Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Friday, December 9, 2011
Biggest Wave Surfed
Today is the first day (in a long time) I gave Tom a hard time about going out surfing. He has been coming home from work with a numb foot and back pain that makes him have to hit the bed. He needs bedrest for these three days. He only agreed because the wind picked up. He'll probably go out tomorrow.
Anyway, here is to big waves as the best medicine for any pain.
Anyway, here is to big waves as the best medicine for any pain.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Monday, April 11, 2011
Happy Birthday, Tom
You are the brightest star in my universe. You never had to say that you would give me the sun; I just saw it in your eyes; I felt it in your heartbeat. You are a magnificiant being without even trying. No self help books; no real self reflection. You connect with your soul, although you are not sure you even have one. To worry about that is for another day, another transition. This life is for living; for loving. You test your fears and overcome them. This life on Earth is for overcoming these fears, for experiencing life, for feeling your passions. No, your not a hedonist. Your arms are fine with embracing just one. And, I am the fortunate one to be on this journey with you; to watch you grow from your 21 year old self to this 51 year old self. I honestly do not know where the time has gone. We live in one eternal momet, you and I. We journey joyfully. I celebrate the day you were born of this Earth. I am so glad you are here.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Twas the Night Before Christmas - One to Remember
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through our hut
Not a creature was stirring, not even our mutt;
The flip flops were hung by the palm tree with care,
In hopes that Surfer Santa soon would be there;
Our fuzzy n' feather children were nestled all... snug by our bed,
While visions of milk-bones, cat -nip n' rowdy-bush danced in their heads;
Brianne's in her 'nightie, and T with things on his mind,
Had just settled down for a long evenings da kine,
When out by the pool there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the slider I flew like a flash,
Tore open the sheers and remembered my bare ass.
The moon on the breast of the shimmering pool
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects, it was cool,
When, what to my wondering eyes was beyond words,
But a T&C surfboard, and eight pink birds,
With a little old surfer, so lively and tan,
I knew in a moment it must be the old man.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now,Jerry! Now, Taj! Now, Poncho and Ricky!
On, Bede! On Kai! On, Jordy and Miki!
To the top of the curl! To the top of the falls!
Now cut-back! Cut-back! Get us some air!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the board full of toys, and Surfer Santa too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the deck
Prancing and pawing and the occasional peck.
As I threw on a towel, and was turning around,
In the back slider, in Surfer Santa came with a bound.
He was dressed in his doggers, you could see he was no kook,
And his arms were all covered with tats, I couldn’t help but look;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were a bit rosy, from nips of the sherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the sand;
The pipe hanging from his mouth was grand,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a braddah for sure, that was no elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,Soon gave me to know I should have my ass back in bed;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
As he pulled tight the strings on his hoodie,
He reach over to pat Brianne’s boodie;
He sprang to his long board, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
Mele Kalikimaka to all, and to all a good-night
Not a creature was stirring, not even our mutt;
The flip flops were hung by the palm tree with care,
In hopes that Surfer Santa soon would be there;
Our fuzzy n' feather children were nestled all... snug by our bed,
While visions of milk-bones, cat -nip n' rowdy-bush danced in their heads;
Brianne's in her 'nightie, and T with things on his mind,
Had just settled down for a long evenings da kine,
When out by the pool there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the slider I flew like a flash,
Tore open the sheers and remembered my bare ass.
The moon on the breast of the shimmering pool
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects, it was cool,
When, what to my wondering eyes was beyond words,
But a T&C surfboard, and eight pink birds,
With a little old surfer, so lively and tan,
I knew in a moment it must be the old man.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now,Jerry! Now, Taj! Now, Poncho and Ricky!
On, Bede! On Kai! On, Jordy and Miki!
To the top of the curl! To the top of the falls!
Now cut-back! Cut-back! Get us some air!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the board full of toys, and Surfer Santa too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the deck
Prancing and pawing and the occasional peck.
As I threw on a towel, and was turning around,
In the back slider, in Surfer Santa came with a bound.
He was dressed in his doggers, you could see he was no kook,
And his arms were all covered with tats, I couldn’t help but look;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were a bit rosy, from nips of the sherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the sand;
The pipe hanging from his mouth was grand,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a braddah for sure, that was no elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,Soon gave me to know I should have my ass back in bed;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
As he pulled tight the strings on his hoodie,
He reach over to pat Brianne’s boodie;
He sprang to his long board, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
Mele Kalikimaka to all, and to all a good-night
Thanks to Surfdawg and Dawgsgirl for the poem. I replaced Tom and me in your guy's places. And, added a feather kid. After all, Santa needs to ride over to our place. Merry Holiday and thanks again for the fun!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Need a Lens
Artist's rendering. I didn't draw surf pictures in school. I didn't even need to say that I know. Maybe in January - a new lens. Recognize the Jerry Lopez stance?
Peace.
Brianne
Brianne
Saturday, December 25, 2010
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