Before we continue on from the last post, there are a few things about me that are important to know. I don’t swim well at all, and unfortunately, I can’t even blame the fact that I am too dense to float, since neither my dad nor brother can float, but can swim just fine, so I am just stuck being labeled completely uncoordinated. I can live with that OK, that’s not a big deal anyway; I never had myself pegged as a Michael Jordan type anyway. (I’m no sports guy, but I’ve heard that he’s a coordinated fellow).
The other thing is that I have spent almost my entire life, childhood and adulthood, wearing shoes. I enjoy the security of shoes. I prefer boots, hard-soled, and good for kicking things and people who need it. I've never felt compelled to get a “concealed carry” license for a gun; I figure that I can do enough damage with my shoes/boots if push came to kick.
But since I usually wear shoes, even in the house, except right before I get in bed, I have very tender feet. And since boots in the river don’t really make that much sense, I was bare foot when Gracie started screaming. So I’m stuck with a dilemma; do I slowly dog paddle down stream or do I sprint to the bank through the treacherously sharp, nasty foot puncturing rocks and dive in closer to my eldest child?
Well, since I still have Grace with us tonight, I guess you c
an figure that much out for yourself, but let me just say I am suffering jokes from my wife about being a “tender-foot” and “pussy-footing” around the campsite. In retrospect, I’m not at all sorry I did what I did, because there was this one redneck about halfway between Grace and I that started swimming towards her when she started screaming/gurgling, and I way beat him to her, but what do you expect? She wasn't his daughter. Anyway, to make a long story short, I pulled her out of the water by her braids and then promptly decided to spend the next 30 minutes shaking violently from the adrenaline rush. Thank you Jesus, Amen. And when I quit shaking, we had a talk about staying close to daddy in the river. Again, thank you Jesus, Amen.
an figure that much out for yourself, but let me just say I am suffering jokes from my wife about being a “tender-foot” and “pussy-footing” around the campsite. In retrospect, I’m not at all sorry I did what I did, because there was this one redneck about halfway between Grace and I that started swimming towards her when she started screaming/gurgling, and I way beat him to her, but what do you expect? She wasn't his daughter. Anyway, to make a long story short, I pulled her out of the water by her braids and then promptly decided to spend the next 30 minutes shaking violently from the adrenaline rush. Thank you Jesus, Amen. And when I quit shaking, we had a talk about staying close to daddy in the river. Again, thank you Jesus, Amen.
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