There Will Be Blood. Again.

I apologize for the last post. I was excited about the board, and didn't take into consideration my talented (and quite attractive) glasser Leslie, who may have perused HeadHighGlassy, glass of zinfandel in hand, just last evening. I failed to imagine what her reaction would be (especially after having consumed said glass of local vino) upon seeing one of her masterly creations defiled under the artificial lights of my kitchen.
I also failed to imagine an irate phone call, followed by an equally hair-raising series of emails highlighting my shortcomings in areas of taste, aesthetic judgment, and moral obligation.
I stand corrected, and offer these shots as an apology to Fatty (whose name is to be taken ironically, as she is as svelte as a Kenyan distance runner), taken this afternoon at the local beachie minutes before fins were installed, wax was applied, and stoke-o-meter readings went through the roof.

Fin setup dujour: twins and a trailer. Serious fun.

Folks in the water discussed the board's color. Popular choices incuded purple, brown, and black. These were all wrong.


Here, the board overlooks its immediate fate--a rare windless afternoon on the north coast, shoulder high sets, warm air temps and, oddly, a lot of surfers in the water at 2pm on a Wednesday.

Don't these people have jobs?