This afternoon we all went out to the boat and to the beach out there. Lea determined that she couldn’t live in a space that small with her brother, and Grandma said she couldn’t because she would get claustrophobic. There was a time not so long ago that I probably would have thought the same thing. I suppose a lot of people look at a boat and think that, but now I can’t imagine living any other way but small.

Even after all these years we still have no desire for a traditional home and all the bulk that comes with it. To me that’s the very definition of claustrophobia. Being trapped by a home that sits on a foundation that never moves, a mortgage, a yard, neighbors, the cars in the garage, the furniture stacked in every room, the electricity bill, the cable bill, the phone bill, and on and on forever. Nope, for now anyway, we’re good just the way we are. We’ll enjoy these couple of months away from the boat spread out all over the place in condos and houses, and then when the weather changes I for one will be more than happy to move back aboard my tiny floating home and set off on new adventures.

So anyway, the boat was fine, just the way we left it, and the beach was sunny and warm. The water this time of year is like a hot bath that’s just beginning to cool down enough to get in. It’s almost at that point where it’s not even all that refreshing. One thing about it though is that you don’t see anybody doing the tiptoe squealer entry.

While we were out swimming I asked Lea if she’d like to go parasailing. She said no, but that she would like to go skydiving. Which got me reminiscing on the time that Ali and I jumped out of a plane.

For my twenty-first birthday Ali bought me a jump. Three other buddies of mine were supposed to go along. On the fateful day that summer Ali and I were driving out to the jump site when I got on the phone to make sure everybody else was on their way. First buddy said, “Oh, man, I don’t have the money.” Second buddy said, “Dude, I feel like crap. I can’t even get out of bed.” Third buddy said nothing. He wouldn’t answer the phone. Chickenshits.

No big deal, I was still going. Then Ali said, “Well you can’t go alone. I’ll go too.” Pretty much setting the stage for what she’d be saying for these last seventeen years. “Sure, I’ll sail around the world with you.” or “Sure, I’ll swim down those Class V rapids with you.” or “Sure, living in a VW bus will be fun.”

And so we went, she paid for another jump, we strapped on a couple of suits, cruised up to 12,000 feet, and stepped out of the airplane. I thought it was fun, and if not for the cost, would probably have taken the necessary steps to qualify to do it on my own. Ali, in her typically understated fashion said, “It was alright. I’m glad I did it, but I’m not doing it again.”

This just goes to show that we never used to take pictures. I mean, we go skydiving and the only two pictures we have of the event are taken in some office where I suppose we had just changed into our jumpsuits. Oh how times have changed.