the adventures of a girl, her dog, and two cats.

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

revolutions of the sun

I tried, but failed, to find a good YouTube version to share here of John Brown's Body's song 33 RPM, which begins with the lyric "33 revolutions of the sun," in honor of my tentative decision to maybe turn 33 today. 28 is my favorite Steppenwolf song, but these past few years being 28 have not been good to me.

Today I so miss my father. He once ordered everyone to gift me a bunny rabbit of some kind for my birthday because he was the only one who ever gave me bunnies, my lifelong totem. Even though I have failed at everything I have ever undertaken, no doubt he would still patiently and supportively listen to my trials and tribulations. 

This year for my birthday I got a once-in-a-lifetime gift: a leap second. I guess getting time is good, even if it is nothing but a man-made construct. Only humankind concerns itself with marking certain days like birthdays as noteworthy, a ritual that only sets us up for disappointment.

The moon tonight is bursting, bright, almost full, and slightly yellow like unsalted butter. I want to believe that somewhere on this planet my soulmate is also looking up appreciating that beautiful moon. It is probably a silly, hopeless thing to wish for, that there really is someone out there for me. But if this life is nothing but an endless struggle to eat, I don't see why anyone would want to keep playing. I want someone who makes me smile when I think of him, who makes my eyes light up when he walks in the room, and feels the same about me. I think that is what most of us want, though some probably care more about having the "right" person as far as appearance, social status, or religion. I don't believe you ever find what you need when you are looking, so I refuse to play the game and just go about the drudgery of my daily existence trying to hold onto a belief that fate will throw my match in my path when I least expect it. We shall see. Despite all experience to the contrary, somehow I continue to be a romantic, continue to believe in love and the power of that connection. I guess love is just a leap of faith. Pheromones collide, fairy dust gets sprinkled, and voila

But at least I am blessed with the love of my sweet, loyal dog and two devoted, snuggly cats. They don't much have a choice, but nonetheless put up with whatever crazy plan I put them through. They are the heart of my heart and keep me going through all these revolutions of the sun.

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

just a number

The new 6,000 BTU window a/c
I broke down and added a second a/c unit. This one is a 6,000 btu window unit, which I installed at the forward hatch. It is keeping the v-berth slightly more tolerable for sleeping, but the boat is still an oven. I used leftover heavy-duty packing material from the Hobie kayak shop to create a hood to direct the airflow down the hatch and keep out rain, then I slung the canvas cover from the old RV HVAC unit over it. Both of the units I have now are probably just underpowered for my uninsulated, unshaded boat. Although I have managed to keep the rain out from the port light where the 8,000 btu portable a/c unit is vented, even the purportedly professional-grade duct tape sealing up that port keeps melting from the heat and lifting away--letting all the hot air being blown outside right back in. So I'm $500 into air conditioners and it's still 85 degrees inside during the day. Ugh

tried to get service techs out for the broken reefer, but now that I don't have the cash for a service call, they finally want to come. For the time being, I borrowed a dorm fridge from a friend. Not that I could spare the floor space but, hey, it's keeping things cold and I can make ice again. It won't be a workable solution if I ever go sailing because it would draw too many amps on the 12V system, but it doesn't exactly look like I'll be going sailing anytime soon.

After my last post the guy I'm sweet on commented that he's "just a side story." Admittedly, I only devoted a small paragraph at the end of the last post to him, but that is because while I spill my insides all over the Internet here, I appreciate that others may be more private. I told him I don't think he's a side story at all and had a nice bit of prose prepared to prove it. After three weeks of constant texting back and forth, including on some interestingly philosophical and heavy topics, I don't know why he'd think he was just a footnote to me.

I don't do casual flings. 
It's a body + mind +  heart package deal for me, and I can't really wrap my head around settling for less than that. I certainly deserve that and it's what I give. I go with my gut. I break my own "rules" now and again. I take people at face value. It's all quite naive and why my heart gets trampled underfoot. And while I always feel it's too rude to ask the personal, probing questions I may want to ask, I rarely if ever hesitate to answer the questions thrown at me. Without putting oneself out there, there can't be anything of value. I made it clear that my body is my temple and I take sharing that intimacy seriously.

Spoiler alert: "Before" chopping off the tresses
We seemed to be in sync and excited for adventures together to come during his brief return and beyond. The plans we made fell by the wayside, but I did get two nights of wonderful, deep sleep. It is so hard to find someone who is comfortable to sleep beside.

Yes, the age difference is dramatic, but I didn't really think much of it. I'm certainly the one on the losing end of it; my window for motherhood is about to slam shut so spending much of any time with someone who won't be at that stage for a while likely means giving up that option for good. That was the only way in which I held his age against him. But it is what it is; decisions I made long ago kept me from having kids when I should have and while I would have been a great mom, I have mostly, (but not entirely), accepted that I have lost that opportunity.

I may be a sex-kitten but I'm not a goddamn cougar
Unfortunately, I am just a side story for him. It was awful enough when he referred to me as a cougar; there is simply no context when the term "cougar" isn't an insult. But I tried to laugh it off since he's the one who literally chased me down to ask me out. Shortly after arriving, he was pushing aside plans for a long weekend together to try to fly straight home, but I foolishly shrugged it off. I focused on enjoying the weekend relaxing together, grilling, getting beaten at backgammon, and of course spending plenty of time in bed. Until I increasingly felt like I'm just a number. A number I won't put here because I am so much more--and less--than my age. I was just a novelty, this older woman to learn from, a conquest to brag to buddies about. But he clearly didn't want friends seeing us "together" and lied to his father to hide my existence. If you can't stand up to parental disapproval, if you don't care enough about me to do that, then you certainly don't care enough about me to be intimate. What a horrible feeling to be used rather than adored, to be nothing but a sexual object to be hidden away, not good enough for friends, family, or the big social events. Just a warm body and a sought-after parking space. So much for being grateful I let him in my temple. 

But I am a fool, always believing the sweet nothings only to learn every time that I am nothing to men; just a body, a number, disposable, fungible. And so the last night was sleepless and distant, the connection I had imagined disappearing like so much pixie dust. It makes me sad; I had so enjoyed those blue eyes and kissable lips, a guy who could hold a conversation, someone who could actually challenge and beat me at backgammon. But I'm not some little girl to be taken for granted or treated as less than a goddess. Someday I'll have a man who can man the hell up for a once-in-a-lifetime adventure with this untamed mermaid.
"After" the latest cut
As you may have gathered from the "before" and "after" photos, I got my third DevaCurl haircut. I had taken off 18" between the first two cuts in October and March, and saw how much the curls liked being freed of all the weight of long hair. I still need to pull out the measuring tape and figure out how much I've taken off in all after this cut.

Although I love the before shot above, it didn't always look that good and all that hair on my shoulders was hot and sticky in our humid summers here. The curls would also get pulled down by collars and backpack straps, got caught on the Velcro on my foulies, and took several hours to dry. I decided to take a leap of faith and make a dramatic change. The curls started picking up immediately, and a few weeks from now they will be even bouncier.

The guy likes to be helpful, which was sweet. He installed these grommets in the canvas on the dodger so we could tie it down for better shade and rain protection, but still lift it up to see through for sailing. The eisenglass was cracked and yellowed, so I had cut it all out, but that left the canvas with just a skeleton frame to hang on. I think I'll need to add a few more grommets to get the best shape, but it already looks and functions much better so I'm glad my plan worked well.

Since I didn't have time to re-do the center hatch sealing project and major downpours were forecast, I duct-taped a piece of packing wrap over the hatch. Gratefully, it kept the rain out even through some serious thunderstorms. We also adjusted the cover over the port light to have more of a scooped shape to let the air conditioner vent out more easily, but thankfully it still kept the rain out well.

I'm still trying to find a service tech to come set up the battery bank and get the engine running so I can get out of the slip. Now I'm broke and work is touch-and-go at best, so it feels like the same old thing, barely scraping by and never able to make headway. But for all my flaws, faults, and weaknesses, the one thing I am is resilient. I am bitter as hell, however, over guys who offer to help, who say they'll show up and do the work, but fail to do so once they realize I'm not going to sleep with them. I never hold that option out. I pay for boat work in cash, not on my back or my knees. What the hell is wrong with people? If the mechanic I was relying on had just told me 5 or 6 months ago that he'd never actually follow through if I wasn't sleeping with him, then I could've lined up the mechanics I needed and I'd likely have been sailing for the past couple months. Now I'll be lucky to get the boat running before another winter sets in. It feels as if all the world wants from me is sex and it's the one thing I won't barter with. I give it freely to a select few, and even then, it only buys me heartache.

On a lighter note, my zucchini are finally blooming and hopefully they will pollinate soon. Fingers crossed!

I caught Hunter munching on the mint, which seemed odd, but I guess it hides the mousey-breath from all his kills. I am so very lucky to have such a great, adoring, loyal "pack." It's us against the world.

I'll leave you with this galley find for the oenophiles afloat: this wine (pictured below) from South Africa comes in a lightweight recyclable plastic bottle. Pretty cool for anyone who is worried about weight and breakage aboard and wants something that feels a little more elegant than wine in a box. The glass pictured below is also lightweight plastic by GoVino. I have a set of small ones and a set of large ones. Just don't let them get near a heat source or they melt! (Learned that one the hard way.)  I still have lots of real glassware but expect it will break in short order if I ever get to do any real sailing. But as with everything, c'est la vie! You only get the one trip in this life, you may as well throw caution to the wind and enjoy it to the fullest.

Saturday, June 6, 2015

slogging along

Most systems aboard are still on strike but we're hanging in there and slogging along. I want so badly to reach a point where I am thriving instead of just surviving, but in the meantime I am grateful to be so resilient. 

Being carless is admittedly a total pain in the ass, but I make do. The overpriced farmer's market on Sundays at City Dock at least provides a spot to pick up a few things within walking distance. Here are the chicken sausages I grilled up: spinach and feta and white wine and herbs. Pricey at $11 for a pack of four, but they are tasty and chicken sausages are not as caloric as pork sausages.



I've been focusing pretty well on keeping within my calorie budget; I simply have to get slimmed back down this summer. But every once in a while I am so painfully bored at work that I give in to a bad snack. Skittles seem like a pleasant idea while I'm eating them, but half an hour later I always feel awful and queasy--that feeling you get when you take antibiotics on an empty stomach. And because there are more artificial food dyes in Skittles than actual food, the next day I always have an allergic breakout. Red dye #40 is in so many things and I always have a terrible reaction to it. So I have to remind myself that 20 minutes of sugared pleasure are absolutely not worth 4-5 days of crappy skin. 


As you can see from the photo, I like to organize my food. It is totally compulsive but I cannot eat Skittles without organizing them by color/flavor, and eating the icky ones first (the red ones taste like cherry Triaminic cough syrup--yuck!), and saving the best flavors (pink and purple, naturally) for last. One of my coworkers just swallows handfuls of Skittles straight from the bag, in a disorganized flavor chaos that I can't even comprehend. But he says I'm eating mine wrong, that I'm supposed to "taste the rainbow" all together. At least I can laugh at the silliness of it, even if I can't stop doing it. I even organize M&Ms by color and eat the ugly/boring colors first, even though they all taste the same. I attribute all this need to organize and match foods and clothes to being raised wearing Garanimals kids' clothes, through which it was emphasized to me that tigers and tigers go together and you absolutely cannot put tigers and zebras together because that would be fundamentally wrong and against nature. Hmmm. 

Here I am heading out on Friday night in one of my hippy-dippy wrap-100-ways skirt/dress thingys. It was appropriately artsy for the art show cocktail reception I was headed to, though I was a tad overdressed for the pub afterwards.


I was loving feeling sooooo tall in my ridiculously high 4" wedges. And, yes, I can run down the deck and dock in these babies like a pro.


But it's not all fun and games here on Ambrosia. I'm trying to make progress aboard and spent Friday bussing all over Annapolis running errands. Naturally the errands that I could have completed in 2-3 hours by car took over 6 hours by bus and walking. First stop was Cruisair Annapolis to pick up a new thermostat for the reefer. Scooped up a big set of screwdrivers, pliers, and a Robogrip on sale at Sears. Treated myself to a couple little cheeseburgers at Five Guys since I was walking all over in the heat and forgot to eat breakfast. Then on to Annapolis Opticians to repair my glasses since Lenscrafters couldn't handle anything as upscale as the frames I have. The service at Lenscrafters was so bad I was actually relieved to leave and bus over to Annapolis Opticians, who get five stars in my book: friendly, helpful, made the repairs I wanted on the spot for a reasonable fee, and a great selection of beautiful frames. Then I hoofed it a mile or so hoping to get to The Fresh Market, but there are no crosswalks near it so I would have been trying to Frogger my way across 7 lanes of rush hour traffic. Annapolis / Anne Arundel County is one of the least pedestrian- and disability-friendly cities I have seen. Very lame; pun intended I guess. I ended up grabbing a beer at Neo Pizza (good pizza, great prices on craft brews), braving Target for a few things, and then used a LivingSocial deal I had at All Tackle to get a couple waterproof tackle boxes. 

I really wanted to get to Trader Joe's for groceries, but succumbed to Whole Foods because it was right there and then I could catch the bus two blocks away. I really dislike Whole Foods; the yuppies pretending to be hippies sort of make me want to slap them, they very much earn their "Whole Paycheck" nickname, and while I admittedly don't know whether the allegations are true, it seems troubling that they get sued quite a lot for mislabeling items as organic or non-GMO when they hold themselves out as a high-end health food concept. But I endured and then managed to bus it home with my groceries.

Back aboard, there was work to be done. Here are the terminals for the reefer waiting for a new thermostat.




I got the old thermostat out of the little box and hooked up the new one. Hopes were high that the problem had a simple $40 solution. Alas, my hopes were quickly dashed. The reefer continues to jump to 5 amps, hang for a couple seconds, then drop to zero amps and never kick on. I've tapped out my ability to fix it on my own so now I'm in the unenviable position of trying to get a service tech out. As with my electrical and engine issues, no one returns calls or emails or shows up. It's incredibly aggravating and frustrating.

I took a deep breath and tried to calmly face a fourth installation of the portable air conditioner. The rains finally having stopped after a week of deluges, I removed the previous attempts to shelter the port light from the rain and used white duct tape to place a large piece of heavy duty shipping bubble wrap stuff over the opening but with the bottom open for the hot air to vent out. Inside, I used Reflectix insulation taped to the gasket and frame of the port light and with a surgical incision for the vent. I neatly and methodically smothered it with white duct tape. Miraculously, rain did not come through the past two thunderous days and the interior tape has only gapped open once, so I added better coverage in that spot. The bungy cord looks tacky (well, tackier than the rest of it) but is critical to keep the vent from pulling away from the window since the hose is about 2 feet shorter than what I really need.



Hunter enjoyed some time snoozing on deck and quietly guarding the boat.


Next up, the center hatch problem. Here's the plexi with a bunch of white 4200 that didn't adhere to the plexi at all. Gobs of rain came through in last week's storms, though not as much as what was easily 5 gallons of rain that poured onto the settee from the port light the air conditioning had been venting out of. Ugh.


I laid on the deck and used a box knife to cut away the 4200 and then gave it all a light sanding after vacuuming up the dust. As you can see, Max thought he was being a helper-kitten. The not-quite-big-enough piece of Reflectix taped up from below is to cut down on the sun beating down into the boat and heating it up. Down the line I plan to sew an interior curtain that will snap on to shade it. But, you know, baby steps, since I still haven't used the sewing machine I bought for my birthday about 10 years ago.


I decided to go with the four centrally-located screw holes in the teak to give the best hold to the plexi to get a good seal with silicone. I patiently sat in the cockpit and drilled four holes in the plexi, using 14 drill bits on each hole to gradually build up to the needed 1/4" diameter. Getting to the largest two bits got a little dicey and needed a lot of TLC to avoid cracking the plexi, but I did it. Success! 


You can imagine my disappointment when I tried to drive in the screws and they would only sink halfway. Alas, the holes I had chosen had countersunken screws and were likely previously covered with bungs or silicone. I tried to use some bungs to hold it down but they were too wide. All that patient and masterful drilling was for naught. Sigh. But I needed to cover the hatch before the rain expected that night or soon thereafter, so I decided to just go with the silicone and hope for the best. But lesson learned: one tube of silicone, sealant, adhesive, whatever, is never, ever enough. I was desperately trying to make the tube go all the way around the hatch, but clearly needed more than I had. But it was Saturday evening and I had no car, so another tube of silicone wasn't an option. I did the best I could and while it did leak from yesterday's rains, it wasn't nearly as bad as before. So, I'll be taking a Mulligan on that project in a couple weeks and make it work one way or the other. Likely lots more black silicone and some new holes to put a few screws just to keep things taut.


Despite all the frustrations, there is still beauty all around and I have an odd or unexpected sense of peace.


This guy I'm sweet on won't be back for another 10 long days. Even my friends commented that I'm smitten. It makes me smile to think of him. Naturally, I'm hesitant to put myself at risk, and yet I can't help it. Either the universe is rewarding me for all the good I try to do, or I'm doing something very bad and I'll have hell to pay. I'll probably end up getting my heart broken, but I'd always rather choose the risk, the adventure, of putting my heart on the line than live a sheltered, safe, guarded life. Rules and hearts are meant to broken now and again, right? You can't find something real by just playing not to lose; you have to play to win. But whatever the summer or other seasons may hold, I think we are both looking forward to anchoring out together, staring up at the stars, and being rocked to sleep by the sea.


Saturday, May 30, 2015

youth and beauty

So the air conditioning runs constantly, I have it vented out the port light, I have put almost an entire roll of duct tape around it, the hose is in the preferred configuration, but the 8,000 btu unit just doesn't cut it. During the day the boat is still 80-85 degrees inside. I'd just leave all the ports open to get a breeze through instead, but can't because the rain would just pour in. I definitely should have just bought the most powerful window unit I could afford and put it in the companionway. Very inconvenient and ugly, but it might actually be cooling the boat off. Ugh. But if you stand right in front of the a/c it gives momentary relief from the heat. Here's my beautiful duct tape performance art. There is also insulation foam underneath it around the perimeter.


Naturally, the mini fridge I was hoping to be gifted never showed up, so I'm still just having to buy block ice every few days to keep things surviving in the icebox. Before too long I'll need to make a decision about whether to buy a dorm fridge or buy a new thermostat for the icebox and hope that is all that needs fixed on it. Cash is pretty tight because this is a time of year when for a couple months I get hit with medical expenses (exams, contacts, etc) and bar dues (for places I'm not currently practicing, sigh), and cat vet bills. Making headway on the boat is very challenging because while there are a handful of things I can do, there are some critical projects--like getting the batteries properly installed and the engine running--that are just beyond my current skill set. I just want to get the boat out of the slip! Is that so much to ask? If I ever find a marine service tech that returns calls, shows up, and  finishes jobs, I might just faint on the spot. 

Hunter is the king of all that he surveys.


I have friends I've known for years who have only rarely, if ever, seen Hunter. He's wary of strangers but a total lap cat for me. While having sunset drinks on the bow, I was surprised when Hunter walked right over to the guy with me and rubbed up against his leg to mark him with his scent--to cats ownership and love are pretty much the same. If they love you, you belong to them; if you belong to them, they love you. This might be the first guy Hunter has ever approved of, and I have to say I think my pets are good judges of character. My whole pack seem to approve and he's clearly good with animals, this wild mermaid included.


We all love youth and beauty, so remember that when you judge me. This one is definitely quite a bit younger than me (even that might be an understatement); but age is nothing but a number, right? Until you start to think about serious things, like children, and growing old, and such. 

I was walking home just before 2:00am. I'd only had three drinks over the course of the night, but surrounded by all the drunks leaving the bars downtown. Along with them I popped into Mangia's for a couple slices. Walking along stuffing my face with pizza a group of guys chatted me up for a minute. I started walking over the bridge and one comes running up to catch me, "Hey, sober girl!" he yelled. I had to give him credit for enthusiasm and a great smile. He asked me out for breakfast and we exchanged numbers. 

This guy is smart, funny, sexy, sweet. I'm usually bored or annoyed by most guys within about 30 minutes, but after a little over 48 hours together this one was still interesting, and fun, and surprisingly comfortable. Then he had to ship out for training, so we'll see where things land when he returns in a few weeks. True to my Mrs. Robinson role, I made sure he had a dozen homemade butterscotch brownies in his bag. And, yes, to my own surprise I broke my no-military-guys rule. While I can tell this one would have great floppy hair for me to run my fingers through if he could grow it out, right now it's high and tight. 

Hunter killed a mouse last night and gratefully ate the whole thing. When I mentioned to this guy that I'm a wimp about picking up icky dead things he said he'll pick up all the dead things for me, which may be one of the sweetest, most romantic things a guy has ever said to me. A great guy isn't the one who only who pulls off a few big gestures here and there, he's the one who's there and takes care of the little things day in, day out. I'll gladly trade flowers and chocolates on Valentine's Day for someone picking up all the dead things for me the other 364.


In other happenings aboard, here's some Eastern shore asaragus sauteed in olive oil and vinho verde with baby bella mushrooms, zucchini, and red, orange, and yellow peppers. I put it over a blend of red and white quinoa. 


My zucchini is growing like a weed! I'm very excited for blossoms and then actual fruit to arrive. The cute guy at the produce stand showed me how to properly dead head the geranium so hopefully it won't look so sad going forward. I bought a beautiful portulaca there on Saturday and some little succulents. The portulaca came loose from the hanging frame and I found it floating upside down in the water beside the boat. I fished it out with a net and miraculously it still blossomed the next day. But I did take someone's advice to give it a good rinsing because it won't like all that salt water. The basil is thriving and I even used some in the lasagna I baked Monday.

Pup dog turned 9 on Thursday. I told her I am so glad the universe saw fit for her to join us and for me to become her mom 8 weeks later. She is such a sweet girl. She got to wear her clown/princess collar all day; she loves it because everyone fusses on her just that much more when she has it on. 


I call this photo Buttercup is not good at selfies. 


My favorite Annapolis event is here this weekend: Greek Festival. If you're in the area, don't miss it. Here's some food porn to ponder (clockwise in each photo: spanakopita, meat dolmades, vegetarian dolmades; gyro, heavenly fries seasoned with vinegar, oregano, and salt, and some white wine from Greece). Now time to get in a run and get my weekend started.



Friday, May 22, 2015

bowed, bent, broken

Once again, apologies for the delay in posting. Here's what's been going on, mostly in photographs.

My dockmate next door left so I moved into his slip to get a smidge more privacy. The engine still won't start, so I rounded up a slew of sailors more experienced than me and they moved me on the lines. I put the dodger back on, so the cats quickly gave their approval to the new napping spot.


The new view from the bow.


An obligatory selfie.


Pup dog was nervous about the finger pier.


Moving my cable TV and high-speed internet was a nightmare and left me 5 days "unplugged" from the interwebs. But--thanks to the old gods and the new--it was back up and running in time for Game of Thrones. The Comcast tech was a good sport having to get on the very tippy work float to repair the cable at the new slip.


Installing the portable air conditioning was a nightmare and it is no where strong enough to keep us cool. It's still hellish and 80 inside if it warms up outside at all. And naturally rain still gets in the port light despite all my creative efforts to stop it. I will probably have to get a window unit to help the other one (that cost my last $300) and just put it in the companionway. Meh. I can't leave the boat to work in DC and have the pets sweltering.


This set up was so-so. Then I tried venting to the engine room, which was a total fail. Back to the port light but with gobs and gobs of insulation foam stuff and duct tape. But it still doesn't freaking stay, keep the water out, or cool the boat enough. Can we just catch a break over here!?


I used a piece of plexi to make a rain shield but the problem is the water still settles in the sill and doesn't drain out. I've got a new plan for that to work on this weekend. But I did drill through the plexi successfully after earlier having an idiot guy try to show me a stupid way that would have cracked it. Now I feel I will be able to drill into my plexi temp hatch (that leaked buckets of water during a recent storm)... just takes patience and a brain, things that guy sorely lacked. There's a story to be told there, but quite frankly, he's not worth the effort so I won't.


Pup dog wasn't loving the new slip and boarding so I bought new mats for her since she's afraid to walk on bare decks. These still slip a bit, but are better, and very squishy (they are kitchen mats not door mats).


The smaller piece on the side deck kept sliding and apparently went overboard one day when the dog walker took pup out. C'est la vie. Pup is much more confident jumping to the finger pier since I nailed down some door mats, which were too slippery on the decks anyway.


Since I've become a dock queen against my will, I decided to embrace the suck and have a deck garden. I have a black thumb so the pink flowers already look sad compared to the photo. But I planted some zucchini seeds and have basil and mint.


The eisenglass on the bimini was cracked and yellowed, so I just cut it all out. Now it's just sort of a bizarre canvas skeleton.


I took a Mother's Day selfie with my fur-baby. I would've been a great mom; oh, well. I've got awesome pets so I'm blessed.


Basically everything on the boat is broken, and that now includes the fridge. So I had to put everything in a cooler. Now I'm trying to get by with block ice in the icebox but it melts so fast, is expensive, and probably doesn't keep things cold enough to be really safe. A guy has said he'd drop off a mini fridge but I've learned the hard way that there is only one person in the world I can rely on--moi


But, hey, my baby zucchinis are sprouting! Yay! I planted these seeds and now they are turning into real plants and I haven't killed them yet. Miracles happen!


The batteries are still not fully installed and the technician I hoped to have come work on that and some other projects doesn't respond to my emails (though I always paid him promptly and even offered cash). I'm trying to pay people and still they don't come through. I'm killing myself commuting to DC to work but it takes a week of work just to pay for the cost of the commute (bus fare + dog walking). Another week of work to pay for the slip. I can only get six hours of sleep a night with the commute/work schedule and no exercise, so I'm falling apart at the seams. Just impossible to make any headway. Somehow I have to get the boat in decent-enough shape to get out of here and get her somewhere more affordable and where there is potential to have a life.

I'm going to try to be better to myself. To go do some of the things I want to do and stop spending my little "free" time doing things I'm not excited about. So back to flying solo! Two bands I like are playing tomorrow night at two different spots downtown so I might just get all dolled-up and go out a bit if I can get enough done not to feel overly guilty. We'll see. 

Everything in my life seems to be broken, but somehow I manage to bend, and roll with it, and keep going without breaking. I'm not sure how, and sometimes I just get so tired. But every night I tell the boat how much we love her, how she has saved our lives literally and figuratively, how I am trying, how I am so sorry I haven't brought her back to her former glory. We just need her be resilient a little longer, to be patient a little longer, until we can breathe new life into her.