Splash

New Year's Day means only one thing around these parts.

Watch Hill, Rhode Island.

Unlike 2009 and 2010, Mistah decided weeks ago he was not going to swim this year. Even though Saturday was a balmy 50° and quite unlike 2008 when the high was 9°.

These were the swimmers this year . . .

. . . and these are their bums.

Ready . . . and . . . go!

It really is such a kick to watch all the crazy people participants dive into the Atlantic Ocean on New Year's Day. Even though this year we were sorely lacking the drama of the possibility of frostbite and tootsie-toes falling off. Still, I wouldn't miss it for anything.

As long as I don't have to swim.

Elizabeth had her sisters there that day and they all took the plunge . . .

. . . and they made me miss my sisters.

Mister Dibble's sisters were there too. And they made me miss my sisters, too. A whole lotta sisterhood going on without me.

But we had Champagne and Westy cups and the ocean and a beautiful sunny day. What more could one want?

Good friends? Check.

I love how you can see the ocean reflected in Dawnie's shades.

Tommy takes the dip every year, cold or warm . . .

. . . while Pammy's smart enough to drink, um, Dawn's bloody mary on the beach.

Mister Dibble -- along with the lovely Elizabeth -- are our illustrious, gracious and completely unfazed hosts year after year, and throw quite the smashing bash afterwards. Thanks, you two.

And Watch Hill? We'll see you this summer.