Catch a wave and you're sittin' on top of the world.

It won't be long now. Well, actually it'll be quite awhile. But I'm still getting excited.
The first time out for the season is always a little spooky. Even though we all know the water off Park Point is only waist high, it seems so dark and cold. And it is.
The wetsuit usually fits a little too tight because of a winter spent on the couch eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and drinking hot chocolate. And so after squeezing into the kayak, I'm constricted by neoprene in places you don't want to hear about.
The approaching waves look a lot bigger and feel a lot colder than they did standing on the beach. Since I'm sitting down now, a three-foot wave is higher than my head. I paddle out past the biggest breaking waves, then turn around. On really good days, the waves sneak up, grab the boat and have their way with me, sending me toward the beach whether I'm ready or not. If I'm ready, I glide gracefully back toward the beach until I lean the boat back against the wave and slide off the back side of the wash, ready to paddle out and try again. If I'm not ready, I get flipped sideways or worse -- the bow sticks on the bottom while the wave pushes the rear of the boat over my head, flipping me end over end, then dragging my big round head across the sandy bottom.
At least that how it happens in my dreams.
I can't wait.