Due to a set of very unusual circumstances, I found myself with 4 hours of sanity today.  It was a preview to how my days will be once I win the lottery this year, except of course in the parking lot will be a Porsche 911 Turbo instead of a Saturn Vue.  I found myself being very grateful for something that should be a given, not an extraordinary exception.  Such are the ill things one is often trapped into when living in the world of Men.

There is absolutely nothing I like greater than traveling to some place I have never been before and having that feeling of discovery.  It used to happen often in my early years of living abroad, but much less so the past few years.

Nevertheless, I found myself behind the wheel on a brilliant Florida sunshine day, crisp not yet spring air, with Kiki sniffing out the window as is her greatest traveling thrill.  I saw on a map the night before a place called Crystal River Preserve State Park.  This is the place I headed for expecting a formal state park with ranger station, info board, pamphlet, but there was none of that.  Just two long winding roads leading to the coast, independently of each other.  I took the northernmost one first.

Stopped at what turned out to be a boat ramp surrounded by a nice, finite park with a t-shaped pier.  Saw several manatees swim by then gave veteran Florida travel advice to a very nice older British couple.  One of the other great things I like about travel is chewing the fat with people I meet out on the Road.  I hope they enjoy their time in my suggested destination of St. Augustine, after they visit Kennedy Space Center of course.

The grasslands Kiki and I ran free on reminded me of places I explored as a child in Cape Cod.  I was quite ecstatic to have been lead to this place.  Kiki being a lover of tall (for her) grass and new smells I believe was ecstatic as well.

The 4 hours of sanity continued thusly.  For a good 45 minutes of that time I just sat on the white sand beach (first photo) doing no-thing.  It really, really feels great to do no-thing.  Kiki did dig a few holes before calming down herself and lying in the sand with a nose that looked like it was dipped in sugar crystals.

It was a 4 hours I used all my senses.  A time my eyes almost never left the horizon . . .

It had been a long time since I was in Cape Coral at my mom’s for Thanksgiving, long as in since 2001.  The past few Thanksgivings were spent at the Pink Cow in Tokyo.  Before that I cannot remember.  Despite the time away I did try to revive some of the old customs, like playing football before dinner.  This year it was running around a baseball outfield wrestling with Kiki (above).

This was Aya’s first ever Thanksgiving in the U.S. and as seen above my mom started showing her how to make all the traditional Thanksgiving dishes.  With the pumpkin pies and stuffing already made, all that was left was to make the corn muffins.  Well, that and the tofurky!

As with all Thanksgiving dinners, the waiting is the hardest part.  Kiki took it particularly hard as it was also her very first Thanksgiving too and she had no idea how long the wait could be.

Finally, after 90-minutes in the vacant apartment next door’s oven, the tofurky was ready to be carved!  I had long heard of tofurky, but never eaten one and was very stoked, though a little skeptical it would be enough for me as its size did not look that large.  I was dead wrong.

The tofurky provided three full meals of satisfied sustenance for Aya and I.  It was totally delicious too.  Absolutely no reason for millions of turkey birds to be murdered anymore.  It’s an outdated ritual that’s time has past.

We closed the holiday by driving out to Pine Island and watching the sunset.  I made this family portrait using the self-timer on my Nikon D300.  This Thanksgiving was much smaller than those of my youth where extended family gathered together, but it was still a very pleasant and stomach filling one.

My 22nd season of skimboarding began and ended in 7 days.  True, I have been on my skimboard many times in 2009, but those were not skimboarding sessions.  This may seem unfathomable as one of the main reasons I moved back to Florida was to once again skimboard on my beloved Sunset Beach, the place I love most in the world.  This is testament to the challenges returning to the U.S. after a 9-year sojourn have inflicted upon me.

It does pain me to think I had only two skimboarding sessions all of 2009.  Yet I sit at my desk now in fulfillment, for this late afternoon I had a skimboarding session like I have not had this decade.  Last Wednesday’s first official skimboarding session was marred with way too many people on what is normally a deserted Sunset Beach, as well as a number of other factors.

However, this Wednesday was glorious:  deserted beach, sunshine, and waves!  I can count the number of times on one hand that I have seen waves the size at Sunset Beach today–a steady flow of 3 to 4 footers.  This may sound small, but for the west coast of Florida, they are huge.

I could already sense driving to the beach that I would have a powerful skimming session, and indeed I did.  I knew ahead of time I would skim today like my life depended on it.  And I did.

I strode across the length of Sunset Beach toward my rightful strip of it.  I could feel the power of the large waves rolling in, and I quickly went through my stretches and grabbed my faithful Sander skimboard.  It was not hot today, and the Gulf of Mexico is cooling, yet I donned no wetsuit, wearing only my faithful Tavaru surf shorts.  I was never cold, for the warmth of excitement came over me right away.

So dominant were my skimboarding skills in the 90s, and so well did I know Sunset Beach, that I never wiped out for years.  Yet, sometimes I would get a scrape from some hard sand contact.  I would feel proud though and think to myself, “if you aren’t bleeding, then you aren’t skimboarding hard enough.”

As I mentioned earlier, I set out today to skimboard as if my life depended on it.  Soon tearing down with the wind to the right, I had an unbalanced mount onto my board and dragged my right knee into the shells that lie just beneath the water’s edge.  Blood began streaming out.  I paused not.  Down to my ankle went the blood.  I felt proud.  I knew that I had already been skimming hard enough.

The photo of my knee was taken only at the end of my skimboarding session, some hour later, still bleeding out.

Two rides after I suffered my proud cut, I had my best ride of this decade.  I immediately called it in my mind, “The Golden Flair.”  The ride went thusly:  from high up on the shore bank, I leapt down toward a large wave coming in, a perfect mount onto wet sand started me at great speed, and then the crest of the wave loomed before me, the sun descending toward the horizon, and I pushed into a huge front-side flair sending a cascade of sea water over the setting sun glinting the water gold-sparkling to my eyes.  As my board turned back toward shore and I dismounted, I let out a “whoooo!”  I knew I just had had the best ride in a long, long time and that I had FINALLY officially returned to Florida.

No matter what disasters have come to pass in the past 9 months, I successfully returned to Florida because of that ride.  I came full circle and literally thought to myself, “I have now done enough in this lifetime.”  They certainly tried, but they could not stop me on this occasion from once again returning to my beloved Treasure Island and proving that the Sea and I are still capable of being in Harmony.

I had more good rides, but I knew I would have none better than the “Golden Flair.”  I did not need to.  I was at the spot I want my ashes spread when I finally pass from this lifetime.  I was at the spot that was my home for Saturday nights in the 90s.  I was with many sandpiper friends.  Some of them sat next to my stuff on the shore, others paced me along the outermost lip of the tide.

Then, as is my custom on my final ride, I ran as hard as I could, another fast front-side flair, and after dismounting I paused, looking thrice to the jetties, the waves, then the horizon.  I walked toward the shore, dipping my hand in the Sea for my final taste of it this year.

And that is how I concluded my skimboarding season for 2009.

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• all photos with an iPhone 3G
• music listened to:  Elliot Smith’s “Speed Trials,” “Punch And Judy,” “Angeles”

FULL RIDE STATS:

• Distance: 9.54 miles
• Time in motion: 34minutes 55 seconds
• Average speed: 16.7 mph
• Max speed: 22.0 mph

I have ridden my Trek 7.3FX around downtown St. Petersburg quite a few times already, but since adopting Kiki (who?) a few months ago my cycling has been put on hold.  I was greatly inspired once again by watching the Tour de France.  Now, I have discovered a new 3-lap area of sorts similar in length to the laps I rode many, many times around the imperial palace.  Quick thoughts about riding in Florida?  of course it’s hot, nice to have dedicated bike lanes, basically all roads are totally flat, at least one road cyclist is not elitist and friendly.

I have since refined and ritualized this ride in two subsequent rides.  I got my average speed up to a high of 18.2 mph, which I was proud of.  I only ride in front gear 3 and rear gear 7.  Only.  Even when I make my two U-turns I stay in 3-7 as a sign of not easing up at all.  Maybe I’ll consider dropping it down to 3-8 for stretches?

Of course my new full-time math teacher job is going to put a big dent in my immediate cycling time.  I’ll have to adjust to a whole new schedule again.  I want to soon ride on the Pinellas Trail too, one of the many cycling only roads that stretches for miles and miles.