The ocean and I have this long standing relationship that started when I was a wee thing; I would try to stay standing and big blue would bash me along side the face. I ate a lot of sand. So, in Costa Rica, at what Coletter called a "leslie friendly beach," I watched the group of them dive under waves while I stood safe in knee deep water. And I ventured a bit further. And then I assumed "determined leslie face" and decided to dive under a wave. One came, I dove and.....pop. there I was up the other side without a care in the world. Victory! Elation! Yay! Determined shifting to beaming. I became a wave diving rebel. Up, down, up, down, lost the trunks that time, just flashed C and T, up, down and......
smack. A wave crashed into my head with loving, maternal affection. It was amazing, going under, that I didn't panic. Instead, I could hear a conversation I had with Vernon, him telling me that I just had to relax, really relax, and the wave would spin me out. And I did. And it did. Sputtering, I marveled. And beamed. With my newfound, timid respect for so much water, I felt moved to try surfing. Under the tutelage of Chocco, I rode my first waves. Holy crap. So much fun. So much soreness. Muscles I never even knew......but it was rad. And I would do it again in a heartbeat if San Francisco didn't have such creepy, wave-thrashy beaches. Ah well. Let's go south T, woot!
about to fall and losing my drawers! (tee hee)
Definitely falling.
Beaming.(fantastic photos a la Charlie)
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