IF

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

'Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

--Rudyard Kipling

Picking the Perfect Female Pack

I got an email today from a girl that I went to high school with telling me that she stumbled across my blog and was wondering if I had any recommendations for a day pack for hiking.

I nearly melted with glee thinking that someone else asked my advice about gear.

Not to mention that, yes I DO in fact have a recommendation for the perfect female day pack. It's this one:

It's a Gregory from the Jade series. This one above is a 60 liter, but for day hiking you can likely get away with a 28 or a 38 liter. Bigger is better in my opinion, if only it means you can take it on longer trips if you choose.

So, since you're wondering:

1. No, Gregory did not sponsor me to write this post. I wish they did as I am so in love with all of their packs. I have a natural anterior pelvic tilt (or sway back, or I look like I'm sticking my butt out all the time. 87% of the time is unintentional) and Gregory's Jade series has a nice mound of cushioning for my little lower back pocket. The hip belts on the Jade series are also nice and thickly padded, making it a cinch to wear it around all day with 30 pounds worth of hiking boots and bathing suits while I was trekking around Southeast Asia.

2. No, I did not go to great research lengths to find this pack. I literally ordered it from Sierra Trading Post, got it in the mail, tried it on, shrugged and said "feels fine" and then proceeded to fall in love with it during the three months that I strapped it to my back every day. We had our moments, but bottom line is that this pack and I are meant for each other.

This is not to say that this is how you should go about pack shopping. I highly, highly recommend you go into the store and try on a few packs. Make sure the sales associate stuffs them with some weight so you know how they'll carry when you're hiking.

3. Am I this nerdy in real life? Yes. I hang all of my gear on my wall. My freakin' bedroom looks like EMS. It gets sort of embarrassing when boys have come into my room. I may have scared a few of them with my knowledge of MSR snowshoes and my incredible collection of packing cubes.

Yep. Definitely going to be single forever.

What is your favorite piece of gear?

How to Unsuccessfully Quit Your Job to Travel

Have I ever told you about the time that my boss wouldn't let me quit my job?

Last spring, I was in a serious funk. I was feeling that my current job situation was hopeless. I had been with the company for which I still work for almost 3 years at that point and I hadn't done anything of note. My friends had assistants, or were managing entire teams, and I still was getting the coffee. I was miserable. I remember waking up for work and feeling so utterly helpless because I felt it was a dead end for me. I could barely get an interview and I was nervous that if I made a lateral move, I'd be stuck in another unchallenging, entry-level job.

So, I started to read. I checked books out of the library about career change and working for yourself. I Google searched "long-term travel" and came up with a bounty of blogs to help me out. I started getting ideas in my head. I counted my pennies. I could quit, move out of my apartment and travel, if I was willing to live on street food and cheap hostels. I was and I did.

At that point, anything was better than ordering one more pot of coffee.

This isn't the story about how I decided to travel. It's about how I went about walking into my boss' office, a boss that, despite how I felt about not necessarily being challenged at all, I loved deeply and considered a close friend and amazing mentor, and told her that I was quitting.

It was harder than I thought it was going to be. And I wasn't exactly 100% successful.

After I did my research on Asia and booked my ticket, I knew that I at least had to give two weeks. While the nature of my job doesn't require me to give any more than two weeks, I was too scared to tell anyone prior to the actual two week departure date.

So, on a Monday, after I had come back from the July 4th holiday weekend and everyone was still a little bit giddy from copious barbeque consumption, I walked into my boss' office and shut the door.

"Uh oh." She eyed me. "Are you quitting?"

She knew. Closing the door to my boss' office is the international sign of "I'm quitting."

"I'm quitting. But it's not bad!" I hurried to justify it. As if quitting to travel was less embarrassing for her than quitting to work in a job that was actually challenging would be.

"I'm traveling. To Asia! And I want to do it slowly and I want to do it right. And so, um, that means I have to quit."

I held my breath and waited for her to pull out a little pink slip which meant I was terminated.

But she didn't. The corners of her mouth turned up and she congratulated me for figuring it out much earlier than she did. Because by the time she had decided to quit her job and mountain bike around Wyoming, Colorado, and California, she was staring down the barrel at thirty. She reconvinced me that this was the right decision to make.

"And I would never want to work for someone myself who didn't understand the inherent value in long-term, exotic travel."

After which I began to breathe again, and the color likely drained back into my face.

And after I hugged her and thanked her for being a terrific mentor and turning around to leave, she stopped me and asked how long I was planning on being gone.

"Well, I didn't really do a whole lot of preemptive saving so I think I have about enough to travel for three months or so."

To which she said, "Well, I think you'd be able to come back when you're done since that's just the start of busy season. It'd take me that long anyway to hire and train someone."

At that moment I wasn't sure. I was nervous for a lot of reasons: I thought that if I came back, I would never leave. I was afraid it wouldn't be any different than it is now. I was afraid that it would just be back to the same old grind, and like my travel hiatus abroad never happened.

But it was also a blessing because I knew I had a cushion. I knew I could go into debt learning how to ride a motorbike and climbing the red rock canyons of Pai, and take twelve-hour trains to Northern Thailand because I would have a comfy paycheck to come back to in the end. No more fretting about seemingly insurmountable debt.

So I said yes, that I would come back. And I was right. It was the same. I am still sort of bored and not terribly engaged. I get coffee. I feel emotionally detached from my job. It's everything I was afraid of.

But you know what? It comes with a paycheck. A rather large, confusing one, based on the amount of real work that I actually do, but a paycheck that allows me to live in my beautiful, tiny box of an apartment with some truly wonderful roommates. And shop at Trader Joe's. And then tuck the rest of it into my trusty, .3% return savings account.

Because I know that I can always get this job. Well, maybe not this exact job, but I can always get a job answering phones and solving mini-crises and planning the shit out of events and smiling pretty at busy clients. But I can't always lug a 30 lb. backpack full of bathing suits and hiking boots around on my back and dive with sharks in Honduras or learn to sail in Grenada.

And that's really what long-term travel has taught me:

There are so many more options out there than what we can even imagine by sitting at our desks and staring out the window. The best thing to do to figure them out is to go out into the world and see for yourself. If worse comes to worse, you can always, always come back.

Have you ever quit a job for something else that you love doing?

Weekly Link Love

I read an embarrassing amount of online content (never at work though...nope...never...).

It's actually almost to the point that my view is so skewed on what an actual-8-hour-workday looks like if it doesn't have 15-minute blog/CNN news/NYTimes breaks. I would like to do a time spent doing actual work vs. time spent reading non work material analysis but I know that if I do that, I will be horrified at my daily productivity. Let's sum it up to say that:

TSDAW < TSRNWM

(And hereafter ends everything that I have retained from 9th grade algebra.)
But why keep all of my blog reading to myself? Below are some of the best of the best that I've been reading this week:

I need a lot of help with life. Good thing Rachel Wilkerson dishes it out on the daily. Her life lessons include how much you actually like that guy you're dating, tricks for keeping organized and streamlined, and being really, really, really good at life.

Kate talks about how, though she's a feminist and super proud of being a woman, she doesn't really need to dress up in costume and parade through the streets shouting it out loud. I'm inclined to agree (mostly because I'm sort of shy and have a meek voice).

Not a blog, but, well, JULIE ANDREWS. This makes me want to get out a hoop skirt and parade around the copy room.



Kris Carr talks about how to live with cancer and still do it in a beautiful way.

I would be lying if I said that I haven't been asked a few of these questions myself.


All of this talk about career changes, I found this "Resume of Life" super-inspiring. What would go on your life resume?

Potential dream job?


Oh! Free Yoga? Don't mind if I do!


What links have you guys been loving this week? Share them with me below!

The Ballet of Love

I was a dancer my entire life, so when I saw this video with two ballet dancers translating their relationship into movement, I nearly cried/then got really excited/then did a pirouette in my teeny, tiny excuse for a bedroom. There are so many times in my life where I wish I could just explain something in movement because my words are just simply not enough.

I do find it odd that this is a commercial for a phone company though.

Do you ever feel like your life is one, giant dance?

How to Tour NYC (But Not Like a Tourist)

I talk a big game about New York. It's a really awesome place to live, and despite the fact that public transportation sometimes makes me 20 minutes late to work and it's impossible to have a good hair day when it's 90 degrees and stifling hot when blocked by all those 60 story buildings, but it really is an awesome place to live, visit, and dream about (like I did for, oh, 22 years of my life).

Eating

Talk to four different people and you'll get 20 different restaurants that they loooove. It's hard in a city where there are more restaurants than rats to have anyone agree on, well, anything related to food. So I'm not going to recommend the ones that Time Out New York or the New York Times recommends, because you could likely just look at their website. And also, there are a lot of "atmosphere-y" places that everyone likes to SAY they ate at (because they are super trendy and yada yada), but I really like to eat (a lot) and not have to pay a WHOLE lot for it. So I'm not going to recommend Per Se or DB Bistro (with a $50 truffle burger. WTF?!), but here are a couple places that I am happy to spend a little money on some good food, good wine, and good atmosphere.

Italian

Otto: This is Mario Batali's pizza place and has so many different pizza combinations, you'll want every single one! One bonus is that it's not terribly expensive AND if you want to go out, you're pretty close to the East Village divey pubs. I love the communal atmosphere (like you're in your long lost Italian nona's kitchen). Basically, you can order a couple (unbelivable) pizzas and they bring them out and place them on these stackable tray things . It's thin crust so you never feel annoyingly full (even after appetizers - I love the Fig Agrodolce!) And then you drink copious amounts of wine and laugh with your girlfriend and make eyes at your very cute Italian waiter.

'intoteca: More traditional Italian food, with a few different locations and incarnations. I've been to Corsina and inoteca liquori and they are both very, very good, with good service. These are a little bit more of the fancy Italian wine bar (more like Sex and the City vibe), but they can own it cuz their food is so good.

Indian

Brick Lane Curry: Brick Lane was on one of those Food Network shows (like spiciest curry or something) but if you at all like Indian Food, this place is fantastic. The bonus is that, if the line is huge, you're on a little street called "Curry Hill" which basically has 85 other Indian restaurants on the same street. But Brick Lane is the best, hands down.

Peruvian

Pio Pio: Another family style meal. This one is a bit messy because everything is a la carte (the pollo a la brasa is what they are famous for...basically a roast chicken with tons of things to dip it into), but this is one of those places where you want to cross your hands over your stomach at the end of the meal and take a little nap.

Calle Ocho: This technically isn't Peruvian, I guess more...Latin? But it's a super fun atmosphere and you can either do tapas and share, or you can get your own dishes (and still share!). I just love it because it's fun, but it is a tad loud and if it's a weekend night, I think they sometimes have live music (which is awesome, but also, makes it hard to talk). This is my brother's go-to first-date place (not only because he likes the food, but because it's sort of a unique place).

Down Home American

Back Forty: Oh yum. Burgers. Mac and cheese. BBQ Chicken. Thousands of menu options that I shouldn't be eating if I want to maintain my current weight. Also, we're not going to talk about their desserts or else I would probably leave work to go get one right now. This is a local spot, too, which makes it less of a tourist trap.

5 Napkin Burger: I don't love recommending burger places, but 5 Napkin is, like, sinful. I was a vegetarian for 2 years, and then went more carnivorous and the first burger I had back on the wagon was from this place. Also, they have kind of a mish mosh of sushi and other stuff, which I've never had, but if it's as good as their burgers, I'd say it's a WIN!

Rooms with a View

Sometimes, it's not always about the food, but the vibe and the atmosphere.

The Frying Pan: This is like a dive bar but better. The Frying Pan is an old tugboat that the owner's docked and repurposed into a bar, replete with ping pong tables, plastic furniture, cheap beer and onion rings that I could likely eat by the deep fryer basket. It's sort of a trek to get to (since it's all the way on the Hudson River), but if you go for pre-dinner drinks (at like 4 or 5) then watch the sunset, you can always grab a cab on the West Side Highway and take it to your dinner spot. The one drawback is that good weather is a MUST, as it's uncovered and on the water, so AWESOME if it's a sunny, warmish day but NOT AWESOME if it's anything but.

The Boat Basin: Also, if your looking for a view AND good food, head here, like, yesterday. The best thing other than the unbelievable harbor view and the laid back atmosphere is the cocktails that pretty much force you to flirt with the cute business-types that are always hanging around there.

Things to Do

These are actually all ways that I have spent afternoons in New York City. Empire State Building? Meh. Afternoon walking around some of New York's best local markets and craft stalls? Sign. Me. Up.

1. The Highline: I can walk around here for ages. It's like an urban park, and when you're done strolling about and taking in the awesome views, you can stop by Chelsea Market to get the best brownies in the whole, wide, world. And I don't make that claim lightly.

2. Picnic in Central Park: Stop by the Whole Foods (aka the best grocery store on the planet. It's more than a grocery store...it's like grocery store meets fine dining meets organic farm meets crack) in the Time Warner Center at Columbus Circle (59th street and Broadway), then carry out your goodies across the street to Central Park. Pick a big flat rock or a shady spot of lawn and watch the runners, bikers, dog walkers, and celeb wannabes trot around in this urban oasis.

3. Get a non-touristy view of Lower Manhattan: Take the subway down to Battery Park and get on the Staten Island Ferry. If you stand above on the deck, you get the same amazing view as all of those "NYC Harbor Tours" that cost $35, but this is FREE! This is where you should take lots of pictures, feel the breeze in your hair, and snicker at all of those other suckers in the NYC Harbor Tours boats who paid entirely too much to do the same thing as you did for free. When you're done here, you can get off and start walking up the West Side Highway, take in the view of New Jersey, then stop at the World Financial Center for lunch. There's TONS of options down here, and you can likely eat outdoors while drinking mimosas and looking out over the water. And if you haven't seen the site of where the World Trade Center Towers were, you would be very close. The view isn't all that great anymore since new construction began, but there is definitely still a massive hole in the ground, even after 10 years.

4. Go to Greenmarket: Ugh, I love this. It's like one of those outdoor markets that has specialty jellies and homemade breads and freshly baked pastries and all-natural juices and organic cheeses and beautiful flowers and artwork that street artists ACTUALLY make (as opposed to places where they just sell prints of crap and then you don't find out until you walk past ANOTHER artist on a different street that has the same thing). Plus, if you go during the week, it's just as awesome, and way less crowded. I love this place. Did I mention that yet?

5. Lower East Side Tenement Museum: If you want to know about the cultural fabric of NYC, this is the place to go and is hands down my favorite museum in New York City (I'm a history nerd). You'll get a history guide and they will take you on a little walking tour of a tenement (basically an old school apartment building that they restored to look like what NYC apartments were like in the 1850s, 1920s and 1950s) and show you how NYC got to be as culturally diverse at it is. And then, since you'll be in the infamous Lower East Side (the LES), you can go to Katz's Delicatessen (get the pastrami sandwich and prepare to die of happiness) where Sally showed Harry just exactly what faking an orgasm sounds like. And then, you must promise, to go to Sugar's and have one of their desserts. And then you will die again (although in addition to happiness, you'll likely also die of calorie overload and clogged arteries. But well worth it, in my opinion.) Or, if you're feeling extra sugary sweet, head to Doughnut Plant. This may also cause imminent death by calories. Again. Worth it.

Okay, now book your flights and get yourself here, immediately!

What are your favorite things about New York City? What sort of unique things does your hometown have?

My First Job (And Why I REALLY Needed It)

There was a time, not too terribly long ago, when I was a lonely girl living in New York City.

I had moved all of my worldly belongings straight from college in Washington, DC, back to my parents house, taken a few weeks to have a meltdown/eat tubs of cheese while watching Oprah/buy way too many unnecessary organizational materials from BBAB/cry knowing that it was the last time I could do my laundry for free, re-packed up and started a new job in New York City. All in about 21 days after I had thrown my graduation cap in the air and gotten characteristically drunk at Senior Ball.

When I started my first job, I was hopelessly lost. I was a wedding planner (and, looking back on it now, I frequently think to myself "what kind of person would want a 22 year old planning their $500,000 wedding?"), but mostly I spent my days chasing around Marc Jacobs' rehearsal dinner dresses, explaining the difference between canapes and crostini to clueless grooms, and reworking the wedding budget to include "Jimmy Choo ballet flats" under "Wedding Favors".

Which, all in, consumed about 97 hours of my week. My salary, predictably, was somewhere in the "might be able to have more than Ramen for dinner this week, but not if you plan on having any money to do anything else" range.

I was working incessantly at a job that was so administrative that my head hurt, constantly being yelled at for stamps not being straight on envelopes (which apparently warrants said stamped enveloped to be hurled at you from across the room while said yeller is performing said oral beration), and breaking down almost nightly in fear that I hadn't completed everything for the next day. My dreams were always about work. (Literally. Imagine waking up in the middle of the night scared that you forgot to book a caterer the night before a wedding. Heart-attack-inducing, to say the least.)

Flash forward 9 months, when I quit my first job to start working in corporate events, then two years, when I took a three-month sabbatical from that job and traveled to Asia, then one more year, to now. I'm back at the same job that I started after I took my sabbatical, saving up for some more long-term travel, and am slowly coming to terms with how desperately important it was for me to have that first soul-crushing, energy-sucking job.

Wait, what?

Sometimes, it's that first job that really sets the tone for the rest of your working career. I remember when I was job searching and deciding that I wanted to go into events. I always assumed that I'd get stuck doing some sort of non-profit admin work, or maybe get hired by a university to do fundraising. When I got an email back from this "boutique wedding and special event planning firm in New York City" I remember shrieking with delight when I found out that they were ACTUALLY PAYING for me to come up to interview. When I got an acceptance email with my contract (despite the shockingly low salary), I have emails that I saved to my brother (working in finance at the time, and who actually called me up just to audibly laugh in my ear at said shockingly low salary) asking WHEN I could accept said job.

Flash forward 6 months to my brother meeting me in the airport terminal after a particularly nightmarish wedding in South Carolina. The minute I saw him, I broke down into tears and didn't stop until we were back at his apartment, eating Chunky Monkey and watching Law and Order on his couch.

And the one thing that I know now? Even though my current job is sort of boring, and I'm not feeling as challenged as I think I can be, I know that it can always, always, always be way worse. I know that I won't have to live in fear of losing my job every day because I placed a stamp crookedly on an envelope, and I know that my boss will actually smile at me and ask questions about my commute when I walk past her office in the morning.

What I didn't know then at 22 that I know now is that I need to set boundaries, ask tough questions and really make a decision based on the perks and pitfalls. Do I have to work weekends? How many? What's the review process like? Why did the girl/boy/monkey before me leave this job? What are the rules on throwing envelopes with crooked stamps?

I can actually look back and appreciate what I've learned. Yes, it was emotionally soul-crushing, but I now understand how difficult it is to run a small business. I am more aware of how I treat people that I work with. I can really, really dig the meaning of "workplace camaraderie". Unless you're treated like shit for a little bit, you can't really appreciate what it means to not be treated like shit. And so, I've started treating others like gold. Because no one wants to be told that they are replaceable.

I'm not afraid to ask. For a raise. For more flexible hours. For vacation. For a little extra time at lunch so that I can go process my visa. One of the toughest things about being scared at your job is not knowing what the boundaries are. When I was interviewing for my current job, I made it extremely clear of my expectations. My boss told me that they really wanted me to work there and they would do whatever they had to in order to get me to sign on. So I asked for a bunch of stuff (raise after a certain amount of time, more vacation, promotion after a year), knowing how terrible it felt to be taken advantage of as an employee. I will always, always ask for concessions now, and will never be in a job again where I feel scared to make my intentions and expectations known.

To touch on this point, I know that as women, sometimes we feel that we are "asking for too much" or that we "don't want to make waves". I say MAKE WAVES! Most employers understand that the employer-employee relationship is about striking a work-life balance, and no one is going to get mad if you simply ask for what you want and think you deserve (within reason. Salary, promotion, bonus, vacation -- all fine. Personal ice-cream maker in your office? A bit much. Let's be realistic, here.)

I can take me some shit. I had an envelope thrown at my head. Seriously?

What was good (or bad?) about your first job? What did you learn? Any horror stories (or have you ever had a wedding invitation thrown at you?)

Have a Lovely Day

Happy Sunday!

10 Money - Free Saturday Ideas

I recently made the decision to travel again next fall, hopefully for an entire year. And while 85% of my time is taken up by imagining myself engaged raptly in cappuccino and conversation with a dark-haired Italian man, the other 15% requires me to sort of plan for a year-long jaunt abroad.

And by "plan" I really mean save a lot of money.

One of the things I've been experimenting with is Money-Free Weekends. Basically, I am not allowed to spend anything on Saturday or Sunday. No refreshing Starbucks iced lattes, no soft pretzels from the street cart man, no brunch. No Saturday morning-after-Friday-night-party-time-bagels. (I miss those)

So what have I been doing? I've actually been a lot more creative with my time, and while it's a little bit harder for me to be money free in the summer (I want to have lunch on the pier overlooking the Hudson! I want to buy cute new sandals and wear them to the bar on Saturday night!), I've actually been having a ton of fun.

1. Work on your tan. There's some study about vitamin D that we've all ready like 900 times, but the bottom line is that I just look way cuter with a tan. And since I live a stone's throw from one of the best parks in the world and a short-ish subway ride to the beach (since I have a monthly pass, this doesn't count as spending money), I've been spending my free time belly up with a good book.

2. Get familiar with Dewey. No, not those annoying ducks from Ducktales. I mean the Dewey decimal system. Summer has always implied reading lists for me and this summer, instead of spending all my hard earned cash on books that gather dust on my nightstand, I've been taking full advantage of one of our country's most valuable municipal services. So far, I've made it through three career change books, a book about writing, one about marriage, and am in the middle of one about big wave surfers. Never has my imagination been so full.

3. Explore a farmer's market. This is really just an excuse for me to eat. The farmer's markets in this area have lots of free samples, which I am happy to partake in. And, the best part? I get a little snack, walk around and smell fresh produce and flowers and get to spend a few hours in the sun. Sometimes, when I'm feeling a little rowdy, I'll ask the farmers their theories on sustainable agriculture.

4. Iced coffee on the stoop. Step 1: Make coffee Friday night. Step 2: chill in fridge overnight. Step 3: drink copious amounts of coffee with ice and some cinnamon on my stoop while reading to my heart's content.

5. Listen to some wisdom. TED talks are lovely. I can spend an entire Saturday listening to all the free advice on it. It's endless. Sometimes, I'll bring my computer to a coffee shop and take advantage of the air-conditioning. It's like my own mini movie theater.

6. Go for a run. Somehow, I could do absolutely nothing for the entire day, but if I get out for a 45 minute run? It's like I've conquered the world.

7. Have a potluck. This is my favorite, since it includes friends, food, and generally copious amounts of wine and laughter. I'll bring the homemade tomato-basil pizza if you provide the Merlot!

8. Bake. The best thing about cookies? It takes like 4 ingredients to make. Sugar, flour, water, butter, eggs? Combine, bake, cookies! Awesome.

9. Learn to change your oil. I don't have a car, but one of the skills that I have decided I need to have is changing the oil of a car. I just envision myself one day being able to tell my significant other to let me go ahead and change the oil.

10. Take a nap. Because sometimes, the best thing after a long, languishing day in the sun is a cat nap, curled up on your comforter as the afternoon sun streams in through the window.

What do you guys do to live cheaply on the weekends? Right now, I'm sitting in the park across from my house watching little kids jump off the swings.

A Story About Love (but Mostly Surfing)

It started with a boy.

I had met him while I was on vacation with my family in his country. We bonded over a love of all things athletic and too many tiny bottles of Amstel Brights. He was tall (three quarters Dutch) and made me giggle until my cheeks hurt (one quarter Aruban). And the best part? He was a surfer. Call my mom, tell her I'm not coming back. Her baby has fallen in love with a surfer.

He took me to his favorite surf spots and I sat on the beach watching him catch wave after wave. I cheered when he rode one in; gasped when he got pummeled by one that crashed over his head. And finally, he took me in the water with him. There I sat, on a 9 foot fiberglass longboard, out on the middle of the ocean. Literally. Because we were surfing a reef break it was almost a ten minute paddle out. Nice long rides if you were lucky to grab a wave, but no where to wash up on if you missed it, except some menacing coral underneath your fins.

I was scared. We had popped up over and over, practiced in the white water, paddled out, and got in the line. But here I was, staring at wave after wave pounding over the reef behind us.
"You'll be fine. Just paddle hard. And try to enjoy it when you're up there."

Straddling my board, I remember looking at him staring out at the rolling waves. He was so focused on....nothing. To me it didn't seem like there was anything out there except the water. I remember scratching my head and wondering how he could be so silent for such a long time.
There was a time when I was afraid of the water. I used to be scared that fish would nibble at my toes and that they would cut my ankles with their scales. I spent plenty a day at summer camp with my hands on my hips, belly sticking out, only daring to dip in up to my ankles.
And here I was, double overhead waves crashing mere feet behind me and a statue of a surf instructor, unresponsive to my whimpers, staring out at the ocean in front of him. I wiped the water out of my eyes. Drummed the pads of my fingers on my surfboard. Sighed audibly through my nose.

Just as I had decided to give up and haul my board in, I felt him push on my leg.
"Okay, here we go. You have to paddle until you can't paddle any more. And Lauren? Try not to look so concerned."

I paddled, and he pushed, and in one way or another I felt myself slowly feeling the waxy resin of the board beneath my bare feet. I sank into my knees, fingertips lightly brushing the rails, stayed low as I mentally willed myself toward the shore. My mind was blank and I vaguely remembered a salty ocean breeze whipping my hair like canvas sails behind my head. But mostly? I remembered nothing. No thoughts, no ideas, no lingering feelings of control. Just riding on top of the water for six luxurious seconds.

You know how the story ends. We didn't last, we fell out of love, he lived in a different country. But he did give me the sort of love you never imagine that you can feel for something else. He taught me to love the ocean, to love everything associated with the ocean, to feel absolutely and blissfully at home with sand in between my toes, a board under my arm, and my chin tilted toward the sun.