"You know what they say about good intentions? Hell is paved with them."

My father used to say this. I've heard it all my life in one form or another.

I'm a procrastinator, that's true, and I always have good intentions, but I hope it doesn't earn me hell.

What can I say? It's been a busy summer.

I've been to Portland last weekend and am going again this weekend. Todd, our oldest son and his girl, Sarah, and her sister Jessica, and their mother, Mary, and I went whitewater rafting on the Salmon river in WA., just across from Hood River.

That was really fun.

All of us.

Jess, in front, left side Sarah, right side Todd, left side Mary, and me with the green sleeves. And our guide in back.

The last time I went down a river like this was 12 or 13 years ago. I hadn't really planned to do it again... but there you have it. I didn't procrastinate long enough and had to wiggled into one of those ridicules looking wet suits, and booties and had a cold, wet, fun time. It was great!

The river had mainly class 2, 3, and 4 rapids. Todd and Sarah went down the big scary one, a 14 foot drop off rated a class 5. The rest of us begged off and were set ashore and walked down and watched them come over. They went completely under, but popped right back up.

We all got back in and finished the trip.

Even though the rapids were fun and it was a hot day, and getting splashed with cold water was a relief now and then, my favorite were the lazier slower times, when you didn't have to paddle and could look around. (Did I mention how sore the muscles you seldom use are at the end of this three hour ride?)

Most of the Salmon River is the remains of an old lave tube. So the rock formations were interesting and the flora and Fawne were beautiful. Especially the escaped cows from a nearby farm, that had moseyed down to the river for a drink of cold water.

The guide was a crack up, he kept telling us these outrageous stories, then he'd say, "Well, not really, I was just making that up, but..." and he was off again. We got tired of saying, "Really?" It became more like, "Really!" Or "I don't believe a word you say!"

"Do you write?" I ask, after the story about the Squirrel Bridge, "You should," I said, "You're a natural born storyteller."

He said he did write, actually, when he wasn't on the river, which he grew up on, (if you can believe that). His parents were river guides also.

The memory of this day of fun with family and friends will be with me for a long time, the sore muscles only lasted a few days. I'm ready to go again...well, maybe in a year... or ten. Maybe in a kayak, with no rapids, just a lazy float. Smile.

Toby, our youngest son, had to work most of the weekend, so I'm going back to spend time with Toby and Lisa this weekend.

I'm taking the game Settlers of Catan, maybe we can just have a quite weekend, go to Forest Park and walk the dogs, Sophie and Sasha.

That would suit me just fine, now that the aches are gone.

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