Water ski champion

This summer I went water skiing for the second time. Or perhaps, I should say, that I attempted to water ski for the second time. The first attempt was when I was just a wee tot in my church's youth group, and I barely pulled my head above water before bailing out. This time I almost got it right.

In total, I think that I made four tries. On round one, I took a face dive and swallowed half a gallon of lake water through my nose holes. I coughed and sputtered a bit and then found the skis, which had been torn off, and got ready for round two. For my next attempts, I was able to pull my body up so that my butt skipped across the water, but I couldn't quite get onto my feet.

Afterwards, I held on to a tube-type thing called the Y-Not (so named because it is Y-shaped) while my sister-in-law's husband's step-grandfather pulled me behind his boat. I was dripping with blood when I climbed out of the water, and discovered that I had suffered some minor battle damage to my elbows and bashed the hell out of my bad knee. It looked worse than the photo shows, but it hurt less than it looks. So it goes.