Splashes in Palacious (Part One)

It started with an innocent request by a friend to help him deliver a Pacific Seacraft, Dana 24 from Palacious TX, to Seabrook TX.  Under normal circumstances the trip should have taken about two (2) days in the ICW.  It took six (6). 

 Avery Christine on the hard in Seabrook Marina

The broker that sold the boat, and requested the delivery, drove us down to the city of Palacious after work on Thursday.  The plan was to leave early the next morning (Friday) and start back to Seabrook.  Thursday was warm and sunny and the 2 hour drive was uneventful with very casual conversation.  I was on the phone most of the way down setting up my reports for the next day because I didn't think I would be available by phone while we crossed Matagorda Bay.  I vaguely remember captain Ken talking to our chauffeur about a mutual friend that had just gone through a twenty-four hour bout with some sort of stomach virus or purging bug.  Poor bastard.  

Upon arrival in Palacious we met the owner of the boat we contracted to move, and he agreed to drive us to the grocery store so we could get some supplies.  I find it interesting to grocery shop with other males when the mission is to provision for a cycle of anywhere from a couple of days to several days.  It reminds me of a pack of wolves gorging on a fresh kill.  Who knows, we may not kill another deer for a while, perhaps we should eat double our needs just in case.  I was a little embarrassed when we walked out of the store with enough food to last us a week.  All I was thinking about was: how will we ever eat all this stuff.

Next stop was PMR (Palacious Mexican Restaurant) for dinner.  The food wasn't great, but it wasn't terrible either.  Just nondescript Texmex.  Leaving the restaurant I noticed the temperature had dropped a bit and inquired about blankets on the boat.  Next stop, the Dollar Store for a couple of blankets.

On the boat we checked all the liquid levels, running and standing rigging, chart plotter and assorted instrumentation.  We fired up the diesel and generator, and generally gave the boat a good state of health.  We put away our food stores and turned in for the night.

About  zero two hundred (2:00 am) I heard Captain Ken hit the head and barf, and then I heard him barf at zero three hundred (3:00 am) , then zero four hundred (4:00 am), zero five hundred  (5:00 am), and again at zero six hundred (6:00 am).  I really thought he may have had some bad Mexican food at PMR.  It never occurred to me he had a stomach virus.  At zero six thirty (6:30 am) I decided to get up and sit in the fully enclosed cockpit and wait to depart while Ken gracefully tried to recover.   We prepared to make way around zero eight thirty (8:30 am) and backed out of the slip around zero nine thirty (9:30 am).  A late start, but considering the night Ken had; I was just happy to be getting underway.  

Being in an unfamiliar marina is always a challenge, and being in an unfamiliar marina with a 11 knot tailwind, at low tide, is even more interesting.  We were dead center in the channel when I noticed we weren't moving.  Yep, the wind had blown just enough water out of the marina that we ran aground.  Stuck in the Texas mud.  We were fortunate the tide was coming in and we only had to wait two hours before we re-floated enough to power up and carry on with our mission.

Some readers may believe in foretelling the future based on events of the past.  True clairvoyants might even say we should have taken the two strikes dealt us in less than twelve hours as a  warning to re-think our departure. But, I can assure you such thoughts never once entered our minds.  How is it possible to forecast the next forty-eight (48) hours based on two unrelated events?   Captain Ken and I, as hard as we tried, were unable to explore the unfamiliar realm of fortune telling based on signs handed down by the cosmos.  It should therefor come as no great surprise that we failed to see the truly rotten can of tomatoes we were about be force fed. 

The weather window for our trip wasn't the greatest, but we only had to travel from the marina, 14 miles into Matagorda Bay, via the channel, to the Intercoastal, hang a left, and travel another 9 miles northeast until we would be surrounded by land, and protected from wind and waves, in the ICW.  Simple enough, and although a Pacific Seacraft is a heavy, boat we should be able to make at least four (4) knots.  It was only around ten hundred hours (10:00 am) so we should be able to make it to protected waters by fifteen hundred hour (3:00 pm).

Our intended travel path

The waves as we started out were running about two feet high on our port rear quarter.  With the 11-12 knot wind, the push from the waves, and assistance from the diesel we were only able to get our SOG (speed over ground) up to about 3.2 knots.  Still plenty of time to make our goal.  The Avery Christine had a full enclosure and the traveler was in the cockpit.  In order to utilize the main sail we would have had to unzip the enclosure so we could sheet out the main.  More trouble than it was worth, bedsides it was starting to get cold, and rain was in the forecast.  We broke out the auto pilot and plugged it in only to find it was drifting and would not hold a straight course.  No big deal we would take turns hand steering and still make it to the Intercoastal in good shape.  The radio chatter from the tows pushing barges in the ICW to the tows out in the bay focused primarily on the condition of the water.   Not once did we hear any of the tows say conditions were too rough to attempt a crossing,   It was only when our personal observations noted wind speed, and wave height were increasing did we tune to NOAA radio for a weather forecast.  A small craft warning had been issued and winds from the north, northeast were expected to steadily increase to 30 knots. Less than ideal but no problem for a Pacific Seacraft.

We negotiated the left hand dog leg and reached our red lateral turning beacon, which had been replaced with a nun, later than we expected.  It was already around 1500 (3:00 pm) and the wind, once the turn was completed, was going to be on our nose.  The water was now showing it's angry side and consistently delivering four and sometimes six foot waves running at three to four second intervals.  The first few lateral beacons in the direction we wanted to travel were missing and had also been replaced with nuns making them a lot harder to spot  in the waves.  No problem we could refer to the chart plotter to help us make the correct turn and set the correct heading.  Neither one of us realized at this juncture that the owner had set the chart plotter up with a delay.  That in and by itself would not have been a big deal, but in a twenty-four foot boat bobbing in four to six foot rollers, with the occupants being thrown around the cockpit, it was a very big deal.  We would initiate our turn, look for the nun, confirm on the chart plotter, turn some more, look for the nun, turn some more, look at the chart plotter; shit we're off course.  Then the whole process would start over again.  I am embarrassed to even think about how long we were stuck in the wash tub trying to determine our correct heading.  Take my word, it was way too long. 

We eventually found our correct heading, but we could not make any headway because of the wind and the size of the waves.  Avery Christine apparently new nothing about the little engine that could.  We tried tacking back and forth along our rhumb line and were able to make a small amount of progress, but after 4.5 hours we only advanced .7 miles toward the shelter of land.  The energy and concentration it took to keep the boat heading in the right direction, stay balanced in the cockpit, and hand steer was intense. At one point I looked down at the tiller and noticed it had a 16 inch split down the middle. Oh shit. We used a whole roll of electrical tape on it and made it as secure as possible.  (Believe it or not it held for the entire trip.)  Night was setting in and we were still about 8 miles from the protected water.   We decided to get out of the channel, drop the hook, and try to ride out the weather.  As soon as we dropped the anchor I started barfing, and continued barfing for about an hour.  I think we both experienced a round of the intestinal virus Ken's friend had.  Both Ken and I were unable to do much of anything but lay horizontal or sleep for the next 40 hours.  Finally on Sunday morning the weather began to break and water in the bay started to lay down.  Let's get out of here.  

About four hours later we left the waters of Matagorda Bay and entered the portion of the ICW protected by land.  Little did we know at the time that our adventure was just beginning.  More on that in part two.

The Last of 2014, The First of 2015

Now that our house has sold and we have recovered from all the holiday insanity, this might be a good time to bring everyone up to speed regarding our first Christmas and New Years while living on our boat, Adventure US 2.

                                                                   JLee's photo

Adventure Us 2 is tied up in a slip on K Dock at a marina on Galveston Bay in Texas. Somehow, probably through some kind of cosmic intervention or similar extraterrestrial mumbo jumbo, we ended up on the same dock with a few equally minded couples who are as crazy as the two of us  mesh well together.  It seems that every time we get together the conversation goes straight into the bilge and we laugh until we cry. The cast of characters is extremely diverse and I would be remiss in any description of our holiday gaiety if I didn't at least qualify our antics by taking up a small portion of your time by offering descriptions as to their character flaws.  Please be advised. The words that follow are my own observations after years and years of therapy practice observing people in the wild frontier.

Introducing the cast:
Angela, Martin, and their dog Chloe drive from our sister state Oklahoma every chance they get, to spend time with me Mystic, their Hunter sailboat.  Angela is a very creative woman and can craft most anything from scratch.  I suspect she can even make her own clothes from cotton bolls she collects from the cotton fields lining the roads of OK.  Martin, her service provider, is a connoisseur of peppermint patties and other fine after dinner mints. 

                                                        Martin, Angela and Chloe

Cheri and Alan are from Dallas and just recently moved on board after accidentally selling their home.  (How does that happen?) Last month Alan was kicked out of retired from the fire department and is preparing their boat, Consort, for adventure.  Cheri is K Dock's wine connoisseur, quick witted red head, and resident judge of local talent including, but not limited to: My Michael and Martin's tongue contest. Don't ask.

                                                              Alan and Cheri

Steve and Deidra are the highest ranking couple on the dock because they have been here the longest. Local legend has identified a possible connection between Deidra and the wine fairy, but that is strictly a rumor. Their trawler, Osprey is the closest boat on the dock to shore and therefore they have been appointed "K Dock's" sentinels, and as such they get the honor of dealing with our late night boat rocking antics. (I swear it was Martin's idea.) Trouble, their dog, is aptly named for her lady like manners and outgoing personality. Close your eyes and imagine the phrase "here comes Trouble" and you'll get the idea.

Steve and Deidra

                                                                  Angela's Photo

Rounding out the group of personalities is the keeper of the golden fleece, marine, and scuba instructor; Gilbert  Gabriel. Gabriel is always quick with a fork and plate joke and keeps us all entertained.   A few vagabonds always seem to find their way into the mix, but the main players seem to remain the same.  

                                                Michael's Photo

Having described the cast, on with the story line.

Each year there is a Christmas boat parade in Seabrook that kicks off the holiday season. Our little group decided to have a 'wine and cheese' party on the peninsula of our marina so we could 'oh' and 'ah' at the Christmas lights. It was cold that particular Saturday night with temperatures in the 50's, but as the adult beverages began to flow the temperature seemed to warm until we were all toasted toasty.

                                                                Internet Photo

                                                    

At the close of the parade, we gathered our remaining beverages, food, and lawn chairs and headed to K Dock. No sooner had we all settled into place when Alan appeared with a milk crate full of liqueur bottles ranging from an unopened bottle of Patron, to a mason jar of vodka half full of pulverized habaneros, (this was truly the hottest firewater any of us had ever tasted) only adding to the mix of beer, wine, and Uncle Sneezy's moonshine that we were already passing around. This led our conversations right into the deepest, darkest, recesses of the bilge.  I'm happy to report however, no one fell off the dock, but we probably should have all been sporting some kind of life preserver jacket .             

                                                                 Martin's Photo

The Christmas break found all of us abandoning ship and heading in different directions, but the sentinels were waiting and punched everyone's card upon our return to make sure no one escaped every soul made a safe return.  Once we were all accounted for; Steve suggested we spend new years eve on their trawler, anchor out to watch the fireworks display Kemah puts on each year and then return to port to spend the remainder of the year on their boat.  Good thing we planned a simple menu because the last day of the year decided to go out with a roar. Wind was howling out of the north east at thirty knots, and the ice cold water had two to three foot waves. On the way out our marine took a few full frontal waves over the bow, but quickly recovered and retreated to the safety of the top deck.  Even a soaking wet marine couldn't curb our insanity enthusiasm.  Everyone else held on to each other Osprey's grab rails as she bucked, kicked, and thrashed her way out of the channel into the bay.  The coast guard was standing by at the entrance monitoring vessels crazy enough to attempt a late night expedition into the pitch black, cold waters of Galveston Bay on a night all sane boaters should be tucked away safely in their slips. We only saw two other boats off in the distance when normally there's at least sixty or a hundred.

Internet Photo

Captain Steve did an outstanding job keeping us all on board, and he expertly docked Osprey in her slip with plenty of time to toast to the new year. We all decided to toss together a pot luck morning brunch the next day which consisted of: wholesome steel oats, fresh fruit, nuts, honey and Angela's home made scones. Oh, and lots, and lots of champagne.  Have you ever tried champagne with orange mango juice? It's our new dreaming of the Caribbean sunset Mimango brunch drink. Yum!

                                                                Janet Lee's Photo

Brunch gave way to dinner with a rest period in between for power naps. Dinner was hosted on Adventure US 2 where we enjoyed My Michael's scrumptious New Year's Black Eyed Peas.  Other contributed culinary delights included corn bread and awesome greens.  Desert was several games of Cards Against Humanity and as you might suspect, wine.  Yep, our conversation went straight to the bilge.  How could it not?  The 9 of us, adult beverages, and Cards Against Humanity is a dangerous combination!

  

                                                              Janet Lee's Photo

                                                                        Internet Photo

The start of the new year was so fabulous I can hardly contain my enthusiasm for what shenanigans the remainder of the year has in store for The K-dockers.   

By the way,  K Dock throws great parties!

It's a New Year, 2015 to Be Exact

2015 has arrived and as is usual for this time of year, I have a cob stuck in my butt because of something that was said to me.  Last year I wrote about the same kind of incident, and you can read about it here.  

Why this time of year?  Well, maybe it has to do with some unfathomable, unexplored, or undiscovered, physiological flaw in my genome. I was born on the fifth of January and it always seems, at least to me, I get overly sensitive each year around this time.  Perhaps I arrived in this world kicking and screaming to such a degree that I have to deal with the remnants, or fallout from the trauma on an annual cycle, like a form of annual déjà vu. (think Bill Murray in Ground Hog Day) But now it gets translated by my psyche into introspection, rather than physical discomfort.   Whatever the case may be for my rumination; my thoughts cogitate until I find a suitable release. Lucky for me I get to regurgitate my feelings by heaving up my thoughts in text, and you, unfortunate reader, must suffer through, or move on to the next blog.

So what has caused me to bury my conscious mind in thought?  It's not all that heavy; I was simply asked if I had made any "new year's resolutions".  I know right?  That should not translate into a stumbling block of sorts, and it wasn't at the time.  I answered the simple question with a straight forward response and said I was going to drink less, or eat less red meat, or give up some other pleasure that isn't good for me.  (When I told Janet Lee about this incident she called my resolutions dim-witted because: "A.) you can only give up pleasurable vices at Lent, and B.) you don't even follow iconic western religious doctrine because your not Catholic, Lutheran, Methodist, or evangelical".  (She has such a great way with words.)  That should have been the end of the whole shebang, but because it is still January, and not Easter, I am sitting at my desk trying to get my thoughts transcribed before I find myself perpetually stuck in the labyrinth. 

I am not a Buddhist but I find the Buddhist concept of viewing reality as it is, and not as it appears to be, very alluring.  In other words being truly present in life.   To do so one must give up all notions of the past and future.  The past is irrelevant, except as a source of experience, and the future has yet to unfold. Frankly it will never unfold because it is always yet to occur.  The future is for all practical purposes make believe, or as a friend of mine would argue, useful fiction.  The only usefulness of the future (and the past for that matter) comes when we start to measure time.   The very second future becomes reality; it no longer exists, because it can't exist in any other form (other than the future).  Preparation for the future by western standards however, is not necessarily a bad thing as long as one doesn't use the future to escape the present.  The goal is to stay focused on the present.  Here is an example.  

It is winter in Texas.    Although not as cold as some parts of the country, winter still means colder temperatures.    Being focused on the present, in this case, means recognizing the environmental change and living with the change. Wearing clothes suitable for colder temperatures and not pretending we can still wear clothes we wore at other times of the year.  Focus on the present and understand what the present represents.

So what does this prologue have to do with New Years Resolutions?  Simply this: A resolution made at New Years, or for New Years, no longer exists.  It symbolizes an escape from the present because to change that which we wish to change requires future action, and that can't happen.   It's a prescription for disaster unless you do it now.  Right now, this very second now. Now, now, now.  You get the idea.  So dear reader, time to show up and be present, stay in the present, because that is all there is.

Thanks for listening.  Peace out.

It's Been Awhile, By H. Michael

                                                                      Internet Photo

Occasionally time gets all fuddled up and Adventure Us 2 seems to always come out on the short end.  In part, attribution can be ascribed to our complicated lifestyles.  It seems forever a challenge to carve out enough personal time to get it all accomplished.  The month of November alone found us getting re-acquainted with the Twisted Sisters motorcycle ride on hunter's weekend in Bandera, diving in Cozumel for a long weekend, and hosting the mother of all garage sales to liquidate our possessions prior to closing on our house.  Not to mention three (3) birthdays and Thanksgiving thrown in for texture.  By the way, we closed on our house the very next Friday after our garage sale.  (Yea that’s right, we are officially homeless.) We did this all while still feeding the job monster for, what is normally, a forty (40) hour work week.  If truth be told, on average, we actually spend over fifty (50) hours with commute times added.  JL invests closer to sixty hours taking care of her work habit.  Please understand I’m not offering this as an excuse, or even, as Janet Lee believes, a cheap attempt to get some sympathy, and compassion flowing in my direction. 

                                     Janet Lees photos of Bandera

The truth of the matter is I have always admired people with the ability to work a full time job, spend time hunting and gathering, work on their boat, play with the kids, tend to the livestock, paint the house, go to the moon, and still find time to write a blog.  I occasionally read a blog and the author does all of the above and has twins under one (1) year old, and another young daughter under four (4).  Jeez. Where does she get the time?  

Previously I mentioned that we sold our house and we are now officially one crucial step closer to living the dream.  Janet Lee and I have been working toward this moment for the last five years, so don’t wake me yet.  I want to bask triumphantly in the overwhelming feeling of accomplishment, oh I don’t know, for at least the next five years.  We still have an eight (8) by eight (8) storage locker and an SUV that is functioning more like a closet than a car, but at least we have cleared the major hurdle.  Now if I can just get JL to realize she doesn't need thirty pairs of shoes; we’ll be on our way.

This is only JL's  boot collection.

Observations After Living On Board for 60 Days

We moved on board Adventure Us 2 almost sixty (60) days ago.  It shouldn't be a big surprise to the folks that know us because we have been methodically working towards the goal for over four (4) years.   Prior to the move, I worried that our lives would change in a way I could not completely wrap my mind around.  I was worried the modification to our lives would amount to a whole lot of trouble in paradise.  Change after all is when something is made different from what it would be if left alone.   We were comfortable, and happy in our surroundings, so why mess it up?  You can change your clothes, change your shoes, change your address, change your mind, and even change a prince into a toad.  But what if the new shoes don't fit?  What if the new clothes are the wrong color? What if my Michael starts ingesting bugs?  Uncertainty was churning in the deep waters inside my bladder soul.  It turns out, at least so far, I fretted for nothing.

I am extremely happy that my Michael hasn't started eating bugs, and as a bonus we don't seem to be bumping into each other more than usual because we have most everything organized, even our morning routine.   We both have showered on the boat, but both of us prefer the bath house about two hundred (200) feet down the covered dock. So far the early morning walk, 5:30 am to be exact, is very pleasant but the weather has not turned cold.  Final judgment will have to wait until I become a member of the polar bear club. 

We usually amble down the dock before the ducks, egrets, and herons are awake.  The first morning I woke up earlier than Michael and headed for my shower.  I discovered a pissed off duck can make a whole lot of noise, scare the crap out of you, and leave behind gobs of poo.  When I told my Michael what happened he said he knew something scared me because he had to dodge the evidence I left behind all the way down the dock.    I'm pretty sure duckzilla lives on our dock.                                             

              

duckzilla 

One adjustment we have had to make has to do with preparing dinner in our galley. Our home had a nice size workable kitchen. Counter space went on for miles, with a large island, a four (4 ) burner gas stove top, microwave, large double sink, and a seventy-two (72) cubic foot side by side refrigerator freezer.  Michael and I worked together in preparing our meals with plenty of room to enjoy each others company and make messes.  

before

                                                                           

      after

Now my Michael won't even let me in the galley to help him.  He keeps telling me to go sit down and look pretty.  That's too easy.  I'm more the hands on type.  My cooking job when we were on terra firma was to cut up all the vegetables.  I can't wait to get my hands on him a sharp knife and fresh veggies, but first I have to find a big cutting board to fit over the sink, or perhaps on the salon table.   The other evening while preparing dinner, I utilized the companion way steps as a work space.  That seemed to work, but I still need a custom made cutting board.  Now if I can only remember where I put my Michael's to do list.

A lot of galleys have top opening refrigeration systems, and the top doubles as counter space so an organized plan is paramount.  If not, you have to keep moving things off the counter to retrieve more stuff from the fridge. We are fortunate to have a front and top loading refrigerator with a shelf dividing the two areas.  When stocking the fridge we try to keep frequently used items in the lower section with the front door, but we keep in mind the coldest section is at the bottom.  Needless to say my vodka likes the bottom section.

Cleanup after dinner is easy.  Since there is no where to put dirty dishes, everything gets cleaned and put away as we go.

Our house has just recently been placed on the market, so we still have the best of both worlds.   We have access to our  washer and dryer, a walk in closet , (we both still have jobs) and a garage for one of our cars, motorcycle, and tools.  In just 60 days, we have made numerous trips to the boat with "stuff" and within a few days, we take  the same "stuff" back, because we can't find a place on the boat to stash it.  It's been a back and forth journey, but we are getting closer.  Once we have all our necessary items on the boat, if something new comes aboard; something will have to leave.  We are very thankful that only three (3) miles separate the house and the boat.

Views between the house and the boat.            

                                                                                

                         Galveston Bay                        

In the evenings I was accustomed to throwing in a load of wash, taking care of the garden and plants, mixing a cocktail and preparing dinner.  After dinner we would sit and enjoy our favorite sitcom,  Animal Planet, or Nat Geo.   Now that we are on Adventure US 2, we don't have a TV, but we have more time.   After dinner we retire to the cockpit with sundowners to watch the sunset and spend time talking, and planning our future sailing off into the sunrise.
                                                                            

 Michael chillaxing 

Storage, or lack there of, has probably been my most difficult adjustment so far.  I keep hearing, "Your Morgan has so much storage space".  I'm either missing something, or I just don't get it yet.   Michael had some cabinets built in the salon, v birth, and under the companion way steps to supplement our existing storage.  That seems to help, but it is a big transition from a twenty-four hundred (2400) square foot house with two (2) car garage.
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Janet Lee's Photos   

After a few weeks on board, we decided to utilize the v-berth for short term storage and make the forward head my clothes closet. (Remember, we still have our day jobs so clothing and shoes are very important.)   We removed the Nature's Head (we really don't need it until we cut the dock lines)  and purchased a shower curtain rod and placed it where the toilet was.   We located the rod above the towel rack and toilet paper holder for support so the rod would not come crashing to the floor.   I have hooks on the inside of two doors, one for the dirty laundry bag and the other for my bags.  The floor is for my shoes.  Michael added a few shelves to the existing storage for his clothes, but keeps saying he is giving up clothes when he retires.  I can't wait for his retirement.      

I am still at a loss when it comes to the stuff I carry with me back and forth to work.    With all the kitchen counter space we had at the house, I would just put my stuff at the end of the counter and I was good till morning.  Now I don't have counter space, and don't like the cluttered feeling with it laying around.

Thank God we still have the house for our laundry.   The thought of sitting in a laundry room in the heat of the summer is not in the least bit tantalizing to me.  I don't know how this has happened but since we have lived on the boat, it seems we don't have quite as much laundry so lugging dirty clothes back to the house is not a big deal.  Once the house is sold, we, and I do mean WE, will be going on field trips to the laundry facility in our marina.    
                                                             
So far our hearts appear to be in sync as we reach for the final chapter in our five year quest. Once the house sells; we will set in motion the final push through the last transitional phase to become full time live aboards.  It is the phase where we get rid of the remnants of our old land locked lives.   No more extra closet space, no more garage, no more laundry facility, and no more cable TV.  Someone said you can't teach an old dog new tricks?  I think I have taught my Michael a lot about my needs in just a short period, and as long as the blender makes it to the boat, all is good.       
                                                      

Internet Photo

My next challenge...How to convince Michael we need a TV on board.

                                                                 

WHAT? NO GARAGE? by Janet Lee

Contract signed.  CHECK
Climate controlled storage secured.   CHECK
Bubble wrap, packing tape, and boxes purchased.   CHECK
Run ad for estate sale.   CHECK

                             
After almost 5 years of dreaming, and planning our future, we are finally moving aboard the boat we purchased two and a half years ago.  The closing of our house on terra firma is still several weeks away, but we have started packing up items that will either make the transition onto the boat, or end up in our eight foot, by eight foot storage space.  Every thing else is for sale.  

We are certainly not pioneers when it comes to downsizing and moving onto a boat.  Many before us have given up their lives on land to pursue dreams of sailing the world in search of new experiences and adventures.  When we are I am having trouble imagining our current lives reduced to roughly five hundred and seventy cubic feet of storage and four hundred square feet of living space; we I turn to the experts.  I read their sailing blogs and sometimes I communicate directly with boats that are already out there living the lifestyle. Their stories are inspirational, and their opinions and advise help to reinforce our endeavors.  Knowing others have made a successful transition makes us me more comfortable with the concept.  We are I am actually beginning to feel the experience of downsizing may even prove to be liberating. 

I know that once Seabrook Marina becomes our home address, uncertainty will dissipate and confusion will give way to a new and different mind set.  However, I am anticipating the first weeks living aboard will be outright chaos.   One example is our morning routine.  It will need to be changed to minimize the lack of space and to take advantage of the space we do have.  We are used to showering in shifts, and using various accouterments in shifts, in the same bathroom.  That will no longer be possible.  Fortunately we have two heads, and very comfortable bathrooms, complete with shower facilities, at the end of the dock.  I can use the forward head for my makeup counter, and H. Michael claims he will streak the dock each morning, but where do I hang towels to dry?  Where will we keep our dirty clothes? There isn't a dishwasher on board to put our dirty coffee mugs.  Yikes!

As we I work through the next few months weeks I will keep the sound of distant steel drums, the warmth of the sun on our tanned bodies, powder-soft sand under our feet, clear turquoise water, and the gentle breeze blowing through our dreads hair in my mind.   Oh, and let's not forget  the rum!

                                                     

Time Passes On

There is nothing we can do about the passing of time.  The clock just keeps ticking no matter how desperate we become trying to slow it's pace.  Recently I told a young adolescent kid an acquaintance I was about to attend my 45th class reunion.  He looked at me with that 'deer-in-the-headlight' look and said, "I wasn't even a twinkle in my parents eyes when you graduated from high school!"  

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Gee thanks for the reminder.  Once the initial shock passed; I thought "Did that little smart ass actually just say that to me?"  But he wasn't finished.  His brain cells continued to fire in rapid succession and he realized that I was alive 18 years before graduating from high school... "so that makes you even older than rope!"  he said.  WHACK!  I hope the bruise heals soon.  Needless to say he learned the hard way not to talk about a women's age while she has a big ass umbrella in her possession.  

My Michael and I graduated from high school in the same year.  We went to Dallas for his 45th reunion last month.  I did not know a soul other than my Michael, his best friend John, and a friend Michael introduced me to on Facebook, Lynne.  I actually had a great time.  People would walk up to me; read my name tag and look at me with a perplexed look on their face. "Do I know you?"  they would inquire.  After several honest answers, I decided to be a bit creative and have a little fun! 

   

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I told  one dude that I remembered him but he probably wouldn't remember me because my name in high school was Jack, but 20 years ago I changed my name to Janet Lee after my sex change operation.   Upon inquiry from another guy I told him I weighed 300 pounds in high school, but ten years ago I lost 175 pounds after having gastric by pass surgery.  Being the honest person that I am, and feeling uncomfortable setting them into a downhill spiral towards shock, I would fess up and inform them I was just kidding.   

Last week it was my turn.  I  travelled  back to Greensburg, Pa. to attend my 45th reunion.  Why do we go to these reunions?  Do we go to brag about our accomplishments?  Do we go to re-connect with friends and 'share secrets' from our past?  Or is it to re-experience the feelings of youth, immortality, and to remember the dreams and confidence that we once had? In high school the world was our oyster.  We had our whole life in front of us, and we felt as though we could truly accomplish most anything in life! 

We really shouldn't get all weird about growing older.  After all, the alternative is not so great!  Our age is merely the number of years the world has been enjoying us!

In the big picture, it's all good.  We are all here on this side of the dirt looking at each other saying, "Who are all these old people?"

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Greensburg Salem Class of '69

Photo by Janet Lee

And a great time was had by all!