One of our favorite things about Lake Powell, is the cliff jumping. When Dave and I first started going to Lake Powell, long before we were married, we used to jump off some crazy things that I would never do now. I don't know if it is aging, or having impressionable spawn, maybe it is being a trauma nurse, or having the anti-cliff jumping poster that illustrates the last jump of some poor teenage kid, hanging in the houseboat. Maybe it is a combination of those things, who knows. Anyway we are pretty tame now. The kids are satisfied with a ten foot jump or so, Dave still has plenty of room for a flip or two, and I can still do a hurkey, while pulling my swimsuit up my butt crack, and smiling for the camera before I hit the water. Hence, that is why there are no pictures of me cliff jumping on the family blog.
Dawson is completely fearless about jumping off anything. We have to be very careful about watching him.
This sounded about how it looks in the picture, but Dyl swears it didn't hurt.
Two days a week, I sit in my gown and gloves and nursey paraphernalia, laughing and waiting for the next idiot to roll through the ER doors, that thought something dangerous, was "Todally awesome, ttooddallly." And then for a couple of weeks a summer, I sit egging that person on! Nice form Honey!
Happy Boys!
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