Paddle Club

Today Maurizio and I went to the paddle club meeting. The club meets in the banquet room of a local restaurant – and bar. There seems to be a social half hour before things get started where everyone gets a beer or two and some food from the bar and settles in. Maurizio and I took a table near the rear, and we were joined by paddle girl. She was wearing retro-hightop basketball shoes, faded jeans and a green hoodie. I realized I had never seen her without a dry suit or paddle wear on. She actually has curves.

The meeting started with the recognition of several club members who had set club records or won competitions in the last month. This was followed by an update of their fundraising activities. Most of the members are 20 to 25, and in college. The club raises money to help send unemployed students to competitions that are out of state. Then they went into the upcoming paddling schedule - practices, pool time (to work on Eskimo rolls), outings and races. The coach got up and made a motivational speech, then it was mixer time.

Maurizio made the most of it. He was all over the 20-something hardbodies. He was flitting from group to group – mingling and getting phone numbers. There were about 60 people, but only 5 women. He was in his element. It is always amazing to watch him work a room. I’m in awe.

I went up to the bar to get a refill. A few of the guys followed me.

“So you’re the guy who’s been practicing with paddle-girl?”

“Uh, yeah, we’ve been pulling dawn patrol down in Santa Cruz.”

“Yeah, well.” He puffed his chest out a bit. “You know, paddle-girl has been through some rough times recently. And she doesn’t need any problems.”

“Yeah, she mentioned something about boyfriend stuff.”

The guys nodded. “Are you involved with someone, wife, girlfriend?”

Well, no – but you’re not really my type – I wanted to quip. Decided it was a bad idea. “I’m between attachments at the moment. But, don’t worry, I’m not going after her.” I chuckled, “she told me she was 17.” They laughed. “No worries.”

“We’d really hate for something bad to happen to her.” They never said it, but their meaning was clear, hurt paddle-girl – in any way - and we will break your ass.

Paddle girl has about 50 big brothers looking out for her. Good for her.

I went back to the table and sat down. One of the women came over to my table and sat down. “You’re new.” She observed. “I’m Debbie.”

“Hi, I’m Rich.”

She was friendly and chatty and seemed to like me. We talked for a while and I was beginning to think that maybe she was interested in me. And then she asked “that guy you came with…” Oh, I get it. She’s talking with me to get to Maurizio. Dammit.

I thought about stringing her on – sometimes it produces humorous results, but though better of it. “He’s a really nice guy, but I don’t think you’re his type.”

“Oh. What’s his type?” She said with interest.

“You see that guy in the leather jacket at the bar?” I nodded over at the guy Maurizio was chatting up. “he’s more his type.”

“But he’s a guy…” Her eyes grew wide “Oh. I didn’t know you two were…” She put a hand over her mouth – as if a tragedy occurred. “What a waste…” She looked back at him.

“No…” I was going to protest, but, oh, never mind, no point in denying at this point. Let her think what she wants to think. I sighed and nodded. “Girls often have that reaction to him.”

“Damn, the great looking ones are always gay. Are you two together?”

“No. We’re just friends. I’m…” again I was going to correct her impression of me, but she interrupted. Doesn’t matter – I’m not here to date.

“You know, I know this guy… you might really like him.”

Why do folks think this way about gays? I wanted to respond, I know this hetero guy, you two would really hit it off. You’d like each others plumbing. Why is it that people think that gays only need to find another gay to find a match? At this point I was a bit annoyed at her – so I said “I just got out of a bad relationship and… I’m kinda taking a break between guys. You know.”

“Me too. Guys can be so difficult.” Like if I were gay, I wouldn’t be a guy somehow.

“Oh I know. How come they just don’t ‘get it’?”

It was interesting. Debbie really became a different person, she let her guard down – and I suspect became herself. She wasn’t worried about me hitting on her, or about what kind of an impression she might make on me. She was a lot more relaxed and seemed to have more fun. No wonder girls really like gay guys. Maybe I’ll pull this ruse again someday. Anyway we talked until most folks had left.

Maurizio and I carpooled – he drove, so when he was ready to leave he came by and chatted with Debbie and then we headed out.

“Wow, I love this sport. I got 4 phone numbers!” Maurizio bragged once we were in his car.

“What sport is that, exactly?” I asked.

“Did you see Brad, the one in the leather jacket? He is HOT. God, I'd love to paddle to a deserted island with him.”

“I hate you.” I said. He knows that this is my jealousy of his ability to pick up 4 phone numbers in one evening.

“How about that Debbie? She’s cute.”

“Naw, she thinks I’m gay.”

“Huh?”

I explained our conversation. Maurizio though it was hilarious.

“What about paddle-girl? She seemed nice.”

“Some of the guys told me ‘hands-off’.”

“Well, that’s not very friendly – how come?”

“She’s coming off a bad relationship. They don’t want to see her get hurt again. Anyway she’s inappropriately young for me.”

“How old is she?”

“24.”

“Brad’s 23 – and I think I’m older than you. She sounds perfect to me. We could double.”

I laughed at him.

“You need to show me how to paddle. I guess I need to buy a boat. How does all that work?”

“You’re going to need a lot of stamina to keep up with Brad… “

“Yeah.” Maurizio replied. He was nodding and had a big smile on his face.

Perv.

Paddle girl and I will be doing the dawn patrol on Sunday. I missed it this week, due to disabling jet lag. And the club is having a “left over” pot luck on Friday on the beach – Maurizio insists on going. There’s no paddling and there will be drinking. Perfect for him.

Sunday Paddle

So today I did an early paddle in Santa Cruz – same as last week, and yup there she was, paddle girl (we’ll see if she needs a pseudonym for the blog). This time she wanted to go east, towards Aptos. And she wanted to go faster, and farther. It’s actually really nice to have someone to paddle with. I’ve been going solo for the past 8 months or so and that is both dangerous and stupid. Seems paddle girl has been doing the same for a shorter period of time. Except she trains during the week in the afternoons with a coach.

She was on the dock next to her boat doing some stretching exercises. Waiting for me? I pulled down my boat and dragged it over to the dock. “hey”

“Morning. Looks like a good day for a paddle.”

“Where you headed?”

“East, Aptos. Maybe 4 miles out.”

“Looks like a good breeze today, don’t you want a downwind return”

“Nope. I need a challenge. You coming?”

“Yeah. Can’t let you paddle alone.”

“Better stretch.”

I set up my boat and did some stretching exercises. Then we set off. The seas were getting pretty rough. She was in front of me heading out of the harbor where we go past some breakers. She got caught by a wave, and went over. “Oh, shit” I thought to myself. I pulled a few hard strokes to catch up to her so I could do a rescue, and she pops out of the water, in her boat, laughing. She executed a perfect Eskimo roll. If I went down like that I would need a rescue. Wow.

We did 8 miles in less than an hour and a half. It took everything I had to keep up with her. I am going to be a hurtin puppy for a few days.

Once we were back in the harbor she set a slow pace. We leisurely paddled back to the dock. Even with a cool down, I was still out of breath. We threw our boats up on the dock. I took off my dry top and lay down on the dock with my feet in the water. She sat down next to me. “You OK?”

“Yeah, fine, no problem” gasp, gasp.

“You’re a pretty good sport. I’m impressed you can keep up with me. I’ll go easy on you next time.”

I guess there’s going to be a next time. Looks like I have a new paddle buddy. “You know, when you spilled on the way out of the harbor I thought we were done.”

“Don’t know where that wave came from. But I got a bomb-proof roll. You think I’d go out in these conditions with out it? Can’t you roll?” Maybe she’s not as suicidal as I thought. If you have an expert Eskimo roll these conditions are not nearly as dangerous.

“In good conditions.” I replied

“Oh. I didn’t know. I’ll keep a better eye on you.”

OK, I’m humbled. This 17 year old school girl is a way better athlete than I am.

We sat there on the dock talking amiably for about 20 minutes. And then she said “He got me pregnant.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa, you are not telling me this. “I’m really sorry to hear that – but, you know, you should not be sharing this with a 30 something guy you met at a dock.”

“You seem pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I am, but this is getting into an inappropriate area.”

“So were you married?”

“No.”

“Commitment phobic?”

“I was engaged.”

“You got cold feet?”

“Nope - she did. 2 days before the wedding. She just disappeared.” I knew I shouldn’t go on, but it was so easy to talk to her. “We had the church booked, the reception paid for, flowers, non refundable plane tickets, the works, and she ran away.”

“Wow, that’s cold.”

“Yeah. I call her the runaway bride. Now I think all women are scum.”

“Hey!”

“But paddlers are cool. And you, next time, birth control. They have pills for that kind of thing.” I stood up. Damn, I’m not getting involved with a teenager. My life is f*cked up enough as it is.

“God, you sound like my mother.”

“Yeah, well your mother sounds pretty smart. And I’m your paddle buddy, not your relationship coach. You want to talk about boys pick on someone your own age. OK?”

She shook her head.

“Next Sunday?” She asked.

“I’ll be here.”

I'm sorry, Heidi

Yeah. I said it.

Over and over again. But I’m not sorry. I didn’t do anything wrong. I thought she needed to hear it. She probably did.

It didn’t make a difference.

I’ve spent the last week trying to balance mollifying Heidi and kicking off the next project at work. I’m tired.

Heidi is pissed – understandably so. So, she cut me off (sex wise) which is OK – I probably deserve that. I think we’re sort of falling into the classic definition of “we can still be friends” state – which means we can go out and spend my money, but I will never touch her body ever again.

I don’t know where we are. She comes over, but acts like she doesn’t want to be there. We’ll go out and I’ll get the silent treatment.

So Sunday I decided to ignore her. I woke up at 4 a.m. and my mind was racing the way it used to. Going over the Lynn break up over and over again. Wondering what I did wrong. What could I have said that would have made things come out differently. What did Tim have that I didn’t have? Why? Why? Why?

I thought I was past this. Probably comes from seeing her again.

Of course, when this happens, I know I need to roll out of bed and do something. Otherwise it will never stop and I’ll be depressed for a week. So tired and grumpy, I rolled out of bed. I decide to go paddling. I made a thermos of French roast and grabbed a few granola bars and some fruit and head out to the truck to load up the kayak. I usually paddle in the bay, but the sun wasn't yet up and wouldn’t be for a while, so I decided to go down to Santa Cruz. Dawn will breaking by the time I get there.

There’s a small dock in the yacht harbor near Aldo’s where folks launch their kayaks. There’s some kayak storage nearby, so occasionally I’ll see another paddler. I was surprised this morning, when at 5:30 someone was out on the dock setting up their boat. The streetlights were still on, it was fairly foggy out, but a dull gray light was starting to make its way through.

I pulled my boat down and hauled it down to the dock and said “hey” to the other paddler. I think I startled her.

“Morning” she says.

“Good day for a paddle”

“Yeah” she snorts. “Whatcha got there, a 16?”

“Yeah, good eye. Zoar sport. Plastic.” I nod at her boat “18?”

“18-5” she says with pride. “Glass” (fiberglass construction, she means) Show-off, I think to myself.

I almost quip “size doesn’t matter” but it seemed too flirty and well, with kayaks, size does matter. The longer the boat the faster you can go. Of course, fiberglass goes faster than plastic.

“Where you going?” I ask her.

“Up past the wharf, past the lighthouse, probably to bridges (beach park). Maybe 3 miles out.”

“Want to paddle together?” I ask.

“You should know, I’m only 17” she has her arms crossed.

Seriously, I was not trying to pick her up. I suddenly realize I’m more than twice her age. OMG, I’m getting damn old. “You look older.” She really does – 25 maybe. Her face is – weathered maybe.

“Yeah, I can get into bars without getting carded.” She smiled (I think for the first time)

“Anyway, there’s no age limit on paddle buddies. You shouldn’t paddle alone.”

“You sound like my mom.”

Feeling even more ancient “Yeah, well, your mom’s right. It’s rough out there and you should have a paddle buddy.” Frankly, under these conditions I was going to stay in the harbor. It’s too rough for me to go out solo.

“Well, I paddle fast. Are you up for a workout?”

“Sure, I think I’ll be able to keep up.” Old man that I am.

She was one hell of a paddler. She set out at a really fast pace and kept if for the whole paddle. We went six miles. Going west, we were against the wind and waves, it was hard and she kept a fast pace. Returning, she settled in between the crest of two waves and surfed back. It was easier, but still took a lot of effort. You have to paddle fast enough to keep up with the waves – but they do give you a bit of a push. The whole time we were too out of breath for small talk. We finished in just over an hour (OK, say Wow! here) My arms were burning as we pulled back into the dock.

“Wow, you’re quite a paddler” I said through gasps for breath.

“Thanks, I’m surprised you could keep up.” old man - I suspect she was thinking this, but was kind enough to leave it off.

At least she was seriously out of breath, too.

“Are you training for the Olympics or something?”

“Or something…” she replied. She pulled off her paddle jacket – her fleece layer was wet with sweat and she was literally steaming in the cold air.

“What the hell are you doing going out in conditions like this solo?” I asked still gasping. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

She looked off toward the surf “No one cares if I live or die.”

“You’re got your whole life ahead of you” but then I remembered writing those same words in my blog. “bad break-up?” I asked. Or was it just suicidal teenaged angst.

She swung her head towards me, surprised. From the expression on her face I knew I was right. Oh, man, how bad can a break-up be at 17? “Yeah.” she admitted.

“And you paddle like hell to dull the pain.”

She nodded slowly “Yeah. It works for me.”

I reassured her that folks do care about her and do care if she lives or dies and that when she looks back on her life she’s going to wonder what all the fuss was about. I regurgitated much of what folks have been telling me – life coach stuff. Funny, I thoroughly believed that what I was saying to her applied to her – but not to me.

“So what are you doing out here so early in the morning?” she asked me.

I scoffed and shook my head “Bad break-up, can’t sleep, paddle like hell to dull the pain.”

“I thought you told me you had a girlfriend or something” I had mentioned Heidi.

I gave her a scowl, “It’s complicated.”

“It always is” she replied. Damn, she’s wise beyond her years.

“Help me with my boat?” I asked. My arms were burning and there was no way I could lift it onto the truck by myself.

She shook her head. “You use your arms too much, you need to get your power from your torso. Here…” she grabbed her paddle and demonstrated a proper forward stroke. “As you come around you’re pulling with your shoulder. Like this. You’ll never get decent speed like that.” She tried to show me where I was doing it wrong. She’s had some serious coaching.

“Got anything left in that thermos?” She asked after helping me load my boat onto my truck.

“You drink coffee?”

“Yeah”

“It’ll stunt your growth.”

“It will not,” she said as I poured her some coffee. “I stopped growing years ago.”

After she gulped down some coffee I helped her load her boat onto a 20 year old Subaru and watched her drive away.

Embarassed

Sunday afternoon I was out paddling in the Santa Cruz yacht harbor - warming up to go out on the bay. (And working off the hangover that was induced by Heidi's father.) I noticed this cute blonde dressed in a tiny tank top and an even tinier turquoise bikini bottom. She was in a laser. She was rigging her sails, making her way out of the harbor. She looked up and saw me. I smiled at her. I puffed out my chest and picked up my pace a bit. I really try to be an intelligent man of the new millennium - but like a cave man, I needed to show off my muscle power. Why do I do that? Gotta be a hormonal problem.

Anyway, I couldn't take my eyes off her.

And then...

Crash!

I crashed into the dock, not a glancing blow. I plowed into it hard. If I had a fiberglass boat, I would have broken it. Fortunately I have a cheap plastic boat, and it just bounced off the dock. Everything intact, but my ego. But it made a huge noise. People turned to look. I'm pretty sure I turned beet red.

Sailor girl held her hand over her mouth and laughed, then shook her head. Then she went back to her rigging.

E-mail

Sent: Sat 5/31/2009 8:23 P.M.

From: Paul (paulxxxxxxxx@gmail.com)

To: Rich (richardwindsurfer@gmail.com)

Subject: Moved to Seattle

Rich,

I’ve moved to Seattle. Sorry I had to leave without saying anything. Things really weren’t working out with Kristen.

Thanks for the paddling lessons, and everything else. If you ever get up here give me a call, it’d be great to see you again and there’s a lot of great paddling in the area. My new cell is (xxx) xxx-xxxx.

- Paul

Missing in Action

On Saturday Paul and I were going to go paddling. It was looking like a really nice day – probably too hot for paddling. I started out early (well, early for Paul), to take advantage of the tides and keep things cool. I loaded up the truck at 8 a.m. with the drysuit, paddles, and boat. I took a thermos of French roast, some high calorie snacks, and a lunch. I slathered myself with SPF 30 and headed out.

I got to Kristen’s house at about 8:30. Paul was usually in the garage waiting for me, but today there was no sign of him. Now that I thought of it, Paul didn’t call the night before. He usually confirms the weather and tides a day before we go out. I just assumed that with the nice weather forecast there was no need to check.

I pulled into the driveway, then walked up to the door and knocked. Kristen opened the door and said curtly “Paul can’t come out and play today.” There was an anger in her voice that I hadn’t heard before. I was thinking of a cute response. What came to mind first was “has he been bad, are you going to spank him?” I immediately nixed it as inappropriate for someone I work with, and way too flirty. Before I could say anything, the door was slammed on my face. Well, I guess she wasn’t in the mood for chatting.

All dressed up with no where to go, I went down to Santa Cruz anyway. I warmed up in the yacht harbor, and then against my better judgment paddled out into Monterrey Bay solo. It was fairly calm and a nice day – the winds were light so I figured I’d be OK. I saw a couple of sea otters in a kelp bed – I wish I had had my camera with me.

After paddling for almost 3 hours I grabbed a couple of slices of pizza and a beer at the beachfront eatery near the crow’s nest. The pizza there is pretty bad, but I had already consumed all my snacks and my lunch. Paddling does have a significant calorie burn to it (300 – 500 calories an hour, I paddle fast so I’m probably at the upper end of the range). It’s probably part of the reason I have dropped so many pounds lately. But for the first time in a while I was really hungry for some high calorie/high fat food. When you’re hungry like that, even bad beach pizza is immensely satisfying.

It was about 3 in the afternoon and the sun was out and I was sitting at one of those cheap plastic tables outside of the pizza place. I was finishing my beer and watching the pretty girls play volleyball on the beach. I tried to call Paul on his cell phone and just got his voice mail. I called my buddy Steve and filled him in on what he was missing – turns out it was a beautiful day in the Pacific Northwest as well. He was out running near Green Lake enjoying the great outdoors as well. I thanked him again for the party. Then gave him a brief play by play of the game in front of me – mostly just to describe the bikinis. He responded with “Ho man, I gotta get down there – no bikinis up here.”

I hung out on the beach until sunset.

I think I’ll start looking for a place in Santa Cruz. The commute will be a bear – but this place is beautiful.

Paddling

On Sunday Paul and I went paddling in Capitola – a small town south of Santa Cruz. Paul took some training classes a couple of weeks ago in Seattle and has a new boat. His form is still pretty bad – he paddles with his arm muscles. Good paddling form uses the torso muscles for propulsion, and the arms to place the paddles in the water. It’s a pretty common mistake for a beginner to make. I decided to try to cure him of it using the same method that worked for me. I raced him 1 kilometer up the shoreline. He kept up with me pretty well. Then we raced back. His arms were dead so he had to use his torso. He went a lot slower, but he’s getting the hang of it.

Paul has to go kayaking with me. His car can’t carry his boat. He has one of those Nissan Z cars. I think you can get a roof rack for those, but I wouldn’t put more than a pair of skis on it. His boat is 17 feet long, I think his car is about 13. I'm sure Kristen will buy him a suitable ride soon, but for now I'm hauling his boat around on my truck

It was overcast, and cool on the water. We paddled about 13 K (8 miles) which is a pretty healthy workout. When working that hard for that long it’s nice to have the cool weather, especially since we are wearing dry tops – which are really good at trapping the heat in. After 2 hours on the water, we packed up and headed back to my place. We cleaned up the equipment and I showered and changed. I grabbed a jar of basil pesto that I made and bottle of Chianti and drove Paul back to Kristen’s house.

I’d throw in a few conversations that Paul and I had, but we seem to only talk about inconsequential things, the weather, paddling, travel. He doesn’t even talk about Kristen much, which is somewhat incongruent with his behavior around her. I would have expected him to gab incessantly about her. I’ve talked to him about Lynn a bit (just because she is always in my thoughts) but I never get more than a “hmm” or a “huh” in response. But most guys don’t talk to guys about relationships much – we are much more apt to discuss sex. But it would be weird to talk about sex with the boyfriend of a VP that I work with.

Once we got back to Kristen’s Paul put his gear in the garage and went to take a shower. I opened the Chianti and chatted with Kristen in the living room. Once Paul was cleaned up he got to work in the kitchen – he made a Caesar, a big pot of linguine, and reheated a good loaf of French bread.

He called out from the kitchen, “man, this pesto is awesome.” He came (almost running) into the living room “Rich, how did you make this?”

“Oh, the usual way.” I said coyly.

He squinted at me. “No, come on. There’s something else in here. This is really good.”

“Quick, serve it while it’s hot. I’ll give you the secret.”

Kristen oh-ed and ah-ed over it as well. Paul became adamant about getting the recipe for it. I eventually gave in and told him how to make it.

After dinner, we sat in the living room. Paul was lying down on the couch and quickly fell asleep. He put in a lot of effort today. Kristen and I finished a bottle of wine. I rehashed the story of Lynn and she told me stories about some of her former lovers, and a few tidbits about Paul.

I went easy on the wine, and switched to club soda long before the end of the evening – it just didn’t feel right to spend the night there.

I'm Hungry

It's a feeling I haven't felt in ages. Not just a gnawing in my gut, but salivating, anticipating - actually wanting to eat.

Sadly, it's probably more from this morning's huge calorie burn than from getting better - but maybe it's both.

This morning I was tossing and turning in my usual insomnia. I got up around 5 and made myself some coffee and had some fruit and a granola bar for breakfast. As is my usual custom these days I went for a paddle. I was aiming to go about 10 miles out on the bay. I don't know any other paddlers that want to get up at stupid o'clock in the morning, so I usually go solo on the weekdays.

About 7 miles into the workout, I was hit by a wave - and I was not paying attention, or I don't know what. But over I went - and I dropped my paddle. No paddle means no eskimo roll. I had to do what is called a "wet exit" - and swim for my paddle. Getting you boat righted when you have a paddle buddy takes a few minutes - when you're solo it takes a lot longer. I was in the water for about 1/2 an hour (gross!). It's been really hot in the bay area lately, so while I had a dry top on, I didn't have my usual winter insulation layers underneath. The water in the bay is near 50 degrees.

The 10 mile paddle burns about 1200 calories - the cold water likely drained another 1200. So, around lunch time - sitting in my cubicle - I was getting hungry. I started to drive for my local burger king - I have a real weakness for their double cheese burgers (guilty pleasure). And then I thought, this is first time in a couple of months that I'm going to really enjoy some food. Let's make it worth it. I headed for a restaurant called "Arcadia" in downtown San Jose. This place makes a kobe beef cheeseburger with white vermont cheddar that is to die for. And they serve it with duck fat fries - yes, potatoes deep fried in rendered duck fat. They are sooo good.

I had a great lunch, for the first time in a long time.

In other news, Kristen is trying to buy Paul a Cayenne - the Porsche SUV thing. Turns out that even in this down economy, there's a waiting list (a lot shorter than before) to buy them. I recommended a subaru - 4 wheel drive (the best kayaking sites are not at the end of paved roads), low roof height (you need to lift your kayak on top of it), easily cleaned inside (salt water does nasty things to leather seats) - and the hatch lifts up giving you a dry place to change in and out of your paddling clothes when its raining.

I'm off the Seattle for the weekend.

Santa Cruz

Sunday, Paul and I went kayaking in Santa Cruz. It was foggy until about noon, forcing us to stay in the yacht harbor. After the fog lifted, the sky remained gray and slightly overcast. But this is actually good, as the dry top is really hot – especially when you get moving. I don’t think the air temperature got over 55. Paul did pretty well, for a beginner. He did capsize once near the breakers on the way out of the harbor, but was able to right his boat and climb back in. He tried to roll, but the waves were a little high for him. There were gale warnings for the open ocean outside Monterrey bay, so the waves were pretty high, even though the winds were calm near shore.

After a couple of hours of paddling we drove back to his house, where we hosed off the kayaks and gear in the front yard. After everything was cleaned up, I went inside for a shower. Kristen had a bottle of chardonnay chilled and gave us each a glass and we sat in front of the fireplace and talked. It reminded me of when I used to go windsurfing with Jim.

It was late in the afternoon and I offered to make dinner. “You can cook?” Kristen asked incredulously.

“Well,” I said slowly, “I can heat things up.”

“No, let Paul cook.”

“No, I want to. How about Jambalaya?” I asked.

“Aagh. No way. There is no way that you can cook Jambalaya.” Kristen almost yelled at me and then laughed.

I ran down to the Safeway a couple of blocks away and picked up some Italian sausage, shrimp, and chicken breasts, along with some bell peppers, celery, and onions. Paul had the rest of the ingredients. I also got a 12 pack of Mirror Pond – a micro brew from Bend, Oregon. Really good beer, if you can get it in your neighborhood.

I make a pretty mean jambalaya. I was explaining the deglazing process to Paul as Kristen walked in the kitchen. “Oh my god” she exclaimed “two good looking men who know how to deglaze.” Paul kissed her and got her a beer. “This is great beer, Rich” she said.

This was the first time I had cooked anything more challenging than a cup of instant oatmeal since the ugliness. I used to like to cook a lot – in fact it was how I would cheer myself up when I was feeling down. It was nice to cook again – and have someone appreciate the effort.

Kristen loved the Jambalaya. Paul was taking careful notes – unobtrusively – as I cooked. I’m guessing that he will be able to make a pretty good batch on his own. He asked a lot of questions as I was making it. Paul told me more about his trip to Vancouver Island. “So where is your dream trip?” he asked me.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to windsurf the British Virgin Islands.”

“Not paddle them?”

“A paddling trip would be to Puget sound, Vancouver Island, or the coast of Norway. For windsurfing, you want and need a place with warm tradewinds.”

“What about Oregon? The Columbia gorge?”

“Too cold. And the winds are too fierce there. I’m a Hawaii boy.”

“So when are you going to the Virgin Islands?” Kristen asked.

“No plans. You know, the new job and all.”

“Oh, [the CEO] will let you go. Just tell him it’s for windsurfing. He’ll understand.”

“Yeah, right. I was planning a trip with Lynn, but that didn’t pan out.”

“Go anyway.” She said. “Find a girl at the mall and tell her you can make Jambalaya and ask her to go with you.”

“I wish it was that easy.”

“Rich, you won’t get many ‘no’s.”

“It wouldn’t be the trip I want.”

At the end of the night, we had killed the 12 pack and a couple of bottles of wine. I asked for a place to sleep it off and was offered the guest bedroom. It was not made up. I guess Kristen does not get many impromptu overnight visitors. Paul efficiently prepared the room.

I slept pretty well.

Delivery Service

Yesterday, Kristen and I snuck out of work for a long lunch. I drove Kristen up to Oakland and we picked up the kayak that she bought for Paul. You make a lot of friends when you have a truck. The kayak she bought him is really nice. She also bought all accessories to go with it. Spray skirt, paddles, pump, dry suit, dry bags, PFD – everything that Paul will need for his new hobby.

I took the boat and all the gear back to her house and unloaded it in her garage. His new boat weighs only 34 pounds. My kayak is 58 pounds, and 3 feet shorter – heavy, short boats go slower, you need to push more water out of the way. I get a better work-out (yeah, that's one way to look at it).

Neither Paul nor Kristen has a car that can carry a 17 foot long boat - this is going to be a problem for him if he's going to anything with the boat other than stare at it in the garage. He has one of those little nissan Z cars, and she has a convertible. But I agreed to take Paul and his boat down to Santa Cruz tomorrow. I have been paddling solo a lot recently (which is a piss poor idea) - it will be nice to have a paddle buddy for a change.

Crustaceans

I went to a dinner party at my new friend Kristen's house on Saturday night. Kristen has a nice house in San Jose. It is an older ranch home on a large lot close to the center of town. The place is impeccably furnished and very stylish – well, what else would one expect?

Kristen came to the door and let me in. I handed her the two bottles of a Pinot Grigio that I had brought. A wonderful crisp but slightly fruity wine that I thought would pair well with the Lobster. “Wow” she exclaimed. “You certainly cleaned up well. This is a whole new look for you.”

“Thanks.” I said. I realized that she had not seen me since the makeover.

“Who did your make-over?” She asked. Do I really look that different?

I blushed a bit. “Well, I was reading a copy of GQ this afternoon…”

“Aahh, an engineer that reads GQ, I don’t believe it” she interrupted.

“OK, you caught me. The wardrobe is by Maurizio and the hair by Ricardo of San Francisco.”

“Who are they? Never mind. You look great. I’m impressed that you even know what GQ is.” That’s twice I impressed her. Hmmm. I’m hoping that it’s not that she’s easily impressed.

She introduced me to Paul, her significant other, as her lover. I don’t believe that anyone has ever been introduced to me as a lover before. Then I was introduced to the partners of the other folks.

We started with cocktails, well, flutes of champagne in the living room. She had a fire going in the fireplace.

“So what do you do for fun, Rich?” Kristen asked.

“I’ve been doing a lot of kayaking lately.”

“Yeah, where do you go?” Paul asked, perking up.

“Usually out on the bay during the week. Santa Cruz or Aptos on the weekends.”

“You have a boat, wetsuit and everything?”

“I have a dry-top and wetsuit pants. And yes I have boat – a Necky Sea Kayak.”

“Who do you go out with?”

“Lately, by myself.”

“Isn’t that dangerous. Shouldn’t you have a buddy?”

“Yeah, I should. I’ve been going before work and I don’t know anyone who gets up that early. I try to go just before high tide, that way I get washed up on the beach if I get tired. I keep all the appropriate safety and signaling gear that I need. I keep the cell phone in a dry bag attached to the PFD. There’s pretty good coverage over the whole bay.”

“Paul is going on a kayaking trip this summer on the west coast of Vancouver Island.” Kristen added.

“Oh, wow. I’d love to do that.”

“It’s this organized tour. We’ll be paddling through Calyoquot Sound” Paul said.

“What kind of boat do you have?” I asked.

“Oh, I don’t have one, yet.”

“You’ll need to get in shape for an expedition like that.”

“Yeah. I’m going up to Seattle on Monday – spring break - to do some training in Puget Sound with the outfitter that I’m going with.”

“You get spring break?”

It turns out that Paul is an art teacher, part time, at a community college. Nice work if you can get it. The pays probably not that great, but he seems to have solved that problem, too.

Paul showed me his garden out back. He grows herbs, tomatoes, and other vegetables. Just the hardy herbs are in now, and he used some for the dinner. I keep the same kind of garden at my house – but mostly in pots, since I can’t dig up the yard in the rental house. I grow the things that are hard to find at the grocery stores – like good tomatoes, and fresh basil.

Paul and I agreed to go paddling together on the weekends. We can rent him a boat and accessories in Santa Cruz.

Dinner was an exquisite affair. Kristen not only did a great job with the food, but the presentation was stunning as well. Every course came on a different set of plates, each specifically paired to match the food in terms of shape, color, and contrast. The lighting in the dining room was perfect – a dimly lit room with spotlights on the place settings. This was right out of architectural digest. Despite having 2 nerd couples and myself, Kristen kept the conversation lively and engaging all night.

For the main course, we went to the kitchen and picked out our lobsters – which had been freed from their Styrofoam travel crates and were crawling around on the counters amid bits of seaweed fresh from Boston. We dispatched them in one of two huge pots of boiling water on the stove. The lobster was amongst the best that I have had, and the sauces were wonderful.

Unlike one of Greg’s parties, there were no waiters or caterers to help – it was just Kristen and her lover, who was quite supportive and very attentive – but somehow subservient.

I’m quite sure that he makes her happy.

Life as a county music song

On Saturday afternoon I grabbed my kayak and headed for the bay (San Francisco Bay). The bay is not a great place for kayaking – it smells and it's choppy when there is any wind and there is a fierce current when the tides go in and out. I didn't have a paddling partner. One really should not kayak alone, but I was not really worried about my life. If I die, so what? There was a low tide at about 4:00 – I paddled from 3:30 to about 5:30. If I got exhausted, the tide would carry me toward shore. I went nearly 16 kilometers in that time. An average speed of 8.5 KPH – which is pretty good on my slow boat (necky zoar sport), especially since I haven’t been out in a while. Really, I over did it. I was paddling angry. Nothing like working the frustrations out on the water.

Exhausting myself, I was able to get a little bit of sleep Saturday night – but mostly I tossed and turned and thought about what was going on in a small apartment in Los Gatos. I’ve been dumped before, but it’s never been like this. This really hurts.

On Sunday I woke up with every muscle in my upper body aching. I went into the office and poured myself into my work. It’s another good way to dull the pain without abusing my body. There were several people there the whole time I was. I went home late, about 8:00 p.m.

I called my mom that evening. I had been ignoring the family for a while – too much going on in my life.

It turns out – and I am not making this up, life is worse than fiction – my dog died last week. Well, not any pet that I have now, my folks bought him when I was in high school. For a while he was my dog. OK, he was old, in his late teens. Somehow in all this misery that has been heaped upon me, this put me over. I went out to the deck and sat and cried my eyes out in the cold. I skipped dinner.

I am living in hell – worse, in a bad country western song. I lost my job, my girl, my best friend, my drinking buddy. And my dog died.

One more thing – the warranty on my truck just expired. I'm sure the transmission will fall out tomorrow.

Paddling in Eureka

Had a tough night (see prior post). After party girl woke me up and left my room, I called down to the front desk and extended my stay another night. I'm on a road trip and staying at the Red Lion in Eureka. It was about 9:30 A.M. and I was dead tired and I was not about to get up, check out, and hit the road. I put out the do not disturb sign and went back to sleep until noon.

I found an all day breakfast restaurant and had a nice eggs benedict and fresh orange juice. I lingered over coffee and the newspaper. One of the best things about being on an unscheduled vacation is the opportunity to do nothing for a while.

Eureka sits on Humboldt bay. A great spot for both surfing and windsurfing. But the wind was virtually non-existent and the waves coming on off the pacific were sloppy and unsurfable. I didn’t bring along my kayak (darn, I knew I forgot to pack something) but I was able to rent one from Humboats for the afternoon. Got in a pretty good workout – paddled for a bit over 10 miles. I’ll probably go back tomorrow. I’m gonna go sit in the hot tub.