Moving On(board) by Janet Lee

This week Michael and I reached a significant milestone in our predetermined five year blueprint to shift our lives onto AdventureUS2.  The strategic objective leading us headlong into the final phase began with a swift and decisive motion of the pen, and ended with a sign from a local realtor being placed in our yard.  Yep, we did it.  We put Casa del Dos up for sale.  

How do I feel?   I feel anxious and excited.  Up until now the impact of our decision to downsize and move onto AdventureUs2 has mostly been on an easygoing path, and at a casual pace.   However the trail has reached a major crossroads, one in which the pace will ramp up several notches, and changes will occur at a much faster tempo.   Suffice it to say I must somehow find the strength, courage, patience, and endurance to run an excellent race because the end reward is a prize we have been training for, and dreaming of, for a long time.

We have had 3 garage sales in the last couple of years, but still need one more gargantuan, mother-of-them-all sale. The do or die sale.   The sale to relieve us of all most of our stuff.  I love our home, and I love our stuff.  But in the end, it is really only just stuff.  Am I ready for this?  Will this be life altering?  Will it be liberating?  Will it be disengaging?  I hear that it is, I hope that it is, after all, it is just stuff. 

I sure could use a good shoulder to cry on some counseling and encouragement from any of the experts that have already gone through the cleansing.   What should I do with the little rocking chair that my mother rocked in as a child?  The same one I rocked in as a little girl.  The same one my daughters rocked in and played mommy with their baby dolls and stuffed animals?  I don't know.   I guess that too, is just 'stuff.   

I know this current stream of emotions shall pass when we, as Jim Morrison and the Doors once said: "break on through to the other side".  Once there; will we be open to a different kind of life journey because we are free of most our material stuff in life? Will we explore new avenues and experiences based on our lack of material encumbrance?  Will we be able to set fresh goals and discover, yet to be told, adventure stories?   Our lives will most definitely be altered, because we won't have much 'stuff', but then what?  

Stay tuned to find out.

I'm a Rebel Rebel, by H. Michael

By now, most of the free world has heard about the misfortunes of the crew of Rebel Heart.   Their tribulation has been plastered all over national media, forums, blogs, and I'm sure in many private conversations.  Some outwardly and passionately admire them for their undertaking and chosen lifestyle, while others heatedly condemn them for undertaking such a challenge, and way of life.  Both sides present well founded reasons for their choice, and are equally quick to point out fault with the counter view.  I am not at all surprised by the attention they are receiving on all fronts or by the contrast in opinions.  Let me emphatically state; I am not hear to weigh in on either side.  (I have my opinion, and I intend to keep it mine.)  Thankfully they are safe, albeit a little poorer for the loss, or perhaps richer for the experience.  

I have been waiting for the maelstrom of opinion to subside, but I can see a second round of turbulence is beginning to unfold.  Hold on tight to your britches because the profiteers are starting to swarm, and I certainly have an opinion regarding this infestation.  

I understand the psychological need to feel as though one is part of a group.  After all, there truly is safety in numbers.  The more tribe members that have the same lifestyle or opinion as me; the more protected and secure I can feel that I am making the right choices, and the less careful I need to be to survive.  And by aggressively assaulting the opposite opinion or code of standard, I can add justification to the pack, gain momentum, and add value to the belief, or lifestyle, or even my very existence.  However, and let me be brief because it is not really my point.  Certainly the righteous have no need to bolster an opinion because being right doesn't allow for an alternative, and without opposition the need to promote is eliminated.  I get it.

All of the heavyweights on various sailing blogs and other social media have expressed opinions and have made there presence known as to which side of the fence they sit.  I really don't have any objection to this form of dialogue with readers.  But, and here is the point: It is wrong to sell a personal opinion of what is truly not your story, but someone else's story, for profit.

There is a story, and it is the story of Rebel Heart.  Once the story is told by them; you may all, once again gather to scrutinize and further dissect the carcass.  But until they bring their story to us, stay out of it, muthafucaas.

Peace, out.

My Heart Cries - by Janet Lee

Twenty-five years after the Exxon Valdez disaster a sheen of oil still shimmers across the waters of Prince William Sound in Alaska.  Will mankind's carelessness ever cease?

After witnessing the collision of a ship and barge at the Texas City Intracoastal intersection and the Houston ship channel on Galveston Bay a few days ago, I ask myself these questions.   Why were these ships out in the dense fog?  Visibility was so poor when we left the Harbor House dock and approached the ship channel the very same tanker that hit the barge was ghosting in and out of sight as he passed 100 yards in front of us.  I'm sure they are accustomed to traveling in such poor conditions, but why didn't they pick each other up on radar or AIS?  Was this just pure carelessness?   My heart is crying.  

 Photo by Janet Lee Knizner-Enders

The bay life that break the water's surface such as dolphins, birds, fish and other aquatic life forms are in obvious danger.  What makes matters worse, if that is possible, is during this time of year this area caters to spring migration and the Bolivar Peninsula is part of the Bird Looping Trail. http://www.bolivarchamber.org/BirdWatching.aspx

Internet Photo

In Texas, the brown pelican is already endangered because of man. The runoff from land was, and still is, polluted with pesticides.  This nearly devastated the population around the Texas Coast by damaging the pelican's eggs.   But in recent years the population of the brown pelican is slowly recovering. Coastal power lines are another hindrance. These huge birds would fly into the lines killing them instantly or breaking their wings, sending them into a dive bomb to a painful death.  Now, once again, oil in the Gulf....mankind's error.  

                                      
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When will we learn?  Why can't WE adapt to nature?  Do we just think we can move into their territory and take over?  We did it to the American Indian... now we are doing it to our God given gifts.
                                                                         

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I Welcome the Future, by J Lee

An unusual incident took place the other day at work.  Charlie quit.  Walked out.  Terminated his employment.  He just left.  Did not tell anyone directly.   Had enough.  Kaput!  Auf Wiedersehen!   Hasta la vista, baby!   F#&$ off!  That's it!  Like I said... he just left.  It was time, the perfect time.  

                                                                   Internet Photo

I will miss him.  He made me laugh, often pissed me off, but he also made my day enjoyable. I was agitated at first... then I thought about it.  How wonderful it must be to change course, re-program and try a new path in a major part of your life without  getting bogged down with anxiety. 

I would never condone walking out on an employer without giving appropriate notice but, have you ever wanted to do that?  Ever want to pull a Charlie and just bolt?  

Iternet Photo

When I think about leaving on our boat, it is almost the same thing, except Adventure Us 2's departure will be planned.  Ten years working in downtown Houston, day in, day out, same ol', same ol', and in a brief moment a major part of my life and H Michael's life changes. 

I can't imagine the feeling of liberation one must feel to wake the day after a major transition, not knowing, or not overly concerned about what the day will bring.   Not relying on a clock to make it through the day.  Living in a non-restricted world.   

Will time stand still when we bolt?   I hope so.

Will we get bored?  

I think not.

I welcome the future.  Bring it on baby!

Enough is Enough, by H. Michael

Water leaks into the rear lazaretto on Adventure Us 2.  This is a big deal because I expect to use the space to lay up supplies when we untie the dock lines and water getting into the space is no bueno.  (Especially when I know it is happening.)  Two ninety (90) degree half (1/2) inch barb fittings installed to allow water to drain from the hatch cover channel continually clog with all kinds of debris.  The ninety (90) degree bend in the fitting is so small just about everything jams it up. Once that happens water overflows the channel and ends up in the lazaretto.  I tried to convince myself (and Adventure Us 2) that I could tighten clamps on the exit hoses, use a little caulking to seal the fittings better, and be vigilant about cleaning the trash out of the reveal, but in reality I wasn't very effective.  Last weekend I decided enough is enough.  

I have always been one to plan projects with a certain amount of attention to detail, and this project was fairly straight forward once I found the fittings I wanted to use.  The reason half (1/2) inch fitting were used in the first place is because the hatch channel width is barely wide enough to house the outside dimension of the barbed elbow.  For the record I didn't install the original fitting, but for a replacement I chose a one (1) inch slip, by three quarter (3/4) inch threaded elbow because you can drive a truck through the ninety (90) degree bend.  I added a three quarter (3/4) inch threaded barb fitting to the elbow so I could attach a hose and run it to the existing through hull.  With the old fitting removed, and a little grinding on the underside of the channel, with my Dremel, I had a nice, stable base for the new fitting to rest, and I was ready to start some fiberglass work.  

The wise and astute readers this blog attracts have already realized a "certain amount of attention to detail" does not necessarily make the planning comprehensive.  In fact, it leaves the door wide open and allows for the possibility that perhaps some of the finer details were omitted.  Possibly to the extent that Mr. Murphy had little trouble entering and lounging for a while as I scrambled to not FUBAR the whole undertaking. 

In all fairness to myself, I completely understand the effects of gravity, but sometimes I can be a little naïve.  Like the time I jumped off the roof of our house holding four (4) corners of a bed sheet as a parachute.   Anyway, lacking extensive experience with all things fiberglass, I basically thought I would mix the resin a little on the stiff side so it would cure quickly.  In the mean time I would hold it in position until I could let it go without it falling.  Simple.  Just in case, I placed a roll of blue tape close by lest I need some reinforcement.   

The plan was well executed on the first (port side) fitting.  Although I did have to use my tongue to get the tape started, my teeth to hold the loose end of the tape as I unrolled it, and then my mouth to hold the roll of tape while I positioned the loose end of the tape because my left hand was busy holding the fitting in place.  Not bad though.  I had the same plan for glassing the second fitting, however about this time Murphy arrived, decided to have a little fun at my expense, and everything proved a little more intense challenging. 

To work on the starboard fitting I had to rotate my body inside the lazaretto one hundred eight (180) degrees.  Now it was necessary to hold the fitting in place with my right hand while trying to positioning some tape with my left.  My left hand behaves admirably as an assistant to my right, but has never really been comfortable taking the lead.  Unrolling the tape, moving it into position, and getting the right supportive angle proved a frustrating experiment.  Good thing Janet Lee showed up. 

"Honey can you please rip off a piece of tape for me? ....  Uh oh....  Maybe a bigger piece will work better....  Hmmm, it worked on the other side.... Shit!"

At this point the fitting had moved way out of position because of fumbling around with various pieces of tape.   I had to remove the fiberglass cloth, reposition the fitting, re-apply the cloth, and smooth it over with more resin.  Good thing I was wearing gloves cause I would've had resin all over my hands. Of course all the old tape we tried to use was coated with resin and somehow ended up stuck to my pants, shirt, shoes, hair, whiskers, and various parts of my exposed skin.

"Okay I'm ready JL, let's try again."

Recalling this incident I am reminded of a job I had in college working with a crew framing houses.  There was a guy on the crew whose irritation and frustration levels would peek, usually because of a "stupid board", to the point that he would scream at the top of his lungs as a warning of what was yet to come.  The entire crew recognized his raucous outburst as a sign to hunker down and wait for the explosion.  Inevitably he would throw his hammer across the project and it would crash to the ground, sometimes from the ridge of whatever we were framing.  Every single time he would climb down, from wherever he was, walk over, retrieve his hammer, and go back to whatever he was working on before the outburst.    I always found this home grown psychotherapy behavior interesting because I recognized by screaming he could clear his mind, and throwing his hammer gave him the opportunity to take a few moments, by retrieving the tool, to: rethink his approach, and regain his zen.  After the third time I removed the resin soaked cloth from the elbow, essentially starting over for the third time, can you guess what I did?  

"F*/#ing shit!  Stupid ass elbow." 

The only difference is I didn't have anything I could throw, and if I had; it probably would have stuck to my glove.  With that one explosive verbal outburst Janet Lee cocked her head a little to one side and promptly disappeared in what I believe was an effort to hunker down in a safe place.   I think I scared the crap out of Murphy too because all of a sudden I had a clear vision of the five single hand bar clamps in the bottom of the dock box patiently waiting for a chance to contribute. 

I am always amazed by the amount of insight I gain when on the verge of panic.  It seems to me that as intensity ramps up, if I can remain attune to the mission and confront my weakness head on; a better plan develops.   Clouds part, the sun comes out, and a rainbow with a pot of gold magically appears within grabbing distance.

Can you see the rainbow?

“When I’ve lost my way or when I am confused about a path to take, I remember that most answers I need I already possess – deep inside. I am naturally creative, resourceful and whole. If I consult my invisible compass, I’ll know what to do.”
~Steve Goodier

Borrowed from :

Art Of Hookie ~ Will work for food or money.

 

Someone Got Run Over by a Reindeer, by Janet Lee

Celebrating birthdays is always interesting, fun, and from time to time results in a story worth telling.

Recently my daughter and her beau, Mindy from Indy, and many others came to our side of town to celebrate my Michael's birthday.  Festivities began at our favorite sushi restaurant, Masa Sushi, followed by an evening of cheerful fun, revelry, and dancing at Big Texas South.  After several hours of camaraderie, rounds of jello shots, and other libations too numerous to mention, the night progressed with about ten cowgirls and cowboys walking the length of the parking lot to IHOP for more indulgences.    

                                                           Internet Photo

After we gorged ourselves on waffles, bacon and every other extravagance we could stuff into our mouths, the designated drivers took the helm of their assigned carriages and in the wee hours of the morning headed to our house to celebrate a late night an early morning birthday gift exchange.  Turning down our street we were greeted with a very unusual sight to behold!  Three deer were grazing on flowers left over from summer in my front beds.  Being of semi-sound minds, both designated drivers turned off their headlights so as not to disturb the deer, but before I could pull totally to a stop, the passenger of my car, who shall remain nameless, jumped out of my Corvette and started running and screaming toward the deer in what I believe may have been an attempt to get a closer view of Prancer, Dancer, and Vixen.  Prancer and Vixen darted past him cleanly but he was able to get in front of Dancer, and with his arms extended over his head made an attempt at one last dance of the night.  Dancer didn't want anything to do with a six foot two cowboy cutting into their nocturnal salad bar foray and from a dead still posture jumped over his outstretched arms and flew off into the night.  I assume tiny Dancer was displeased at not taking off with Prancer and Vixen because at the last moment, before clearing his outstretched frame, she reimbursed him for damages with a kick to his um.... arm.

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I was reminded of a five year old set free in a penny candy store!  The long, tall cowboy began jumping up and down, squealing and laughing.

"OH MY GOD!!! I JUST GOT KICKED BY A DEER!"  

What is the first thing one does when kicked by a deer?  Recall the event on social media of course.  A post was made on Facebook and funny comments were plentiful.  The thrill of the moment, although tainted with anonymity, will linger for many years, and I am sure, as years go by, the deer will get bigger, jump higher, and the story of the unnamed deer wrangler will grow in the minds of all those involved.

It is Always Now, By H. Michael

I was talking to a guy a few days before the new year arrived, and somehow the topic turned briefly to regrets.  Although the conversation was brief, I have been ruminating on it ever since.  I feel I have got to get this off my chest, brain if you prefer, or I will just keep thinking about it.  Janet Lee will probably challenge this remark with a comment like: "just put your brain back in your pants and let the sleeping dog lie", but I can't. 





I won't go into details regarding what the regret(s) were because that is not the point.  The point, as I see it, is how the past is always pulling us into an illusionary perspective of what we should have done, how we should have acted, or changes we should have made to make just about anything imaginable, different.   But it's a trap, there is only the present, only now. 

True, we should all learn from our mistakes, and it's also true that revisiting past decisions and making different choices, if given the same set of circumstances might work to our benefit.  I put too much garlic in the stew last time; I think I will add less this time.  I cut the board too short, I'll add an eighth on the re-cut, I should have reefed sooner, or the oil in the diesel was really black last time I changed it; I think I will change it more frequently.  You get the point.  When dealing with a task it is beneficial to call on your memory and make alterations if required to make the outcome different, and definitely if the outcome is perceived as better.  But, and here in lies the rub, when memories and emotions get all wrapped up and cozy in a blanket of (perceived) change, and past emotions are not part of the current equation of change, remorse can surface; which may lead to regret, and if severe enough; guilt.  

If I say for example "I regret not going cruising sooner", after I have been cruising for many years; my memory allows emotions and other mental experiences to surface that are motivated by current behavior, and not the actual experience that caused me to perform the way I chose.  The market may have been soft and I couldn't sell my house, my children may have been living at home, or a host of other reasons that were applicable, but were somehow tempered with time.  The point is: the emotional relevance of a past decision was lost, and regret surfaced because a new, contemporary standard is being compared to the past. 

The only way I can see to prevent regret is to always live in the now.  So my mantra for 2014 is:  It is always now.

Photo used with permission of

Robert Grice, Extreme Photography