As an Oklahoma transplant, the road between the 405 and the 317 is a well-traveled one especially on Holiday weekends. Our family is usually in Indiana attending the small church where most of my family was married and sitting in the same pew I crawled under as a toddler. Until this year.
For some odd reason, we stayed in Oklahoma. Oddly, we were faced with a new challenge of "what do we do?" Our traditions are nailed down in the 317.
Some things will never change. Mom made us stand around, awkwardly, to take a few pictures.
And, usually, we goof off until someone makes Mom cry and then we suck it up and muster a smile.
Note: we do have a father, he just happens to be allergic to cameras, and he's not as scared of Mom as we are.
And, without traditions, we were literally lost after church.
We gathered in the living room - staring at each other - until someone mustered, "hey, when's the last time you dusted off your Glock?"
Then, clearly, it was "game on" when guns were concerned.
I'm not even sure I know what type of gun this is. I just know it's loud, and I'm a dead-on shot.
How did we go from this? A normal family taking awkward pictures....
It doesn't make sense.
Happy Monday from the Clays.
And, thanks mom for the food. I'll be full until Thursday.