At that rate, I'd get to Glendale about 10pm, and then come back two hours later, having to contend with repairs on the 5. Nightmare. Screw it - I called, made my regrets, and went home. It was largely a waste of an evening, though I did hang out on the balcony with the neighborinos, which is a never-old novelty. In the morning I got up to go surfing with a couple of neighbors. We'd planned to hit Malibu or Zuma ...but true to aegon_vermhelo's prediction - the surf was utterly, entirely flat. How does he do that? He promised to teach me his secrets of surf prognostication. I may never learn to surf, but by golly, I'll know when it's worth trying!
So we walked down to the breakwater at Venice and got in the water. I wore my springsuit even though it was a summer day - there were heavy clouds and it was quite cool. The surf was pretty much as flat as a very flat thing indeed - but occasionally a set would roll through that was catcheable, even by a kook like me. I even managed to actually stand up, more than once. Okay, only for a glorious second or two - I need to concentrate on coming up to a low, Spider-man style stance instead of standing up straight with my feet together. Still! Once when I got up, and then pitched over, the wave caught me and rolled me over into a full somersault. I pinched my nose and covered my head, in case someone else was right behind me. No worries though - and I came up laughing.
I realized that the laugh that comes with noodling around in the surf like an otter is more loose and liquid than my normal laugh. There's no trace of irony, no hint of tension - it's just an honest laugh that comes straight from the heart, by way of the belly. Even a bad day surfing is a really good day.