Oh My...

Mike has been walking around our house moaning, "butt cheeks, oh, my butt cheeks," for the past two days. Luckily, he managed to keep this lament to himself during Primary. Who knows what kind of chaos may have ensued in our 12-year old class. After hours of slicing through and lurching over the water of Deer Creek on a wake board Saturday, the man's bottom is taking its revenge. I stared at him from the back of the boat, simultaneously terrified and amazed at the ease with which he flipped, jumped, and spun through air and water. He's like a fish. A flying fish. This is in stark contrast to me, whose goal it was to get up. Just get up. Out of the water. On the board. All without face-planting or incurring serious injury. I did. Miraculously. On my first try and several times there after. Did I stay up? No. Nope. But I arose out of the water like a less-graceful nymph, straining to stay balanced while careening through the whip and splash of the wake like Hellespont. I would have respected myself more if I had screamed less. Pictures forthcoming.