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.

                                               Internet Photo

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   
 

Raison d’être, My Captain ~ By JLee

While seeking inspiration for a blog post the other day, I serendipitously turned to Facebook and began communicating with one of my daughter's race fans.   We were discussing what I imagined as my future before I met my Michael.  That's when the light bulb went on and inspiration struck.  

(Internet Photo)

 

Nine or ten years ago I seriously thought the future would find me with long, flowing hair living in the mountains, perhaps Wyoming, Colorado, or Montana,  nurturing an organic, peaceful life. On my back porch would be a pottery wheel overlooking my vegetable and herb gardens.  I would still be preaching about saving our Mother Earth and refusing to purchase anything contained in plastic.  I even started to prepare myself for the transition by returning to my creative roots and exploring my inner self through art work.  

                                                        (Internet Photo)

I had just purchased a smaller home and was beginning the process of making it mine!  The first project I tackled in my new home was making it reflect who I am.   I replaced most of the light switches with dimmers so that the atmosphere would reflect my calm, and tranquil inner being.   My brother Marty, who lives half way across the country in Phoenix, talked me through the first couple until I was comfortable completing the project on my own.  Oh yea, that was fun.   The simple truth is one should not drink wine while working on electricity unless you are prepared to get ZAPPED.  Next, I hired someone to redo the kitchen.  I had the contractor leave an area above the stove top so I could create a mosaic of a Kokapelli to represent my inner fun loving spirit, love of music, and disobedience for normal rules and conventional behavior. Ahhh!  My home was becoming an extension of me.  The only thing missing was the mountains. 

Being just over 50 years old, I felt there was a number of years before I would be able to move to the mountains, so I continued to enjoy my home.   It was quite beautiful, very comfortable, and relaxing.   Several friends described it as cowgirl chic.  I liked that depiction.  I felt it was a reflection of who I was, and in some regard, still am.  

So now what?  I have a wonderful, chic cowgirl abode and no one to share it with.   I asked myself, what does a red-blooded American cowgirl-wanna-be do when she wants to find someone to share her life?  She hits the single bars, of course.  Not my style.  Country western dance saloons?  Maybe.  All male strip clubs? Definitely maybe.  Instead, I opted for becoming a voyeur on Match dot com.  Yup. I bit the bullet and joined Match.   For over a year I would come home from work and spy on unsuspecting men via the internet.  What a great concept. 

After a little more than a year of false starts, many half truths, and outright untruthfulness; I decided to give up and cancel my subscription to Match.  The nerve of some people.  What makes a person believe they can say they are 55 and 6 ft tall, when actually they are 75 and 5 ft 8?  Do they actually think I would not notice 20 years and several inches?  Not to mention starting out a relationship with a lie.  No thank you!  I was prepared to try the all male strip clubs, but  Match inadvertently hit my credit card for another 3 month payment, so I decided to give it one last shot.  That is when I noticed someone of interest viewed my profile.  Hmmmm ... not bad!   I winked at him.  He winked back.  I wrote to him, he wrote back.  I called him up, he called me back. 

And that is how it all started.  

(Internet Photo)

                                                                 (Internet Photo)

Fast forward six years to current day and we are preparing to celebrate an anniversary of sorts.  We met six years ago this month.  Since meeting I have traded my future of living in a little mountain cottage, reading poetry, throwing pots on a wheel, and tending my gardens, for an adventure on a sailboat with the sun on my face, wind in my long flowing hair, reading cruising guides and nautical charts, and enjoying sundowners in varying locations with my Michael.  I thank God daily for this man beside me.  He is my dream partner, my raison d’être, my captain. 

Hey H Michael.  Do you think we can find room for a pottery wheel, 200 pounds of clay, a wood fired kiln, and a cord of hardwood on Adventure US 2?

Adventure Us 2 Talks to Me, by H. Michael

If your attitude is such that you believe one can only communicate with humanoids; don't read this post.   If your stance on life allows you to look at an object, but not consider the energy emitted from that object; don't read this post.  If you are of the mindset that non living objects can't communicate with people who are willing to listen; don't read this post.    If you are able to view an object and walk away without acknowledging the vigor sheathed inside the object; don't read this post.  However, if you have ever looked at a sunset and felt the power of the sun and earth communicating in a brilliant display of partnership and alliance; you may choose to continue reading.  If you have ever looked at an old, used, piece of wood and thought about the message buried deep within the character of the wood; you may choose to continue reading.  If you can relate to Robert Duvall in this scene from "Days of Thunder"; you may choose to continue reading.

The first part of the paragraph above should be considered a warning.  Do not get angry at me because you have decided to read the personal thoughts I am about to transcribe.  Do not send me mail subjecting me to an angry diatribe because we do not share the same philosophy.  I am not being blasphemous, nor am I being sacrilegious.  I am simply relating personal feelings, sentiments, and emotions the Great Creator has bestowed upon me as an individual.  I will respect your thoughts, if you will respect mine, but if yours don't agree with mine; keep them to yourself.  (JL thinks I  should add a smiley face emoticon here.)   Therefore.  :-)



Adventure Us 2 speaks to my soul.  Occasionally I sit in the cockpit and listen to her declare all the places she wants to go.   Out into the Gulf of Mexico, down to Corpus and back.

"Oh, and let's go to Mexico, and maybe stay awhile.  And when the time is right let's go east along the Gulf Coast, all the way to Marathon.  I've been there before and will show you some cool places.  We can round the corner of Florida and go into the Atlantic, continuing east to the Bahamas, I've been there several times.  We can travel down the thorny path to the windward and leeward islands of the Caribbean Sea.  Oh, I know I will absolutely love the warm waters of the Caribbean.  After a while, when we feel like it, we can transit the Panama Canal and go north all the way into the Sea of Cortez." 

It is impossible for me to ignore Adventure Us 2's tenacity.    I am often awe struck by her persistence, vigor, and spirit of adventure.

Just the other day, after I had finished a large project and was wondering what project to start next, she unexpectedly and surprisingly whispered in my ear. 

"Michael, please check my belts for proper alignment."

I did, and the alternators were whacked way out.

"Please look at, and tighten these screws."

I did and they were all very loose....

"Look at this bolt."

It was showing signs of fatigue....

"Replace this hose."

Cracked, and weak....



She is never bossy, but very persistent with her suggestions.    I believe she knows the demands water travel can place on her, and I am always happy to respect her recommendations.  She is a lady with great desire, and aspirations.  I feel I must do my part to prepare her for her destiny.

Just last Saturday, after I had invested a long day in her character, she seemed to sigh a breath of relaxation for the evening.  She appeared grateful for the hard work and devotion I had bestowed on her that day.   During these special moments I tell her about all the things I want to do to her to make her stronger, and prettier.  She listens intently and responds in her magical way known only to those of us that pay attention .



Enlightenment, By H. Michael

Janet Lee has accused me of teasing readers that may have found their way to my November 12th  post because I failed to explain how I became enlightened.  "But JL," I said "don't you enjoy a little foreplay prior to getting down to business?"  

"Yes, I do" she said "but I prefer to be stimulated with continuity, and without interruption." 

Once again her cunning intelligence left me speechless and with a lot more insight into that thing called love.  Here then is my enlightenment story.

It was a dirty December afternoon in 2003 when I stumbled into the youngest brother of my best friend at a local restaurant.  He mentioned  that, along with a friend, he had just purchased a really cool used twenty-four foot sailboat.  I was curios regarding his desire to own a sailboat because he is one of many I spent time cavorting with on the water.  His acquisition definitely tweaked my interest to the degree that when he offered to take me out sailing; I accepted.  We set up a time to meet the next day on an area lake where they kept their boat . 

I was not a sailor, but I trusted both of the owners of the little POS boat we were going to take out into the frothing waters of the lake.  Frothing?  Yep.  The wind was clocking at around 30 miles an hour and gusting to 35 or 40.  The grey, sunless sky provided limited light, and the low, fast moving clouds were threatening rain, or perhaps worse.   I would not have ventured out in a power boat in similar conditions, but to my uneducated sailing mind set the strong, gusting, cold, north wind just meant we would have a great sail.  My first warning should have been when one of the guys started taking hits from a flask about every ten minutes. 

"Hey Michael go up on the front of the boat and put this sail on that wire thing going up to the top of the mast.   Just make sure those little clip things are closed all the way and are in the right order.  Oh yea, and make sure that rope is attached to the first piece of hardware on the sail."

"Uh, okay" I said. 

My second warning should have been how spongy the deck felt when I went forward to hank on the jib, but I trusted my companions because they had been sailing on the old decaying boat before. 

"Do you guys know how to sail this thing?"

"Yea we took her out last week for the first time, but we didn't know we had to put the retractable keel down.  When the outboard ran out of gas and died we were pushed sideways into the back of the cove and Kevin had to jump out and keep us from hitting the shore.  He had to push the boat all the way around the cove, in waste deep water, back to the dock.  That was a really good learning experience."

"The water was so cold I lost feeling in my legs."  Kevin chimed.

After we got the boat set up to sail we headed out of the cove and into the main body of the lake.   At first we were traveling in the lee of the cove but once we rounded the corner and cleared the tree line the little outboard mounted on the stern began struggling to maintain forward momentum against the oncoming wind and waves. Occasionally a big wave would crash into the bow and throw a spray of ice cold water into the air toward our totally exposed bodies in the cockpit.  With the onslaught of every wave my host took another hit from his flask and offered it around. 

 

"No, none for me thanks." 

We had attached the halyard to the main sail back in the cove and now Bob said "Okay, it's time to pull the sail up the mast." Wrap this rope around the winch a couple of times and start pulling."

I did as I was told and the sail started inching up the mast.  Immediately upon being exposed to the wind, the sail began a disorderly complaint by dancing wildly side to side.  As the sail neared the top, Kevin added a handle to the winch and began to crank.   In no time the sail nestled tightly into place at the top.  As the sail gained height up the mast, the outboard increasingly struggled to keep the boat moving forward.  The little sailboat fought back bravely but labored under the attack from the waves hitting the bow.  She launched into her protest by bobbing up and down like a bronc at a rodeo.  I was beginning to understand.

Bob was at the tiller and asked if we were ready.  He should have said hold on cause the shit is about to hit the fan, but what did I know.  I was sitting on the starboard side of the cockpit and when Bob turned the boat to port, the wind immediately filled the sail, heeled the boat over about forty degrees, and buried the port toe rail three inches below the water.  I had to brace my feet on the bottom part of the port lazaret to keep from falling on top of Kevin and Bob.  The boat took off like a NHRA dragster, and my heart started pumping adrenaline as if turned on by a switch.  Eventually I took a turn on the tiller and even discovered I could maneuver the boat by pulling in on, or easing off of, the sheets. (I learned the terminology later.)  We incredibly sailed for about an hour until we were so cold and wet we couldn't take it any longer. 

I have heard it said that love will either set a man free, or make him a prisoner.  I'm not sure if that's true, but since that fateful day in December, love has become my alibi.  That day was a turning point in my life.  We were the only boat on the lake, and really had no business being there.  The extraordinarily bad conditions undoubtedly threw caution to all the sane people.  But, there we were, out on the lake.   Few people recognize important defining moments in there lives, but I knew in the short time we were on the water sailing that worn out, little sailboat that I would make sailing a long lasting part of my life.  I started to research sailing classes the next week and soon after started taking ASA sailing courses.