Dry-Docked and Making the Rounds

I headed down to San Diego yesterday to pick up my new Salted pig. I think I love San Diego. It's hard to know for sure since I'm never down there for long. Guess what I did the last time I visited San Diego? Drove down to meet Alan to pick up a board and then immediately drove back to L.A. I've got to flip that script and actually hang out down there.

The board is now sitting in the living room in a board bag that belongs to Jim Phillips. Gene Cooper loaned it to me when I got my Flexpig. My intention was to return it to Phillips while I was down in San Diego. But when we realized my Salted pig wouldn't fit in the bag I'd brought, I ended up taking the new pig back up to L.A. in Phillips' bag. And it's not like this is some beautiful bag that's made of steel. It's ripped, dirty, thinning and basically being held together by a few wisps of material. For whatever reason, that bag seems to want to live at my house for the time being. And I'm okay with that. Still, I have every intention of making sure Jim Phillips gets his bag back.

While I was in San Diego, I traded texts with my friend Andrea. I'd already sent a message to Cher. Unfortunately, there was no way I could actually try to see people. Although we'd arranged for grandma to pick up the kid at school, we still had to rush back to L.A. in order to beat the horrendous traffic that brings the freeways to a stop after a certain hour.

I did, however, make time for one stop. J.P. and I have known one another through our blogs for years. I'd been down to Moonlight on one occasion—to pick up a board, yes—and he wasn't there. I was intent on finally meeting him and seeing the surf shop. When I walked in, I was looking right at him! J.P. is cool! You need to shop at Surfy Surfy today, tomorrow and forever!

There will be no surfing for me until next week. I've once again gone under the needle. I spent part of Sunday getting some art added to the tattoo I got in November. Does it hurt more if it's done on a spot that's all muscle? I don't ever remember tattoos hurting this much. As far as I'm concerned, no more ink. Although I endured the pain and am happy with what I got, I really have better things to do than to sit around being tortured with a needle. Of course, there's not anything else I want in terms of a tattoo. So maybe I am really done.