Randy Truby's wardrobe -- broad, rectangular glasses; a long-sleeve navy blue corduroy shirt; navy slacks; and oxblood cowboy boots on an 80-degree day in Southern California -- does little to minimize his distinct physical presence. But an almost elfin energy animates Truby's big-fella frame when he starts talking about water. "If you consider rainfalls, and you look at rivers and lakes -- all that water is pretty well known," he says. "If you look at the Colorado River, that water is all adjudicated and consumed. In a place like Southern California, people have to look at the sea."