warm tins of meat

We didn’t have any 9:00 lessons today so I got to spend a bit of my morning out on the water. This free-time is bittersweet, as I have bills and rent and a credit card to pay off and right now I need work more than I need play time. I have three bucks in my Twin Cities account, twenty-five bucks in my wallet and some money in a new account I opened up out here (but can’t access yet, because I haven’t received my checks or cash card in the mail). The Dragon needs gas and I need beer.

This morning was cold. Windy, rainy and cold. The rain fell sideways and stung my skin like beads of mercury. I was the lone crazy windsurfer out in the Hook, practicing tacks and jibes on my Mistral Classic 285. After an hour my joints got so chilled that I couldn’t sail anymore, so I pulled it all into shore. While taking apart my rig my hands were two clumsy tins of potted meat, and the wind kept trying to throw my board off my car before I could get it strapped down.

I warmed up in my car for a bit, eating a peanut butter and honey sandwich and listening to the Postal Service. When the rain died down I stepped outside and talked with Brian for awhile. He was really excited about a new teaching style he was trying out this year, one that involved using muscle memory and experimentation more than instruction. He explained to me how it was incompatible with the jaded manner of instruction you sometimes find in the Gorge (or at ski resorts, or at colleges, or wherever). He appreciated that I was fresh to the scene, and said that I have a warm soul. I liked that.

On a side note, all you Woochers should get a kick out of this billboard, that I saw on my drive through Idaho.

On another side note, I just started listening to the band Snowpony a bit. They’re chamber poppish, like a heavier version of Matt Pond PA with a female vocalist.

PHWEE!