Body Surfing
Can there be any better way to spend a day in Southern California than body surfing in the ocean? (Well, I suppose you could be working at Cedars-Sinai on a cure for cancer or sitting in a recording studio in West Hollywood composing the next heavy metal hit for Van Halen, but besides those…)
Mimi and I hit the beach yesterday for the third day in a row and I spent most of the time there in the water trying to untangle myself from the seaweed that clogged the sea near the shore and attempting to catch waves by swimming quickly and straightening out like a torpedo. I got lucky on a couple or three and rode them all the way into the sand, hooting and hollering as I did so.
It makes me incredibly happy to be in the ocean like that; I’m reminded of trips to the New Jersey shore we took as a family when I was a kid, when I would spend all day in the surf, only to lie in bed at night, crispy from the sun and the salt, still feeling the wave motion as I tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep. And I’m transported back to the summer of 1981, when along with my girlfriend at the time, Rita, and our two friends, Ken and Tina, I spent nearly every Saturday and Sunday on Will Rogers state beach, riding wave after wave and falling in love all over again with the briny surf.
(It was also at this time that I learned about the healing powers of the Pacific Ocean; nothing cures a hangover better than a full immersion in the deep blue sea—as long as you can avoid getting seasick as you bob up and down in the water.)
The other high point yesterday was seeing the kid ride her boogie board through the churning breakers; in her goggles and swim shirt, she looked hella tubular. Totally.
Hang ten, Moondoggy.
Mimi and I hit the beach yesterday for the third day in a row and I spent most of the time there in the water trying to untangle myself from the seaweed that clogged the sea near the shore and attempting to catch waves by swimming quickly and straightening out like a torpedo. I got lucky on a couple or three and rode them all the way into the sand, hooting and hollering as I did so.
It makes me incredibly happy to be in the ocean like that; I’m reminded of trips to the New Jersey shore we took as a family when I was a kid, when I would spend all day in the surf, only to lie in bed at night, crispy from the sun and the salt, still feeling the wave motion as I tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep. And I’m transported back to the summer of 1981, when along with my girlfriend at the time, Rita, and our two friends, Ken and Tina, I spent nearly every Saturday and Sunday on Will Rogers state beach, riding wave after wave and falling in love all over again with the briny surf.
(It was also at this time that I learned about the healing powers of the Pacific Ocean; nothing cures a hangover better than a full immersion in the deep blue sea—as long as you can avoid getting seasick as you bob up and down in the water.)
The other high point yesterday was seeing the kid ride her boogie board through the churning breakers; in her goggles and swim shirt, she looked hella tubular. Totally.
Hang ten, Moondoggy.
posted by Professor Dave at 9:14 AM
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