True Story Tuesday...Faster Daddy!

Remember when Jerome and I went on our wonderful weekend getaway in July? 

Well, one stop we made was in Telluride.  Yes, Telluride, the playground of the rich and famous, summer residence to Oprah and Tom.  That Telluride. 

Home of the wonderful ski area as well.  See the run behind the house?

Well, a long time ago, when dinosaurs roamed the earth I was a kid, Telluride was just like all the other little Colorado ski towns.  It hadn't been "discovered" by all the fur-coat wearers.  It was just a great place for locals to ski.  And it was cheap enough that a blended family with three daughters and one son could afford to go together.

I was a baby when I started "skiing".  My mom has photos of her, somewhere, skiing while pregnant with me.  She refuses to give them to me - something about a beehive and polyester.  Anywho, this particular ski trip took place when I was about 2.

Daddy skied down the mountain with me on his shoulders.  I know, he would probably get arrested for child endangerment these days.  But, back then, nobody worried about stuff like that.  We just went out and had fun.

So, we skied down the mountain.  And I discovered that it was great fun to put my hands over Daddy's eyes while we were skiing. 

He didn't think it was so funny.

Mom later wondered how I knew so many cuss words at such a young age.

We blamed it on Grandma.

Have a funny story to share?  A legend that lives on with every family reunion?  Then go visit Rachel & Mr Daddy for more True Story Tuesday!

True Story Tuesday - Hi Dad!

Now that I've done a few of these, the weird and embarrassing stories from my childhood are just flowing out of my memory.  We have had a lot of laughs at Mom's expense in the last few weeks, to be honest.  Go visit Rachel & Mr. Daddy for more unbelievable stories!

Growing up, we spent a LOT of time at Lake Powell.  What?  You've never been there?  For shame!  Well, here is what you are missing:

photos courtesy Google Images and my brother's FB page

Seriously, we spent almost every weekend from May to October there.  My fondest, and most peaceful, memories from childhood are associated with this lake.  I love Lake Powell.

I learned to ski at about 10.  I have never been good/brave enough to slalom (be drug by a rope attached to a boat travelling 30 miles per hour on ONE tiny piece of fiberglass).  Nope, not that dumb brave.  But I still love to ski.  It is so peaceful, but challenging at the same time. 

This particular weekend (I was about 15) was perfect.  There were very few people at the lake, so the water was like glass the entire weekend.  When it was my turn, I put on my lifesaver, grabbed my skis, and jumped in.

When you yell "Hit it!", the initial pull from the boat is an adrenaline junkie's dream.  You literally surge out of the water, leaning back as far as you can so that the pull of the boat doesn't make you do a faceplant.  Believe me.  I have done my fair share of faceplants.  I can wipeout with the best of them.  This time was smooth sailing. 

I skied for a really long time.  When my arms finally tired, I threw the rope and allowed my weight to slowly sink back into the lake.  I took off my skis and handed them to my mom as Dad brought the boat back around.  I swam to the back of the boat, grabbed the step ladder, and pulled myself aboard.

While Dad started to pull the rope in, I took off my lifejacket.

And realized I was naked from the waist up.

The blessed surge when the boat pulls you up?  Yeah, It pulled my bikini bottom clear to my waist. 

And my poor dad got a front-and-center view of just how grown up his little girl was. 

I didn't ski much the rest of the weekend.

And I ALWAYS ski with a one-piece now.