Cold Water and More Tunes

I'm alive.

Thanksgiving brought waves and wind. Too much wind. I went out the next day. Breaking news...winter rubber still sucks and the HG is still fun even in small waves.

Tunes.

Sister Surround may be one of the best Who songs not recorded by The Who. Additionally, Thing One and Thing Two have declared from their critic posts in the backseat that it rocks. Who am I to argue?

Finally

Saturday AM, I got to take advantage of the by now, de rigeur New England pop up swell. Waves were on the small side, mostly knee to thigh with occasional waist-ish but clean and peeling nicely. If you know where to go at the local(and I do), there's a spot that gives with a bit more oomph.

I rode the Andreini Sam. Great board. If the parking lot wasn't still closed(no, I'm not letting that go until it's reopened for good), I would have also brought the Hot Gen to trade off with. \

I caught a few waves on Tony's new Stoker Vee Machine. Interesting board. I probably need a few more waves on it to give with a fair assessment, though. Sample size was too small.

In other news, heavier rubber was required. I still haven't busted out the 5/4/3 but boots, gloves and squid lid were rocked with a 4/3. Here's to hoping for a quick winter.

Can you dig it!?

Worst to First

It had been a long day, most of it spent down at my Mom's, assisting with a yard sale. My Andreini Sam sat strapped to the roof of the car as I was praying for leftovers to be leftover from the by now de rigeur New England pop up swell that happened on Friday. I was to be denied once again.

So it was, that desperately needing a lift from the waveless doldrums I have sunk into, I relied on my beloved Sox to do away with my funk. They did not disappoint.

I vaulted from the couch at Victorino's slam and let out a yell which I immediately stifled, so as not to awaken my slumbering clan and then bounced around as Uehara did what he's been doing and slammed the door on the Tigers.

In the midst of watching the delirious celebration of this team that was predicted to go nowhere, I heard footsteps thudding down the steps. I got up and looked around the corner, only to see a bleary eyed Thing 1, blanket draped over a shoulder and thumb in mouth, which he removed to explain, "Daddy, I heard you and came down to watch some baseball." I didn't have anyone to celebrate with and so his arrival was incredibly timely and made for an incredible spontaneous moment(captured below).

He made an already memorable evening even moreso.

We're comin' for ya Cahds!

Unsung

Heard of these kids? Back when Sub Pop was ruling the roost with a roster largely composed of grunge bands, Seaweed were something outside of the norm. They were more of a punk band, somewhat in the vein of Quicksand or Jawbreaker. Good stuff. Good hooks. Good energy. Too bad they went largely overlooked.

This Machine...

Sometimes I think I have the attention span of a gadfly or maybe it's just the overall lack of waves(I promise I'll stop talking about it soon). I own three awesome boards that I need to keep dialing in and yet, I still keep thinking of...other boards, naturally.

I was a)re-watching Jamie Budge's, "The Californians" recently and b)thoroughly enjoying the magnificent time suck that is the online version of Matt Warshaw's, Encyclopedia of Surfing when in an interesting bit of overlap, I was both watching footage and then reading about 60's surfer Bob Cooper. I particularly enjoyed the Dale Davis clip of Mr. Cooper found on the latter. Mention was made, in both instances, about Cooper's model, the Morey Pope Blue Machine. Naturally, I began researching the shape.



The somewhat piggish outline and "wingnose" have peaked my interest, predominantly because, although I love my longboards, I've been getting drawn to those longboards that are outside of the norm.

Dennis Ryder shaped a bunch of the originals(and apparently still makes them, along with the Peck Penetrator)and Jim Phillips makes a version. Hmmmm.

Of fins and other things.

When I bought my first single fin longboard at Noreaster surf shop, the owner Mark informed me that the price included a fin of my choice, either a cutaway or a flex. "What's the difference?" Mark gave me a quick rundown of the type of ride I could expect and I went with the flex fin, a True Ames L Flex, I believe. I haven't looked back since then.

At Larry Mayo's suggestion, I ran a Greenough 4a in his Softail model and on a whim, put a 4c in my Mini Zombie. For both, I dug the projection out of my bottom turns and the way it felt when I cut back. My name is El Meezy. I am a flex fin junkie. So far, I've tried the aforementioned L-Flex, and the two Greenough templates. My Andreini Sam has an Andreini flex fin. If I get another nose rider, I'll probably try out the Farberow Flex. What can I say? They suit my sort of style of surfing.

I was running a GL Flex in my Hot Generation but a recent session up North at a left hand point with rocks on one end left me with a fin in need of repair. Recalling the words of Brian Hilbers when I asked him about a good fin choice for the board and he opined that the HG is "disgustingly democratic with fins", I decided to compare and contrast and ordered up a new 4a in matte orange. R&D is forthcoming. Then again, the way it's been lately, who knows.

I just want a waist to stomach high clean wave. Is that so wrong? Actually, that's what the day up North was like but I surfed like shit. Meanwhile, Jay had a ball. Then again, he's a goofy foot(left hand slide).

More news and notes:

Apparently the work on the causeway up at my local is due to wrap up before the end of the year. Yay! Awesome that it only took them approximately three years on the damn thing. Unfortunately, they've already closed up the parking lot and won't reopen it until next May. I dig my local. When it's working, it's the first place we all generally run to. It's never all that crowded and over the past few years, I've had some fantastic days there. When I remember to, I throw a bag in my car to pick up trash after a session. I see a lot of other folks enjoying the beach in the "off season", not just surfers and I think it sucks that out of over 800 parking spots, there are maybe a dozen currently open to people wanting to get in there. I'm glad all the work they've done will be to further enhance the place but it pisses me off that access in the Fall and Winter months has been so difficult. Concessions of some sort should've been made.

Anyways...

The Fall has still not been epic. I'm grumpy.

New Voices

In the interest of not becoming one of those opinionated (slightly)older dudes that are always telling the younger generations that, "Our music was better, blah, blah."(As an illustration, check my step-father, "Mr. '60's". No explanation necessary I hope.), I do my best to seek out new tunes where and when I can. Back in my more technologically challenged past, this meant record reviews, zines, word of mouth, etc. These days, whenever I trip over something, I can hunt down the artist and see what's what.

"Newer" artists I've been listening to in the past couple of weeks include Gentleman Jesse(as seen in a previous post), The Heavy and this fella:



Sort of in the vein of other neo-garage acts(Black Lips, Ty Segall, etc) but King Tuff has his own thing going and I dig it. Really cool "The Sweet" sounding guitar riff in the middle of this tune. Check it.

PS - New King Khan and the Shrines album drops today. Aw yeaahh.

Missed it by that much.

"You're a good Dad but a bad surfer."

That was a comment from one of my fellow surfing dads. After at least 5 weeks of epic flatness, a bump appeared to soothe those of us dying for even the barest semblance of a swell. Friday was the day. New England definitely has these mysto swells that pop up and then are just...gone, so if one does pop up, you best be ready. I missed this one. Kid minding issues in the morning made a dawn patrol out of the question and a promise made to the boys made a sunset go out nil as well.

Instead, I pulled out the pig and the Hot Generation the next morning as the buoys were showing that there were leftovers. I was so damn giddy that I blasted past a cop doing 52 in a 35 zone. Thankfully, I got away with a warning. It wasn't all time. Knee high, slow and mushy was the special of the day but the pig was up for the challenge and I actually got some fun rides. For shits and giggles, I ran back to the car for the HG but the board likes a faster wave than the stuff I was fooling around on and even though I was catching waves, they were all a little lackluster.

The prevailing theme from the guys in the water and the dude in the parking lot and Tony was, "It was really fun yesterday. Best waves of the summer." Could I slam my head against a tree? I could but then I'd just have a sizable welt on my head and I know that the fall is just getting started. Right? That's what I'm telling myself anyways.

Let's Roque!

Last night was a school night and yet, I had to make a pilgrimage to my old stomping grounds in Somerville. The Upper Crust were playing Precinct and if you know The Upper Crust, you know they don't play out all that often. I'll spare you too much hyperbole except to say that if 18th century aristocrats playing Bon Scott era AC/DC style tunes(Lord Bendover sounds a lot like Scott)is your thing, then you owe it to yourself to check them out.

For the record...they killed and are also funny as hell.

Tales of infrequent sessions and new tunes.

There are supposed to be waves tomorrow. Please let there be waves tomorrow.

My last decent session was a couple of weeks ago at the local. The forecast looked promising. I got there to find Tony and another dude, Carl standing there not looking happy. A few minutes later a couple of other cars pulled up and everyone had this, "Damn." look on their faces. It was small. Ideas about heading to NH were tossed around and then a collective "Fuck it." was thrown out there and we all went in. At first, it was as advertised. Not much power, micronic stuff. Suddenly it got better. Not "all time" better but knee to thigh, long clean rides better. I rode the Sam for the second time and at first was cursing the fact that I didn't have the pig with me. When it got better, though, I found out what the Sam can do on a clean wave and it was awesome. Really fun climbs and drops. High line trim to bottom turn to cut back and back again. I can't wait to run it back out there again.

Tunes.

You like power pop? I like power pop. I've liked it ever since I discovered Cheap Trick in my elementary school friend Danny's, older sister Paulie's album collection.

I saw Gentleman Jesse and his Men a few years back when they opened for King Khan and the Shrines. I hadn't heard them before and they were really good. I was outside along with one of the guitar players and was complimenting him on the set. I believe I dropped the "Power Pop" thing on him and he cringed a little. My response? "Hey man, there's nothing wrong with that."

In the midst of all my music purchases, Gentleman Jesse kept getting missed and then I bought an iphone recently and was looking to add to the tunes on it. What had I been neglecting that wasn't easy to find on cd? That's right, Gentleman Jesse's first album. Think The Nerves, Nick Lowe, Paul Collins Beat, Elvis Costello, hell a bit of the late great Exploding Hearts. They're not re-inventing the wheel here but it's good rock and roll. Now I'm going to have to pick up the second album.

Dig it.

A respite amidst the flatlands.

I don't remember last summer being this flat. I know it had its spells, summer around here always does but there were enough knee high pulses to keep me sated. July has been bad.

I did score a bit on Sunday. I went down to RI for the dawn patrol and there was some decent enough short period wind swell to play on. It was around waist high with occasional chest(every 20 minutes or so) and I jumped at the opportunity to both christen the Andreini Magic Sam and also get some additional time on the Hot Generation.

Hour 1 - Andreini Magic Sam

It's a 9-4 but don't call it a "log". If you know the history, then you know that this is the type of board the Australians were on while the Americans were still on barges with trash can noses and doing the Quasimodo(not that there's anything wrong with that)and what Nat Young won in '66 on. The board is for hot dogging, carving, front third speed runs and even some nose time in the pocket. My first impressions? It's a decent paddler and cruises into waves smoothly. Aggressive bottom turns work. Flying in at an angle works. It's speedy, it's nimble and it likes a little bit of a push. I did a couple of pretty good cutbacks on it with ease. A bit of aggressiveness is rewarded. In short, I dug it, seriously dug it. I can't wait to run it up to a certain NH spot.

Hour 2 - Hot Generation

Fun, fun, fun. A perfect compliment to the Sam. As the waves started to wall up a bit, I decided I wanted to get a bit more maneuverability happening. Admittedly, I biffed a couple of waves settling in but once I got my timing going...it was off to the races. That thing is slicker'n grease.

Summation? Good day, although a bit more of a face on the waves would have been welcome. Again, I'm looking forward to seeing what these sleds can do with a bit more cleanliness.

What's in the box?!

A "Magic Sam" has been on my wish list ever since I got hip to the type of boards being ridden in "The Hot Generation". This mildly used Andreini turned up in LA and I made arrangements with the former owner, a very righteous guy, to get the board to Thing 1's godfather, Tom. Going above and beyond, Tom had the board packaged up at Aqua Tech in Marina Del Rey and then dropped it with the freight company I went with(Alliance) to get it to me. It wasn't easy getting it back here but it showed up unscathed and I can't wait to slide it.

More Please

I took this one at the end of a great session almost two weeks ago after Andrea had passed through. The forecast for The Local was not favorable(swellinfo's batting average is way down)and yet it was glassy, knee to occasional waist high perfection. It was also my first day in a 3/2. The water is taking its sweet time warming up. Hopefully all this rain bs is mostly behind us because I can use some more days like this one.

Love this era.

Sessions

I still surf.

I had two, count em two(Utah...get me two!)sessions over the weekend up at The Local with various iterations of the crew, including a guest appearance from a dude named Matt, who I just bought a boardbag off of. Matt was riding a new Jim Phillips hp longboard that he picked up because, you need a log of some sort in New England.

Saturday I rode the pig. I love that board. Granted, I'm still knocking some rust off but I had a great time. Ride of the day was a right that I caught from way the hell out there and milked all the way to the inside. Tony asked me if I scraped my fin on the bottom. A little bully stance, some cut backs, a head dip. Good day.

Hot Generation on Sunday! Crew was in full force, minus Josh(who was out on Saturday). This was my second outing on the HG. Observations? It's fast. Take offs from behind the peak? Sure. All the board does is beat sections. It's smooth as hell. It glides into trim like a hot knife cutting through butter. It paddles well. Feet close together amidships, climbing and dropping on a right was my favorite wave of the day(carves, man). Stability is good. I passed it off to both Ed and Jay and I kind of had to crowbar it back from Jay. He was having fun.

The problem I have now, and it's not a bad one, is deciding which board to take out on a given day. When I get my Sam, I'm going to have real problems.

In other news, we are almost at 50 degree water, although sadly, I need a new 4/3. Still, I scaled down to 3 mil gloves and 5 mil boots and peeled my hood back. After a lot of shitty, cold weather. Things are turning around.

Sharing

Like any good album, there has to be highs and lows, correct? The previous entry was a bit somber so it’s time to bring things up a bit.

In the vein of my previous ruminations concerning posting anything too personal, I have also refrained from letting anyone get a clear look at me, image-wise. There are, I believe, only four pictures of me lurking on these pages and none of them are all that revealing. I kind of like the anonymity. I will however, step out from the shadows a bit for the purpose of this tale.

This blog is mostly about my passions and up until now, I left one out. Baseball. I have been a fan of the Boston Red Sox since I was a kid. It started with my grandfather, who gifted each male grandchild with a mitt, ball and bat at birth, even if it would be some time before they got to use the gifts.

The connection to the sport(and the team) was further strengthened by the fact that Grandpa(a Parnell) traced and claimed kinship(distant cousins) with the last Red Sox left hander to throw a no hitter until John Lester threw his in 2008, Mel Parnell(who also embraced my Grandpa as a cousin). In fact, my mother tells stories of having met Mel and how he was extremely gracious to them whenever they went to Fenway, signing autographs, etc. The cap that I wear is a nod to this connection as it is a replica of the ones worn by the team from ’46-’51. Cousin Mel would’ve sported one like it during his tenure with the Sox.

I made my true bones in ’86 at age 15 as I watched “that play” go down while at a CYO banquet, clustered around a tv with a bunch of others. You could hear this collective gasp like we had all taken a punch to the gut. Naively at the time, I swore to myself that they would win Game 7. We know how that turned out.

I first stepped foot in Fenway at age 17 as I was going to college in Boston and would routinely walk down with friends and buy bleacher seat tickets for $8 bucks. Yes…$8 bucks.

I took a sabbatical from baseball when the strike in ‘94/’95 happened. I was so pissed off that my interest remained casual at best until my ire had subsided a bit, which was only around 2000/2001.

I put in an appearance in “Still We Believe. The Boston Red Sox Movie” as the bar we frequented in LA, Sonny McLean’s was a haven for all of the New England expats and featured in the movie. The film focuses on 2003 and when Aaron “bleepin’” Boone hits that dinger, I can be seen with my head on the bar.

Still and all, there was 2004, followed by 2007 and my passion for the game remains as strong as always, if not stronger, as I have become increasingly geeky about following our minor league prospects and getting all stoked when they make their first appearance in The Show.

My tale notwithstanding, Thing 1 has watched games with me on tv since he was a baby and even has his favorite players. He is not happy that “Gonzo” is no longer with the team and goes into apoplexies when Jacoby Ellsbury is batting. So when I got a phone call from a friend of ours that she had two extra tickets to the Sunday afternoon game of a double header, I jumped at the chance to take Thing 1 to his first game at Fenway. He had a great time, eating hot dogs and peanuts and gleefully following my heckling advice(the folks around us were pretty amused at his, “Take a seat!” whenever an opposing player struck out). A true trooper and possible future fanatic, he lasted all 9 innings with only a minor amount of grousing.

I hope he never forgets the experience because I know I never will. Much in the way that I was thrilled to give him his first wave riding experience on the front of my board last summer, I was beside myself getting to share my love of the game with him and I look forward to Thing 2’s first game as well.

The photographic evidence and me stepping from behind the curtain a bit, submitted for your approval.

Letting Go

It’s been a weird few months. I could trot out some excuse about my usual procrastination issues but the bottom line is, I know what I’ve wanted to write about but just kept putting it off because I was having a hard time quantifying what I wanted to say.

I mentioned in the post about my wife that I tend to avoid posting anything too personal in this online missive. I’m not sure why that is. Perhaps in this world we live in, where you can go onto Facebook and “tmi” is oozing off of every update that you scroll through I figured that there were some things that are better left unsaid. In the end however, there is catharsis is putting oneself out there on occasion, isn’t there?

I lost my Dad last month. That in itself is surreal. It’s strange that I have his number in my phone and feel that I need to call him to check in or to see if he can give me a hand with a project around my house, but I can’t. I have known for over two years, since his diagnosis, that there would come a time for that inevitable moment, however, I wasn't ready and I don't think you can ever prep yourself to lose someone you love.

He had a Stage 4 Glioblastoma. That’s the name they have for an inoperable brain tumor. Essentially, if you have this thing, there is no cure. You manage it, you buy time but you don’t beat it. There are some outliers. One that I know of has lived for 15 years with his. Dad was given 15 months and they expected him to live half of that. He made it for over two years.

I could talk, I suppose, about what the man meant to me and how he impacted me but if it’s all the same to you, I want to hold on to that stuff. It’s mine. I have been carrying something, however, that I want to put out there, that I need to put out there.

During his illness, I did a fair share of research into just what it was he was walking around with and in doing so, came across support sites for those who had loved ones that were wrestling with this insidious disease. I lurked for a time but couldn’t ever bring myself to post our story. A lot of those people were discussing the various treatments their parent/aunt/uncle/child, etc were going through and I was watching my Dad go through the same shit. I knew all about the radiation, the Temodar, followed by more radiation, followed by Evastin and the constant battery of pills that he had to take day in and day out. Postings were followed by messages, pledges of support, rife with platitudes to “keep fighting” and “don’t give up hope”. I wasn’t sure how I felt about those.

When Dad was first diagnosed, I was beyond happy that he had decided to go with the radiation and Temodar treatments and to stay with us as long as he could. I wanted him to meet Thing 2, who had yet to be born. I was thrilled that he saw me get my house, which he wanted for me.

As an aside, he was going through treatment and showed up every day to help me when I was getting the house ready for us to move in. It was a Herculean effort for the shape he was in and yet, it was where he wanted to be because that was the person that he was. As is usual, I digress.

I wasn’t sure about those messages of hope and fighting the good fight because as the tumor spread and the treatments started to have little effect, I knew that he had done all he could do. He wasn’t even 70 years old and the entire process had aged him. He could barely communicate, mobility was an issue…I don’t think I have to continue to paint the portrait. I wanted my father here to see his grandsons grow and to be in our lives. End of story. However, it was easy for me to want that. I wasn’t sleeping for entire days or forgetting what I read after I closed a book or dealing with a variety of side effects of medication. Dad couldn't ride his motorcycle anymore, couldn't drive, couldn't disassemble small engines or work on his house. He couldn't do the things he was happiest doing. He wanted to go.

That’s why I had/have a problem with the “keep hope alive” stuff because in the end, telling a person to soldier on is selfish. You want them to stay because you love them and you can't conceive of them not being there but it’s selfish. I sure as hell didn't have that thing in my head and in the end, when he wanted to stop fighting, I told him it was alright. What about that message? What about the preservation of a person's dignity by throwing in the towel on the good fight and letting go? Bottom line, consider what "quality of life" really means, because to me, it isn't suffering through another round of treatments because people want you to. In the end, that person you care about so much deserves to rest. You soldier on and live your life secure in what your parent/sibling/aunt/uncle/child, meant to you and eased by the thought that no matter what, they will always be with you.

I love and miss you Dad. Watch yer topknot.

Beach Break Brutality

When my Mom arrived yesterday to watch the kids, I told her that I had a doctor's appointment at 1:45 and would be leaving early from work. After the appointment, I also informed her, I would be going surfing. "You're an idiot. You don't want to wait until it's warmer?" Thanks Mom but no, I need this.

The air was about 50, the water about 37/38. I brought the Hot Generation to baptize it. As it turned out, it would not be the best day to try and get a new board wired.

It didn't look that bad from the beach, however, at The Local, you have to get pretty close up to get a true assessment of what's going on out there. The parking situation at The Local has sucked for some time. I've previously mentioned that construction on the causeway up there, which is dragging on way too long, has resulted in the huge parking lot(state beach) being closed off. This means that if you luck out and get a spot in the small lot at the rotary, well, you've lucked out. As I'm changing, a dude with a board on top of this truck racks pulls in and barks out, "Leavin'?" "Nope." He pulls into a recently vacated spot and the huge rails give the guy away. Sweeper. "You surfing or paddling?" "Surfing, man." "Attaboy!" It's hard to be standoffish to such an affable janitor.

I walk down to "Dirt Pile" and watch for a bit while stretching. White water is heavy. It's not overhead. Call it chest to head. Doable. If you want to take a longer stroll to get to "Bath House" or "Third Bench", you can. However, it's easier to hit the peak at "Dirt Pile" where the water is nice and mungy. Again, I can't wait for the lot to open back up, so I can just go right out at either of the two aforementioned peaks.

I thought there was a channel but no. Perhaps it was wishful thinking. Perhaps I was just impatient. Still and all, paddling headway was being made. Just as I time it right and get reasonably far out, a set wave Maytags me before I can get outside. Shit. I struggle a little longer but it's not happening. I ride a reform in and walk even further up the beach. That's a channel.

This time I get out. It was 3:30 when I started all this. It's now a bit past 4. It looks to be head high on the sets. Once I've had my rest, I start trying for them. Now I'm too far out. Alright, I move in. Legs are starting to get cold. Finally, I drop in on a set wave. Lots of white water. I'm more or less on the flats, trying to turn the corner and as fast as the HG is, I never quite make it. I settle for some reforms on the inside as I know I have to get out and head for home.

At least I got wet.

Tunes for the Backseat Crowd

Do I sometimes resemble one of those parents trying to force their music/taste on their kids in order to impart some sort of taste/cool factor by way of osmosis? Guilty as charged. In my defense, a lot of it is organic as I always listen to tunes in the car and when the boys are with me, we take turns. Sometimes it's Greasy Kids Stuff(great comps) and sometimes it's Dad's choice although the two backseat critics(especially Thing 1)have exercised their power of veto on more than one occasion. Dinosaur Jr., for example usually does not go over too well. Roadrunner? Always a popular choice. Thing 1 was requesting it and singing along with it at age 2 and Thing 2 has been known to fervently car seat pogo when it's playing. So boys...this one's for you.

For the Missus

I write about some of my passions, surfing, music, beer but generally speaking, I’ve avoided too much of the truly personal. In those moments when I do write about, say, my little clan, it’s about my lads while THE most important person in my life hasn’t gotten much press. I am referring, of course, to Mrs. Meezy.

As of December, we have been married for 6 years, although we have been together for a little over 10 years.

At the time of our meeting, our intrepid hero was not feeling so intrepid. I had been out in LA for 5 years and when I arrived home for the holidays in ‘02/’03, I had been out of work for three months, having been laid off from my job at FX Networks. A job I’d held for almost three years. There had also been no traction in regards to my fledgling screenwriting career. Out there, everyone has a script. I had also been stuck in the black hole that is LA’s dating scene for a lonnnng time. There is plenty to do as a young single person in Los Angeles but life out there can be isolating, as I found out.

So it was that I arrived back on the East Coast for the holidays with my tail between my legs but with the steely resolve that at 33 years of age, I was going to be an eternal bachelor.

Little did I know...

New Year’s Eve arrived and I found myself at The Druid in Inman Square, Cambridge with “The Bollocks” and his lovely wife. Although there were a number of lovely young women in attendance that evening, I was sticking with my steely resolve. Besides, see how well you do when you're attempting to chat up a NE girl but then have to admit that you live in LA. Picture the scene where Daffy Duck tries to upstage Bugs Bunny and gets nothing but crickets for his troubles and you should have a clear picture of how that bit of information usually went over.

However...

Fifteen minutes after my arrival and "she" walked in. She wasn't backlit and fans weren't blowing her hair around but I was instantly drawn to her. She was very pretty, dark brown hair, nice smile, bright blue eyes and to cap it off, when I sidled up to get a closer look, she went and ordered a Stella Artois. I was done for. Now she had noticed yours truly as well and was subtly trying to get my attention and although I am not a shy person by any stretch of the imagination, choking out even a “hello” was proving to be impossible. She then asked me to take a picture of her and her friends and we spoke and then adjoined to another bar and I walked her home and took her out on what would be the best date of my life two days later and a day before I would fly back to the West Coast.

For the next 9 months we flew back and forth across the country(admittedly, she came West more than I flew East)to see one another until she made a decision that she had actually been pondering for some time and moved out West.

The End?

Hardly.

One move West, another back East, two more moves from Somerville to Arlington and finally Dedham, MA, a house, two kids, countless laughs, some tears, some yelling, a lifetimes worth of “good conversation” and no end in sight. She’s my best friend and a large part of why I’ve made the advances that I’ve made in my life. She knows the above story all too well. She’s lived it and it’s been told a million times but the best part is that it’s far from over.

Happy Valentine's Day my Love!

PS -

Even if I said I wouldn't put up any pictures of you, you're incognito behind those shades and yet...your beauty is still readily apparent.

Maiden Voyage

Since November, either I, or a member of my little clan have been sidelined with some kind of illness. Sometimes the timing wasn't right. A lot of times, there just weren't any waves. Yesterday, however, the stars aligned a bit.

I joined the crew at The Local yesterday morning to try out my new acquisitions. It was a tad small for the Hot Generation but conditions were perfect for longboarding. Enter...The Golden Girl(sobriquet provided by Brian Hilbers).

Pause.

I had my mind blown a little.

Unpause.

D-fins do indeed turn. In this case, the board whips right around into trim. Glide? Yes. Nimble? Oh yes. Stable? Mmm-hmm(I can knee paddle it just fine). I love how I can throw it around. I might love it too much. I nearly took out Tony P when I called "Left!" on one wave and then decided to whip back around to go right. Jay got nearly the same treatment. It takes a high line perfectly. I got a bit of a stretch five at one point. It was a good day.

I don't know. It may have been only the first session but I'm drinking the kool-aid that Mike Black has been peddling. Pigs rule, man.

Friday Dance Tunes

I'm not a cool guy anymore.