Ski school

Somehow, despite the fact I grew up in Florida, with a family lake house a mere 20 minutes away, I never learned how to water ski. I got it into my head at an early age that I was completely uncoordinated. I was basically too afraid to try anything athletic because I would be so bad at it.

So, here's proof you can in fact teach an almost 34-year-old dog a new trick!

My friend Steve from Memphis knew I wanted to learn how to ski...he patiently pulled me FORTY-THREE TIMES at his house on Pickwick Lake five or six years ago. I finally got up briefly on Sunday, just before it was time to head home.

Leigh Ann and I both wanted to give it another go, so Steve very generously offered to help us learn -- and to make it especially convenient, he sent his plane over to pick us up!

He'd instructed us to practice our stance "knees bent, arms straight," so we took advantage of the flight time to get our moves down. (Leigh Ann played flight attendant with wine service -- ater all it was Friday afternoon!)

Saturday morning, we hit the lake, with Steve's son Logan, Logan's girlfriend Casey, and colleague of Steve's who also wanted to learn.

Steve couldn't have been any more patient with us. He spent all day Saturday burning gas and coaching a bunch of newbies.

I made it out of the water and even managed to cross the wake! Even though snow skiing and water skiing are quite different, I think my trip to Whistler a few years ago helped because I felt like I had pretty good control once I got up. Steve said I had graduated from Ski School 101 by the end of the weekend. My next goal is to get back across the wake -- this apparently requires more skill. To do: find patient friends with a boat in Charlotte.

Captain Darren got us back to Charlotte safely. Not sure I would call myself a skier yet, but I'm getting there!