After spending a week in the washing machine, which I actually enjoyed, I am back working frantically on the final details of the Christian Surfer's Conference. I'm not anyone important but I'm busy gutting up the courage to make phone calls for them, talking in French to a ton of people who I don't know and twisting arms of friends who are much stronger in the area of translation than I.
I'm tired.
I cry.
I sleep.
I eat (or ate mussels today which I don't really like because of their funny texture).
I pray.
I pray.
and pray.
...and pick the surfing scab on my knee wishing I could surf as well as the guys I saw tearing up the waves today.
9/04/2004
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