Endless Summer Winter

To celebrate my brother's 24th birthday on Sunday (same day as my dad's), J took Alexander out to catch a few waves, brah. Of course I volunteered to be photographer for the morning so I tried to chronicle it as Point Break as I could:

Artsy shot (above) I snapped while J and Alex were still out in the water.

Artsy shot (above) I forced J to pose in.

In other news:

My dad took us up to UC Santa Cruz to check out a spectrometer he's building for the Lick Observatory. We had to get suited up before stepping into the sanitized engineering lab and hilarity ensued:

Learning how sausage is made, or dressing up as double helixes for a Halloween party?

My sister's puppy is getting on my last nerve. No, I do not think it's cute when you chew on the leg of my sweat pants, Moxie (if that's even your real name. I'm starting to think it's actually more along the lines of "Diablo," "Lucifer," or something like that. J's convinced your real name must be "poop machine.")

I finally saw The Road. And it sucked. It wasn't a terrible movie, and I didn't hate it, but the book is just better. No failure on Viggo Mortenson's part, I love him as an actor and the guy can definitely pull off looking hot in a beard (Lord of the Rings, anyone?), but The Road is one of those books that doesn't adapt perfectly to screen, and so I think the blame lies on the screenwriters who fell short of making it their own.