February 6, 2100 hours. The walkie-talkie in my shop (inspired by our friend Kev on our first Baja run many years ago) registers the following communique as I'm putting the finishing touches on an eight footer:
"I'm having a baby. Over (we follow strict military protocol). Oh, I also made a chicken parmigiana."
What a woman!
Guess which one of these lives in the shaping bay?
2200 hours. Arrive at hospital. She more uncomfortable than me, but still.
2311 hours. Sweet Baby Jane!
February 7, 0800 hours. Sisters meet for the first time. Gentle cooing ensues. Not a dry eye in the house.
My two favorite shapes.