Hanging ten.

I went to a couch-surfing party today (my favorite kind of surfing), which featured a replay of the Half Moon Bay Mavericks surf competition and other incredible video of surfers. At one point I commented that I'd like to marry a surfer.

Despite interviews with the been-stoned-one-too-many-days-of-their-lives competitors, and a hilarious interview with a bleached blond "scientologist of surfing" (my own terminology - but it fits), I stand by my affirmation. How cool it would be, to be that engaged with someone who completely respects one of the vital elements and who lives his life to be a part of - and suffer through - and conquer - something so out of his own control.

That was way too many "be"s. Sorry. But really, it's much more interesting to me than being that engaged with a fire-eater, or a tornado-chaser, or a geologist.

Then again, it would probably be a lot like dating a musician, and lord knows that SUCKS. Hmm... Maybe I'll just learn to surf instead.