| dewy decimal |
2004-08-17 - 1:11 a.m.
Went fishing with Mom the other day, as my Dad took my cousins, Matthew and Nicole, out surfing with him. Matthew brought along one of his friends.
Watching Matt and his friend walking side by side with the surfboards that my Dad shaped was so cute. A pair of slight, akward sixteen year olds. Two leaderless sidekicks.
After Mom and I realized that there was no Oama in the water, we rested our whipping poles against the wall of Pahoehoe and spread our beach towels over the coarse sand. We watched the windsurfers drift across the ocean surface and as I wrapped up the last 5 chapters of Khaleed Hosseini's amazing novel, Kite Runner, I could not help but feel thrilled at the legions of windsurfers traversing the sparkled waters. A sea of kites.
I swear to you, I put on generous amounts of Sun Block and even nestled in the shade of the crawling, overhead Kiawe. Wish I had taken off my tank top, though. An even burn would be better than this redneck shit.
