Surf

There are times when I feel like our home is totally consumed with all things surfing.  Whether it's the surfboard rack that is slated for 3 boards, but always has at least 4 or 5 boards stacked ever so carefully, so as to prevent any bumps and bruises.

Or, the boards that somehow make it into the house, and call a particular corner their home. How did I come to have a surfboard corner in my house?

Or, the wetsuit that is very often found hanging in the bathroom, apparently drying under the heater because I'm told getting into a cold and damp wetsuit is an awful feeling.

Or, the countless stops by the local surf shop, just to look at what boards they have currently - but 45 minutes later I'm still standing and looking at boards, and all things surfing.

Or, the wax.  Wax!  I have love-hate relationship with this stuff.  It is often found stuck to the floor, embedded in a rug or melting on the porch.  I happen to also love watching Erik give tutorials to Ezra on how exactly you wax a surfboard.  Ezra loves it, and I do believe Erik loves it, too.

And, the sand.  It's an ever-present component of my life, and I've (reluctantly) come to love it.  Well, I don't love the sand itself, but  I do love the joy which surfing and beaching brings to our life, and therefore, I love sand.  It's in the car, on the patio, often on the floors, occasionally it even finds itself into the bed (how does it do that?) - and, always, always in Ezra's shoes.

It does not matter if its Summer, Winter, Spring or Fall - there will always be surfboards, wetsuits, towels, wax!, and sand in our day.