Skipping Stones

I went camping over the weekend and really enjoyed being outside. For some reason, I tend to feel like I'm not good at anything. From the very tiniest of tasks, to tremendous undertakings...I need to succeed at it before I'm really sure that I'm capable of doing it (I will mention, however, that I tend to complete tasks to a certain degree of satisfaction).

This perceived inability applies to skipping rocks.

The boyfriend and I went hiking with K and G (and their dogs...S and O). We got to an expanse of beautiful water. It was still and glassy. Can anyone skip rocks?

"Hmmm, I think I tried as a kid...but I'm pretty sure I couldn't do it."

I began collecting suitably flat rocks for the boyfriend to skip...he could do it. I decided to give it a shot. The first one...not so much. It was more of a splash than a light, graceful skip.

I tried again, this time with a rock that the boyfriend chose. Beautiful. Blip, blip, blip...it sailed across the water, eventually cutting through the still surface and finding a resting spot on the pond floor. Holy crap!

I must find another rock, must find another rock, another rock, rock, rock, rock!

I dug around and found a few more, and skipped it again. This time I heard the sound of a camera shutter. K giggled and proclaims he's taken an amazing action shot of me skipping a rock. I look, "Wow, I look really athletic in this picture! My form looks way better than I thought it would!".

I throw again, splash. Again, splash. I'd obviously worn out my skipping arm, so I began picking up large, heavy rocks and launching them into the serene oasis. Honestly, hurling those rocks turned out to be just as fun.