Saturday's low: being shot at

We spent this weekend at the beach celebrating Bill's birthday. It was a surprise for him (he thought Brie was taking him on a romantic weekend getaway) and I've spent the past month trying to remember not to spoil the surprise.

I'm good at keeping secrets, as far as willpower goes, but sometimes I lose track of who's supposed to know what when I'm in conversation. For Carrie's bachelorette party/trip, five of us went to Boston for four days while the guys went to Las Vegas. Jacob knew where he was going but not when, and Carrie knew when she was going but not where. That was the plan, anyway, and I think that's how it worked out -- it's been a couple of years.

Anyway, while Carrie and her sister Amy and I were driving to Raleigh to meet up with Christy and Jordan, another real estate agent called me about a deal we were working on. Totally forgetting who was in the car with me, I told her I would be in Boston for a few days but back in the office on such-and-such day. I didn't realize my mistake until I hung up and Carrie started screaming. I was so mad at myself.

This time, no one slipped up and Bill was really surprised and we had a great time. Brie rented a pontoon boat and nine of us spent all day yesterday on the water, stopping occasionally for bocce games and swim breaks and lunch. I love being on a boat.

The most intense part of the day was when we were shot at. We were cruising down the intercoastal waterway when we heard what sounded like gunfire nearby. Just as the "Deliverance" jokes were dying down we heard another round and Stephen hit the deck, swearing he'd heard a bullet whizz by his head. Then the rest of us hit the deck.

I know this sounds crazy, but we would have been easy targets. At the time we were on a narrow portion of the waterway, with scattered houses on one side but just woods on the other. And pontoon boats aren't exactly known for their speed. The kicker was when we spotted two four-wheelers parked near the shore on the woods side. I thought for sure some deranged, drunk rednecks were out to get us.

We had to pass that spot again because it was the only way back to our starting point. That time, those of us who value life over pride crouched on the floor. Sure enough, we heard more shots. Brave Brie stood up and reported that we were passing a shooting range and that we could relax, we weren't being shot at. Just then something hit my leg and it was a tiny pellet! I still don't know exactly what happened, but I was glad when we were back in more open water.

Now I'm off to pack for Kansas. I'm leaving for the airport at 4 a.m. tomorrow. I don't think I've ever flown without checking a bag -- I'm not so great at packing light. It's hereditary. But this trip will be 36 hours start to finish, so as long as I remember underwear, a toothbrush and mascara, I should be golden.

Five days till we leave for Maine!