Long Division

I've posted this board before here, but I finally wrestled it out of Leslie's grimy mitts and into the bedroom where it belongs, awaiting pickup, wax, and shreditation.
The cream-tinted deck color is carried over to the bottom, where Fatty unleashed some serious resin kung-fu in what could be interpreted as a fertility symbol, a crop circle, or a libidinous stage of cell division.
Speaking of cell division, my wife was the recipient of a chain Amish Friendship Bread outbreak two weeks ago, and we couldn't be more pleased. Unlike its pesky cousin, the chain email, which promises only an illusory sexual nirvana, Amish Friendship Bread offers wonderful smells from your kitchen and the everlasting friendship that only the combined power of the Amish and baked goods can deliver.
It works like this: someone gives you Amish Friendship Bread yeast. This is the 'starter.' It looks like hot mayo in a plastic bag, but smells better. The starter is incubated for ten days in its plastic universe, then hatched into the world in the form of a lot more starter. You use some of this to make delicious bread for your husband and baby girl, and give the rest of the starter, which you have now divided into plastic bags, to a bunch more people.
They make more bread and starter, and the chain remains unbroken. We realize our human connectedness through hollow calories and sugary crusts.
The recipe for starter is protected by an ancient Pennsylvania Dutch curse, but can also be found on Wikipedia.
Speaking of babies on surfboards, here's mine. When a surfboard becomes available, she climbs on, waddles straight to the nose and poses, awaiting a photograph. Although this behavior seems to be growing in popularity in some longboard circles, it's much cuter if the perpetrator is fourteen months old.
You might be thinking 'regular-foot,' but she's actually switch-stancing here.
Hope you're getting some surf.