the Nine to Five Grind

On the up side I have a job, and I can begin paying off the debt to my parents I owe for a ridiculous number of parking tickets in Honolulu.
On the down side, I have been stuck indoors for WAY TOO LONG! I'm not cut-out for this behind-a-desk thing.
On the....(middle side?) the water has gotten colder, the wind has picked up and I'm going to Southern California this weekend! woo hoo!
Huntington Pier looks pretty sweet on the surf cams, I need some waves!!

Fork in the Road

The fog was beginning to roll into the bay, the wind blowing over the water creating chop that slapped against my epoxy longboard as I waited for the wave that would bring me to shore.

Local, middle aged men sat on the cement walkway on the shore, painted like a cave dwelling of hippies. The mens' legs dangeled over the side as they sipped beer.

Dogs sprinted up and down the beach, free from leashes and looking to play. rented soft tops scattered across the rocky shoreline.

I sat alone at "the patch," kicking my bootied feet in the cold water, tapping my sunburnt hands on my eight foot board. It was way easier to manuever on these small waves now that I took my side fins off, as some guy suggested I do last time I surfed.

I shipped my Bonga Perkins board from Honolulu when I moved back, I had gotten the board at Local Motion for my birthday and grew attached to green "Irie;" I was stunned that a guy had a replica of my board at this spot in the bay area, and a little irritated that he could turn with more grace than I.

I caught a small wave curling left, walked the board a little and dipped a bottom turn to hang five facing the wave. Bolinas is almost all lefts, I'm stoked to grab a right whenever I can.

I rode the wave in, stripped off my worn, wetsuit and headed inland. The roads back to town are all twisting, turning, bending and broken asphault roads, begging you to test the handling of your car. The view scenery is unbeatable, classic NorCal with rolling grassy hills reflecting in the creeks and every size, shape and color cow there is.

I was surprised to see a hitch-hiker at the fork of Bolinas and Stinson Beach, let alone an attractive hitch-hiker my age. I had been meaning to balance my karma after catching rides on the islands, this guy looked like good karma.

Medium built with tanned skin, he leaned into my car as I rolled down my window.

"Fairfield?" he asked. His head was shaved, face tanned and a hemp necklace.

"Santa Rosa," I told him, "I can take you like 15 minutes down the way."

"Sounds good," he tossed his backpack off his shoulder and climbed in. "Gary," he stuck out his hand.

"Jenna, nice to meet you, man" I could tell in his eyes he wasn't going to push me out of the car and take off with Duncan...(my car.)

I took a few hard turns and promised I wouldn't kill him. He laughed, apparently not fazed. (I'll admit I was a little disappointed.) He tells me he used to drive this old truck, his dog as copilot, and drove across the country drinking beers. Touche. (two-shay).

I noticed he had ink on his forearm. I did like, three, fast, glances before I realized it was the Hawaiian Islands. At this time I assumed we were meant for each other and would get married and have a house in both our favorite places and cruise with our dogs and surf the rest of our lives.

He went to high school in Poipu Shore, Kaua'i, the area my family and I used to rent a condo almost every year. He moved to the mainland after getting in trouble in Waikiki, which is not too hard after one-too-many mai tai's.

We chatted it up, taked about relationships and work, how much computers suck and reggae, photography and writing. His stop definately came too soon.

We shook hands again as he climbed out of the car where the roads fork to Petaluma and another 15 minutes of cows and hills.

I sped down the country road, dumb-struck of the irony of it all, meeting someone in the cows that I could have just as easily met in a bar in Waikiki, along the beach of flourescent tubes and tourists.