paddling race

I don’t have many Facebook memories worth sharing, but this one is gold!


First Look: The 2017 Ford GT ‘66 Heritage Edition 

The all-new 2017 Ford GT will be available in a limited-edition Heritage theme honoring the GT40 Mark II driven to victory by Bruce McLaren and Chris Amon at Le Mans in 1966 – part of the historic 1-2-3 Ford GT sweep. The car will feature unique interior & exterior color themes, and an exclusive wheel finish.

The Ford GT ’66 Heritage Edition features a Shadow Black exterior in either gloss or matte finish with silver stripes and exposed carbon fiber package. The car sports Frozen White #2 hood and door graphics, and 20-inch one-piece forged aluminum wheels in a gold satin clearcoat with black lug nuts.

The interior of the limited edition model wraps the Ford GT carbon-fiber seats in Ebony leather, with pillowed inserts and plow-through stitching, and the seats’ head restraints and the steering wheel are debossed with the Ford GT logo. The instrument panel, pillars and headliner also features an Ebony-leather wrap, with gold appliqués on the instrument panel, the seat’s X-brace and shift paddles. Like the 1966 race car, the steering wheel is leather wrapped, with seat belts featuring a unique blue webbing.

Rounding out the modifications to the Ford GT ’66 Heritage Edition are a unique serialized identification plate, the #2 interior door graphic, and exposed matte carbon fiber door sills, air register pods and center console.

Limited quantities will be available for the 2017 model year only.

If you were a gentleman, once you finished your race and paddled out of view, you were expected to put away your boat and oars and then quietly rejoin the rest of society, cleaned up and dressed in your jacket and tie.

And if you were a proper lady, you didn’t row at all.


Daniel J. Boyne, “Red Rose Crew”

Forget being proper. I just want to go fast.

Beach House

“Can you do an imagine where you’re at a rental house on the beach and your crush happens to be at the house next door? And they’re both good surfers, so maybe they end up surfing together. Also if he ignores her at the beginning but then starts to notice her later, that would be cool. Thanks!”

This isn’t my favorite, it might be a bit weird at some points, but I hope you enjoy! Also I added a bunch of gifs and pictures, sorry in advance for the clutter :)

Word count: 3.8k

It’s finally summer, and you’ve driven hours with your family to your usual rental house on the beach. This is your favorite stop every summer. You love the beach. You love the chance to relax and unwind, and maybe show off the beach bod you’ve been working for lately, too.

You’ve settled in and unpacked, so you decide to go for a swim. It’s almost 90 degrees and you’re eager to cool off. You put on a bikini and step out of the house, the last one in a long line of rental houses. You start walking towards the nearest set of stairs leading down to the beach.

As you pass the house next to yours, you do a double take. There’s a boy lounging on a plastic chair on the porch. But it’s not just any boy. He looks distinctly like your crush back home. His shades are covering his eyes, but you’re almost certain it’s him. You’ve spent enough time just staring at his face in class, studying the curve of his nose, drooling over his jawline, and of course, looking at his lips. You’d recognize those lips anywhere.

Without realizing it, you’ve stopped and are just standing there, staring, trying to get a closer look. After a moment of this, he seems to notice. He lifts his head and takes out an earbud. Then he lifts his shades, and your mouth opens a little of its own accord. It’s him, no question.

“(Y/n)?” He sits up now. You smile awkwardly and wave even more awkwardly. Wow, this is going well. “Hey, (c/n),” you say as casually as you can.

He seems confused. “What are you doing here?”

Thankfully, the stupid question jump starts your sass, or you would probably just stand there making more awkward comments. “I’ve been following you ever since school ended!” He looks even more confused. Okay, the intention was sarcasm, but maybe that was an awkward comment, too. “I’m on vacation, like you, and everyone else here,” you explain dryly.

“So we just happened to end up at the same beach hours away from home?” he says incredulously.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. As hot as he is, he can be a bit slow. “Unless you’ve been following me, yeah, I’d say that’s a reasonable conclusion.”

“Oh. Well…hey, I guess,” he says unenthusiastically. You sigh inwardly. It’s not like you were expecting him to leap up and hug you, grinning and blushing and exclaiming how happy he is to see you. After all, in school, you were barely friends. More like…acquaintances.

He’s lying back down now, so you take that as your cue to move your ass along. “I guess I’ll see you around,” you tell him. He’s putting his earbud back in, so he probably didn’t hear anyway. There’s nothing else to do now but keep walking forward. You secretly hope he’s at least checking you out as you pass, swinging your hips a little more than necessary. But it’s unlikely.

As you go down the steps and walk towards the water, you mentally replay what just happened, and it finally sinks in that your crush is at the beach house right next to yours. Life must have decided you’ve been through too much stress this school year, and thrown the two of you together as a fun surprise. It’s also a golden opportunity to get close to him, considering he probably doesn’t know anyone else here. Too bad you’re not that bold and you’ll likely never try talking to him again while you’re here.

You splash around in the ocean for a bit but quickly get bored. This isn’t as fun once you get older, and when you have no friends. You also can’t get your mind off your crush. After just a few minutes, you return to the house, glancing towards the house next door on your way. The plastic chair is empty.

Later in the afternoon you decide to go out again, and this time you bring your surfboard with you. Might as well make use of the ocean while you have it, and the waves look pretty good today. There are several other surfers on the water, which is also a good sign. It’s very hot out and you really don’t feel like pulling your tight wetsuit on. Besides, if any cute boys show up you’ll probably want to be wearing a sexy bikini.

You paddle out to where the waves start to break and wait for a good one to come. A few seconds in and you see a nice tall wave forming behind you. You turn back around and start paddling, popping up to a standing position when you feel it swelling under the board, lifting you up. You maintain your balance and ride the wave, feeling triumphant that your first attempt of the summer is a success.

Before you get the chance to ride the wave to shore, however, you notice a surfer to your right riding the same one. He isn’t wearing a wetsuit either, just his swim trunks, and his bare back is facing you. 

Tan, muscular, and glistening wet, it’s enough to distract your horny teenage mind momentarily, and as you stare in happy awe, you lose your balance and tip sideways off the front of the board. As you fall ungracefully into the water, the board flips over and hits you on the head.

You resurface, rubbing your head. “Ow,” you grumble. That’s going to leave a bruise. A voice calls out from nearby, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” you say without really thinking. You turn around to locate the speaker, rubbing water droplets out of your eyelashes. When your vision clears you gasp.

(C/n) is on his stomach on his board, paddling over to you. He is undoubtedly the attractive surfer you just literally fell for. You recognize the swim trunks, and of course, the muscled back. No wonder you thought he was hot.

He seems taken aback as well. “Oh, it’s you.” He doesn’t seem as concerned now, but at least he asks, “You good?”

You grit your teeth and nod. Yeah, it hurts, but the pain is certainly not at the forefront of your brain right now. More important is (c/n) and his tan, wet skin, and how he is drifting closer and closer to you.

“Too big a wave for you?” he asks, a teasing note in his voice.

You immediately become defensive. “I’m a fantastic surfer, actually. That was your fault.”

He frowns. “How-”

“Never mind,” you cut in quickly. “Just…go back to surfing.” You turn away and pull yourself back onto your board. As you paddle quickly into deeper water you think you hear him chuckling a little.

When the next big wave comes, you’re determined to do well, now that you know who your fellow surfer and potential audience is. Sure enough, as you both pop up and ride the same wave, you see him glance over his shoulder at you. You pretend not to notice, focusing instead on your stance and making sure that this time, you are definitely balanced. But you can still feel his eyes on you, moving over your body now. You mentally pat yourself on the back for your choice of swimwear.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t fall over like you did, and you both reach the shore, hopping off your boards at the same time. As you paddle back, now merely a few feet apart, he remarks, “Not bad.” You might take it as a compliment, if the tone weren’t so condescending.

“Oh yeah?” You see a wave approaching from far off, growing steadily taller. By the time it reaches you it’ll be a very decent height. “Let’s see you take this one.”

(C/n) looks to where you’re pointing. “Easy,” he scoffs.

The two of you paddle forward as the wave catches up and get to your feet, surfing the wave side by side. He smirks triumphantly over his shoulder. “Told you,” he boasts as he hops off.

“Hey, you did no better than me,” you point out.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

Your heart rate picks up. A competition. This is your chance to impress him. You’d better not fuck it up. “If you’re too scared you can forfeit,” you say tauntingly.

“Me? Scared? Never.” He grins and starts paddling away. You race to catch up, feeling the fire of competition course through you. Eye of the Tiger starts playing in the back of your mind.

You both surf the next few waves without any trouble. Each time, (c/n) looks over his shoulder to see how you’re doing. You decide to have a bit of fun with this. The next wave comes and you pop to your feet. Once you’re sure you’re balanced and you know he’s looking, you raise your hands over your head and do a little body roll, a la Jack Gilinsky.

(Had to put this in for ref bc Gilinsky=fave)

His jaw drops open. He starts to turn his body completely to face you, a poor choice on a moving board. He loses his balance and pitches headfirst into the water. You bust out laughing and laugh even harder when his disgruntled face pops back up, coughing up water.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” (C/n) glares at you, his cheeks a little pink, seaweed clinging to his hair. You just smile innocently in response, and paddle back out.

You entertain the thought of twerking on the next wave, despite the fact that you’ve never successfully done it even on solid ground. It’s probably a good thing that you don’t get the chance to try it. As the wave comes and you stand up, you look over and see that (c/n) is still lying down on the board, rotated on his side to face you now. He licks his lips slowly and drags a hand down his neck and across his chest, like an over-exaggerated seductress in a cheesy movie.

(^Picture this…but instead it’s a hot guy)

You cough loudly, a hot blush rising quickly to your cheeks. Jesus. He smiles at you, locking eyes with you, his hand still on his abs. You manage to stay firmly planted as the wave peters out, bringing you to shore. You hop down neatly and sit on your board, facing him. He’s stopped now, thank God. You clear your throat a couple times. “See, I can’t be beat,” you say proudly, hoping he can’t hear how your voice wavers a bit.

“Guess not,” he says. He suddenly looks embarrassed and a bit confused, and won’t meet your eyes anymore. The abrupt change takes you by surprise, but now that he’s no longer cocky and confident, you feel yourself retreating into your shell as well. He seems as uncomfortable as you feel, and you get an urge to put some distance between the two of you. “Well, I’d better go,” you say awkwardly, and pick up your board to leave. He doesn’t argue, so you walk away, back towards the house, reveling in wonder at the situation that just transpired. Maybe he’s as shocked with himself as you are. 

The next day is sunny but not suffocatingly hot. It’s a good day to sit on the beach and tan.

You’re also a little scared to go out surfing again, in case you see him and things are just as awkward as yesterday. So instead you bring a towel and your phone down to the beach, settling down to listen to some music.

You only get a couple songs in, however, before you’re rudely jolted out of your repose by a frisbee hitting you in the head. Goddamn, at this rate your head is not going to survive this vacation. You sit up and look around for your attacker, ready to reprimand them angrily. But when you see who it is, you’re at a temporary loss for words. And no, it’s not (c/n). Pretty damn close, though. A cute, equally tan boy with windswept brown hair and arguably better abs jogs over to you, calling out apologetically.

“Sorry, sorry!” He reaches you and crouches down, running a hand through his hair, messing it up further. Of course, this only makes him sexier. Ugh, boys. “It was his fault,” he adds, gesturing over to a boy standing a few feet off, who grins and waves.

“Way to take responsibility,” you retort, but you can’t actually be angry at this godlike boy, especially when his toned chest is inches away from your face.

“Right, my bad, I’m sorry,” he says sheepishly. “You okay?” He leans over you, looking concerned, and you try not to swoon.

“I’m good. I was kidding, don’t worry about it.” You pick up his frisbee to return it to him, but change your mind and jump to your feet instead, running several feet away with it.

“Huh - hey!” he calls out after you, getting up and coming after you. As he nears you, you make eye contact with his friend and toss the frisbee over to him.

The first boy growls playfully at you, and motions for his friend to throw it back to him. But he throws it to you instead, and though the brown-haired one reaches for it with grasping fingers, you catch it first.

And thus begins an impromptu game of Monkey in the Middle. With all the attention from these two hot guys, you forget about your crush for a moment. You’re actually enjoying yourself, too. But as you jump to catch a rather high throw, another hand snatches the frisbee out of the air.

You turn around to see (c/n), holding the frisbee triumphantly and grinning. “You wanna play?” he says, taunting them. “Come and get it!”

The boys, eager to rise to the challenge, charge him, and you back out of the way. When they get close to him, he locks eyes with you, and tosses the frisbee around them to you. You catch it and laugh. Four way Monkey in the Middle, why not? You and (c/n) snap the frisbee back and forth, keeping it out of reach of the other two. After several minutes of this, you flop onto the sand, exhausted. (C/n) tosses the frisbee back to its rightful owners and salutes them, then sits down next to you.

“Well, that was fun,” he says, and you chuckle in agreement. “We kicked their asses,” you add, drawing your feet up to your butt and then pushing them back out again, digging lines into the sand. You do this a few more times and then pile some sand over your legs.

(C/n) notices and laughs. “Digging your own grave?”

You nod and continue working.

“I’ll help,” he says jokingly, and piles more sand on your legs, packing it in tightly. You lie back and let him do the rest for you, watching him as he works. The feet are harder to cover, and after a few attempts he gives up, letting your toes poke up through the sand. He finishes covering your legs and moves up, pouring sand on top of your bikini bottom. You hold your breath in anticipation, and when he pushes sand up between your legs, you exhale loudly. He doesn’t look at you, but a sly smirk is playing at his lips. He grabs another handful of sand and sprinkles it onto your bare stomach. It feels faintly ticklish, and you clamp your lips together to keep from laughing.

Then he spreads the sand over your stomach with his fingertips, grazing your bare skin here and there. You shudder at his touch and your breathing becomes a little unsteady. You’re not laughing anymore. His fingers trace circles around your belly, which is nice and flat thanks to the last minute workouts you did before this vacation. Your eyes close of their own accord and the sensations are amplified; the sand scraping lightly against your skin, his cool fingers moving in gentle circles, and even the closeness of his body to yours.

Your breathing is jagged and your whole body is warm by the time (c/n) decides he’s finished with your stomach. Your eyes are still closed when the next handful of sand is poured in the groove between your boobs. It tickles your skin, but you don’t laugh; rather, you emit a sort of strangled sigh.

He covers your bikini with sand and pats it into place, cupping your boobs as he does it. He’s moving much more slowly now, and his movements are careful and gentle, like he’s handling a delicate kitten. He spends an extra long amount of time on your chest. He’s pretty much just feeling you up at this point, you realize.

A wolf whistle interrupts your thoughts, and you finally open your eyes to see the boys from before watching from a little ways away. Luckily the beach is pretty empty aside from those two.

You shift your gaze to the face that is now much closer to yours, eyes still focused on your chest. You watch his facial expression. He seems much more serious now, concentrated on his work. But when he feels you looking, his lips curve in a small smile. You wonder if he can hear your quickened breathing, or feel your frantic heartbeat when he pats the sand onto your chest. You let your eyes travel down to his bare chest. Since you’re stuck here until he decides he’s done, you might as well enjoy the view, right?

When you’re covered in sand up to the neck, (c/n) finally pauses and makes eye contact. His smile widens into a smirk as he examines your face, which must be bright red by this point. You’re more than a little turned on, and you can’t help but think that if you were a guy, it would be much harder to hide.

(C/n) puts his hands on either side of your head. You can’t move, because you’re buried under an inch of sand, and also because you’re frozen in place. You don’t dare say a word, not that you even really remember how to speak at the moment.

He’s staring at your mouth now. Your heart races in anticipation and nervousness. He leans down, looks briefly into your eyes, and presses his lips against yours.

It lasts only a moment. He lets his tongue graze your lips before he pulls away. He gets to his feet, winks, and walks away. All without a word.

That night, you can’t fall asleep. You stay awake for hours, replaying the kiss and the events leading up to it over and over in your mind. Eventually you give up on sleeping and go on your phone until the dark sky starts to lighten around 5 am. At this point, since you’re already up, why not take this opportunity to watch the sun rise?

You get up as quietly as you can, trying not to wake anyone else. You ease the back door open and slip out, shivering slightly in the cool morning air. You’re wearing only a cami and short lounge shorts, and goosebumps pop up instantly. To your left is the edge of the beach, marked by a large hill of rocks. In your bare feet you climb carefully up the hill, stumbling here and there and cursing when you stub your toe on a rock. At last you reach the top and sit down, hugging your knees. The sky is light blue with a growing tint of pink, signaling the arrival of the sun. You sit and wait calmly, letting the breeze whip your hair around your face. You’re all alone at the top of a hill of rocks waiting for the sun to rise, and you’ve never felt more at peace.

As the horizon begins to glow orange, you hear rocks clacking together behind you, and turn around. (C/n) is climbing the hill, and flashes you a smile when he realizes you’ve seen him. He reaches you and sits down beside you, mimicking your pose and hugging his knees to his chest.

After a minute of just sitting in comfortable silence like this, watching the orange glow intensify, he says, quietly, “Hey.”

You smile a little to yourself. “Hey,” you whisper back, glancing quickly at him. His profile is bathed in orange light, and he looks thoughtful and serene and…beautiful.

The tip of the sun peeks out above the horizon. It reflects on the water, turning everything orange-yellow.

“Gorgeous, huh?” you say.

“Yeah, gorgeous,” he echoes. You turn and he’s looking at you.

The orange light hides your blush, but you feel it warming your cheeks.

(C/n) takes a deep breath. “I feel like I owe you an explanation, and maybe an apology.”

You wait for him to continue, wondering where this is going.

He picks up a pebble and turns it around in his fingers. “I’m sorry I kissed you like that. That was weird. I just…couldn’t help myself.”

You look at him questioningly.

He shrugs apologetically. “You looked so cute with just your head sticking out.” He chuckles and shakes his head at the memory.

You still don’t say anything. You don’t know how to respond. You turn and face the sun, which is almost half visible.

He examines the pebble without interest, and takes another minute before continuing. “I know this is sudden, but I’ve realized that when I’m around you, I get this indescribable feeling of happiness. And I just want to keep being around you. I think…” He puts the pebble down and turns towards you. “…I think I like you.”

You have to look at him now. You have to say something. But you’re just frozen.

He studies your face uncertainly. “I guess I was hoping…maybe you’d consider going on a date with me?”

Finally, you turn your head, slowly, and meet his eyes. Say something. This is what you’ve been dreaming of. But it’s like your brain has stopped working and your mouth won’t open.

He looks into your eyes, lifts his hands and cups your cheeks gently. He leans forward, hesitantly, and touches his mouth to yours.

Your arms come alive and go to his neck. Your lips start to move of their own accord, and your head tilts for easier access. In response, he leans in closer and kisses you more passionately, and soon it becomes a full-on makeout session.

Isn’t this more satisfying than the first one! You pull him closer, hungry for more. He is eager to comply.

After several seconds, or possibly minutes, or a whole lifetime, you pull apart. (C/n) leans his forehead against yours. “Is that a yes?”

You smile giddily. “Yes. Yup. I like you too. Yes.” Then you add, “Sorry for the delay.”

He laughs and pulls you into his side. You rest your head on his shoulder. Together, you watch the rest of the sunrise.

Keeping Spirits

Nature batters, scarring far and wide.
Forgotten battles forever tied.
Man and rock bare the loss of all who’ve died.
Rugged faces change with the changing of a tide.

Keeping the wary from a watery hell,
a craggy post a dutiful keeper dwell.
Keeping by day his glass shined bright,
by night he keeps his flame alight.

Warning all comers never to near,
this beacon of virtue is only to fear.
Bravely they stand against wind and wave,
the ocean master, keeper slave.

Chores of many, companions none.
Sleep begins when work is done.
Ventures end before the dark.
His light stands silent awaiting spark.

Beyond this rock and choppy cove,
a small town lie where tales are wove.
Stories of stormy seas abound,
and faraway lands where treasure’s found.

In town sits a churchyard overlooking the sea.
Where the keeper visits when a calm day’s free.
Collects his needs quickly, no time for desire.
His row is long to return to his fire.

Scores of seasons drifted behind.
The keeper and kept, two of a kind.
Their toils unnoticed, yet seen by all.
Keeping kept the keepers call.

Reflections of stars upon the sea.
Infinite horizons awaiting he.
A beacon to all, his lamp not aglow.
To see the light the keep did go.

The town sad for their keeper unknown.
He was buried with care as one of their own.
At the edge of the churchyard lie the keep.
With eternal vistas of the light and the deep.

Dozens of keepers tried to keep.
All had left quickly, missing their sleep.
Stories told of the old keeper’s ghost.
A most spirited and demanding of host.

He rattled windows and slammed doors,
once hid away the old rowboats oars.
His steps are heard on the stairs all night,
sometimes blowing out the lighthouse’s light.

On a chilly morn some years past,
a storm was brewing, approaching fast.
A hardy young sailor paddled for the light,
racing the waves ahead of the night.

With setting sun and drenching rain,
wind and waves pummeled, no refrain.
Shores altered with the rising tide,
The hilltop churchyard couldn’t hide.

The keeps remains returned to sea.
The young sailor now keeps - happily.
And ever since that fateful day,
the old keeper’s spirit kept at bay.




Vote for coffee!

No matter what happens in the next twenty-four hours, I’m reminding myself that we only have now. Living in the moment has always been the best way to truly stay happy. Sip your hot beverage, enjoy the view, breathe and think about the things in your life you are grateful for. This little technique always helps when I get anxious about the future.

Happy Election Day, y'all!

CHINA, HONG KONG : Competitors paddle their boat after racing during the annual Dragon Boat Festival in Hong Kong on June 20, 2015. Dragon boat racing dates back over 2,000 years and has now developed into a serious sport on the calendar of many countries around the world. AFP PHOTO / DALE DE LA REY