A Merry Bunch of Freaks

They did it again.

Last year's brutal 8° weather was not, apparently, enough to sway the Merry Bunch of Freaks – as Mistah describes them – from taking the plunge into the Atlantic Ocean at Watch Hill, Rhode Island, on New Year's Day, again.

Oh, no. They would not be denied their own specific brand of freakishness.

They love their freakishness. Their freakishhood.

Let's look at a few from our compelling cast of characters, shall we?

There's this guy of course, Mister Dibble, our fearless leader, taking calls on the beach from lame-o's who didn't show.

Then there's this guy, Young Dave.

Young Dave stayed out in the water until a suitable wave finally appeared, so he could ride it in. That's Young Dave's own specific freak-osquity rule.

Of course, there's this woman, our lovely co-leader Elizabeth's sister Lynn, who warmed up before the swim by making snow angels on the beach. In January. In Rhode Island.

And then there's this guy, our very own Mistah Schleckah.

.

Mistah Schleckah said he was NOT swimming this year, no way, once was enough. He did let slip on the drive out to RI, however, that he was wearing his trunks under his jeans, just in case.

He also went back in for a second dip . . .

. . . apparently the swim doesn't count unless there is real pain involved, and it was a balmy 30° degrees around here on Friday, so one dip was just not enough.

Because it was so balmy on the beach, everyone was much more relaxed and frivolous than last year.

Just see for yourself . . .

See?

And because it was so balmy and relaxed and frivolous, well, there's only one thing to do at a time like that . . .

.

That’s right. Champagne Homerun Derby. I know I know: I talk about CHD a lot; I know that. But for godssake, it was New Year's Day. If you can't play CHD on New Year's Day when can you?

Unfortunately, I am ensconced in a terrible, awful, epic hitting slump.

I have completely lost it at the plate lately.

I am hereby putting myself on the DL.

Retroactive.

Dawnie showed her prowess later, back at Dibble's ranch, and hit a long long shot.

I’m not sure if it was actually a homerun – the stone wall at Mister Dibble’s is as far away as Coors Field’s center field wall. But, the air in North Stonington is not as thin as it is in the mile-high city.

I'm calling it a homer.

The great thing about Champagne Homerun Derby is, of course, that you get to drink the spoils.

And drink them we did.

Thanks, Michael and Elizabeth. Thanks for some of those great photos, E-Beth.

Thanks, Watch Hill. See you this summer.