When I tell people that I'm a juggler, their first reaction is usually something like, "That's so cool!"  And more often than not, their second response is, "What's the most dangerous thing you've juggled?  Knives?  Torches?  Chainsaws?"

Up until now, I've had to let them down and reveal that the coolest thing I can do is probably just juggle five balls or (attempt to) pass seven clubs.  (It's hard to impress someone verbally with devil sticks.)

That's, right.  I said, until now.  A couple weeks ago, Jacob ordered some Dubé juggling knives, and I got to juggle them.  It took a while to get used to, but before long, I was outside my office in Hillsboro village juggling knives while drivers stuck in traffic on 21st Avenue looked on.

It amazes me that the mere possibility of me injuring myself exponentially increases the entertainment value of essentially juggling a 3-club cascade.

On a related note, some of us have been practicing our joggling for the Komen Race for the Cure 5k this Saturday.  In this case, it's not the potential for bodily harm, but the shear absurdity of the activity that draws people in.  A group of five of us joggling on the Vanderbilt track caused many of the fellow runners to stop, stare, and occasionally cheer.  If you're going to be downtown Saturday, look out for the jogglers (and a hula-hooper) amidst the sea of runners.

Left: photo by Matt Mikulla;   Right: photo by Jacob Weiss