Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Title here...

G, Three years old. This is what it is about.

A conspiracy raises against me. My immune system pulls levers and alarms sound. Hoses expel founts of steam. Small men in white bio-contamination suits roam my cells. Sickness strikes. And always at the most inopportune times.

In all of April, four surfs. I just can't seem to find the rhythm to stretch the rubber and wax the water wings. Two beautiful kids, plus twenty three more at work takes a bit of energy, leaving me with weekends- yes, I'm that guy now. But, of course, I cannot resist and must coach GG's football(soccer), basketball, and tee ball teams. I love it. It's all great. But, fish gawta swim.

Three days ago the child of a world-famous longboarder told me his dad was picking him up to take him surfing. "I might even get to go out to the big waves all by myself." The swell was a macking 9 inches. "I think we might go to (The Drive Thru). I like it there. I can play Bobba Fett in the sand."

Thank you, kid. Deep breaths and simple smiles. Simplify those dangerous must-do days with a view of sand, silver sea, and horizon line. Thank you, Kid's Dad, for not being too self-important to grab the time and soak a surf with your son.

Water's warming up. My family will see you at the beach. We'll be the ones wearing the smiles.

As an aside, if you ever have the chance of ordering a clear, 5'7, classic templated fish with big fiberglass keels from Steve Lis you should go for it. It is a really fun ride.