Jack Vance describes my Sandals. 5-5-06

Last Saturday, I had arranged to meet Chase at the cliffs at 6:00 a.m., and was running late. Mere blocks away from the beach, the sky was windless and placid. The flag atop the multi story Boeing building, a virtula barometer I observe en route to the surf, hung unruffled and inert.

However, upon my arival at the shoreline, I encountered a dim gray morning haunted by an unpleasent gale, under whose breath the surface of the water took on a texture of knobly tree bark.

I phoned my friend. He confirmed that the situation was ubiquitous, having himself driven from the northmost mouth of Bolsa Chica to the south side of the pier in quest of a more halcyon atmosphere.

I rambled my truck northward to the State Beach at Bolsa Chica, passing the attended gate into the vast and forsaken parking lot. Alighting, I gained the sand, removed myself the burden of my sandals to baptize my toes in the refreshing sand, and called Chase again. Abandoning our aspirations of surfing, we convered in some depth regarding several articles of theological distinction upon which Chase had recently argued. I started my truck and headed home.

Forty minutes later, arriving at my plesent suburban domicile, I realized my critical error: I had abondoned my footwear in the sand during my conversation with Chase. I tormented with the troublesome dilema: to return or not to return. After depositing my surfing gear in the garage, I marched into the house and inquired the opinion of my lovely wife. She, in the early dawn stupor in which her temperment is notoriously loathsome, bellowed a rebuttal that I should immidatly vacate the house and retrive the lost commodities.

Reconing that a rebound to the beach might avail another opportunity for surfing, I reloaded my board and suit into the vehicle and commenced the sustained commute back to the waterfront.

Upon my arrival, the wind was substantially reduced. I surfed for an hour and some minutes, catching three decent waves.

My wife, now awakened in an greatly improved coonstitution, wondered what took me so damn long.

Happy aniversary, my dearest. 5-5-2001 to 5-5-2006