A Wild West Story (Or “How I Got That Mean Shiner”)

Cue the old western music.

This ain’t your average shoot out.

Nope.  There was a near scalping in this story and the biggest, bluest shiner one gal has ever had.

Let me introduce the cast of characters.

Here’s Fred.  We call him Freddy Potroast.  Really, we do.

Freddy Potroast is NOT the villain. 

There is only one villain in this story, and you will meet him later.

There is also a slew heroes- fantastic hosts, a very fun family and a supreme chef (my dad- who doesn’t really have a ponytail even though some pictures may indicate he does) who can cook up a fantastic wild game dinner of-

Elk.

Antelope.

Blue Grouse.

Goose.

Jalapeño and Plum Jelly.

Rum and Apple Butter.

Kokonese Salmon and Trout with a Grapefruit Mint Marinade.

Creamy Garlic Mashers with a Wild Chantrelle Mushroom Cream Gravy.

Homemade Creamy Coleslaw.

My dad is a genius in the kitchen.  If only I had taken a picture of the spread.

 

Here’s Freddy Potroast’s wife, Shelly, with my dad, Shirkie.

And this is one of their ranch houses in Sabinal, TX.  Every year my dad comes down to Texas with Fred and Shelly and their son, JT.

So my family and my brother’s family went down to meet up with them for some good, clean ranching fun. 

You know, the innocent stuff, like fishing, camping and searching for arrowheads.

And having picnics on old quilts.

And loving on precious baby nieces.

And frolicking in the meadows with cousins.

And watching my brother be a daddy.

Napping in the grass and picking wild flowers.

  

Pitching tents and smelling wild flowers.

Walking out to the river as the sun begins to set. 

Finding the perfect stone…

 

that looks just like a heart.

 

It all seems so innocent.  Loved ones, beautiful country, gorgeous weather.

Until day two.  Meet the villain of our Wild West Story, “The Beast.”  And I am not referring to the precious toddler pushing a lawn mower.

I am referring to this monster of a truck, which is perfect for heading out to the fishin’ holes and nearly taking off my head.

Here we see “The Beast” equipped with a cushioned bench.  And mommy, Tyne, ready for an adventure.

With some of the children secured on the bench and others snug in car seats in the cab, Caleb slowly began driving The Beast.

And when I say “slow,” I really mean it.  Just not slow enough for me to brush a few limp limbs out of the way of my face, and one nano-second later, dodge an oak tree branch that was hidden behind those friendly limbs.

Praise God that I had my glasses on at the time. 

Even though the nose pad was largely responsible for breaking my nose, I think they prevented me from losing an eyeball!

The branch hit my glasses and then proceeded to take off part of my scalp.

For those of you with a weak stomach, you may just want to scroll down a bit.

At this point I started kicking the back window of the truck and screaming, “STOP!!!”

This freaked my kids out.  They started bawling when they heard me scream and saw the blood streaming down my face.

Unfortunately, Ryan and Caleb just thought we were having fun, so they kept driving for a couple more seconds.

Then I screamed louder and they stopped.

Ryan jumped out of the car and grabbed the kids and put them in the truck and cared for them while Caleb and Beth got into trauma mode.

I couldn’t believe how calm Beth was.  After the fact, she said that she always thought she could be a trauma nurse because she is so calm and rational in a crazy, bloody moment.  She had a first aid kit with her.  So they went to work with rubbing alcohol swabs and butterfly bandages.  I was trying not to get the kids any more riled up than they already were, so instead of wailing like a baby (because rubbing alcohol feels really horrible on an open head wound), I was laughing a practicing my labor breathing.  Never thought I would have to do that again!  With some good pressure and bandaging, the bleeding stopped pretty quick.  With their very professional assessment the nearest hospital a hundred miles away, we determined that I didn’t really need stitches. 
I probably could have used about eight to maintain my lovely hairline and reduce scarring.

There was no indication that I had a concussion, even though I broke that dang branch with my face. 
One may have questioned my mental wellness though, because I insisted on going with them fishing.

Well, just for two fish and three pictures.

Then I went back to the house, cleaned up and iced my face.

 

I decided to make this picture a little smaller, because really, no one needs to see my nose that close up.

Four days out and I am healing up pretty well.  And just like every Wild West Story, this one has a happy ending.