Surfing

I spent my 'tween years in Laguna Beach, California. Now, it was bad enough that I was already 5'8" tall, and a C cup in the era of bathing suits made for boards not broads, but - horrors! - I seemed to be the only girl in town who couldn't surf.

Oh, I could body surf (after a fashion - hard to do with two built-in front rudders) and I could mostly mat surf. But put me in a standing position and - boom! - I was flailing at waves and choking up salt water.

I think I need to take lessons, because the markets have that same kind of "bitchin' dude" hang-ten feel about them lately.

Yesterday was the biggest single-day point loss in history. Today was the third biggest point gain. I wish I would have bought Wachovia at 39 cents (or whatever it was) a share, I can tell you that, but would it have done much, really?

Don't know. Maybe. Probably not. I told you before I won't take advantage of another's distress - I won't buy a foreclosed house, I won't buy at a fire sale, and I won't pay so much under value just because someone is desparate. I thought about making the exception, since I still think banks got themselves into this, but there's a person at the other end of that share. I can't help but think about that, and I feel ... weird.

Then again, maybe it's not guilt that drives me. Maybe all this up and down, up and down, up and down doesn't make me want to yell "kawabunga" after all.

Maybe I'm just seasick.