It's always fun until someone breaks a rib

A weekend boating in Folsom. The last time I remember feeling so beat up is when I flew head over heels off my mountain bike riding down a trail at Arastradero and landed face first into the dirt.

Left early on a Saturday morning with Judith and the family to spend a weekend with Paul and Rachel and their boys up in Folsom. Paul has a boat. Ben brought a floating contraption to attach to the boat. Thus hilarity assued. Along with bruised and battered bodies, there was evil cries of "go faster! Tip'em over!!!" And young boys protesting "You can fast, but don't get my face wet!"

So we boated, and we biked in between and we ate a whole lot of potato chips which for some reason tasted insanely good after a day on the water.


The fire department in Folsom lets people borrow lifevests. It's cheaper to loan them out, then to actually rescue people who fall off floaty contraptions into the lake.

Boating was a lot of fun. And my ribs are mostly recovered from capsizing into the lake at 20 miles per hour. As long as I don't sneeze. Or try to sit up. Or move. Then I'm perfectly fine.