Jump In

I'm driving north on Interstate 81 RIGHT NOW.  Okay - I'm not driving, I'm riding, but still.  We just passed Virginia mile marker 247.  How flippin' cool is that?  I love technology.  I've got my BlackBerry hooked up to my laptop and life is gooooood.  The Shenandoah Valley is beautiful in the morning - mist rising up off the valley floor, mountains rising even farther.  Aaaah.

Okay - enough of my ramblings.  We're on our way to DC, so expect some photos from there soon.  For now, though, I give you this idiot...

We were in the Smokies back in early October when we came across this guy and his girlfriend taking a dip.  The funniest thing about it was that SHE went first and told him he was being a baby.  He finally jumped, and came up okay.  The whole time, Doodlebug kept saying, "Mama - that doesn't seem very safe," while Junebug looked on with more interest.  I really couldn't say much.  I've jumped off cliffs before.

I don't do it so much anymore.  Cliff-diving, that is.  I kind of stopped when I had kids.  Now, I take the easier roads and stick to the flatlands and well back from the edge, usually gripping the shirt of a child and saying, "Not too close, honey.  Be careful, love." 

Except that some situations require cliff-jumping, now don't they?  Sometimes you have to hold your nose and jump into the air and hope and pray your bikini top doesn't come flying off when you hit the water.  That's kind of where Dr. SmartyPants and I are right now - perched at the edge of the cliff, ready to jump in.  Only this time, we're holding the hands of two small boys, one of whom is clinging with all his might to the safety of what he knows, the other of whom is eager and ready to go - and a little "why don't you just let me do it already?"

I'm ready to jump in.

If I can just pry Doodlebug's fingers off the rock face...

Mile Marker 275...out.