This Memorial Day weekend, Peter and I took a day trip to Santa Cruz, where I took my second surfing lesson. But first, let’s back it up a bit and find out how this all started.
Like anything Peter puts his mind to, he goes for it 110 percent. For example, 8 years ago, the kid from Miami decided he was going to learn to snowboard. Now he’s “shredding double black diamonds” in Tahoe, every weekend through the winter.
Last year, despite never touching a surfboard for 30 years, he decided he was going to learn to surf. Suddenly our home turned into a surfer’s paradise. Peter and his new obsession passion somehow managed to acquire TWO surfboards in less than 3 days. We’ve got boards, wetsuits, magazines, videos, and all the etcs. If there was a “Wife of the Year” award, I should win it.
Like any good husband, he wanted to include me in his new endeavor. My first lesson was more comical than successful. I spent a lot of time battling waves and sea creatures – I was bit by a crab that wouldn’t let go of my foot. After two hours in the frigid Northern California waters, I thought, “Okay, maybe this sport isn’t my thing.”
As the months went by, Peter’s continued enthusiasm rubbed off on me, and I decided to give it a second try.