Blue Mountain Sharpshooter

My oldest son is last in the family to get a new blog handle.

I suggested a few, he picked his favorite, and then yesterday morning everything got confused.  As we drove to school, he said, "Mom, last time we were out with Grandma, we were at a street corner, and on one corner was a Ford dealership, on the other corner was a Hyundai dealership, on the next corner was a Toyota dealership, and on the last corner was a Dodge dealership, and there was a ditch beside the road, and in the ditch I saw my first Nutria.  It was really cute."

I was tempted to say, but refrained: "Rodents of unusual size?  I don't believe they exist."

 (Name that movie, my friends.)

"When I grow up, I want to be a swampologist.  That is a scientist who studies swamps."  He went on to describe his fantasy life of wading in marshes, collecting frogs, salamanders, scuds, and samples of sludge.

Come to think of it, that's how he spends most of his outdoor time anyway.

That, by the way, is a gelatinous mass of frog eggs.  Oh - I should call it a vomitous mass, in keeping with our movie theme.

Needless to say, I almost had to toss our chosen blog handle in favor of Swampologist.  After school, I asked him if he wanted to change handles, and got a loud NO.  It's probably for the best, because he might change his mind about the career.

So, his new blog handle is one his grandpa made up.  After taking the boys to the cabin a few times, and watching them shoot about a thousand rounds, my Dad started calling them the Blue Mountain Sharpshooters.

That's the handle he wants: Blue Mountain Sharpshooter.  And so it is.