Swimming

In a quest for a lithe body of model proportions - and since I'm not going to stop eating Baskin Robbins to get it - I swam across the lake today without stopping. I'm thinking if I do that about 50 times a week, I'll be in great shape before Jesus' Second Coming.

As I was on my return trip from the beach on the far side, I was thinking about taking a little breather before my lungs were sucked inside out. My arms were agreeing with this idea as with each stroke they screamed obscenities at me. Just as I was about to give up, something under the water swam up my swim skirt and grabbed hold. It let hold once and grabbed again.

I tell you what, I let out a hollering that would have a horror movie director asking me to sign a contract in a New York minute. "PEEEE- TERRRRRR" I shrieked at the dozing man on the raft. "Something grabbed me!"

I couldn't hear his response, since I'm deaf as a post, but he casually waved his hand in my direction and went back to sleep. This from the man that only moments before told the children to watch out for snakes. I screamed again for someone - anyone - to save me from the alligator/water mocassin/shark before I was able to twist free of its grasp. I lit out for the dock like my butt was on fire, I kid you not. I'm fairly certain I was doing a pretty good imitation of Shaggy and Scooby as they ran on water, trying to escape the swamp monster, complete with those cute cartoon curlicues and sound effects. (It's important to note for the record, I beat my previous record.) Peter finally paddled his raft over, taking his sweet time, to see what had endangered his beloved. He was still assuring me nothing bad was out there, but you'll notice he didn't get off the raft?

"It's only a dead fish!" he called from the middle of the lake, laughing himself silly at my expense.

I'll tell you what's funny. I'm sure and certain that fish was alive when it swam up my drawers.