Wednesday, September 23, 2009


I lay flat on my back, arms out beside me and palms facing the ceiling.

The ceiling is plastered with a "popcorn" finish indicative of early 1980s construction.
A shinny speck... a sparkle catches my eyes.
It's glitter that was mixed with the plaster. I've always hated the look.
My body is sweating profusely as I lay here doing nothing but breathing.

Then I see him; three shinny speckles in a row like stars in the night sky.
Orion's belt.
Two more speckles above and two below the belt...

Strange it is to see this "hunter" of Greek mythology and well known constellation staring down upon me from a popcorn ceiling of a 100+ degree Bikram Yoga studio...

If one believes in signs then what could this mean???

This week is shaping up to be quite interesting. Here's a random breakdown of the highlights so far just as random as my intro and exit to this post!

On Sunday, after sleeping nearly 11 hours after my 16.5 mile long run, I woke up feeling like a million bucks! Yes, my legs were sore as I expected them to be, but I felt so good I decided to do my 3 mile recovery run first thing. Two miles into the run my body said F*ck this! My left knee started hurting and I decided to call off the last mile to play it safe. After all it is a recovery run not an injury run.

On Monday I went surfing after work.
There was a strong onshore wind and a moderate chop on the chest to head high surf at New Smyrna Inlet. I only brought my 9'8" noserider. This is the worst board decision I think I've made all year. I should have brought my thruster as the waves were peaky with lots of sections. I paddled out anyways and even elected to wear a leash. Seaweed was everywhere and I kept seeing either bluefish or tarpon in the water. Larger sharks like to eat bluefish like bluefish like to eat mullet. I was alone and after five or six rides I opted to paddle in and call it a day. Just as I walked back to the Jeep a friend pulls up in his truck so I decide to surf with him. We paddle back out. The tide is coming in stronger than before and the waves are jacking up more and more. My board could use some more rocker. I take a closeout on the head and get pushed into the impact zone. The periods are short. Wave after wave rolls over me, but with a little technique and strength I fight my way back to the outside. My friend is also caught in the impact zone and unfortunately stuck there in a vicious cycle of paddling, duck diving and taking beating after beating by the relentless surf. After 10-15 more minutes I take a left and as I'm exiting the wave my back foot slips causing me to rack my balls on my board. A paralyzing pain that only a male knows overcomes my body. Luckily, I get a boost of adrenaline that temporarily subsides the pain and I'm able to get back on the board and take a wave to the beach. A few minutes later, my friend walks up and tells a similar story. Apparently, after fighting to get back to the outside he racked his balls on his board too! What a ball racking day!

Tuesday was a strange day at work followed by a relaxing but difficult 90 minutes of Bikram Yoga. In today's age of real estate it really is like going to WAR to get deals to close. All the stars, planets, constellations have to be aligned just right and perhaps throw in a solar eclipse and the deal just might close. Part of getting stuff to work out is having people work together. It truly amazes me how lazy people can be sometimes. I'm working on several deals right now and sometimes I feel like I'm the only one that really wants everyone to get what they want; seller sells his house, buyer gets the home he wants, real estate agents, title companies, surveyors, appraisers and loan officers get PAID! You'd think with so many people's paychecks depending on the deal closing that they'd all be going above and beyond to get things done. Why does it feel like I'm constantly doing other people's jobs just to get things accomplished? On a funnier note, a fellow agent representing a buyer that had made an offer on a short sale (a seller getting approval from their mortgage lender to sell their property for less than they owe) three weeks ago got this email:
"Over the weekend my wife and I found a lovely home on the Suwannee River, made a cash offer on it and it's been accepted. Please tell the bank (of the short sale) to PISS OFF. They shouldn't have sat on their asses for 3-weeks to make a decision on our offer."
Wouldn't it be great if we could all tell the banks to PISS OFF?

Hope you all have a great HUMP DAY... tell your banks to PISS OFF. Remind them that YOU are the CUSTOMER and you have the freedom to take your business elsewhere! Sorry about the random blog, but I'm in a most random mood!

90 minutes since Orion appeared before me.

My body is drenched as if I've run 15-miles.

Heart rate elevated, Smart Water drank, I rest, breath and stare at the ceiling.

Where has the "hunter" gone? I cannot find him.

There are hundreds of pieces of glitter within the popcorn ceiling,

But none resemble the constellation Orion.

How could this be? I have not moved. The ceiling has not moved like the night sky.
The lighting in the room has not changed.
Puzzled I am?



  1. Ouch, I cringed reading your surfing story.

  2. Namaste, indeed.

    There's no Bikram here (just something they call 'Hot Yoga' that's not even close and wicked expensive) so I crank the heat in my apartment and do the poses on my own.