Life in surferland

I saw this guy's bike surfboard rack and thought it was so cool that I geeked out and asked him if I could take photos of it. He was cooperative and wanted to tell me all about it.

He said it's not just eco-friendly and economical - it has another advantage:

"If it's cold and you drive down to the beach, you get out and of the car and you're cold," he said. "And then if it's big [the waves] and you have to paddle out, you're all stiff and not warmed up.

"But if you ride your bike to the beach, even if it's cold, you're warm when you get here and you're ready to go surf!"

I don't surf but I love living near a great surf spot. Watching surfers is the best meditation ever. There's something so relaxing about watching them be so graceful and daring and even considerate as they weave in and out among each other on the crowded waves.

Surfers and surf culture help make this a great place to live, because surfers are usually in a good mood - if the waves are good. I think it's hard to be stressed after you have spent a couple hours working out while simultaneously doing something really, really fun.

I worry for the future

I got this spam comment:
Good brief and this enter helped me alot in my college assignement. Say thank you you on your information.

If this person is truly in college, God help us all.

And a gratuitous pic of two cute dogs riding in a truck:


Why no archives, Suebob? Why just one post on the first page?
All will be revealed soon. Sorry for the interruption of your service.

In which I find my people

I covered an awards luncheon today. I introduced myself to the people at the table beforehand so they knew a spy was in their midst.

Here's how it went down: first there was a speech.

Then there were awards.

Then there were thanks. Lots and lots and lots of thanks.

Then a representative of a local politician gave the awardees certificates.

Then another representative of a local politician gave the awardees certificates.

Then another representative of a local politician gave the awardees certificates.

The priest at the table with me, with whom I had swapped jokes earlier, turned to the rest of us and stage-whispered "HOW LONG CAN THIS GO ON?" with this great dumbfounded look on his face. Rolled his eyes.

Then another representative of a local politician gave the awardees certificates.

The priest did a dramatic throwing-up-of-hands.

Trying to control myself, I snorted. Out loud.

Tried not to laugh. Shook with laughter.

The priest caught on to my mirth. Enjoyed my discomfort. His mouth twitched up at the corners.

I wiped my eyes.

I am totally gonna sit with him next year.