Woo Hoo! We are up to two days of surf this month

This is the second one and the first was so pathetic I didn't even post it.  Back on Sunday, December 7th, a one star day at 8th St. where the tide was fat and the waves were, too.  I think we got three waves each before the wind blew it out.  Ugh.

Great December so far.

Then there was today.  We have had this freaky 16 second period swell for DAYS now, but the wind has been all wonky and the temperatures too cold to make up for it.  But, today I waited for the wind to go west (as predicted on swell.info at 10am), which it did, and I went for it.  Dang cold!

I wore my boots, wimp that I am.  Who cares?  I was the only one out at Mary St. except for two or three guys down by the ramp.  It was clean, finally, but had dropped to chest high.  All I want is quality, and I got a taste of it.  Nothing like South Florida, or Puerto Rico, and my heart breaks to think about Tobago, or Jamaica, or Petit Havre in Guadeloupe. Cocoa today looks like heaven.  Here, it was butt cold and the water is trying to green back up after the shore pounding bombs that it has endured for days on end.  One left I had made the paddle out worth it.  The Dominator just felt so positive and just went up so high on that lip and down that I was smiling like a damn idiot the entire paddle back outside.

But, overall, it was a lot of waiting, and I missed about three that I was kicking myself over, that wedged up perfectly when I was not in the right spot to really get them the way I wanted. Oh, well, it felt good to be out there, freezing and losing feeling in my hands.  One month until... Ecuador!

Scary things

Grey skies, fog, a cold and dying swell... ugh, who wants this?

I drive to the beach early, ready to take the last of Fall's relative warmth. A front is coming, with rain and cold.  But, the fog makes it seem so dreary... and the swell looks confused.  So I wait.

When I return an hour later, the fog is still there, but by the time I decide to just go, something cool happens.  The sun comes out.  Just for about fifteen minutes.  I got one good one and then the sky turned an ominous charcoal grey and the wind whipped up from the north and that, as they say, was that.  I went in and called it a day.

Life on the East Coast.

Oh boy.

Back to Domination

Went out in the full suit for the first time this winter... and decided to give the old Dominator a try.

Woo hoo!  I think that one is going on my next surf adventure.  The waves were only fair shape, shoulder high, but the buoys were 6 ft. at 10 Seconds, high tide at 9am, so off to Mary St. I went.

Caught about three that reminded me how great this board is, so forgiving and stable and fast.  Grey skies, grey water, SSW winds, 65 degree water. A pelican surfed beside me, and I was happy to be alive.

Life is so funny

I have been reading through my old surf trip journals the past few weeks. All those surf trips seem so long ago. But, when I realized just how many I have been on, and all the memories I had the sense to write down, I was amazed. All those things might have been forever forgotten.

There were so many surprises there!  So many times, in my need for validation, I wrote down comments that guys would make about my surfing - and it was such a gift for the now. I was wistful, as I read them, thinking those days are gone. No one says I am surfing good much anymore, now that I am a senior surfer - and why would I ever expect anyone to, except given the fact that I am this old and can still do a cutback. Back then, it was always, "pretty good, for a girl."  Now, it's more like 'pretty good for being elderly.'

But, yesterday there came an unexpected gem. I was surfing at Summer Haven with Bob in little gutless waves. It was one of those days ... the last warmth of the summer ocean is slowly fading away ... spring suits, and grey skies.  I was just out there, having fun with Bob on the tater, when this guy paddled up to me smiling.  He said, "You would have loved the conversation we were having up on the beach about you!"  Oh yeah, I asked, what was that?  He said he had said to his friend, "Look at that kid out there, skipping school!" Then his friend had said, "I think that might be a girl,"  To which he replied, "No way!  No girl surfs like that!"  Ha ha ha, how I laughed.

Thanks for making my day. Even if it was tinged with that same old 'for a girl' qualifier.

It all comes down to this...

Who loves you?

Unexpected moment

At the tail end of this week's malaise of minor light bulb moments ... came this morning.

I had made up my mind last night that I needed to get in to the water... to clear out some of the cobwebs... and I was going out - no matter what.

This day was probably not anything all that spectacular to most everyone else around here. Certainly, this was nothing like days people up north see this time of year, orange leaves fluttering in the clear blue sky, dappled hillsides in the distance, the chill air welcome and invigorating, taking you back to when you were a kid when anything was possible.

Dreams die.

But, this seemed sort of like a dream I always have. The water was crystal clear, a bright mint green. You could see all the way to the sandy bottom. Brian said it scared him at one point when he saw his shadow.  There were so many little barrels to be had, lined up with lovely tapered shoulders, and they kept coming non-stop.  I wore my spring suit for the first time, it was downright cold when I walked out this morning.  But, the water was still holding the last breath of summer's warmth.

I went to Summerhaven first and was let down.  The tide was too high, it was slow, and I could see I would be frustrated if I paddled out there.  I went to Mary Street and everything clicked.  The lines were coming in and no one was anywhere to be seen.  It was small, granted, nothing to write about from the looks of it.  But, once out in it, the sun sparkling like diamonds on the faces of the crystal waves that peeled off in the sun with glorious precision... it was a gift... and I was taking everything I could grab.

Andy pulled onto the beach in his jeep and then took off.  I was surprised. I thought, did he not see that little tube I just got?  He had.  He hadn't brought his board with him when he checked it, thinking there was nothing, and suddenly he was screeching back home to grab it. Then he came out, laughing like crazy, and we both caught endless crystal waves on our taters and giggled like kids.  Nick and Brian came out soon after him.

LANGATANG!  

He said he could touch the bottom with his feet and actually see them, as he sat on his board waiting on the inside for another peeler.  And then another.  And another.

Here is the end of one little wave I caught, and if you look closely you can see me laughing.

Here is Nick on his longboard snagging one...

After two and a half hours of this, I couldn't paddle anymore.  It was non-stop out there the morning. And, just what we needed to forget about our troubles for awhile.

I will not complain

But, we do not have sandbars that can handle 13-14 second swells.

Hurricane Gondola, or whatever the hell its name is, made me feel stupid and inadequate and tired.  I used the 40 person catering excuse on Friday when I tackled the building swell with half-hearted abandon with Andy at the park... YES I CATERED A LUAU FOR 40 RICH PEOPLE ON THURSDAY!

Stupid. What was I thinking?

I mean really, who does something like that?  Who do I think I am?

Oh, hi!  I am Nancy, and I can nanny all week, bake 100 vegan cookies by Saturday, and then stand on my feet for twelve hours straight on Thursday making the equivalent of every goddamned Thanksgiving feast I have created for the past ten years in one day on one frozen burrito with a parakeet flying all over the kitchen landing on my shoulder and head the whole time whispering random and weird things in my ear (wait, was that my own thoughts or the bird's?) and mimic water running while whispering and making kissing sounds in my ear.

Good God, now it is staring at my feet!  WHY is he pecking at my sandals?

What, it is already FIVE O'CLOCK? HOLY SHIT, I still have to finish the three layer carrot cake, bake three different yeast breads, all in various stages of rising, do three salads, and two more side dishes... and dear lord, my heart is beating so fast. DO NOT LET ME TOUCH THAT PORK LOIN... I REFUSE!  That thing was walking around a few days ago, breathing the air and looking at the world.

And, the entire time I could not and WOULD NOT check the report or my phone to see if the waves from the storm had arrived yet, as outside a glorious sunny day unfolded and faded away.

So, I made my way through it.  I only failed to deliver one dish, the Broccoli Quinoa, and never got to mix up the drink, the "Painkiller," that I planned to have ready for the bartender who had to mix it up herself.

But, everyone was having food orgasms by around 7:30 pm. I could hear the compliments out there in the crowd.

And then some of them, mostly all women, came into the kitchen to rave about my skills, but honestly I was so overwhelmed and exhausted by then that it is all a blur.  Except for the one huge man who walked up to the decimated carrot cake and made some hilarious face and moaned, pointing to the cake's remains, "THIS!  THIS!  Ohhhhhh!"

There was a woman who was also quite memorable, named Jan, who moaned, returning again and again, blaming me for her eating too much and saying she could not get enough of everything.  And, then it was over and I drove home and fell right into bed.  In the morning, I looked at the check I was handed as I stumbled out the night before, and noticed I had gotten a $100 tip.  SWEET!

Then suddenly it was dawn, and Andy and I were pedaling our bikes into the park and paddling into thumping swells that clamped down on us like relentless slabs of rushing cement.  Owwwww.

We left there, the rip currents were relentless, the current taking us down the beach at a pace impossible to paddle against, and we tried, to look at Summerhaven.  Crap, it was crowd city.  We saw Bob's car and watched a long time, but never saw him catch a wave.  I said, "Well, if Bob is not catching anything, I won't either." We decided to check out 12th street, where Mark said he was scoring "BARRELS." WHAT?  Ok, let us go see this for ourselves.

Well, that was a lesson in humiliation.  I felt thoroughly inadequate and weak, and missed so many big screaming walls that I backed out of and missed like a lazy ass dork.  Meanwhile, Chuck Lanham was scoring rides that made me want to cry.  Floaters, slashes off the top! Ugh. Andy tried to make me feel better, saying the guy doesn't have a job, just surfs, and exercises all the time, he's like a surf pro, he said. Damn him!! I hate him. But, even Chuck said something to me about it being a 14 second swell and not breaking right.

This day was better left forgotten, and I already practically have. Then, I came back to shore to bake about 100 cookies for the Farmer's Market.

The next day dawned with offshore winds and swells that had worked themselves out into more manageable clean walls.  I went with plan B, which was paying Lindsey $15 and hour to sell my cookies at the market.  I could not imagine myself sitting there while a swell was going off and I had worked so hard to have time to... SURF!

I was rewarded for all the disappointment and humble pie I had eaten the day before.  I had been thinking I was either getting too old for this, or that I was truly more tired than I have ever been in my entire life.  After the goddamned LUAU from hell.

Maybe it was a little of both.

But, there was one hour, as low tide turned into incoming, where I got giddy and insane and cackling and Andy told me to "CALM DOWN!" and I felt like an idiot for being so happy, but no matter, to hell with him, I was finally getting stand up barreling waves that felt insanely unreal even if I wasn't making it out of them every time.

Then I rolled into the market at 12:30 pm and Lindsey had broken the Bluebird Cookie sales record! Woo hoo!

And, I didn't even care that I had to pay her $60 and probably didn't make a bit of profit.

There were finally decent waves and, God damn it, I was there.

Surfing will be the end of me...

My neck is seizing yup, I can't sleep, all because of stupid ass surfing. Again.  Jesus, at my age, you would think I would be better equipped, mentally, to face and handle a problem like this, but I dwell on it and die inside constantly.  The problem? I have a LUAU  for 40 people to do for some rich folks that live in a 2.7 million dollar house... and of all days, beginning early early on THURSDAY.

Now read this...

OUTLOOK.......E to ESE swell through most of the week with variable changing conditions- 125MPH CAT-3 HURRICANE GONZALO IS A MAJOR HURRICANE, FORECAST TO CURVES NE JUST EAST OF THE BAHAMAS BY THURSDAY, GENERATING SOLID GROUNDSWELL FOR THE END OF THE WEEK INTO THE WEEKEND--CLEAR YOUR APPOINTMENTS FOR A FLEXIBLE SCHEDULE FOR THURS, FRI & SAT as, unlike the last 2 storms, the marine forecast now shows offshore winds all 3 days for the peak of the swell.....check back as the forecasts can & will change.......


I just got out of the water at Mary St. this morning after trying to catch something, and it was pathetic.  It is too soon, but the winds were offshore and the little waves so clean I could not resist... and knowing my upcoming timeframe is an open invitation for utter despair over the next few days... I had to paddle to get rid of at least some of this all consuming anxiety.  Oh, did I mention the FARMER"S MARKET on Saturday? Read the above text box again.  I am doomed!

"I haven't felt this alive in a long time"

Kishi Bashi.  Best song ever written.  "Manchester."  I can't get it out of my head.  Thanks, Pete. How did I miss that one?

Finally, waves.

Glassy, sunny, warm today, and Andy got to try out his new Double Agent, a 5'8," and he is in love, just like me with mine.  We had some fun at Mary St.  I haven't felt this alive in a long time.

Kishi Bashi ... Manchester

http://youtu.be/XBctONb102o

And then one day...

The waves returned.

After the most miserable summer anyone ever remembers, we had real waves yesterday.  I mean waves that had us saying out loud that it looked like the Pacific Ocean.

We all were up the day before, way before dawn, standing on the beach in the dark, looking at the small offering of white water and sighing...

WHEN, God, when will you have mercy on our pitiful souls?

And, then I spent the rest of the day in a funk, jealous of Bob never having to work, of Andy, who had asked for three days off in anticipation of the Eduardo swell - that just had to come despite the chances of ruination from an approaching pesky NE'er.  But, no, the wind was really offshore and there was a hurricane spinning out there, magically sending us what we dream of... but, where were the waves?

We looked at Mary St. in disgust.  Eight guys out under cloudy dismal skies, trying to ride a closed out long period swell at waist high on the biggest sets.  Andy and I were texting... WTH?

We ended up at the inlet, paddling way outside to a long left we saw reeling off with only a few guys on it.  From the car, I thought I saw a chest high wave as I talked to Bob on the phone, still at home and grumbling about the cams looking unexciting.  "I am going out," I told him, "I can't take any more waiting." I am coming, he said.

That ended up being a bust.  When I got out there, Andy caught a few and said it was boring - even on the eleven footer and went in.  Then Jack and Vinny appeared.  Vinny is a nice guy.  I even had a crush on him a few years back when he first moved here, a sweet and handsome Italian-looking long boarder who was really nice to me.  We talked in the water that summer, the summer there seemed to always be waves to ride.  But, this was a different summer.  He was taking all the waves on that log, and I was getting slowly pissed - as it seemed he didn't see me paddling for them, too.  Finally, a really good one came, and right to me.  It was all mine, clearly, I was in position, and as I paddled I noticed he was paddling too - and right in front of me, not even looking back.  I yelled out, "Got it!" and he looked back surprised, but stood up anyway.  I was fuming by the time he got back outside. Jack, that fat-assed redneck stand up paddler, who acts like everyone is his friend and then hogs all the waves, says to Vinny,"That wave set up nice, man!"  That was when I let it out and said, "Yeah, he dropped in on me, though!"  Jack just smiled some dumb ass smile like it didn't even register and that made me even madder. Vinny got closer, clueless, and I asked him if he had heard me saying I had the wave.  "I thought you said something," he said, perplexed.  I think he just thought I was hooting him into the wave, because I had been sharing waves and hooting them into waves earlier, good vibes out there, but all coming from me - I realized at that moment.  I was the dumb ass!  I said to Vinny that we should be sharing out here, that he had been getting all the waves and I had been right in the spot for that last one.  He just looked like he didn't understand, just staring at me and not even apologizing!  I just went in, disgusted. And, the rest of the day I stewed at my misfortune of working for people who don't seem to value me or appreciate what I do - just the full on door mat mode pity party thing.

I decided to make the day the best I could and went into work, hugged Abby, and said we were going to have a girl's day. I tried to forget that the waves would be building all day while I was stuck at work and there would only be one hour of light by the time I got off.

I focused on making the day as fun as I could for the both of us, and it worked.  Then, when I got off and raced out to Mary St. I met a guy walking back up the boardwalk and he said, "This is the best and biggest the waves have looked all day!"  WTH?  The swell was just arriving! Sweet rewards!

I went out and it sucked.

Lots of close-outs, and despite it being bigger and glassy and the water was almost blue, it just wasn't feeling the sandbar, kept backing off and making me wish that long ago I had decided to move anywhere but here.

Then I decided to paddle way outside where I saw Noah catch a big one on his log.  That became only more humiliation.  I sat as the moments ticked away, the sun beginning to set, darkness closing in.  I felt stupid, sitting way out there on a 5'6" with two long boarders who decided it was time to go in and left me there alone.

Then it happened.  A freak set came out of nowhere and I paddled furiously for it like my life depended on it. It rose up, a big long wall, a right, and I pushed down and dropped into it, over my head, the wall reflecting the pink and gold sunset, and I cut back and forth and worked that thing all the way inside, up and down, through the crowd of sitting surfers, a few hooting at me, and I knew for the first time that the Double Agent is the surfboard for me.  The way it cut through the water, sensitive and nimble and light, was nothing short of magic.  I decided to paddle out for one more that never came, but on the way out, a surfer looked at me, his eyes wide, and said, "That was a beauty!"

That one wave changed everything.  I was suddenly alive again, and the rest of the evening I realized that happiness followed my every step.

Then came Thursday.  I will never forget 9:30 am, September 18.  Andy said it was the best wave and tube he has seen in two years, and I was in it.

We decided to ride the bikes to the point.  It turned into a free surf trip, like Nicaragua and Jamaica rolled into one, just a full on glorious day of life.

The whole way out there, we watched as perfect crystal pale green peaks rose up and pitched out in the sunshine, long lines, a 13-14 second swell, something so rare it was almost painfully beautiful. I wanted out there, NOW NOW NOW.  We finally arrived and he said, don't wait, just go.  I did, and he was out there right away.  There was one guy on this one spot and we watched as he dropped into a perfect green peak, over his head, and he jammed a bottom turn and went right up to the lip, spray flying into the air and we looked at each other and hooted to the sky.  WTH?  I told him I think I am dreaming and will wake up any moment.

Then we proceeded to live our dream day, never coming in until we could hardly move our arms.  It was Thursday, and I didn't have to be at work until 2.  THE WAVES WERE CHEST TO OVERHEAD HIGH!   IT WAS LIGHT OFFSHORE, WARM, AND SUNNY! I was jealous of me.

But that one right.... Andy did not stop talking about it.  He said things like he hated me, that it was the best thing he had seen in years, like a wave out of a surf video, the green wall stacked up steep and over my head... and I just pulled into it, standing erect as it proceeded to unload.  He said he could even see my green fins cutting through the crystal clear face.  He looked at his watch and said I should never complain, that I got the best wave of the swell, at 9:30 AM, September 18, and that he could not get the image out of his head.

There you have it, I feel sore as hell today, but better than I have felt in many months.  Yesterday was just a gift of unexplainable proportion.  Wave after pristine wave peeling off... and tubing like I have never seen all year...

EDUARDO, you will go down in history as one of the best ever.  Photos to come...

My birthday... should have been in California...

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A lot of decisions are never easy

The Afterlife

http://youtu.be/EcKinnMXuKg

Thanks, Christobal

The spell has been broken and we are all now sore as hell.

After only having four decent days since mid-June (yes, Bob, you are right on the numbers), we FINALLY surfed in decent waves today...

Arthur, Bertha, and now Christobal  (I hope I am spelling it right) helped us out, but we are entering the peak season and are only on C so, not a great year for surfing here.

But today started out, for me, about 4 a.m. when I heard the weather radio say the winds were west. WHAT? I must be dreaming, I thought.

Got up in the dark, ate breakfast to combat the fatigue I knew would set in from lack of any type of surfing related exercise lately - and I knew I had to maximize my energy levels.  I did do a short bike ride on my birthday yesterday morning (Happy Birthday, Pee Wee!) just to make sure I had not aged into invalidism.  After the lady at the health food store made an assumption that I was a senior this past Sunday, I needed to do a systems check.

All good.  Well, for my age, I suppose.

So, off to the pier I go.  GT is there waxing up, said it looked a little funky, but there were waves and if anyone is a beggar for waves it is us.  I said I was thinking Mary St. and he said that was probably a good call.  I think he just wanted me to go there so he could have more waves to himself, but he is a salesman and always says what he thinks you want to hear.  YES, NANCY, YOU ARE ONE SMART SENIOR!

I looked at it, brown water, ugh, lumpy, no one catching anything, and it already looked fat, like high tide and it was only mid.  Eh.  BUT, THERE WERE WAVES LEST WE FORGET. Mark showed up, ready to go, and ended up staying.  Andy called, I gave him the report and said I am coming there, where he was looking, at Mary St.

We ended up surfing there for a couple hours.  The outside was breaking at first and then just stopped. I sat and sat way outside there, feeling like life was just continuing the same old bad joke on me, but then paddled inside, to where Andy was smiling.

Oh, we had some fun ones on the inside!  The Double Agent felt great, and I was really finding out what it could do.  He said he saw me get the best one, a big right that just sucked up sooo nice.  The seas were 7 feet at 11 seconds, so it had some push today.

Then I let Andy try it and on his first wave, a left, he actually sprayed me, took off with ease like he had been riding the thing forever.  He was stoked.  Then he got a right that he just carved up and looked so good that I knew. He paddled back out and said, "I am getting one."

After a bit, the crowd began to swell, jockeying for position is never my favorite thing.  I decided to head in, as did he, and caught one big wall, a big drop that just unloaded on the shallow sandbar and left me laughing.  I decided that since this was the day I did not have to be to work until 2pm, and there were WAVES (!) that I would have to look around, maybe go to Matanzas...

When I pulled up at Summer Haven, I was shocked.  Lines were pouring in over Gene Johnson way, to the point that I regretted not coming there first.  Big green walls, sparkling in the sun, peeling rights... WTH? I called Andy and said,"I must be crazy, but I am seeing some good waves here."  There were only four or five guys on it, rippers. He was there in fifteen minutes, ditching work was not a problem, he said, let them fire me.  And then, for about an hour, we had some classic fun in the big glassy walls of green, big tarpon all around scaring the crap out of all of us.  Did I mention the mullet that bitch-slapped Andy in the face at Mary St?  Lots of sea life today. I saw a heck of a big fin on the inside on my first good one, and didn't stop, had waited too long for this.  MOVE OUT THE WAY!

Yes, it felt good to be back in the water, back to what we live for, and it was way overdue.  My back and arms are feeling it now, though. All stuff that is good for the body and soul.

Thanks, Christobal.  I could not have taken much more of this waveless summer.

The Look of Happiness

Hanhan catching waves in St. Augustine, Florida.

Rogue Wave

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I ride alone

All winter I waited for spring.  Surely spring would bring waves, green and cold, but with that bite that spring brings that invigorates you and makes you feel alive again.

All spring I waited for summer, recalling summers where waves came, small but clean and if you found the right sandbar you would be the happiest person on the planet just taking what you got.  Now that summer is fading, the worse summer ever for waves that I can ever recall, fall has to come through... doesn't it?  But, school starts tomorrow and that usually brings something tropical, the kids back in school - and being too early to skip just yet - empty line-ups... but, nothing is in the forecast.

But, it is not happening.  Some kind of weather patterns with awful jet streams up in the heavens are continuing to thwart us down below.

So I went riding up A1A today.  You get to the point where you realize you are spending too much time inside.  It was nice, the sun was out, it wasn't too hot, and well... the surf was flat again. Although the sand bars are looking really fine, ripe, ready for something... it never comes.

No hope for us here.  The rest of the surf world seems to be getting more than enough.

swell.info is flatlining into infinity and beyond.

This has me reconsidering New Zealand again. And, pondering trips to places where sanity may be found... but, if nothing else, go see "Boyhood." I did today. This is possibly one of the best films I have ever seen.

Satisfying, engrossing, and with much to say.

Surfing with Seals...

http://youtu.be/97McCuWAynA

More of the same

Sandbars aren't working, don't understand it, summer has been the worst ever, sandbars should be groomed to perfection, and now that we have a chance of waves - the water has turned a filthy looking shade of brown.  On the good side, my leg is healing nicely!  Stitches are out, doc said it looked great, and I surfed (if you could call it that) the last two days with no pain or problems.  The waves were horrid, but the Double Agent feels nice so far.

But, it really makes me wonder again, when so much time has gone by without any sort of decent wave, why I am still here when I love surfing more than just about anything on earth.

Bertha may produce something tomorrow.  We will see.  Maybe tomorrow, maybe tomorrow...

I will never put panties on my cookies, I promise.

But I thank the sick mind that did for his peaches.

It just keeps happening...

The Birds and the Bees

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Ha ha

Needed to get outdoors today.  Not outdoors as in selling cookies at the Farmer's Market, that was yesterday, and that is a different kind of focus.

There are still no waves (see above picture of Summerhaven this morning), so I dusted off the bike.  I haven't been riding much lately.  Too much of my time is engulfed with this whole cookie thing.  I talk a lot about it, and make that face like, woe is me, how can I keep up and have a life, but the truth is, my life is cookies and I like it that way at the moment.

I can remember standing in that kitchen in Pasadena, 7400 Hibiscus Street, or was it Way?  Anyway, when I was around 15, I liked to stand in the kitchen while cooking and pretend I had my own cooking show.  I suppose it is in my blood. I had just started surfing, had access to our old green VW bug now and then... spent hours listening to Canned Heat and The Beatles Sargent Pepper album in my bedroom that used to be a garage, staring at pictures of surfing in worn issues of Surfer, and wondering when I would surf again... and about all the waves that were out there in the world.

Had I known then, that I would surf many great waves around the world, and still be surfing at this age, I probably would have never believed it.  I also would not have believed that my mom would die of cancer just short 29 years later.

As I rode along A1A this morning, I decided to just slow down for once.  I am entitled to slowing down at this age.  My bike computer wasn't working, the dial had faded, needed a new battery, and I thought, screw that, I am just riding for the sake of riding.  No need to pressure myself into keeping at a certain average speed, that would only defeat the purpose of enjoying the ride.

I noticed a group of green parakeets, about seven of them, sitting on the telephone wire, and wondered about their life, a life of constant movement and struggle to survive.  Right now, though, they were just sitting in the morning sunshine, some of them snuggling into the wings of the one sitting next to them.

Love the one you're with.

I passed Quail Hollow condos, and looked back, like I always do, at that corner condo where mom lived for a few months after her cancer surgery and before she moved to North Carolina.  It always fills me full of regret, longing, wishing for those days to return, so that I could have spent more time with her... and less on a business that still runs on without me, that commercial endeavor I would abandon completely only a handful of years after she moved away and then left this earth forever.  That was the closest she would ever live to me, and it feels like a squandered the gift.

As I rode along the bridge at Matanzas inlet, straining my eyes to imagine there might be a wave out there that I could ride, no, not even on the tater, I saw a black crow sitting on the bridge rail, oddly hunkered down, staring back at me. It fluttered its wings, daring me to stop and stare so it could take flight and thwart me.

Onward, I went, the July heat not too much a concern, the sun felt good on my skin.  My ankle was covered up by my socks, but isn't really looking much better. I am determined to take ALL the antibiotics, this time, after failing to follow though like I always seem to do. Mom always said doctors were prescribing way too many antibiotics, and that we would pay for it one day. That stuck with me. But, I suppose I need to right now if I want to keep my leg.  Because without that leg, there will be no more surfing. If the surf ever does return...

What do you think, cousin?  Looks like a monster with teeth to me.

Getting better

I did not listen to the doctor and wait until Friday to surf because the sandbar at Mary Street has been too enticing.  Yes, I have been surfing.  It hasn't been much, but enough to temp me out there.  I think it is actually helping the wound heal.  See photo above.  Compare with just after surgery below.

Strike that.  I think it looked better just after surgery.  I am a dope.

But, come on, look at the waves!

Yep, I am a dope.

The Nanny Laments Summertime

Best Surf Photo EVER

Always

Always go with the choice that scares you the most, because that’s the one that is going to require the most from you – Caroline Myss.

My business model

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More amazement

I could not sell my cookies at the market today.  My incision feels like the world's biggest paper cut with someone pouring lemon juice in it 24/7.  I can hardly walk!  Yes... but my neighbor showed up at my door and said, "GIVE ME THAT CHANGE BAG, I AM SELLING THOSE COOKIES."  And, she did.

A new record was made yesterday, another sell-out, and by 10:59 am.  69 cookies.

What is happening, little Bluebird Cookie Company?  Let my dad joke about me being the CEO of my little cookie business.  Let's just see what happens next.

Prepare to be blown away.

The most amazing thing happened today

I went surfing again this morning, like I have the last three days.  There had been barely enough waves to get to your feet, but the tater makes anything fun.

So, I am just sitting there watching Andy get another one on his longboard - when I see something surfacing, right in front of me.  Instantly, I realize it is what I have hoped to see for years.  A manatee! And, it was a big one.

I yelled for Andy to look, and he started paddling over just in time to see me start blubbering like a baby as I stared into the eyes of the huge but docile creature as it pulled up right alongside me, as if to say hello, and turned just enough so that I saw both its eyes looking into mine.  There was much more blubbering and disbelief as Andy began laughing and freaking out, as I reached down into the water and stroked the manatee's back, unexpectedly slimy, its massive girth just inches away.

Then it disappeared beneath the surface, but the swirls were still evident as Andy called out to look where it was, but in my haste to see it again, to touch it, despite worrying that it might approach another human again who wasn't as kind, I was twisting and turning and looking everywhere but where it was. Andy called out, "To your right, you dumbass!"  There is was!

Oh, joy, the moment was the best of my entire forty-five years of surfing, I swear to God it was.

Nothing has moved me to feel such emotion as I did today, just minutes before surgery on my leg from that cut I got in Jamaica. Only moments before, I had whispered something to my mom... please tell me everything will be alright, because I am really really scared - and feel so alone going to have that cancer cut out of my leg...

...and then it happened.

Happy Birthday, Dear Cousin!

My most faithful reader and best person in my life has a birthday today!  I know you want to forget it, but there is no escape.  You are alive, find a way to laugh at yourself.  That is my secret.

Yesterday I made a volcano out of clay for the kids.  Wow, it is great to see the excitement you can elicit in a kid with just some baking soda and vinegar.

Then we went to Coco Mango's and I put Joe under the hand dryer.

Enjoy life!  It will all be over soon!

Really miss my mom these days...

So many things have been happening that she would be thrilled about.  When I look at my niece, Sarah, and see how much she looks like her at that same age and how she, too, was in nursing school... it is heart-wrenching to think she is not here to see that.  None of her children had the slightest interest in going into that field, the sight of blood sending us all over the edge.

Sarah, I like to think she is watching.

I found four pennies the day before yesterday, and I like to think it is her letting me know.  Why would there be one right there, where I was washing my car, as I thought of her and how my tears were mixing with the car wash water?  Why was there one right there, heads up, on my doorstep, right in the middle where I would not miss it, as I bumbled back inside afterwards?  Then two more - the very same day?

I like to think it is her.  There is nothing like a good mom. Nothing. No one will ever love you more.

It came in today!

The Double Agent...

Come on, waves!!

New board on the way...

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June 3rd... do not forget this day

Everything changed today, thanks to Tropical Storm Arthur... and to Andy for deciding we should ride out bikes down to the point today.

It would have been far easier to just park at 8th street and paddle out.  There was a decent sandbar there, breaking harder than the pier was. Mark had primed me for the swell dropping overnight with a dawn patrol report.  He was sorely disappointed, but part of me could just not believe it.  There was a tropical storm just off our coast, blowing at 70 mph, and although not in the optimal position to give us the best possible swell... it was certainly producing something somewhere. After a brutal stretch of nothing, I was going to find it.

So, then Andy texted the word. "Point?"

I didn't have to be to work until 11, but if he had the whole day off, I did not want to be the anchor pulling him in to shore when the waves were going off. You see, I had to ride with him because I have yet to put my bike rack on my car. A bike is key for the point, or you are just not going. There is Andy's jet ski, but that is an ordeal.  He was up for picking me up and going... Damn! Let's go!

And we were rewarded with one of the best days ever.  Compared to the pier and everywhere else I looked, the point was a heaving tubular miracle for me after a month of nothing.  There were two waves that stood out, that I must not forget.  The left that ran aground shortly after I paddled out was one.  A long wall, one of the bigger ones for sure, just heaved up and, after waiting so long for real waves, I was not going to let it slide by without me.  I paddled hard and realized soon enough it might be a mistake, the ledge was already pitching with me engaged in the lip.  Too bad!  I am going!  And I did, just slid into it and dropped into the pit, vertical and churning and... BOOM, I made it!  Right in the pocket I was, flabbergasted at my luck as I slid into the tubing wall that rolled into a ball of foam that I popped out of eventually on down the line, hooting like an idiot.  What in the hell was that?  Andy was smiling, had seen the take off, and confirmed the treachery I had felt.

I watched Andy get wave after wave today on that tater and swear he gets better every damn day. What fun we had!

The best one came near the end, with Walter there, riding his new dominator imitator and looking like he had shaved ten years off his age.  A big wedging thing, it was.  Glassy, groomed to perfection by a perfect west wind... sucking off the shallow sandbar, the wall bigger than most all morning, just bloody perfect, rising up, and Andy yelled: GO!

I paddled into it, knowing it was going to be a good one.  The wall had that taper, steep and long, but with enough forgiveness that begged to have its face etched just so.  I was standing up, looking at the line and stepped back on the tail so the nose lifted up just enough to put me right into the barrel, looking out and grinning from that happiness that only this moment can bring, the moment where it all comes together and you just know there is nothing better on the entire planet, no drug that could compare.

Is that you? Yeah, you.

Dropping Joe off for his Tae Kwon Do class yesterday afternoon, I walked into that gym-smelly place, smiling as Joe showed me the punching bag. I told Abby to pretend it was her brother, Ben, and she slammed her fist right into its middle. Nice.

I walked into the main room where some little kids were already practicing their moves, little tikes all focused and looking bad ass.  I noticed a man sitting with what looked like his daughter.  He stared at me when I walked in, like he wanted to say something, like he recognized me, and I backed away back into the room I had just emerged from, instinctively.  I didn't recognize him, and sensed I was in for some more feeling bad stuff. I emerged once again, after I had finished pretending to forget something, and he was still staring, smiling, and said, "Diane?"

"No," I said, "I must have a twin because this happens a lot." He said, "You surf, right?" And I smiled. "Yep". He looked at his daughter and said, "She is one of the best surfers you will ever see!" His daughter, about thirteen, looked up at me, but it wasn't with that look of: RIGHT, DAD!  It was more of a look like she believed him, for some reason.

He apologized for getting my name wrong and I told him it was Nancy, and said he knew Dave from the surf shop, and for whatever reason, after his divorce, realized he could remember guys names, but never their wives or girlfriends.

He began recalling an epic day at Tenth St.  saying we were the only ones out on a really good tubing day and how he recalled I kept getting barrel after barrel, how it was so early that the tubes were pitch black, and he had never forgotten that day. I felt pretty sickened that I could not.

It was an unexpected gift on a day that I was feeling aggravated, from the lack of surf and the overwhelming responsibility and test of my patience as a nanny to four kids in summertime.

His smile that was so genuine and was a connection to all that that is surfing and goodness and what I need in my life that has gone missing for too long.  Tropical Storm Arthur has formed just off our coast, and continues to frustrate with its proximity, causing the wind to be so strong you can't surf unless you want to be blown south to Ormond Beach in fifteen minutes.

Oh, July, please bring something better than June has given us.  Please?

More cat art, then.

Okay, we get a storm off the coast, finally

And all we get is junky chop!  This has to be the worst summer ever, right?  Time for more cat art.

Let the regrets begin!

I should not have said some things I did on my old blog, "surfernancy." For that I am truly sorry.  I shut down that old blog for reasons I won't go into specifically, it would bore anyone but me, but suffice it to say that part of me died with it. That could be a good thing. I just wanted a place to record my adventures and humorous attempts at survival with my pals, but, everyone who knows me well realizes I tripped and fell and said some things that I should not have said, and was asked to remove some things that led to erasing so much of that old blog that I decided to make it private. Time for a new blog.

Let the regrets begin!

Since my last post (the longest silence for me in my blog history), the waves also died.  The whole purpose of my old blog was to record the days of surfing, my passion for forty-five years.  Yes, I am OLD. And, yes, sometimes there are really good waves around here.  The waves here seemed to die with my blog, no surprise, it was early June.  June is probably the worst month for waves around here, with May as a close second.  Let's face it, this is not the place to be if you truly love surfing, unless you want to really savor memories and only get in the water now and then as you slowly lose your mind and whatever physical agility you possess (or think you do).

Since that last post, my cookie business has taken quite a delightful leap towards, dare I say it... success. If I had video footage of the many reactions at the different farmer's markets I have attended these last three months since Bluebird Cookie Company arrived... well, you would have thought I had paid people to react the way they have.

So. let's get on with this thing called life.  I am back, my dear beloved three faithful readers, recording things I hope you find some amusement in.  I have felt an odd disconnection from you these past few weeks.

Oh, a few last words to the ones who get in my way.