a bit of that, but we had a lot more time out and about. We visited Old Havana, a rum museum, the Capitol building, lunch at a lovely restaurant in New Havana, and the highlight of the trip for me, a tour through a cigar factory.

I’ll go into more detail about those later. For now, here’s what I saw every time I opened the curtains in our room:

My entire morning routine (which, when I work nights, is a “mid-afternoon routine”, but who’s counting?) takes an hour. I refuse to let it take longer than that, unless I spend half an hour dicking around on Twitter. Admittedly, this does including dicking around on twitter for ten minutes or so. But it also includes taking the dog out for her morning pee, and 5 minutes of arguing with the cat. (What? She’s mouthy.)

Getting this routine down has taken some practice — I used to be a 15-minutes-including-shower kind of girl, but that was considerably was easier when I had a shaved head. I now have longish hair and bangs, so my old method of “run a comb through it and leave it alone” now makes my hair turn into a limp frizzy mess. The bangs look like utter crap unless I blowdry them.

So here’s my quick & dirty method for not spending ages blowdrying my hair. It may only work for people with my hair, as it’s quite fine. I put whatever hair goo in my hair that I’m using these days, then blowdry the bangs & my roots taking no more than 3 or 4 minutes. Then I get dressed, take the dog out, have a Discussion with the cat, and by the time I come back the rest of it has usually mostly dried — enough so that I can give it a quick 30 seconds just to grab the last few damp strands, slap some anti-frizz smoothing stuff on it, and voila! Hair that is almost totally dry (and straight!) with virtually no effort and doesn’t look like I stuck my finger in a light socket.

I wish I’d known this trick in high school. I might not have looked like this when I was 15. Or this… good lord.

Other time saving tips include: have an awesome boyfriend who makes you breakfast almost every time you have a morning shift. Also, have a dog who pees the second she hits the grass when you get outside and won’t destroy the house if she hasn’t had a long walk in the morning. Just sayin’. You could probably save more time if you didn’t have a cat who’s sole goal in life is to cover you in gray fuzz every morning, but I can’t quite figure that one out yet.

So. What are YOUR “save time without sacrificing final look” tips?

In other news: I spent $140 on makeup today. Seriously, does anybody remember me 6 years ago? Hee. I actually only spent $40, as I had an awesome gift card from Christmas that I hadn’t used yet. In my continued attempts to be Pretty (note: makeup not actually required, I just like to accentuate and decorate. And doodle all over my face.) I bought my very first bronzer. Next step: Figure out how to wear it without looking like Snooki. Important step.

I also discovered that MAC has these nifty customizable eye shadow kits where you can pick the colors you want, and voila: custom palette. Sure, I could just buy two separate pots, but I like having matched colors that I know go well together (because someone helped me pick them. What? I’m not good at this stuff. Yet.) What it comes down to is that I really like sets, and they didn’t have any with the colors I was looking for, so I made my own. Yay, set!

Who knew that this stuff was so much fun?

I still refuse to wear mascara under most circumstances. Like, if I’m wearing my glasses. Who wants eyelashes that bump against your glasses? Fuck that shit.

Unfortunately, once I actually hit puberty and was DEALING with all of this stuff, my willingness to talk about anything to do with sex completely stopped. Way to go, teenage brain. I really wish I knew how cool my mother was about that sort of thing, but I was just entirely too horrified by the idea of talking to my mother about sex.

I remember two instances specifically: Once, I was about 15 and not fully “active”, but was definitely experimenting (yay, blowjobs are fun!) She trapped me in the car and asked me if I was having orgasms. Because orgasms are awesome. But can be difficult — lots of girls don’t know how to have orgasms. Especially if their boyfriends are also 15 and inexperienced.

And if I didn’t feel like having sex, I didn’t have to — mutual masturbation is a great way to be intimate with your partner without having full on intercourse. Admittedly, great advice, but JESUS CHRIST MOM I DON’T CARE IF WE’RE GOING 80KPH I WANT OUT OF THIS CAR IMMEDIATELY YES WHATEVER ORGASMS WOO. (Sadly, I wish I’d paid attention — no, I was most certainly NOT having orgasms. Not for another 6 years. Sigh.)

The second was about a year later. I was 16, and dating a guy entirely too old for me. Mom was a bus driver at the time — this is relevant to the story.

So, despite having terrible taste in boyfriends way too old for me, I was at least smart enough to go on the pill, but again with the horror of actually telling my mother, so I just made the appointment myself and the boyfriend drove me. He was way too embarrassed to actually come in with me, so he waited outside in his truck. (Ha ha, that’ll teach you!)

Unexpectedly, he hears a “knock knock knock” on his window, and holy shit, it’s MY MOTHER. She smiles at him, and says “So… is she in there for what I think she is?” he stutters out some “uh I don’t know I just drove” bullshit excuse, to which my mother lets him know that she was not in fact born yesterday, and to pass on the message that “she knows”.

As it turns out, across the street from my doctors office was where the bus she was driving that day had break time, she happened to glance across the street and see him parked there. In front of my doctors office. I ABSOLUTELY DID NOT believe him. Seriously, what are the chances? No way. No fucking way.

…and then he described her sunglasses…

This was the mid-90s, and my mother wore a pair of particularly great bright blue sunglasses that would have been a bit more trendy in the 80s. There was no way my boyfriend would have ever seen her sunglasses before. And they were WAY too unique to be a guess.

OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK.

She didn’t get home until about 7 that night. I was shitting bricks for about 4 hours. I was entirely certain that I was going to be locked up for the rest of my natural born life or possibly shot on sight.

As it turns out, my mother was STILL way cooler than I ever gave her credit for, and all she did when she got home from work that night was to laugh hysterically at my complete and utter traumatized horror that MOM KNEW. Admittedly, she DID word her message in a way to put All The Fear into me, but it seems that my mother was a master troll even in ’96…

It’s been a supremely awesome month. I sold a metric shit ton of soap at Blim on the 18th, which was a great re-introduction to the fun of making All The Soap Ever. I also sold a ton of soap to friends & family, who have given me wonderful feedback. Hooray, my soap is popular!

Now, to get back on this stained glass thing…

Christmas was awesome. Dan & I stayed at my parents place on Christmas Eve so that for the first time in yeeeears, I got to have a Christmas morning with my family. Which was a blast, even though I’d already gotten my main gift from my parents — my new bike, Natasha Pistachio, who I plan on taking out for a ride today.

I was also utterly astonished when I opened Dan’s gift and found a painting by an excellent artist friend of ours, of me. Bret tells the story better, so I’ll leave that up to him.

I also managed to succeed at Christmas. I have this thing where I LOVE buying gifts, and attempt to take pride in thoughtful gifts, but am not nearly as creative as I’d like to be and end up failing miserably. Add to it that Dan tends to just go out and buy something if he wants it. Argh. He claimed that he’d dropped all sorts of hints as to things that he might like, but LIKE I PICK UP ON SUBTLE. He had also mentioned a gift someone had given him in the past that *I* thought was SUPER thoughtful, but he was less impressed with. OH GOD THE PRESSURE IS ON.

I managed to do okay: I got him a kindle, which he hasn’t actually put down since he got it, and one of Bret’s paintings (see link above for full story.) SUCCESS! Of course, his birthday is in a few months and now that I’ve had a success with Christmas, I somehow have to duplicate it… ack.

Much food was eaten, my dog was only a LITTLE idiotic (we have a theory that she’s anti-beard), and we trundled off home to proceed to suffer from the WORST PLAGUE EVER. It was so bad I actually took a day off work — my second since I started working at this company, the first one being when I sprained my ankle and knew the ER trip would make me miss the start of my shift. Damn.

So New Years: So I’ve gone to the same awesome house party for … what, 6 years? 7? More? I have no idea. And the original plan was to go to the party. But as it got closer and closer to the 31st, I found that I didn’t really have an interest. I haven’t kept in close contact with most of the people I would see there, and while they’re utterly fantastic people, I find that I’m going in a different direction… and so in the last couple of days before New Years, we asked kdot & cas if they wanted to come over for an evening of boardgames and sparkles instead. (My shirt provided all of the sparkles, but everybody else took some home. As did the dog, the couch, and the carpet. Ah, sparkles, the herpes of craft supplies.)

I can’t decide if I’m getting boring or if my priorities are shifting. Possibly both, but I had a fantastic night and wouldn’t have had it any other way. Also, I got to be a werewolf, which was great. Am sad not to see all the Awesome People, but I had the New Years I wanted — even if it was a WEE bit different than last years.

Last year was such an interesting thing. It started off with me still being utterly miserable… but fuck that shit. I got better. I never would have expected how MUCH better! Hooray, better!

Next: We’re going to Cuba in April. I’m super stoked. I have the vacation time booked off and everything. Our savings account is growing steadily, and soon I’ll be out buying a bathing suit that actually fits. Excited? Yes, excited. This year is going to be great.

Most of the time that I worked at Telus, I lived by myself in a cute little basement suite in north Burnaby. It wasn’t much — standard basement suite fare, low ceilings, odd layout, back door entrance. But it had insuite laundry, and who cares about low ceilings? I’m short. I referred to it as the Hobbit Hole.

I lived there for about a year and a half, moving to Yaletown about a month before the layoffs came down. Oops. Anyway, life moved on from there and I didn’t think much about it. My next job was at a small software company in Vancouver, where I worked twice — first from March 2003-July 2005, then from March 2007-September 2010.

My employer was a guy named Dave, who’s pretty awesome. So a few months ago, I got an email from a slightly confused Dave asking if I had any idea why he would have received mail for me from Standard Life at his new house. Perhaps the office manager updated an address wrong? Except they did nothing with Standard Life, so … huh. Wtf.

So he sends me the address.

And it’s The Hobbit Hole.

He’s living in the upstairs portion (he’s got 4 kids, so y’know, a 600sqft 1 bdrm isn’t going to cut it) but still. What are the odds?

So I finally picked up this letter from him a few months ago, and I assumed it had something to do with my pension… or something. I figured there might be a few hundred in it because I really didn’t work there very long, but whatever. Not really a big deal.

This morning I was trying to file some things and get my desk more in order, and I came across the letter from Standard Life. So I called in with a bit of a sheepish “I have no idea what I have with you… help?”

And I was right, it’s my Telus pension that was converted to an RSP after I left. And … wtf. There’s over $4000 in it.

So, sweet. I’ve got my address updated, they now know that I really do exist, the account is no longer abandoned, and they’re mailing me information for how to see what I’ve got, and I’m reasonably certain once I get login access, I’m cashing that puppy out and paying off one of my credit cards. Yay, found money!

On Thursday night, we had a lovely dinner with my father at Sandbar on Granville Island. After we got back home, we almost immediately grabbed our camping chairs, extra socks, gloves, scarves, and my duvet, and headed over to Pacific Centre. There were already about 80-100 people in front of us. Oh good, we’re not the only insane ones.

We arrived around 11:30, and set up camp with the illustrious Stephanie, Brianna, and Brian (although Stephanie was smart enough to go home and sleep, as she didn’t actually want a phone. She DID come back at 6am and bring us delicious lattes. Thank fucking lord.)

It was frigging cold, as expected. Luckily, my duvet is delicious and warm and I may have spent a good portion of the evening curled up into a small pretzel in my camp chair, buried completely under my blanket. (I left an air hole, so I could still breathe. It is hard to breathe flannel.) I may have been utterly terrible company, but given how cold & tired I was, that was probably the nicest thing I could have done.

Surprisingly, the time went pretty fast. One run to Tim Hortons, one to A&W (for their bathroom), and a great deal of half dozing in a little ball… it wasn’t bad.

At 3am, a rollerblading guitar playing singer happened by. And, to be honest, he was INCREDIBLE. Seriously, I can’t rollerblade, play guitar, OR sing, nevermind all three at once. The only catch was that he was standing two feet away from me singing INCREDIBLY LOUDLY while I was trying desperately to nap. He then proceeded to get shirty about the fact that we didn’t want to give him any money for it. Hey, you know what? Yeah, you got talent, but pick your friggin audience. And go away, please.

The Apple Store did a darn good job. Around 6am, they came out and started chatting with us with how things would work. Blenz even went down the line giving out free tea & coffee. And since the city garbage cans were removed in anticipation of Occupy Vancouver, Apple walked down the line with garbage bags, too. And occasionally cheering and whooping at us. Uh. Thanks, guys!

So we got our phones, and went home so that I could sleep since I had to work at 3:30. Until 11:30. And then be back at work for 7:30 the next morning. Jesus christ. If I hadn’t already gotten a free iPhone out of the deal, Dan would owe me BIG TIME.

Enough about that: The iPhone 4S! Holy crap, Siri is awesome. I was looking forward to the faster processor and the better camera, but Siri is totally awesome and better than all of that. The first use I had for it was when I got my phone setup, collapsed into a pile in bed, and told my phone to “wake me up at 1pm”. And it set the alarm for me. Sweet. But that’s only the tip of the ice berg. It googles for me, it sets up reminders, it looks up all sorts of awesome facts… and it’s even funny and witty and amusing.

Even if the bitch did turn me down.

Downside: While using it, the battery does drain considerably faster. Also… actually… nope, that’s pretty much it. Huh.

I love my new phone. Totally worth lining up for 9.5 hours in the freezing cold and having two days of utter exhaustion in exchange for a free iPhone with Siri. Yay!

So anyway. It’s Thanksgiving, and I have a lot to be thankful for, so I’m going to go over it.

The funny thing is, I can’t help but cringe a bit when I read last years Thanksgiving post, what with the “hey, my boyfriend is awesome!” thing was followed up a mere two weeks later with “oh hey look, I got dumped”. Ok, so less awesome than anticipated, but I imagine this is some sort of learning process.

Last Thanksgiving was also the day that my mother got really sick — well, after I wrote the blog post about it, that is. For those playing at home, Mom’s last round of chemo two days prior to Thanksgiving was the likely culprit of an intestinal blockage that landed her in the hospital for weeks, required 6 feet of intestine to be removed, and scared the bleeding jesus out of all of us. And worse, she didn’t get to enjoy ANY of the Thanksgiving dinner. Good god, cancer, intestinal blockages, hospital stays, and NO TURKEY? So unfair.

Anyway, good news — we had Thanksgiving dinner last night with my parents, and Mom was able to enjoy it greatly. As were the rest of us. I even contributed more than “peel those potatoes and set the table” (I did also peel the potatoes and set the table.) Lately, I’ve had some minor culinary successes that I am quite proud of. So, I also contributed homemade cranberry sauce, cranberry chutney, apple butter (for the ham), and half of the dessert, which was utterly delicious pumpkin cheesecake squares. Dan supplied the other half of dessert, pumpkin creme brulee. I am a fan of any dish that requires a blow torch.

Things I am thankful for include:

- The fact that my mom is healthy. Hell, the fact that my mother is alive. The alternative is about the most terrifying thing I can think of. I’m not done with her yet. I don’t think I ever will be.

- The fact that I am infinitely stronger than I realized. Last October was the hardest month of my life. I started a new job, which was great, but still stressful. My mother was extremely sick. The man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with dumped me rather harshly. I mean, in the end, that turned out to be a good thing, but I certainly didn’t see it that way last October. And as a result of that, I had to move out of an apartment I loved without a lot of warning. So yeah, a shitty month all around. But you know, a mere year later, I am doing so much better than I ever could have imagined. I honestly thought I was going to be an utter mess for at LEAST a year, but fuck that noise. I’m better than that.

- And you know what? I’m even thankful for my ex and for getting dumped and for going through utter hell for months (ok, maybe not so much for the hell, but you get the idea.) If it wasn’t for Nick, I wouldn’t be the person I am today, and that person is awesome. I’m pretty sure I can handle pretty much anything and come out of it even better than before. And if it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t have…

- My amazing boyfriend. I had no idea it could be this easy and this amazing and this awesome and this wonderful. I’m so frigging happy with Dan that there’s no way I can put it into words, especially not without making people roll their eyes in disgust. Thanks, sweetie. I love you.

- My fantastic apartment. We’ve only been here a few months, but holy crap this place is great. I HAVE A CRAFT ROOM. Yay me! (Man, if you told me that I’d be this stoked about a craft room ten years ago… but making things is awesome.) One of these days, my bizarre schedule might even allow me to throw a housewarming party. On a night people can actually make it.

- My pets. Justice continues to impress and amaze me every day. People who have known her for a long time credit me for how much of a better dog she is than she used to be, but honestly? She deserves more of the credit. Yeah, I helped, but she’s just such a good dog and she tries to damn hard, I can’t help but be utterly crazy about my adorable dog. And not to be outdone: I’m rather fond of that gray fuzzy thing that is getting brave enough to venture into the rest of the dog-dominated apartment.

- My job. Yay job!

- Making things. Making things is awesome. Goes with the craft room thing, but there is very little that makes me happier than being creative and creating actual tangible STUFF that other people are also stoked about. My latest creative joy is stained glass, and I have so many plans for projects. So many!

All in all? Life is pretty damn good. And even better is that I still have a bunch of those pumpkin cheesecake squares in the fridge. Can you say lunch? Hell yeah.

So I’m moving in with Dan, which is pretty awesome. We found an amazing two bedroom condo near Main Station, 11th floor, huge balcony, fireplace, a bathtub I’m pretty sure I could drown in… am extremely pleased. The building is about 3 years old, and has pretty good amenities. A gym, steam room, sauna, and a private courtyard with a playground. What? I like playgrounds. I am occasionally a six yr old. Fuck you.

I’m really, really looking forward to living with Dan. Yeah, it’s fast, but who cares? Honestly, if this is going to crash and burn soon, I’d rather know now rather than dance around wondering if it’s going to work or not. I’m tired of the logistics of working around our different residences, although this may be because I always tend to move in fast.

So last night, I brought Justice over to Dan’s place to introduce her to her feline step-sister, Ben. Ben is a neurotic little gray fuzzball, and Justice is an anxiety ridden mess who responds to fear with aggression. Not the best combination, but Justice does also have a decent history of getting used to things pretty fast. She has also lived with a cat before, although I’m not sure if Liam is really a cat, and not a minor demon in disguise.

Either way, it’s been a few years, but Liam tormented the shit out of Justice and she learned fast to avoid him (not that he would avoid her — he’d hide under tables and ambush her as she walked by, and pin her in the bathroom where she’d just sit and cry.) On the upside, Ben is not quite the malicious presence that Liam is, and seems content to ignore Justice as long as Justice leaves her alone.

Justice is distressed by Ben’s existence, but actually handled it pretty well. I assume she remembers that kittys have claws, and it’s better to stay a few feet away from them. I’m not allowing staring, barking, or other exciteable behaviour, but she’s doing a great job of coping. She was perfectly happy to accept treats and go through some of her old rally commands with Ben only a few feet away, so … this might just work after all.

Don’t worry — they won’t be left alone together for a long time. Justice will be crated when they can’t be supervised, and there will always been escape routes for Ben when they’re together. But based on the first introduction, I am optimistic!

So, that whole breakup thing: One of the things that I was most worried about (and so were some people who talked to me about it) was that my self esteem was going to take a major hit — I have occasionally been known to have fragile self worth over the years. And to be honest, for a while, it really did. When someone tells you that they think they can find someone who’s a better fit for them, I dare you to hear anything other than “You’re not good enough.”

And that thought? That thought fucking hurts.

I still believe that I’d have been happy with Nick, for the rest of my life. But I’ve also come to the conclusion that he was right – we could both find something more compatible than each other. 95% of the time, our relationship was pretty fucking awesome. That last 5%? Not great. Evidently I was more accepting of said 5% than Nick was, and honestly? Never would have broken up with him… even if I should have. So, I do owe him thanks for that.

One other admission: I was a wee bit codependent with Nick at times. I was very dedicated to him, and occasionally took that to an unhealthy level. One that, I’m fairly certain, annoyed the fuck out of him. Well, it would have annoyed me too. It’s nice to be freed from that. I feel good, and I’m a lot better at taking care of myself rather than sacrificing myself unnecessarily. Nobody wants a martyr, especially one who’s resentful about it.

Over the past few months, I’ve been doing an excellent job of taking care of me, and it’s showing. I’m happier, healthier, more confident, more awesome, and just better in general. And really, I have Nick to thank for that, too.

I’m a different person than I was pre-Nick. A better person, by a long shot. I like myself so much more than I used to. And post-Nick, I’m even more awesome. I can only imagine how much better it can get from here.

And yes, obviously, I am still a wee bit hung up on said failed relationship. But in the comfortable “Yes, I have baggage. Who doesn’t?” way. I’ve managed to let go of most of the bitter & angry that I had — accepting that Nick was right to end the relationship goes a long way toward that. I still miss him a lot; that 95% that was awesome really was awesome. But I’m much happier keeping him as a friend than anything else. Also, am best ex girlfriend ever. No, seriously. Even with the occasional bout of crazy that I get, I’m an awesome ex girlfriend.

One thing that is driving me nuts: I’ve mentioned to a few people recently how much happier I am these days. And invariably, the answer is “Well, it’s amazing what being in a good relationship can do.” Heck, even Nick said it.

Fuck. That. Noise.

I’m not happy because I have a good relationship. I have a good relationship because I’m happy. One begets the other, and it’s not the direction that people think. And honestly, I’d be happy without Dan, too. I WAS happy before I started dating Dan — I’d never have done so if I wasn’t. I don’t believe in getting into a relationship when you’re not happy and satisfied with yourself alone. Serial relationships are NOT on my agenda. Maybe they work for other people, but for me? No way. I have to be comfortable with myself alone before I’d be willing to share that with anyone else. Otherwise, what would be the point?

So to everyone who thinks I’m only as happy as I am because I have Dan… fuck that. Am I happy with Dan? Absolutely — he’s fabulous. Just as happy as I was with me, before we started dating. I’m awesome, damnit all to hell. I don’t need some man to make me feel that way.

This? This is the face of a happy girl. Just so you know.

I tagged along to fight practice tonight, strapped on a bracer, a childs size finger cover thingie for my child sized hands (shut up, I don’t know the lingo yet), picked up a bow and started firing wildly.

Ok, there was a bit more instruction than that, but you get the idea.

As a world reknowned know it all, and someone who has had quite enough of being Awkward and Foolish in her life, I tend to be a little self conscious when learning new things where other people can see, especially when such New Things involve large pieces of curvy wood and long pointy things that I can look extremely awkward while trying to coordinate. Thankfully, as it turns out, it’s actually surprisingly difficult to shoot yourself in the foot. Much easier to just hit the target.

My first few shots went a bit crazy, but even so — they flew! In the general direction they were intended to! Hmm. Interesting. So, more suggestions, adjustments, and other general teaching type things, and I even managed to hit the close target (12 yards, I believe) a few times. Neat.

So, I started getting better at aiming, and we switched to the further target (20 yards or so). I managed to do fairly well. On my second to last attempt, I hit the target with every shot. Including two in the bullseye (read: a little piece of plastic jammed in the target.) On my last attempt, I got all but two. My instructor had said he wasn’t letting me stop until I got six in the target in one go. How about ten? Ten is good.

I am so, SO pleased with myself. I’m told I did quite well, especially for my first try. I’m chuffed, albeit humbly blaming beginners luck and fully expect I will suck ass next time I try. Am not exactly the next Robin Hood. For one, I don’t like wearing tights.

I will also credit an excellent teacher, despite his assertation that he “doesn’t teach newbies”. Well, y’know, maybe if more newbies were as awesome as I am… (hah!)

I also have a hell of a bruise on my arm from the half dozen or so times I let the string hit me. Ow, ow, ow. Pain is an excellent teacher, I’m going to try to avoid that.

Of course, now I have visions of combat archery and other such fun. Sure, I said I’d never be in armor, but this is different: If someone tries to hit me, I can scream like a girl and run away (or whatever other form of yielding I prefer.) I know the last thing I need is another expensive hobby, but… but… I can shoot things! And people! With arrows!

Fuck me, this isn’t going to be cheap. I know exactly how much armor costs, I lived with Nick for over two years while he upgraded his armor kit every other month.

Must go for headshots. When the zombies come, shooting them in the body will just piss them off. And you know archery is going to be more useful than guns, because eventually we’re going to run out of ammo.