Waiting for wind.

This week’s adventure took us to the lake where the Mr. is bound and determined to teach our little men to windsurf.
Windsurfing is his passion, his life’s mission, his everything (next to me of course).
We took up the sport years ago when going to college in Hawaii. It got in his blood and hasn’t left.
In all honesty the man is little cuckoo when it comes to the sport. But hey, never get in the way of a man and his thang.

The only problem with windsurfing on the mainland is that you’re land-locked and the Matagi (wind in Samoan) is fickle.

So we wait for the wind.

And we wait.

And wait.

What do boys do when they are bored?
Either bicker amongst each other or eat.
I don’t normally buy chips because they do this little number on your fingers (and I have no will power against their salty temptation) .
That and white sofas, white walls and white counters don’t mix.
But when we’re up at the lake, have at ’em.

Back to waiting…

I love observing nature…apparently nature enjoys observing us too.
These birds were aggressive.
Aggressive as in bomb diving a foot away from our heads-aggressive.
It MUST have been those dang Cheedos.
Nix on them next time.

Then…all of the sudden…little ripples appear on the water.
You can see it coming across the lake.
Time to grab the board and sail…it’s go time.

They’re hooked.
The Mr. is pleased.

(Windsurfing was fun but playing “rock the boat” was the hit of the day…this went on for 30 minutes).