I was at Cox Bay again tonight. I didn't bother checking the surf... but I saw the right cars in the parking lot, so I suited up and went... besides which, I really didn't feel like driving all the way out to Long Beach to get harrassed by sea lions.
It was shoulder high and glassy... or at least it felt shoulder high and glassy. Basically, at this point, if I don't get the crap beaten out of me and manage to catch a few good rides, I'm having a super awesome time. I had a super awesome time... caught some excellent lefts (why don't I catch rights?)... and then effortlessly paddled back out to do it over and over again.
The surf has been good to me.
And now... July is over. I can't really believe it... but it really is... pretty soon, August 5th will roll around... and it will have been one full year since I officially stopped being an intelligence analyst. I guess if I were so inclined, I can now offer my services as a consultant.
In September, I'll become a grad student... and in November, I'll turn 30. Jesus. Time's wingèd chariot is about to run me right over. I have one more month of coasting before I start living like there just might be a chance I'll turn 60 one day. One more month of following the HSH... though I'm moving surf from fourth on the list to first.... because the first two are just for survival, and what is there to survive for if you're just getting by? I didn't think I'd feel this way... but the phrase "live to surf" has been making a whole lot of sense lately.
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