Put it down before it leaves.: April Fool's at 10,000 feet

Happy almost April Fool's Day! My family loves this "holiday." My dad in particular. As children, he would wake us up every April 1st and – before our eyes were open and our brains adjusted – casually claim that A.) it snowed a ton or B.) the bar across the street burned down. Yes, I lived across the street from a bar.

I think for many people the holiday, if you choose to call it that, comes and goes with little notice. But I try to conjure something silly every year. Usually one for the kids and one for the kids to pull over on Jon. There are rules. It can't be terrifying. "We crashed the car!" And it can't be ridiculous. "Aliens have taken over the planet and your teacher is their leader." And it definitely can't be mean. "We won the 500 million dollar jackpot!! Quit your job!" So mean.

It needs to be believable, but gasp-worthy. Drawn out a little and then revealed at just the right moment. It's a lot to balance and usually I fail, though one year when we lived in Baltimore, I told Jon that I saw a crew filming Homicide, the 90's TV series. This wasn't an unusual thing about town, but I went on to explain that I had a conversation with another bystander who turned out to be a casting agent who decided I would be an excellent new addition to the series! Playing a rookie detective, of course, because I was still young then. He totally bought it. My acting was superb. Just not in the presence of any real casting agents. Such a shame. I could be gritty.

On April 1st 2000, I don't recall planning any jokes. I was too busy leaping out of a plane. Still makes me shiver. I had always considered myself adventurous and I had mentioned many times to Jon during our very, very long dating history that I would love to go skydiving. But then we got a little older and settled into our married life and I wasn't feeling all that daring anymore.

That is precisely when Jon's coworker decided to organize a skydiving trip. Did I want to go? Did I? No, not really. But it was now or never. I had enough sense to realize that skydiving after kids was definitely out of the question and we were starting to seriously think about a baby. (I know I was a mother to Bunsen, but she'd bond with anyone willing to offer premium dog treats for half-hearted paw shakes.)

We got up very early. It was a gorgeous, unusually warm day. Sunny and in the 70's. I was nervous. We drove two hours to the Eastern Shore of Maryland. I was really nervous. We pulled into a field. There was a small building with a small plane parked next to it. No runway. Where's the runway? I was terrified.

We watched a very brief instructional video and met our tandem partners, now entrusted with our lives. Mine looked like Papa Smurf and had logged hundreds of successful jumps. (Are there any other kind worth logging?) Still terrified. Jon went first because the sad little plane could only fit four passengers per flight and we were paying the extra $75 for a photographer to join me. Documented proof was crucial. Who was going to believe that I jumped out of a plane? On April Fool's Day!

You can probably guess the outcome. Jon went up and came down, then I went up and came down. Taking off from a field, climbing to 10,000 feet in that tin can of a plane, then reaching altitude and yanking the tin can door open, was nuts. Stepping on a little perch outside of the plane before leaping into the clouds, was more nuts.

The trip to the ground was spectacular. The Eastern Shore is so flat and the day was so beautiful, I could see clearly from the Chesapeake Bay to the ocean.

I do not plan on ever doing that again. Ever. Never. Unless I'm on the Amazing Race. Then I'd do it. I'd also learn to yodel, sell trinkets in a Turkish market and eat 10 lbs. of tamales in under an hour. I love that show!

What's the most adventurous/extreme/crazy thing you've done? Would you do it again?