I yelled 'I got this!' (aka - shoot. I lost my shoe)

So, for those following readers who saw my post where John fell off the jet ski (with much aplomb), I'm guessing you'll see where we're headed with this post.

So, yesterday, the first full day of vacation at the bay house started off promising, with calm seas and a light breeze. Bobbi and I decided to head off on the jet ski (bad decision #1) for a buzz of the Chesapeake beach and a run up to Harrington Harbor South where Ron's boat, the Bottom Line, is docked for the week. The plan was in full effect until we entered the harbor and went to pull up next to his boat. Now, for those jet ski neophytes, when one turns off the jet ski, one has absolutely no control of the craft, and I turned it off too far from the Bottom Line so we were coming in a too fast and rapidly approaching its towering hull. So, I made the executive decision to sacrifice my dignity and hit the drink to keep the two items from a certain colllision. My decision might have been different if the jet ski was white and matched the hull of the Bottom Line, I might have risked a slight bump which Ron certainly wouldn't have even felt within the cushioney confines of his ship but the jet ski, alas, is red and I didn't want a spec of red paint adorning that mammoth hull. So, in I slithered, much to the amusement of all onlookers. Lucy and Ethel were firmly in the show.

And that wasn't nothin...

So, I made my undigified climb back onto the jet ski. Bobbi was sitting sidesaddle (she's such a girl) and, at one point. started to slip off backward. She was hanging onto the ski, but there was a very real possibility that she was going to flip us (and I had just climbed out..), and we weren't even moving. So, I yelled 'get off. Get Off. GET OFF!' with rising intensity, and, with that final pleading yell, I did what any good captain of a ship would do - I pushed her off. Yep, into the drink in the harbor she went. I will admit that my planned entrance had a bit more panache to it than her rather ineloquent 'splash', but, again, that wasn't nothin.

So, here we both are, wet and thirsty and gratefully accepted the screwdrivers handed our way, once the people on the Bottom Line could stand up as their laughing fits subsided. One smartass yelled 'you guys are a hazard.' Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.

Anywho, the Bottom Line left with nary a wave - I don't think Ron wanted to know us at this point (a rather familiar stance) but Lucy and Ethel were still in the dock. It took us a good 5 minutes to get out of this huge slip. We were hanging onto ropes, pulling and tugging to try and get the ski into the right position before Lucy hit the gas. Ok on this one. A successful, if funny, disembarkation was obtained.

The Bottom Line was almost clearing the no wake zone by the time we pulled into the harbor and little Lori wanted to catch up and, well, that's not exactly true. Little Lori wanted to lap the Bottom Line on her little bitty jet ski. The Bottom Line was probably moving at 30 knots; eh, that's nothing on the jet ski. John and I had it up to 51 on the potomac but, dear readers, the potomac is still waters compared to a light chop on the bay yesterday. And the light chop wasn't about to be the problem.

So, we had a nice smooth ride inside the wake of the Bottom Line until Little Lori decided to make her move - yes! We were close enough to move outside the wake and pass the boat, that fancy beautiful boat was about to be placed asunder with a roaring jet ski. I even had a nice little wave planned as we zipped past. Well, I went to cross the wake, being the idiot I am, and didn't even think of the physics of water - the bigger the boat, the bigger the wake. And me with my college degree...

If a picture is worth a thousand words:

Well, through the first six footer wake wave, we gallantly clung to the rocking beast. I believe I heard expletives but that could have been inside my head.

The real problem was, when I hung on through that 6 foot monster wake, I hit the throttle and sped up the ski and that was all she wrote. Holy crap, Batman! We both went flying! Arms waving, legs splayed, tumbling with the greatest of ease (not). Over and over we sailed. I know I hit the water after at least a 6 foot drop!

Sputtering to the surface, the good captain I am (and any good captain should place their passengers well being ahead of theirs), yelled 'Damn! I lost my shoe!' Bobbi was just coming up and said with a totally incredulous tone - 'You lose your SHOE? You've lost your MIND!'' And we all know, a mind is a horrible thing to lose.

The jet ski, upon the initial approach to wave #2, had sped up with huge momentum so it ended up about 100 yards away. However, it stopped as the jet ski Gods planned, but someone had to go swimming for it. I looked with askance at Bobbi but decided not to even offer the possibility that she practice her breast stroke so off I went. By the time I had gotten to the jet ski, the Bottom Line had turned around to come check on funeral arrangements. Being fine, albeit a little sore, we suffered the laughs and gahuffs of the crew and climbed aboard the jet ski for the ride back home. And, thank you God, no further idiot moves were taken on the ride home. But, we both wanted OFF this Gilligan's Island tour.

Later that day, I almost fell off John's boat while docked in Herrington North, spewing a cup of red wine on his white boat. I couldn't be trusted to even be alone, so came back to this marvelous house and bellied up to the bar, never to leave the warm confines of the terra firma again. Or so I thought....

Later that day....

John took out his 4 in 1 boat (it sails, it's a sailboard, a high speed towable and something else). It was the first time he's sailboarded it and he would have been ok if he had allowed for the compression of air once it's cold (another physics lesson). He inflated said boat and headed out. He just didn't inflate it enough. Once the air inside the boat cooled from the bay water, the boat deflated enough to make it impossible to stand upon. Sharyn's son, Carl, was here and witnessed John's voyage - I think someone said he was headed to Cuba last time they saw him. So, being the dutiful significant other I am, I grungingly crawled onto the dreaded jet ski for a tour #2 of the bay to go retrieve him. As I was scanning the horizon, I was just a bit concerned until a kayaker waved me over. All he said was 'Are you looking for...', I laughed and said 'Yes.' He pointed me to a small beach where John and what was left of his ego was perched. It wasn't our day for the water.

We sure did have fun though I'm spending a lot of time making it up to dear Bobbi, who enchanted us all by showing us the large purple bruise forming on her butt. Even Mom was amazed at the multitudes of colors, swirls, and bumps.

Here's a few pictures from our journey so far. Niece Monya proved to the be the best guest ever by bringing all kinds of stuff with her - lox, bagels, cream cheese, popcorn, steaks, etc etc. She came down with a really delightful friend of hers (Laura) who was also a load of fun. Mike, Bea, Josh, and Becky are here from Arizona and Mom's really enjoying having them with her. Ron and Linda, and friend Sharyn who came up from NC round out the troups. Linda has also been amazing with putting together dinners and all types of delicious foods as I sit on my ass (just the way a vacation should be). Kimmie is visiting sometime this week so we're surrounded by love, laughter and friends. A great vacation and it's only day 2...