I love swedish pancakes.. Whenever I go to a pancake/breakfast establishment, I want to try something new... but those swedes just call to me and I can't say no. 

There aren't as many people to invite to breakfasts anymore now that they've graduated/moved away/moved onto the next part of life.  It's not a bad thing, but I do need a way of staying in touch with friends.  I suppose this could be a mid-2008 resolution.

The first conversation I had with my freshman year roommate was about surfing.  It made sense to girls from northern California: San Diego meant surfing.  More specifically it meant us learning how to surf.  The plan was to take lessons together... but plans have a funny way of staying plans.  Why didn't we ever do it?  There were obstacles.  It was scary, I didn't have a board, classes were expensive and held disgustingly early in the morning.  We never got around to it.  Despite our easy defeat, plenty of other people were able to overcome these difficulties, and the sight of some adventurous and determined soul headed toward the beach became quite commonplace.  I've seen people wearing wet suits trekking along Torrey Pines, people carrying a surfboard with one hand and still managing to ride a bike without killing themselves, people driving around with their boards sticking out of the sun roof/strapped to the top of their car. 

My roommates, friends, and coworkers surf.  Surfing is probably the second most popular activity around here other than drinking.  I live one block from the ocean (which is amazing, isn't it?).  I could borrow a board from people I knew.  All these factors combined with a newly curious and re-awakened spirit means I've finally taken up surfing. 

My mom's a little freaked out.  "Isn't it dangerous?" she asked me.  I didn't tell her that the other day a little boy got hit in the head with a surfboard.  Or that I got hit in the side by someone else's board.  But despite the beating and the bruises, the cloud of scary that I'd previously associated with surfing and deeper water has receded.  Clinging to my board, I'm no longer afraid when my feet don't touch the bottom.  I probably wouldn't ever go that far out with a board, but paddling out that far seems perfectly reasonable now.

According to Jimmy, I only need one more day of practice before I get it.  The water's gotten colder and rougher, but I'm getting better.  Even though I'm still getting used to the waves, even though I'm obviously not a real surfer if you watch me trying to stand up, I make a pretty convincing picture.  I carry my board up the beach.  I'm dripping wet, my hair is a tangled mess.  I look like I had a really good time in the water.