Tuesday, June 30, 2009

A piece of my weekend.

I suppose, if I'm being completely honest, I'd miss this if we moved.

Not that we're planning on moving anytime soon, but you know, the whole being able to hop on our bikes and ride down to the beach thing is a pretty strong reason to stay.

And where else would we be able to ride our bikes past rows of multi-million dollar houses and play which one should we buy today? 'Cause, you know, we totally have the millions. We just can't agree on the house. Yeah, that's it. We're just livin' the dream.

The Husband led me down to the wedge. (Or is it The Wedge? With caps?) Okay, I had to Google. (How sad is that? I LIVE HERE.) Here's the link in case you're interested. There's a video, too, and may I just say that those surfers are freaking nuts.

Actually, I thought The Wedge was a PLACE, but turns out it's a wave. Not really sure how that works, 'cause aren't all waves different? How do you go to a wave?

After seeing the video, I realize that these waves are really very tame, but the water was so beautiful. And the beach so peaceful, most people having chosen the more easily accessible areas. And by "easily accessible" I mean they wanted to be close to the bars. And I can't say I blame them.

We were out on our bikes for five hours. Five. And here's the big difference between The Husband and me. When we got home, the first thing I did was get in the shower and then immediately take a two-hour nap. Because FIVE HOURS.

The Husband's first order of business was to go jump in the pool. And then go meet up with "the guys" to play a little poker. He was out all day. Nonstop. Like the energizer bunny. After my nap, I was a total zombie. Well, not enough of one to prevent me from picking up J for a quick frozen yogurt trip, but still. I was exhausted.

And why can't I stop watching these birds? There's just something about them, the way they advance and retreat in their endless effort to find food. Or maybe that's just what they want us to think. Maybe they really are just dipping their toes in and running away again when they realize how freaking cold it is. Like children. (Or my husband.)

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