What a Day

Wow, the weather this weekend was like something from a travel brochure. On top of that, we had waves that were not too big or too small and Dan and I got plenty of them. My Munoz board was back from ding-repair and made me remember why I need to really take care of it. I surfed until I could barely lift my arms and left for home, knowing that it could not get any better than that.
Sunday, I did chores and shopping, while my poor wife is trying to get over some kind of stomach flu. She lay there reading, and I could not stop smiling while working like crazy. Mowed the lawn without breaking a sweat, and I just did not want it to end. Was out in the yard until dark and still wasn't tired...what a difference temperature and humidity can make in my outlook.
The good news is that we have a week of this coming up!

The Pie On The Side Of The Road

It’s hard to imagine right now, sitting here at home, that only a few months ago, I would have given anything for a good, sweet pastry. There is something about going on vacation that sends our normal dietary habits away and sets free the spirit that wants all of the really good stuff that you usually tend to avoid.
Bakeries come to mind as the kind of place that I don’t spend much time in, but once on this vacation, that was the first place I was looking for in a new town. We landed in Portland, Maine and it wasn’t long before we found Two Fat Cats, an un-air-conditioned little old house in the shopping district of Old Port. Four very sweaty women were hard at work making dough and pastries and there was little doubt that what was for sale was made right there on the premises. I was already drooling before our turn at the counter came up, but I let the Missus do the talking because this place had the distinct appearance of a place that was by women, for women, and frequented by women. She got up to the counter, asking about freshness and instead of being insulted, the young woman offered samples. We bought way too much and a good portion of that never made it back to the car, but the one thing everyone wanted us to like was Woopee Pies. They never caught on with us and we could only hope that the guy that cleaned the rental car after we returned it, would appreciate our Woopee Pie tip.
The bar for bakery taste in New England was raised quite high by a chance stop on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. We were cruising down a steep hill, returning from an afternoon of testing the limits of our GPS, when the Missus spotted a small wooden stand on the side of the road with pies sitting on it. That and a small lockbox was all that was in sight. We saw a house a little ways away from the road, and thought we needed to stop. A cute young woman was carrying a pie up the driveway from the house and we decided that we had to have a couple of those pies. It turned out that the young woman and her husband were baking pies and running the business for her mother. Little did I know at the time that I was in for some of the best dessert I would have for a very long time...all because of a chance stop in the middle of Nowhere, Maine..

What Really Happened That Day

I sat there on my surfboard, gasping and feeling my heart race. The water was warm and a beautiful clear light green and off in the distance I could see the other surfers riding on the small glassy waves that morning. Suddenly, I could see the headlines in the local news; Surfer found dead, laying face-down in the water, still attached to his board with the leash. People would speculate about surfing alone, above your ability, or more generally about the idea that when your time is up, your time is up. They would scour my medical records for some history of heart disease, and many more would shake their heads, saying that he died doing what he loved best, but none of them would know what really happened.
I was really happy that morning, the waves were fun, the weather was perfect and we were surrounded by dolphins. In fact, I was seeing more at one time than I would usually see in a whole day. They ignored us and were going about their day fishing and jumping for fun it seemed like. Then a really young kid with a shock of bleach-blonde hair and a longboard big enough for a large man, yelled out to me, and all I hear was "....tea!" I was thinking the kid couldn't tell the difference between a dolphin and a shark and then I looked down into the water. Right below the surface a huge head was looking straight up at me, mere inches from my board. The body was huge and dark, and before my brain had a chance to process a single thought, my heart and lungs went into panic mode. It only lasted a few seconds until the word "Manatee" processed and I put my hand out to say hello, but the look right before that must have scared the manatee off, because he left much faster than I thought a manatee could swim...

The Long Weekend

Four hours getting there and it took all four of those hours for Pam and I to get rid of the workplace. Once we settled into the apartment overlooking Charlotte Harbor, the peace of Bokeelia came back. we kayaked, fished, read, and we went to fun places to eat. It wasn't long before I started imagining a life that was always like this, but before I knew it, we were on our way back home. The drive was unexpectedly easy, but the stress hit Pam almost the minute we walked in the front door. Twenty-four hours ago she was laughing as she reeled in her third mackerel, while I was trying to figure out how to catch just one, and now it's like we need another vacation.
I'm going to have to teach her how to keep that happy place in her head....

Better Than It Has To Be

Strange days have passed through me recently. Hurricane surfing with my crew and me riding head-high waves on my 10'6" Munoz. I would not have thought that possible a few years ago. Then I'm up on stage on a riser at the front at Northland, with stage nerves like I was a kid. My keys sounded great through my in-ear monitors, but that kind of setup was so stange I had trouble focusing. My son had to show me video of me being projected up on a big screen...glad I did not see that while I was playing!
The doctors and nurses signed off on me as good to go and kept complementing on my fitness. Time to quit worrying and start living I imagine. The good thing about this is that it made me stop and think about what is important, and I called my daughter and invited her on a trip with me to kayak south Florida.
I was thinking about what regrets I would have if I suddenly had to check out and then realized it was nothing but family.....

The Bommy Knocker (pt 2 of the Israli Who Would Not Lie)

I was lying in bed, unable to sleep, hearing creaks and the noise of the wind blowing. I kept telling myself that all that mattered was making sure that Pam escaped, no matter what happened to me. I was also wondering if he had already dispensed with Susan and Irvin and was making his way to our room. I put suitcases in front of the doors and was thinking that I might be strong enough to yank a part of the sink loose and use it for a weapon. It turned out that Pam was awake as well and it was then she suggested that I get the Bommy Knocker.
The Bommy Knocker was nothing more than a decent-sized rock, but it’s name does demand some sort of explanation: Pam is a kindergarten teacher and there is a children’s book that has a story about a giant that chases little children around with a weapon called a Bommy Knocker. Pam has had a small passion for collecting rocks from everywhere we travel and putting them in our rock garden at home. The trip had been great for rock collecting and she had gathered almost fifty pounds of rocks it seemed. One was large and fit into a fist of a hand. She dubbed it the Bommy Knocker and said that it would make an excellent weapon. The only problem now was that it was in the car and that was two flights of stairs away, and who knew where the caretaker was right now. I got up against my will and went as quietly as I could down the stairs in the dark, foggy night. I didn’t see any looming shadows and got into the back of the car and fumbled under the seat for the rock Pam wanted. There were so many and half of my attention was diverted to listening for the sound of footsteps and a voice saying “I won’t lie to you….”
There…I found the largest rock, backed up and closed the door as quietly as I could. I crept up the stairs, a few creaking noises, but nothing more and got back into the room unscathed. Pam was sitting up, staring at my hand with the rock. “That is NOT the Bommy Knocker!” she said, “Go back and get the right one.”

Things Get Very Interesting

In some truly Zen fashion, I'm am being taught another lesson. Or, the same one for the 100th time. Just as I feel that some things at work are just too much to take, other things happen in my life that derail the energy I wanted to put into anger and resentment.
One, out of the blue, I'm asked by a friend to fill in for his keyboard player for a gig at Northland Church, doing a kind of gig, I've never done ever. Playing music I've barely listened to. I'm practicing my butt off, listening to these songs around the clock and am determined to do my best. The band is happy and even have remarked that I'm doing more with the music than they normally expect. So what's the big deal? Northland is a megachurch with a band that is top notch. The first time I witnessed them, I remarked that I definitely belonged in the audience and not on stage with guys like that. Yet here I will be tonight, up on that stage...wasn't even on my bucket list!
Yes, bucket list, because while all of this is going on, my doctor is having me tested, telling me "don't worry" while I hear stuff to worry about and my brain starts playing, "What would you do if you only had 6 months to live?" Would I drop out and surf Hawaii until I can't get out of bed, or would I work until they carried me away in a stretcher?
I sure hope I pick the surf in Hawaii option....