I don't know if there's any research out there on the brain of a surfer, but seriously, it's like they can sense when and where the waves are. The forecast was calling for lousy weather today, so we made some plans to go to Marin and do some trail running along the cliffs so we could check out the waves crashing into them, which is super cool to watch. But, it turned out to be a sunny, gorgeous day. I swear to G.O.D that before he even opened his eyes this morning Ant was muttering shit like, "High tide at 8:48 a.m....swells from the south...storms are in the north...double overhead..." Seriously. How is it possible for him to know all that crap? I mean, ask him something important, like my birthday, favorite color/flower/anything, how to spell my last name for freak's sake, he's got no clue. But something like, "Hey Ant, what time was high tide at OB 3 Mondays ago?" and he's all, "Duuuude. 8:36. There were swells every 15 minutes. Duh!"

This morning we grabbed some coffee and walked down to the beach to check the surf, and it looked pretty good. Way better than yesterday, when it was huge and angry and we saw a surfer get sucked off by the tide and nearly get himself killed by being slammed into some huge rocks, and just as I was about to cry and say, "THERE'S NO F'ING WAY YOU'RE GOING NEAR THE WATER EVER AGAIN!! IT'S TOO DANGEROUS!!!! IMAGINE THAT POOR SURFER'S GIRLFRIEND GETTING A CALL ABOUT HIM BEING SMASHED TO DEATH AGAINST A CLIFF!!" Ant was like, "There's no way I'm getting in there today! It's way too big!" And I was all, "What?!? You call that big?!? Wimp." Oh, and the surfer ended up making it out of the water, but his board was busted up and I bet he's still pumping pure adrenaline through his veins and telling anyone who will listen about his near death experience.

Anyway, we were gone for, no kidding, 15 minutes at the most, and by the time we got back the house was FILLED with dirty surfers! How does that happen?!? It's like there's some sort of weird telepathic surf message they send to each other.

Ant got busy making everyone bfast, and the rest of the boys checked every online surf report they could find while chatting about wind and waves and storms and what size boards to take and which wetsuits to wear. It's like a whole other language, and the only part of it I understood was that there would be no trip to Marin for us today. I don't mind too much, though. It gives me a chance to sing and dance my way through the house to Seasons of Love, from the Rent soundtrack, which is not something I have the opportunity to do very often. Plus, Ant gets to use his brand-spankin'-new board, bought for him by the world's greatest girlfriend ever!