mrs. robinson

I went rafting on Saturday at the US National Whitewater Center, or something like that. The place is a simulated whitewater environment and big time in Charlotte. I went with the hubby and a friend in Charlotte. Another friend of ours was there with some other folks we knew and we met up and waved at one another from time to time. I feel like it's important to say that the one friend with us and the other friend who was there have been buds of mine since middle school and in some ways our relationship hasn't moved on since then. We enjoy laughing about very chilish things and hubby fits right in on these convos. In the real world, we're quite successful and mature people, but when we're together, it's trouble.

The friend on the other boat began her morning in a state of panic. When I talked to her to check the weather as we drove down from Greensboro, she'd told me that she had been short of breath and bordering on diarrhea all morning, but that she was generally very excited. I hadn't rafted before, so I didn't know what to fear. I quickly learned as we sat in our information session and learned what exactly we should do if we found ourselves faced with a foot entrapment or in a low oxygen environment or trapped beneath the boat and suddenly I felt my own stomach rumbling. I didn't have much time to panic as we were quickly shuffled from the training room to be fitted with a paddle (ALWAYS KEEP YOUR T BAR COVERED!), a helmet, and a PFD (you novices may still be calling this a life jacket). The whole process was quite efficient and before we knew it we heard a call for Damax party of 3 and there we spotted our boat and one of the most beautiful creatures alive captaining it. Since there were three of us we had to split up a bit. Freddie and I sat on the second to last row and our friend E sat in the back row next to Gorgeous. It worked out perfectly because although Freddie and I were side by side, while paddling and facing the side of the boat, E and I were free to gossip about our hunky guide. He had kind of shaggy hair, from what I could see under the helmet, which was surprisingly hot on him, and had insanely tan muscles that were perfect...seriously they weren't those beef cake muscles, which I am not a fan of, but more like those of a life guard or a hunky construction worker-they were built from use, not from creotine shakes and pumping iron. Poor E fell off her seat and got wedged in the bottom of the boat stuck right on Gorgeous' foot, but otherwise the trip went pretty well. And, sweet hubby got to practice not being jealous as he kindly told us at the end of our adventure that he looked over at me at one point and saw me staring at Gorgeous with a goofy grin on my face while my wide eyes literally scanned up and down his leg. What can I say? I've always been a leg girl.