This has been a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend and I am appropriately grateful for where I live and the people I live with.
After making pie crusts and an apple pie on Wednesday night, I put the pie punkins in the crock pot to cook overnight (BTW, whoever invented the Crock Pot should be knighted). On Thursday, after an early rise and some more meal prep, including turning that punkin into a couple of pies, we (the dog, the girls, Mark and I) loaded into the Xbox and headed to Pepperwood to the old bridge where we took our Thanksgiving picture about seven years ago. We had the late great 100-pound Grizz with us then and Mark wanted to recreate the photo with Vince in Grizz’s place. Nice walk, if a little short. Photos were taken. Lunch was eaten – a traditional Thanksgiving lunch of Ritz and Easy Cheese on the river bed. We returned home to the heavenly smell of turkey. Food prep was completed. Guests arrived with more food. Turkey was carved. Grace was said. Room was saved for dessert. Tryptophan coma to follow. Yesterday, the girls joined the hoards at o-dark-thirty for the Black Friday traditional storming of the stores. I, on the other hand, took advantage of a weekday off to comb the thrift stores which I don’t often get to do. I came home empty handed which seemed a little odd – I almost always find SOMETHING I can’t live without but I’ve been going through a purging mode of late so I suppose nothing looked important enough to bring back. Not a bad thing. I did find that the ridiculously early holiday decorations and news stories were getting me a bit stressed….How can I already feel behind and it’s just Thanksgiving?! I’ve had to prioritize lately, putting homework near the top and moving anything else that can wait down the list. Unfortunately, if I wait until the end of the semester to shop and get at Christmas cards, nothing will get out in time. So, I calmed myself by hitting a couple local stores for gifts which put me mentally “partially done”. Sounds silly but it worked.
Today, back at homework but managed to treat myself to a trip to the beach. I checked the magic seaweed website and it seemed as if seas were up. Cowabunga! I’m not a surfer but I do live vicariously. I grew up in Santa Cruz and, in days when drive-ins were just that, it was common for my mom and dad to take us to Foster Freeze to pick up burgers then we’d head out to Pleasure Point or Steamers in our baby blue 59 Fairlane to watch the surfers while we ate. There was always a pair of binoculars in the car so we could get in closer when the surf was good. I still find it one of my favorite pastimes. So, I headed up to Camel Rock. There was not a parking spot to be found, it was so crowded. That was a good sign. I drove up to Lufenholtz and managed to find a spot and walked back and down to the beach. Surfers were running out so as not to miss a single wave and the waves were awesome, at least to my eyes. Got some good pictures. There are times I would love to be out there….then I see someone go ass over tea kettles into the salt and remember body surfing as a teen and that sandblasted sinuses thing when you got tumbled. Nope…I’m good on the shore with my lens.
Oh, Hope did a beautiful job on our family Thanksgiving page so please check it out.
I could easily have been on a ship. The clang of the bell buoy rolling in the fat swell. The echoing of two fog horns, talking to each other from the spits at either side of the Channel. The surf hardly visible in the thick fog and only noticeable when it rumbled against the hull. In reality, it was just a walk on the north spit jetty and the water was thundering against the rocks underfoot. Slowly, the fog began melting away but not until after my walk.
I took the day off work and was pleased to see a zero-tide was due at a reasonable hour. I headed out to the Breakers and climbed down into the rocks that make up the jetty, checking out the lifeforms normally hidden under water. Squatting down to see under the bigger rocks, I could see the beautiful purple and orange sea stars gripping the rock along side the anemones, drooping down like gooey wet stalactites. 
I could hear the chattering of the barnacles, searching the salt air for food that wouldn't be theirs until the water, once again covered them and brought them dinner. See the tiny little crab scurrying around the barnacles? Little devil was no bigger than my thumbnail and obviously too shy to allow a good focus. 
The low tide and fat swell brought out a number of surfers, many of whom entered the water from the jetty to save their arms from the paddle out to the break. As always with the surf, you have to be in the right place at the right time or the ride just isn't yours. Luckily, a few were in the right place at exactly the right time. 
