A Mother of a Day
My Mother's Day was great. Why? Because I didn't do a damn thing. My goal was to take the day off (around the house). That's hard to do when you're home. But we didn't stay home. I did attempt a DP session only to find that the waves were already being affected by the ensuing high tide. Instead of simply going home, I waited. Hell, it was Mother's Day . . . and mother wanted to surf! I started out at the Pier at about 6 a.m. It didn't look too good so I moved north. The home break looked like surfing would be possible there later. Well, that left me with some time to kill. I'm neither a coffee drinker nor a breakfast eater; a run to Starbucks or some other coffee place was out of the question. What to do? I got in the car and headed north. I got as far as Malibu. There wasn't much to see there. About five people in the water. I thought about getting in anyway. Then I saw that sign on the beach that the County posts when the water is dirty (or at least questionable). Had there been a few waves, I could have played deaf, dumb and blind about the sign. When there's not much out there, I heed the warning on the sign. I did, however, wonder if one of the guys in the water was Patch. I eventually drove back down the coast to the home break. By the time I got back there, one person was in the water and a couple of others were in the parking lot. Eventually, about five of us decided to paddle out even though it was high tide.
All it takes is one good wave to make the session worthwhile. I got that one good wave, a left that was long enough that out of the corner of my eye I could see everyone in the lineup watching me head down the line. Most of the waves out there weren't serving up shoulders like the one I found. I'm going to consider that wave the ocean's Mother's Day present to me.
The rest of the day was great. I did take the day off. We ended up taking a Sunday drive with Soul Grandmother #1. We drove to Santa Monica for something. Then before we knew it, we were driving up Topanga, heading across the Valley, and then heading back through West L.A. My mom is a damn perceptive woman. Long before I became a mom, she made it clear she didn't want to go out to restaurants on Mother's Day. Too crowded. Too hectic. Well, as we drove back into L.A., she hypothesized that since it was early afternoon, there would be a lull in the crowd factor in restaurants. Since I trust her instincts, we went to one of our favorites. We got a space right out in the front and the place was damn near empty. Two Blood Orange Martinis (her) and two glasses of Chianti (me) later, we were the happiest mothers in L.A. And it didn't hurt that my little man spent most of the day telling me how wonderful I am. I think this was my best Mother's Day so far!