Sometimes the ocean loves you; embraces you. With minimal effort, you're
lifted and dropped right into the pocket. A quarter turn back to the face
is just enough to plane across fresh glass; picking up speed in a low crouch.
Maybe you rise lazily and ride it out through the wash, gentle smile across
your mouth. Maybe you keep it slow and low, enjoy the tempo.

Not today.

Head high and brutal, the ocean kicked my ass. With supreme effort just to keep
my head above water, I was lifted and thrown in the opposite direction of my
board. Shaking it off, determined to paddle out, she smacked me again. Right across
the mouth. "How do I taste, baby?" she seemed to say as I choked on the salt.
When I finally stumbled my way out and collapsed on the beach, I remembered to
breathe. I felt more than a little angry, more than a little stepped on. Doesn't
she know how much I love her?

I still do, baby. And I'll be back.

___
Maybe she knew I would be cutting it short to watch Game Three of the NBA Finals?
Go Pistons!