Look closely in the center of the photo and you’ll see me standing on the edge of the pier (in blue trunks), trying to get up my nerve to jump.
What form. What style. What grace. What a buffoon. All the judges held up their cards and gave me zeroes.
Here’s a video of my pathetic jetty jump (thanks to Mark, who has all the tech expertise I lack and who helped me embed the video):
Here we are with the Mustard kids – (back row) Jim, Jamie and Jaimee, (front row) Ebby and Lochie
Wallaroo, just another one of those crowded, congested Australia beaches.
Jim and Lochie comparing their lunch orders. Lochie’s hot dog was the size of a cricket bat. Jim’s ham and cheese croissant was the size of a cricket ball.
Our friend Lisa Mustard (isn’t that a great name?) has been on vacation with her family a couple hours up the coast in a little beach town called Wallaroo. She invited us to drive up and join them for the day.
Damn, we had fun.
Wallaroo has a series of piers of various heights that surround a large, fenced-in pool. It’s fenced in to keep the sharks from eating the kids. The water is so crystal clear that you can see right to the bottom.
What great kids. Lisa’s 15-year old daughter Jaimee is sweet as can be and beautiful (it must go with the name). Gorgeous 12-year old daughter Ebby made us both bracelets to welcome us to Wallaroo. And ten-year old son Lochie is a real character (naturally, we hit it off immediately).
Lochie and Ebby dared me to come with them and jump off the pier. Sister Jaimee rolled her eyes (as you would expect any older sister to do over any suggestion made by her younger siblings).
I talked real big and told Lochie and Ebby that I’d jump off the pier like a pro, but never really intended to do it. Then they got me out on the pier and I saw dozens of little kids and a few adults jumping in and realized it was too late to back out. Crap.
At one point I was lined up on the pier with Ebby on one side of me and Lochie on the other side and I said, “OK, let’s jump together.” Lochie looked at me and said, “No. You go first so we can make sure you really do it.”
Uh-oh. The kid was too damn smart for me.
I jumped. Didn’t want to, but I did it anyway. My last thought before going off was, “Well, being a quadraplegic might not be so bad. Jamie promised she’d get me a hot, young Swedish nanny.”
It was a second and a half of terror followed by 30 minutes of incredible exhilaration. The water was warm, the kids were fearless, and I wish I could do it every day.
Thanks for inviting us, Lisa.