Didn't say what I was going to do but, I'll say what I did. I put two butts on the smoker and pulled them this morning. I made some baked beans and cooked up some potatoes that I grew. The kids (all grown) and their friends wanted to go out on the lake. So, I took them. After a few cans of liquid courage, my son began to regale us with stories of what a great skier I used to be. I was basking in the glow of my former greatness. It was a good day. Then, one of his friends, that he was raised up with ( cocky little shit) started saying how terrible it was that I could no longer do such things. Well, a beer or four later, I decided to grace them with a display of my prowess. I was tearing it up! Cleared the wake! Sprayed my own pier! Ah, how great it was to be alive! I was almost done and decided on one more jump. I believe that there must have been a freak microburst or something because I was much higher than I thought. The water was also not directly beneath my ski either. I didn't even try to land upright but instead just began to pray silently. I hit the water at 54 MPH. I felt something, rather forcefully hit my ass. After a brief moment I realized that it was my face! At 56, I'm not that bendy anymore. So, on the 5th of July I will be trying to regain my ability to move.