Down Mexico Way

Bruce is home from Mexico where he surfed and lived in a cabana (nice word for shack) on the beach of someone named Kiwi Dave. A New Zealander who lives in Mexico with a kid he calls "Poles." A nickname for Rolondo, Roly Poly, now Poles. Everyone calls him Poles. There were also two other Australians there named Wombat and Skeeter. Apparently everyone had teeth.

Bruce said in Mexico there are giant water tanks over everyone's houses, and the gravity forces the water down into the pipes. At Kiwi Dave's, one of the giant logs holding the water tank over the shower had been eaten away by termites. When Bruce went to take a shower, Kiwi Dave was on the roof, showing Bruce how the log just flakes away if you touch it. Thanks to Poles, who noticed the log atrophying, the log was getting replaced, saving the 5000 gallon water tank from crashing directly down into the shower. Where Bruce (or another surfer Bruce) would have been inside, rub a dub dead.

Although from the smell of Bruce, there was little danger of him being actually IN the shower in Mehico. If you surf all day, salt water must make you feel clean. When in actuality, you reek like a freaking rotten mango.

What I like is that there is a whole legion of people (mostly guys) traveling the coastal regions of Earth during winter and summer, following the best surf. That storms are important. Storms mean waves. And that it's apparently rude to call someone by their real name when their nickname DEFINES them.

Time to find a great nickname. Spew, already spoken for. Also the grandparents, Dandy, Damma, and Moose, pretty good. My brother Debah. Lilly Vanilli. Nandy. Navery. We should have a contest. And if you don't like yourself, time to rename.

We're heading to Oregon for a family reunion. Diving right into that storm. Wait, storms are important, right? They mean waves. Who wants flat, when you can ride a wave? If you pack a surfboard, I guess you can be right in it, and balance on top, exhilerated, at the same time. (Note: Must build inner surfboard. And then remember to pack it.)

Thanks, Bruce. Unknowingly passes on genius, from the unshaven, stinky poet that is our surfer son.