Dead Flowers is my favorite Suzy song. And it happens to be on the best Stones album, Sticky Fingers, sandwiched between my two favorite Stones songs, Sister Morphine and Moonlight Mile. Crazy memories of crazy days.
Somehow in my many, many moves that CD disappeared and had not made it into my ipods. Yesterday I splurged and bought it. It's strange how some songs feel--like a baby blanket, strangely comforting, familiar, crossing the space-time continuum, seemingly entangled with one at a molecular level.
Seven months aboard today. I bailed out the dink and finally got "street legal" by putting my registration numbers and sticker on the hull. The port side looks, uh, not-so-great. But the starboard side looks pretty decent. I just need them on until I can afford to get around to federally documenting the vessel, then I can take them off and just display state registration stickers on the mast. But at least now I won't constantly stress that I'm going to be ticketed over it.
Took a leap of faith and removed the microwave from the boat. It is incredibly handy for reheating food, but I only use it an average of once a week. The microwave took up a lot of space for such a lightly-used item. The galley feels more open without it and now I have more counter space to clutter with other things. And one less item demanding electricity. Some day I'll get off the damn grid.
How is it that I left the hardware store with one little bag, but the bill was over $70? Ouch. But I picked up paint for the salon, the boat numbers, some hooks and eyes, a new sprayer and quick-connect system for my dock hose, and--priciest of all--some 303 to re-waterproof my Marmot gloves and an old but beloved Columbia anorak. I did not accomplish as much as I would have liked today, but getting the numbers on the boat and re-waterproofing stuff was good progress. The anorak is huge. I get lost in it. I wondered what size it was and was surprised to see that I had bought a men's large. Then I remembered this was my go-to jacket in Miami's monsoon seasons. I bought one big enough to wear over my backpack full of law books to keep everything dry. I probably looked like a hunchback. I could barely keep my bicycle from toppling over because the books were so heavy, (I once lost that battle and have been scared on a bike since that wipe-out).
I considered continuing the boat-project day, but I am working the next couple of nights and wanted to pop over to a local restaurant to meet a fellow liveaboard. Ironic to meet someone living and working only a few blocks away, but who found me through this blog on the enormous world wide interweb. It's a very big world, but also a very small one. Particularly in the community of folks living aboard, whether docked or cruising. Philip and Sabrina are planning a southbound cruise; check out their blog Sublime Sustenance.
It's also nice to meet other liveaboards who are closer to my age. I have liveaboard friends of all ages, but we all have times and occasions when we want to connect with folks closer to our own age. Even the curmudgeonly floppy-haired sailor wrote me about how pleased he was to have Thanksgiving dinner with others heading south and to encounter three other under-40 sailors, which he said was a rarity heading down the ICW. My shore-based friends whom I party with, go out to see bands with, they are all in their twenties and thirties. My running friends are primarily, but not exclusively, in their thirties and forties, but many have young kids and, therefore, have limitations on their social lives that come with that stage of life. Although I plan to eventually cruise the Bahamas because I've been there some, because I know what islands I'd like to see and why, I get the impression it draws an older cruising crowd.
I have a feeling I will venture off to other islands, off the beaten path, chart my own course, make my own adventures. I've never been one to follow a guidebook. I traveled alone in Brazil before the Internet was available as a resource (or crutch), and years before I ever owned a cell phone. And perhaps as I wander I'll find a young, fit, adventurous, floppy-haired sailor along the way. But whatever happens and wherever my adventures take me, I'll always be sleeping under strange, strange skies.