When will I realize my limitations? Oh...never.

Look at the images above. Harmless, no? I wish. And since I still haven't put the energy into finding that cord-thing so I can tell some relevant stories of our present lives, I will once again tell some random story from my past that makes me chuckle, and also shake my head in embarrassment and wonder. As in, "I wonder what the crap I was thinking."

When I was 11, we drove to Utah for my cousin's baby blessing. After the blessing, we all went to a park in Pleasant Grove for a little picnic. At this park there were a number of things that could have harmed us kids who were all running around like a bunch of obnoxious little spazzes, such as a hot grill, a crazy old merry-go-round (which have apparently become illegal in these United States), and a teeter-totter (which are also illegal, I think.) But did any of these harm me and my former scrawniness? No. But what did hurt me physically and wound me emotionally was my own sense of adventure, mingled with the joy of being a young, carefree girl with a rockin' spiral perm, and just good old-fashioned thoughtlessness.

Well, all us cousins were playing tag and soon the girls took to doing cartwheels and round-offs on the top of a lovely, grassy hill. I was doing the best cartwheels I had done since I was five and it was exhilarating! I looked down from the top of the hill and imagined myself doing round-off after round-off down the gentle slope.

Before I could finish the thought, I was running full-speed, heading to the downward slope, my artificial spirals trailing behind me. I leaped into the air and the second my feet left the ground and I looked down at the ground I thought, "I have never done a round-off. I have never even done a cartwheel from a run. And I just jumped off the top of a hill!"

I didn't even have time to scream as my hands barely beat my face to the grass. But when my face did hit, I felt that . . . A LOT! I slid for a few feet and got a nice face-full of dirt and grass. I lay there at the bottom of the hill for a few minutes. I kept waiting for people to come running to see how dead I was. But no one came, and it was ok because I was beyond humiliated. I got to my knees and then slowly to my feet, feeling very much like I had just been beaten up by a hill. I looked around and walked away and went to eat a hot dog.

So, now the diving board. I would love to say my experience with that happened when I was 11, too. But, I was more like 28. . . and a half.

Gary and I had just gotten home from Lake Powell and I was feeling especially alive, not to mention tan, which usually goes along with alive. Anyway, a couple of days after we got back we took the kids to swim at my uncle's pool in Highland. They have, you guessed it, a diving board. I watched the kids jumping off and trying to dive and I just couldn't resist. . . again. I imagined myself running the length of the diving board and jumping as far and as high as I could and then ending my jump in a magnificent dive, with very little splash.

And before I finished that thought, I was running off the diving board.

This time, I did have time to let out a terrified howl/scream as I realized I had never dived into a pool from a run. I always stood on the end and maybe jumped a little, but usually I just fell in head-first with my hands in a v-formation. Also, I had not dived into a pool since. . . circa 1997. I completely panicked and my body went totally stiff and my arms and legs spread out. Unlike my 11-year-old experience, I somehow had plenty of time to realize the stupidity of my actions as I looked at the water underneath me. Maybe I have "more brains," but just not better ones. I let out the aforementioned 1/2 second-long scream of terror, which was abruptly cut off by the belly-flop to end all belly-flops.

The water completely knocked the wind out of me and I actually had to fight to stay conscious. All I wanted to do was float there. My head had smacked the water first and hardest, followed by my stomach, which I could no longer feel. I actually had to think hard to figure out which way was up. I made my way over to the side and and pulled myself out. I held on to the side of the pool and tried to catch my breath as I laugh/cried, which didn't help my brand-new pounding headache.

Again, no one saw and again, I was grateful. Except they surely would have been entertained. I walked over to a chair, wrapped up in a towel, and then probably passed out.

What a spazz. But I'll do it again. Oh yes, I'll do it again.