A Board for all Seasons

As the holidays fade into the rearview and we settle in to some serious winter weather, there are some that refuse to let the gift-giving spirit die.
SF surf enthusiast Sebastian is one such man. His single request after the shaping process: a happy birthday message to his lovely lady to be written on the stringer, then memorialized in fiberglass and resin by the talented hands of Leslie Anderson.
The gift of an 8'2" Broadsword is a romantic one, indeed. With a 4+1 fin setup, round tail, and chocalately cedar stringer (US Blanks has also been in a gift-giving mood with their cedar stringers lately) it's dependable, versatile, and capable of some seriously fun surprises well into the relationship.
It can also handle much of what Northern California can throw at us.
And right now, Northern California is throwing us rain, wind, and rip currents. By proxy it is also throwing me, personally, two very restless girls under the age of three who don't want to spend their entire weekends huddled over crayons, or helping their dad make spaghetti sauce, or watching ten minute clips of Cinderella on Youtube.
They want the impossible gift of sunshine though, right now, they'll be more than happy to settle for another round of hide 'n seek. It's the least I can do.

Tomorrow the Green Grass

7'2 BatTail Egg.
For Spencer.
A student.
The future is bright.

The Full Blood Princess

I've written before about Bedroomers--boards so elegant, so innocent, that to leave them in the holding pen (guest bedroom) with the other sticks awaiting pickup would be scandalous.
How can one, in good conscience, place a finely foiled, fragile-as-china displacement hull in the same rack with a mush-shredding gremmie thruster?
What ethical shaper can allow an outer bar gun, high-polished and sleek as a needle to share the same space as a brutish, wide-backed, sand-finish quad fish?
None that gives a damn, I say.
So, on occasion, one of the more enchanting products from the Fattyshack is moved into the bedroom where, if mood strikes, one might gaze upon its lines and be hastened toward an exquisite idyll.
Or until one's wife tells them to cut it out.
So imagine my surprise when, still feeling the effects of East Coast jet lag, I woke in the wee hours this morning to find the lovely Mrs. HHG not just contemplating, but dreamily trailing a few fingertips, along a rail of this full-tint glossy log from her side of the bed. Imagine the betrayal--yet the thrill!--that accompanies such a discovery.
Also try to imagine an intense need for an egg sandwich on sourdough, which is what finally pulled me from the throes of this unanticipated spectacle.
Anyway, this model--a 9'6 Squareback--is designed for the soft and the cruisy up here on the Northcoast. She's headed to 2 Mile Surf Shop in Bobo, where she will hopefully find a good home with a tip-riding enthusiast. And while we're hoping, let's hope Drew and the boys keep her separated from some of the more nefarious shapes I've seen lurking on their racks.

The White Stuff

New England Dispatch: currently it's snowing, raining, foggy, and below freezing simultaneously. Not sure how this can happen, but there it is. Every time someone opens a door to the outside my California born-and-raised daughters start crying.

The weather does inspire a few of my favorite things, though (alcohol, sweaters, and beards), so I'm all for it.

Ironically, it's not so different from my shop in Northern California, where white-out conditions descended after a dust-collection snafu (Dustgate '09). When I appeared inside after the incident my week my three-year-old said, "Santa came!!!"

And perhaps she was right, especially if your name is Sean and you ordered yourself a spiffy new quad fish this holiday season.

Sean ordered it clear, perpetuating a seasonally-appropriate white-out theme.

Although unglassed quad fish photos aren't really cutting-edge in the surf blogosphere (as recently pointed out to me in an email by gentle reader Tony from North Carolina), these pictures celebrate the last gasp by my beleaguered point-and-shoot, another victim of Dustgate '09. RIP.

Happy Holidays!

Brown Eggs are Fresh

Stoked bro from the north Konrad showing off his new 7-something egg behind the scenes at the Fattyshack.
2+1 with a Skip Frye flexie and some bamboo under the hood for maximum overdrive.

Ground's a little frosty, sky's a little blue. flannel's a good call .
Ahhhhh, winter!

War Pony Chronicles: The Lost Boys

For a few short, sweet years in the late 1980s, teenage heartthrobs The Coreys (Haim and Feldman) ruled the Tiger Beat set.
Then they went underground in pursuit of other creative projects, like hanging out and resisting impulses to exercise.
Recently, Corey Feldman resurfaced in Lost Boys: The Tribe, as Edgar Frog, "Vampire Hunter and Surfboard Shaper." IMDBs character page for Edgar Frog states, "This character biography is empty." One can only imagine this still holds true after Feldman took a stab at it.
Not to be outdone by his teenage compatriot/nemesis, Corey Haim began loitering around my shop in pursuit of shaping tips and lukwarm Tecates.
Although he didn't have the skills to shape his own, Corey possessed the eye of a connoisseur, and couldn't resist pulling the trigger on a new War Pony.
Haim. War Pony. Fattyshack.
The War Pony is a vampire slayer in its own right. Curvier than my standard quad fish template with a souped-up rocker and bottom contours specially formulated for driving stakes through the hearts of northcoast nasties.
Haim made a personal trek to the Fattyshack to meet Leslie and have a glass or two of whatever local red Bob was pouring at the moment.
His hair was perfect.
Take that, Feldman!

Airing out the Inbox

Sophocles once quipped, “The true mark of a man lies in his email activity.” Amen. Modern social anthropologists, like yourselves, long ago forsook sifting through the garbage of humanity in search of answers, choosing instead to focus their lenses of scientific voyeurism onto more digital affairs. Is someone aligning themselves with terrorists? Check their email. Is there one amongst us who shops Amazon with Les Affaires abandon? It’s in the inbox. Do thoughts of adding girth to his flaccid schvantz occupy the lion’s share of your teenager’s time? I wouldn’t recommend it, but a quick AOL search would reveal the answer. You see, only email can fill in the blank spaces on the map our character.
That is why, under the banner of honesty and full disclosure, every third Tuesday I fling open the doors of the HHG inbox from the past few weeks. Onward into the unknown!

Dear HHG,
Is it possible my husband Paul ordered another board from you within the last month? I ask because there’s a blue longboard with double pinlines in the garage that I haven’t seen before. When I ask him about it, he just mumbles and points at our son. He's eight.
Thank you,
Paul’s Wife Who Is Saving Up For The Down Payment On A New House
Dear PWWISUPFTDPOANH,
Under the Shaper’s Disclosure Act of 1999, it is not compulsory for me to answer your query. However, I will say that as of last week, Paul is one step closer to a free sandwich*. Also, when he picked up something the other day (not saying what it was that he slipped into his new 9’6 board bag), he did mention how much he loved you, and how understanding you are. Maybe not in those exact words, but still.
*The HHGSC (HeadHighGlassySandwichClub) offers a free sandwich** from Traverso's, a Santa Rosa tradition for four generations, for customers who reach a certain number of board orders. In order to stave off a run on new orders, I won't give the exact number, though it's between five and seven.
**Sandwich includes one (non-alcoholic) drink, but no chips, as chips are ridiculous.
This may, or may not be your husband's new stick.

Dear HHG,
Is Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73 the best fall-related ode?
Yours in poetry,
Tina from Marina

Hi TfM,
No. It is clear Shakespeare never visited California during this most lovely of seasons when he penned, “when yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang/Upon those boughs which shake against the cold…”
Instead, let me recommend Keats’ To Autumn. At just 24 years old, he nailed it right from the opener: “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness…”
Huzzah!

HHG,
How do you know when you’re getting old?
Fondly,
Humbolt-er Every Day

HED,
Do you make strange noises when you sit down?
Do you ever wish your board were 2” thicker?
Have you ever opted out from a surf session to work in your vegetable garden?
Wait, that might just be me...

Dear HHG,
I’m thinking about relocating—does Sonoma County have good surf?
Sincerely,
California Dreamin’

Dear CD,
No, SoCo does not have good surf. Especially last week.
San Diego does, though!
What we do have is excellent wine. Let me recommend Trentadue’s Old Patch Red (2005). A 2008 Sonoma County Harvest Fair winner in Best of Class, and a steal at Bottle Barn right now for $9.99. The convenient screw top makes it even more appealing as a daily drinker.

And with that, I seal the HHG inbox for another month.
Don’t forget this Thursday’s Surf Movie Night at Santa Rosa’s Toad ‘n The Hole Pub in historic Railroad Square. This month’s feature is going to be solid. Festivities begin around darkish.