Overflowing

Why must vacations end? I've lived in my bathing suit for the past ten days, which is something I love doing. Do you think work would mind if I showed up in that and my flippy-floppies tomorrow morning?

Last night I returned from 9 days in Hawaii. Life could be worse. On the flight home, I was doing some journaling and shedding a few surprise tears, and I realized that I had cried on both the outbound trip last week and on the return flight. Last week it was because I'd put several Sex & the City episodes on my iPhone to pass the time and I'd included the episode where Carrie's computer crashes and Miranda's mother dies. My god, that's a good episode.

Last night my tears weren't as easy to trace back to a single source. It could have been my wonderful vacation coming to an end, or saying goodbye to my BFF, whom I truly love, or listening to Joni Mitchell and her heartbreaking honesty. Maybe it was the book I was finishing (I can't wait to tell you all about it), or it could have been the book I was starting; both deep, amazing stories that engulfed my soul.

It was probably a combination of all those and more, but the image I kept coming back to in my mind was of me and my surf instructor for the week, Ray, sitting on our boards, the top of my board resting on his, secured by his hands, my back to the horizon and Ray facing me, keeping watch, Diamond Head to my right, sun beating down, feet out of sight but keeping a slow rhythm of motion . . . simultaneously waiting for and experiencing perfection.

The vacation was great and so was the surfing. To be honest, so were the tears on the plane on the way home. I think sometimes you just have so much feeling happening that it squeezes out of your eyes.

More to come.

Forgive Me, Kelly, For I Have Sinned.

It's been 7 weeks since my last surf.

It was hard to convince myself to go today. The report said 2-3', and you never know if that means closer to 1' or 4'. I decided to chance it and had a really nice afternoon - it was about 3 - 4' with some bigger sets, and the water packed a real punch. (I need to stop trying to block waves with my head! I have a knack for placing myself exactly in the impact zone.) I messed up the timing with the tides, but it worked out totally fine.

I was shocked when I first pulled into town -- it was mobbed. I guess I haven't been to the coast on a summer weekend for a long time. My work schedule used to give me Fridays off, so I would always try to avoid surfing on the weekends. I stopped by the surf shop to say hi to the owner and got a big hug right when I walked in. I can't tell you how much I appreciated that. He immediately said, "It's a zoo today. Park there (gesturing to one of the four or so parking spaces they have at the shop) and suit up." While I was putting on my gear, a woman around my age or (god, I hope) slightly older started talking with me. She and her husband are from B.C., and they had rented gear and were headed up to my regular spot. She asked if it was my first time surfing, and I said no, but that I'm a beginner. She said, "Today is my first time." What could I do? My response was, "Well, this is going to be the best day of your life."

The shop owner told me to avoid the cove because of the crowds, and he had me leave my car and just walk a bit to another break. I was scurrrred! I've never surfed anywhere in Oregon but my little cove. But I went for it -- great location, but much more public than I'm used to, which freaked me out. I had to do some serious self-talk, but it was worth it.

So here's the thing: Not one other person was in the ocean as far as I could see. No one. Gorgeous sunny day, people were actually sun bathing (damn, that water was cold, though - instant ice cream headache), and I was literally the only person, surfer or other, in the water. NUTS! I'm telling you -- this is why I can't imagine learning to surf anywhere else. After about 1.5 hours, 3 kids with boards got in the water about 100 yards away from me. That's it. Amazing. (But I can guarantee you that cove was bursting with surfers, SUPs, and kayaks.)

I had a good time today. I had some good, long rides - smooth, curvy, scootching up and down the board. Beautiful hanging out, too-good-to-be-true, long rides. I went for a lot of green and got only one small one -- I cannot figure out green waves and it's really tough. I took a lot on my belly and knees (at least, until the wipeouts) and it helps to do that to get the feel of them, but I just can't take the drop on my feet and figure it out. I don't know; I know it doesn't taking "figuring". I've been here before. But it's really frustrating me.

I surfed for a while and then paddled way out, past even where the green waves formed, and just floated. It had gotten glassy in between sets and the sun was beating down -- it was so beautiful. I was sitting on my board, just trying to process some heavy shit I've been going through, but things kept bringing me back to the present. Either the sun reflecting on the water, or a couple of times a perfectly round head popping up 10ish yards away from me (! - a sea lion was surfing with me!) -- something would cause me to lose my train of thought and come back to the present. Over and over. So I would just watch the water and feel its rhythm under me and stay in the moment. It's really one of the many gifts of surfing: an inability to be anywhere but right here, right now.

When I was finally done, I huffed it back to the surf shop, board on head, and was met by the owner. He asked how it was, and I asked why in the hell I've been dealing with the crowds at the cove this whole time. He said, "Yeah, we keep this spot to ourselves." Consider my mouth shut. Awesome day gets better? He showed me the secret warm outdoor shower he has around the side of the shop and told me I could use it. I mean, honestly. My "shower" usually consists of me dumping a gallon of water from an old plastic milk jug over my head, à la Flashdance, in the parking lot at the cove. Nice to drive home less of a mess than usual.

It was a really beautiful day and I feel like my little heart hasn't even grasped the beauty of it. I'm super grateful to have gotten out today, and for the kindness of the shop owner.

Surrepetitious

I'm not going to lie, 40 is a bit of a bitch. It's not even bad; it's just so damn confusing, I don't even know where to begin.

Also, this: I thought the hipsters had ironically brought Blood, Sweat & Tears back to iTunes' Top 10 Albums of the Week until Sizzle informed me that is just the title of an album by some rap youngster. Jesus. So damn confusing.