This is an odd post to start my blog off with, not having anything to do with art or juggling at all, but it’s what I spent my weekend doing. And it’s going to be way longer than anyone will probably want to read, but I’m putting it all in words for myself, mostly. Though I’m not sure it’s actually possible to even get close to the experience with words, but I’m going to try.

So – on Saturday, May 2nd, I jumped out of a plane! This all started when Kimberly, one of my best friends from college, sent out an email telling us all about her first skydive, which she did in November – it was a birthday present from her husband. And she was going to go again, and did any of us want to go with her? I definitely did – I’ve wanted to skydive since I was sixteen, and never had the opportunity before. I’d made a deal with my mother, too, that I was allowed to skydive, but only if I didn’t tell her about it until afterwards. So Kimberly made our reservations, and I claimed to be going to visit her for no particular reason.
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