on the move

With no particular reason to head south or budget to do so, I needed to find new digs in the area. Since I learned too late that my last marina was too shallow and too boisterous for me, I have repeatedly sworn not to sign another annual contract. I figured I would find transient slips, move every few months, and just see where things go. As usual, my life is in flux, and I’m just fine with that. What I have never been good at is being trapped, tied down, locked into anything.

My understanding was that my slip had been leased out as of March 1, so I was feeling under the gun to find a new slip and get moved. One key problem I faced was most of Back Creek was frozen. Every sunny or warmish day I would stand on the bow staring at the ice and praying for enough of it to melt to let me out.

I spoke with the dock manager at a sought-after marina on the Spa Creek side of Eastport hoping to find a slip for March and perhaps April. I dropped by a couple of days later to check things out… which slips might be available, the laundry and bathhouse facilities, and find out details about what would be included in the rate. To my surprise, I was offered an annual liveaboard slip, for which there is often a lengthy waiting list. I was caught off-guard by that choice, and had to give it some thought. I crunched the numbers, mulled it over a bit, and knew it was the right thing to do. The problem: the entire annual payment is due up front and I live hand-to-mouth even in the best of times. I managed to rustle up a loan for the slip, and then anxiously awaited the arrival of the lease in the mail. Once everything was signed and official, I celebrated (duh!) and then I studied the upcoming weather to find the likeliest date the creeks would be thawed so that I could move.

Four or five relatively warm days were coming, culminating this past Sunday. Friday I filled the water tank. The ice was looking softer and receding, but still impassable. I also urgently needed the pump out boat to be able to get to me because the tank was completely full. Thankfully they were able to make it around the remaining ice so I had the boat pumped out and flirted with the hottie pump out guy I’m still crushing on. (Saw him briefly at the pub on Friday night, but he otherwise remains elusive despite regular texting for several weeks. Sigh. What's a mermaid gotta do to catch this one?!) Saturday I also had a second ammeter installed (love it!), finally got the propane line routed off the aft rail (yay!), and got a lesson on changing the oil and filters on my Perkins 4-108 diesel engine (double yay!). So, after a highly productive Saturday, Sunday was moving day.

A liveaboard friend offered to help me move the boat over to the new marina. I know I could handle her by myself, but it never hurts to have another sets of hands to assist when coming into a new marina, where I don’t know the quirks as to wind, current, and depth. The ice had floated further out into the cove and we dragged some alongside as we slowly crept along. Once I was past the ice I tried to throttle up, but the shifter didn’t want to move up any further. The engine was only hitting 700 rpm. We kept puttering along slowly, but I was surprised and concerned about the throttle not working since I hadn’t had any problems with the engine the day prior as we changed the oil, oil filter, and Racor fuel filter.

My friend and I were brainstorming what the problem might be and I was studying the instrument panel, when I took a green day mark a couple feet to the wrong side. I promptly went from 8 feet of water to 4 and ran aground for my first time. I could have easily backed right off of the shoal… if I had any throttle. I hit the BoatUS app on my phone and it automatically sent my GPS coordinates to the tow service. A boat went by and my friend kept signaling to them that it wasn’t his fault, it was all me. Ha! Yep, it was my bad. It was a beautiful sunny day, I wasn’t in any particular rush, and we were just nudged into mud, so I didn’t see any reason to worry. Everyone runs aground; that’s just part of boating. The wind started kicking up and blew the bow off 90 degrees. At the same time a gentle wake came and lifted us just enough. I saw the depth sounder go from 3 feet to 5 to 7 and quickly put her in reverse. Even if I couldn’t throttle up, I wanted to at least try to back into the channel. And just like that I backed her up, did a 360, and headed out. I let the tow captain know I was no longer aground but opted to go ahead with a tow due to my lack of maneuverability from the impaired throttle. The wind on the Severn and on Spa Creek was much friskier than on Back Creek. There were also gobs of little sailboats out for the Sunday afternoon frostbite races. Because I’d be motoring, they would have right-of-way and would be zig-zagging all over right where I needed to go. But if I was under tow… well, they would all have to give way to me. Knowing your COLREGS comes in handy! Naturally, it was the same tow captain who towed me last September and then towed a friend’s boat when I was aboard helping him move it for a haul out. I’ll admit it’s a little embarrassing to be on a first-name basis with the local tow captain. C’est la vie.

I got tucked into the new slip. I had planned to dock stern-to but the neighboring liveaboard warned that the slip would get shallow at the far end and that gawkers in the spring and summer would be able to look right down into my boat if I didn’t come bow in. I hadn’t considered the latter issue, but the new marina can definitely have a fishbowl feel, so I’m glad I took his advice. Pup dog is having to adjust to jumping from the deck to the dock at the boarding gate amidships, rather than using her ramp, but she’s been a trooper and adapting with less fuss than I expected. The cats are peeved that I haven’t let them outside yet, but I’m scared they will get lost or hurt in this much more commercial marina with a large parking garage. (It doesn’t help that this morning my neighbor said there has been a dead cat floating around the marina since January and to let him know if I see it so he can fish it out. He said it’s black; I would’ve thought it was Max and freaked out. The whole thing makes me sad.)

So, how are the new digs? Well, let me just say I love bottomless hot water even more than bottomless mimosas! At the old spot there was 15 minutes of hot water, then it went completely cold. I have long hair and long legs, so I could never both shampoo my hair and shave my legs in the same shower at the old marina. And after a run in the frigid cold I would need 15 minutes of hot water just to be able to feel my fingers and toes again. So, I am loving having all the hot water I want, with great water pressure, and facilities that are cleaned daily—by someone other than me! There are two shower stalls, which are separate from the two bathroom stalls, as well as two sinks with shelves, electric outlets, and a courtesy hair dryer. So, yes, I’m feeling I made a serious upgrade.

I also have laundry at the new marina so now I can toss in a load whenever rather than having to drive to a laundromat and pay a lot more than the marina charges. I also have covered, card-key-access parking and generally get a spot right next to my slip. The dock management team are very nice and gave me a welcome bag with a t-shirt, floating key chains, wine key, baseball hat, bathhouse key, and my parking card. Another, and likely the biggest, benefit of the new marina: water under my keel so I can go sailing! I’m even closer to my local haunts, so that’s nice, too.

Oh, and did I mention that ELECTRICITY IS INCLUDED?! So, although I’m paying a mere $17 more a month at the new marina than I was before, I’m actually saving at least $100 a month because I don’t have to stress about whatever mysterious astronomical electrical bill will arrive every quarter, or randomly a month later. My electric had averaged about $85 per month all year until this winter. The bill for the last four months: $615! Since I was freezing my ass off on the boat and trying to run the heat as little as possible, I can only assume I am being charged for the ice eaters that benefited all the boats and the docks. Very, very glad I won’t have to worry about that anymore.

More later about the engine and such, since the mechanical matters deserve their own post. But really pleased to be moved to my new spot. Many thanks to everyone who helped me get her ready and be able to move into our new slip. I'm very hopeful we'll be happy there and that we have fair winds ahead.

bruised but not broken

Now the bruises have really come out. Black and deep purple. Large ones and small ones. Smaller ones dot along the inside of my right arm, and a light but painful one on my left forearm. A huge black one about 5" by 1" beside my knee distracts from many others along my leg. On the left side of my midsection it looks like someone punched me in the ribs. And centered at the small of my back a small but very dark bruise. We'll see how long these mementos of Thursday Night Races linger, having been tossed back and forth, bouncing off winches for two-and-a-half hours. Not my idea of fun.

Initially, I wanted to shake it off and hope for a better experience next Thursday. But my precious few days off need to be focused on making progress aboard and enjoying myself. I think I'll focus on saving up to replace a few pieces of the running rigging so I can get my own vessel under sail. I've been urged to do so before the much gustier winds of September and October arrive.

So, the port tube on the dinghy is once again deflated. I rushed the job because I generally prefer to work on these projects on my own. But now I will take the time to pull up the prior patches, remove the current adhesive, and use Hypalon contact cement a friend is donating to the cause. I'll have to hope for a day that the weather and my work schedule are both clear. The GFlex epoxy on the bottom of the dink may have sealed up some holes, so I still need to check that and plan for patching the others on the bottom as well. The remaining GFlex should work well on the threshold of the companionway; I just have to find a day I can leave the boat open for the 7 to 10 hour cure time.

The hard sailing dinghy had been in the water since January, so I seized an opportunity to get a dockmate to help me pull her out of the water. He volunteered to scrape the barnacles, so I wasn't exactly going to say no.

She was immaculate when given to me, so I feel bad that she looks so rough now. But I couldn't have undertaken some of my projects without her. I just wish the dingy dock at the marina did not have the owner's dink somewhat permanently on it, otherwise it would be far easier to drop her back in the water now and again to practice sailing with her.

I don't know what is in the new propane tank that was supposed to be purged, but so far I have not had any problems with cooking and baking. Yesterday I made cheesy garlic biscuits, yum.

I had three biscuits left, sealed in a ziploc bag on the galley counter. Breakfast for this morning. When I got up I found an empty ziploc bag, cleanly sliced open, on the cabin sole. Apparently, as I slept some sneaky cats stole my biscuits! I'm not sure if the dog was in on it, I would usually wake up from her jumping off and on the bed, but only Hunter is sneaky enough to have stolen the bag off the countertop. Well, at least I got two-thirds of the batch.

deflated

On Monday I finally managed to drag out the inflatable dinghy that was gifted to me by the marina owner. I was forewarned it leaks and needs patching. A dockmate helped pull it out on the grass and pump it up. He poo-pooed how rough it looks and opined I'd be better off buying one off craigslist. I don't want anything that looks worth stealing and prefer not to just treat everything as disposable. Besides, the other dinks in the marina don't really look so much more pristine.

I had the dog jump in and out of the dinghy, though we were just on the marina lawn. I figured getting her acclimated to it and comfortable jumping over the tubes and laying down inside would only help when I need her to board when it's afloat. She seems to like the dink. I can see us having some fun adventures and excursions in our little inflatable.

A little less than two hours after pumping her up, the port tube was noticeably soft. After 48 hours, it was substantially deflated.

On Thursday I hosed it off, gave it a quick wash and scrub with the deck brush and set all the floor boards aside in the sun. I pumped the port tube up again and went over it inch by inch with soapy water to find the leaks. The only places I found bubbling were at the edges of two prior patches.

Although using two-part glue for Hypalon would be the best course of action, it is a little complicated and time consuming for my taste. Having heard of positive results from using GFlex epoxy (or even 5200), I will use it for my first patch attempt. Unlike the two-part glue, it has other uses for me around the boat and is also a less hefty initial outlay. My plan is to use scary-toxic MEK to loosen the edges of the patches and clean the area. Then I will sand both sides with 80-grit sandpaper and apply GFlex adhesive epoxy. Another upside to GFlex is a fast cure time: 7 to 10 hours. If the GFlex doesn't work I can always go back and patch it with the two-part glue.

I also found two small holes worn through the bottom of the dinghy and two areas close to wearing through. I bought a small piece of Hypalon and will cut patches to apply on those four spots. If all the patches hold, the other project will be either rehabbing the floorboards or making new ones. I have some marine plywood at my disposal for the latter approach, but would need to come up with a saw and saw horses. New boards would definitely be an improvement.

Last night when I came home I found the starboard tube soft. It had been perfectly hard only six hours earlier and had held up for three days with no signs of a leak. What could have happened to it while I was gone? I was upset but tried to just shake it off and look at it as one more project to tackle. This morning when I took the dog out I expected to find the starboard tube further deflated but instead it looked just fine. And of course it then occurred to me that it was simply the much cooler night we had last night that made the tube seem deflated. With the warmer temperature this morning the air inside had again expanded to fill the tube.

My week was somewhat derailed when in the midst of cooking lunch on Tuesday the burners went out and wouldn't re-light. I guess all my recent baking ran through the propane faster than during the first quarter of the year. I couldn't just run out to refill the tank because it's old and lacks an overflow preventer. The hardware store had told me they would not fill it again. If I was going to have to spend money on a tank, then I wanted to get a good fiberglass one. The fiberglass tanks are lightweight, will not corrode (the mild steel ones rust quickly), and--in theory--one can see the level of propane in the tank through the fiberglass.

Fawcett's did not have any and the hardware store no longer carries them. So I settled for going to West Marine and special ordered one for $130. (Yes, you can get one less expensively online, but the extra cost was well worth being able to make coffee aboard this morning!) When I picked it up yesterday I was disappointed that it was green. I had definitely been expecting it to be gray. Bright green on my aft rail is not the look I'm going for. But I really should cover the tank for UV protection anyway, so I am going to find a way to be okay with it.

I don't know about being able to see the propane level; it definitely isn't very clear. The hiccup I'm most worried about is that the hardware store just went straight to filling the tank and it would only take 3.5 liters of propane. I had paid for 4.2 and the tank holds 4.7. I insisted the tank is brand new and empty and should take 4.7. The woman filling the tank asked if I'd purged it. I didn't even know what she was talking about, so obviously I had not. Of course there was a sticker right there on top of the tank telling the filler to purge the tank first. I hadn't been looking for it and she clearly didn't notice it when she hooked it up to fill. I've used the stove successfully this morning without incident, but worry about what exactly is in the tank with the propane and whether it is a hazard, bad for my stove, et cetera. But in the meantime, I'll be heating up some chicken and italian sausage for lunch and cooking up the chicken that has been marinating in olive oil, garlic, and Old Bay. Let's hope it hasn't also been marinating in Salmonella.

Yesterday evening I headed back to Thursday Night Races at J World. Your skipper definitely makes or breaks the experience. The entire evening was unpleasant and when they called for a third race I was disappointed that we weren't heading back to the dock. I was assigned to the jib. I quickly learned that between just not having much upper body strength and constantly nursing a torn rotator cuff, I can't pull in the jib against the wind and the winch is virtually impossible for me to crank. If I don't have the strength necessary for the jib on a J/80, I certainly won't be able to fight it on my much larger boat. A couple of the crew had to help me on every tack (of which it seemed like there were an infinite number) because I simply couldn't fight the sail in by myself. By the end one of the other crew members and I had gotten down a bit of a "system" that made it less unpleasant, but to the bitter end I was constantly left cleating the sheet and trying to grab the winch handle as the skipper buried the rail and barked, and I was scrambling to hoist myself up to the high side of the boat.

Perhaps as a marathoner I should have more appreciation for racing. Except that I don't even like running races. They are just a way to challenge myself, keep myself honest and on track with training, and it is more convenient for very long distances to have someone put out food and water for me. Racing sailboats just does not compute for me. I simply can't wrap my head around getting upset and hyped up about what is really a meaningless competition and I fail to see any fun in sailing nowhere around some marks. To each his own; I know a lot of folks are very serious about racing and seem to enjoy it. My interest in racing is entirely deflated.

One happy note to this long and tiring week: a cheerful pair of Keen sandals.

I was looking at various models at Fawcett's and asking about other colors, being picky about those sort of things, being a bit of a girly-girl and all. The salesgirl asked what size shoe I usually wear. It turns out that the largest youth size in the Keens fits me. At almost half the cost and with more "fun" colors, I was sold. These sandals are so "me," and make me think of cotton candy and bumble gum and jelly beans. They are amazingly comfortable, to boot!

And finally, as I write this Hunter has brought in an icky not-quite-dead thing. I told the marina owner yesterday that he must have mice under the shed because the cat had been watching a particular spot intently. He's been playing with it and licking it and then jumped up on the settee with it. Yuck! But he is a helluva mouser.

cooking with gas

I began wondering whether I was on the verge of running out of propane since I'd been cooking for a little over three months on the same tank. A couple of guys lifted the tank and said it felt close to empty so I dragged it over to the local hardware store to refill. It's a little smaller than your standard tank for a gas grill. The tare weight is 13.2 pounds and filled to 80% capacity it takes 11 pounds of propane. I was surprised to see I still had 5 pounds of propane in the tank. I may get six months out of it before it's empty. But the tank is old and lacks an overfill preventer, so the hardware store won't refill it for me again.

I somewhat covet a couple of aluminum tanks, though they are pricey at about $150 each for 6 pound tanks. Having two light tanks is nice so that one can be taken ashore for filling while the other is still hooked up. However, I think I am going to end up getting one larger fiberglass tank. The fiberglass will never rust and will be even more lightweight--a significant benefit for me being a girl and regularly nursing the torn rotator cuff that has plagued me for a few years now.

All winter I've had a large blue tarp covering half the cockpit because the propane line is running out of the port lazarette to the tank sitting in the cockpit. I put a coozie around the propane line so the lazarette would not smash the line or chafe against it. The tarp keeps rain and snow out of the lazarette, which leads directly to the engine room, and helped to keep more heat in the engine room this winter. Now that spring is here, I called my boat handyman to schedule a time for him to help me mount the propane off the stern rail. With a little luck, by the end of the weekend that project will be completed.

Even with a slightly jury-rigged propane set-up, I've been cooking up great meals aboard. I recently had friends over for my chicken and Italian sausage served with parmesan and white wine risotto and baby spinach sauteed in olive oil and garlic with a touch of kosher salt. Delish! I may have to attribute the blurriness of that photograph to the cook having had a few bottles of Spaten while creating the meal. The rest of the chicken was cooked in lime juice and white wine with garlic, adobo seasoning, onions, orange peppers, and edamame; the lime juice gave it a lot of zip!

I haven't been experimenting with the oven as much as I should but am planning on making a nice whiskey-infused pound cake soon. I managed a large casserole of mac and cheese, (with a blend of sharp and extra sharp cheeses), and have some potatoes in need of roasting. Getting the oven lighted can be a bit of a challenge poking around the bottom of the oven with a long lighter and propane flowing. I was pleased to see that the thermometer in the oven and the temperature on the dial actually matched up. My lack of success thus far with pizza and biscuits appears to primarily rest with having used baking sheets which take up the entire footprint of the oven and, thus, inhibit air circulation. With only 11" x 17" to work with, it's time to find some baking sheets 10" x 16" or smaller so I can have my garlic cheddar biscuits before a long run and turn out some gourmet mini-pizzas for friends.

you cook on your boat?

In a surprised tone, my current neighbor asked me that question yesterday. Uh, yeah; of course! I've got a propane stove and oven, though I haven't used the oven yet. The current neighbor is a guy crashing for a couple months on his friend's boat in the slip next to me. He picked the coldest two months to live aboard and from what I've heard is not loving it. Not long after he moved aboard I ran into him on the snow-covered dock; he looked at me skeptically and said "you do this all the time?" Uh, yeah, this is my home, I live here.

But back to cooking... not having the propane hooked up my first three months aboard was what made me feel like I was camping. I am used to cooking up huge meals and filling my freezer with lunch and dinner portions. I regularly bartered with meals and baked goods for pet-sitting, drinks, massages, hair cuts, and concert tickets. Last spring I briefly made myself nuts selling baked goods at a local farmer's market. The oven aboard is small, so I may have to focus on cookies, muffins, bundt cake, and biscuits, and let go my popular three-layer red velvet and piña colada cakes. (Anyone want to trade boat-repair assistance or sailing lessons for yummy baked goods or delicious meals?)

A few days ago I spoiled myself with quinoa smothered with braised chicken and a side dish of yukon gold potatoes, zucchini, and onion seasoned with garlic and paprika and topped with crumbled feta. Everything turned out delicious and, as I did not have any dinner guests, I managed to tuck several containers in the fridge and ate well, healthy, and affordably for several days.

Cooking aboard does present certain challenges. Chief among them is the steam generated inside the boat and resulting condensation. When I use my Fagor pressure cooker I aim the steam toward the hatch and crack it open so most of the steam quickly vents outside. The pressure cooker has already been used for three batches of pinto beans; the other liveaboards at socials tear through the bean dip I bring so it's nice to know I have a standby dish they like; it only takes 40 minutes under pressure to cook the beans, but I do have to remember to soak the beans overnight. I'll need to get some Arborio rice because the pressure cooker lets me make amazing risotto without having to stand and constantly stir for forty-five minutes.

I am very lucky that my boat has an impressive amount of storage space for its size. I plan to bring the rest of my cookware aboard this week so that I can really get cooking. I joke that I have every kitchen gadget known to man...I even have a little blowtorch for carmelizing sugar on creme brulee. Now I look at all the gadgets at Sur La Table or Bed Bath & Beyond and think what a silly waste of space and money most are. Before I owned a cheese grater I used to just dice the cheese so it would melt... it works, and on a boat with limited water for dish washing and limited space for gadgets, cheese graters are just a hassle of nooks and crannies to clean. Do people really need separate gadgets for dealing with every different fruit or vegetable? A few good knives, a few good pots, and a cutting board are really all we need... well, creativity helps!

So, here I am philosophizing on food. I love food and love to cook. Kneading dough and baking cakes and cookies are meditative for me. I am a "true believer" that breaking bread is a universal ritual that brings us together as human beings. But I am adamantly not a foodie. Food snobs are the worst thing that can happen to a good meal. (Sorry, correction: they are the second-worst thing; a date is the number one way to ruin a good meal.) If I discover a guy is a chef I run for the hills; the last thing I want to hear some guy blather on about is a balsamic-something-or-other reduction. Or the "crumb" of a bread. The floppy-haired sailor guy was a Grade-A food snob and enjoyed criticizing my scratch pizza dough, which he never tried, although several people have proclaimed my pizza the best they have ever had. (What can I say; I was annoyed but temporarily blinded by love and tried to see the upside that we both feel passionately about dough.)

Whether a dish is "comfort food" or haute cuisine, if it tries to intimidate or impress rather than comfort, then I don't want it. I like having friends who love food and cooking, are good cooks, and enjoy having potlucks and cook-outs. Sometimes the food is classic comfort food and other times more complicated or fancy-schmancy, but always infused with friendship, love, and generosity. If your cooking lacks those ingredients, it will never feed the soul.

three months aboard

For those of you who may have had a line on how long I'd last on the boat, today marks my three-month anniversary of moving aboard. Like the extreme tides we've been having, I've had some highs and lows even in this short time afloat. Living with pets aboard is a challenge that complicates life when simplicity is often the goal, but the cats seem to have adapted well and the dog is managing, though she certainly dislikes the narrow finger pier after slip-sliding down it on Christmas.

A flurry of activity from the neighbors when I tossed some bread off the bow this morning.

I had looked seriously into living aboard a few times prior to this adventure and although it would not have worked in those particular times, places, and circumstances, I wish I had taken this leap of faith much earlier in my life. But better late than never. It is certainly not the lifestyle for everyone, nor the romantic one many imagine. Gratefully, I went into it more focused on managing systems, winter challenges, and repairs, and less focused on sunsets and palm trees.

Among the less glamorous aspects of my life aboard, I disposed of a large bucket full of rotting fish and line that had been left some months ago on the dock and which pup dog had repeatedly gotten into. One night she threw up pieces of line; very dangerous. This was definitely a task I should have donned a face mask for to dull the smell, but going into it, I did not know quite how bad the contents of the bucket would be. The photo really doesn't capture the full ickiness of it. Yuck!

On the upside, this little milestone date was marked nicely by my first somewhat "real" meal cooked aboard: veggie patties and quinoa cooked on my propane stove. I first tried out the Kitchen Aid tea kettle for a cup of coffee; the kettle never whistled because the lid leaks steam, so it will likely be returned and replaced with a better quality one. Having the stove working ends the feeling of "camping" that I had anticipated would last about three weeks, but turned into three months.

Good fortune also came to me by way of an inflatable dinghy being gifted to me. I'll have to patch a leak and come up with an outboard for it, but it will be a nice addition to my nascent fleet and a good addition for mobility around town. I am also still looking forward to a hard sailing dinghy I am being given, as well. It will let me get comfortable with fundamentals of sailing and a "feel" for the wind on a simpler scale than my boat. I guess my deposits to the karma bank are paying off.

Liveaboards are different. Both "different" meaning "odd," and different because of what they do and don't take for granted, different because they have to be especially adaptable, creative, and patient. The tide will go up when it will, and no amount of pulling, pleading, or money will change that. And even though some liveaboards are loners, for the most part they seem to be an especially communal bunch. No matter how skilled one is, there will always come a time he or she needs someone else to catch a line. The liveaboard friends I have made in this short time are priceless.

I don't think becoming a liveaboard has changed who I am. But I do think it has unshackled me from the trappings, "things," and roles that somehow begin to define us and box us in. I lost my real self a long time ago to the expectations and demands of others around me. Somehow moving aboard let me break free from that curse and be the bare-footed mermaid I always have been.

fire and water

At last, I have fire and water aboard! I took the old water pump (pictured below) to Bacon Sails to find a new one, replace a horribly kinked length of water hose, and pick up some Trident sanitation hose for the starboard vent line off the holding tank.

I wasn't able to find a used pump that seemed to be the right size and electrical draw, so bought a new one for $100. I was told I may be able to rebuild the old one, so that will be a project down the line so that I'll have a working spare to use in an emergency. I wanted to do as much of the work on this as I could or at least observe and assist, but as we always seemed to be working on this project as snow or rain were about to start or as the daylight waned, I watched as much as I could and asked questions, but ultimately let the guy I hired do the work so we could just get it done. The fittings on the new pump were smaller than the hose, so I had to wait a couple of days for my handyman to have time to get nipple adapters to connect the fittings to the hose without leaking. Finally, yesterday we managed to do that, used my hairdryer in lieu of a heat gun to soften up the hose ends enough to fit the nipples, and at last I have water flowing aboard again. The pressure is better in the galley than it was before, but still not what it should be, so we will end up disconnecting the hose to the galley sink and checking whether there is a problem there or in the sink fixture, but for now I can wash dishes again. And whereas the old pump would run continuously, (which probably burned out the motor), the new one's pressure-sensitive switch works so it only comes on when it senses I have opened a faucet. I'd still like to install a foot-pump in the galley as a back-up in case of emergency.

Although the propane is not yet mounted off the transom, in the interim I can now use it with the tank in the cockpit and just disconnect and re-connect the regulator which is in the lazarette. In the not-too-distant future, my handyman will help me build a base for the tank, drill a hole from the lazarette through the transom, and mount the tank below the aft rail. We'll make a teak or fiberglass box to protect the regulator from the elements. Today I need to go buy a tea kettle so I can boil water for coffee and tea. I'm very excited to be able to cook and bake again and not be dependent on the microwave, which is a strain on the electrical system and limited my on-board dining options.

When friends were over yesterday to help me get the propane stove going, Maximus slipped out and took a stroll on the deck. He quickly hopped right into a friend's dinghy tied alongside my boat.

What a trouble-cat! But it was he and his brother's tenth birthday, so I cut him some slack. At least the flock of ducks was not right there to tempt him to jump overboard.

Pup dog has had quite a challenge with winter aboard. I did purchase ice melt (and have shakers both in the cockpit and in the bathhouse ashore) to help us get down the finger pier, however the tides have also been a challenge. Until yesterday morning, she had not been ashore in forty hours (same length of time as during Sandy), due to extremely low tides from high winds blowing water out of the bay. The boat sat well below the dock and for a while was aground so I couldn't pull it closer to the pier; she likely could not have made the straight vertical jump almost three feet anyway. It's not been easy for me getting on and off the boat either; I had to stand on the toe rail and then swing my other leg up to the pier, grab onto the other side of the pier, and pull myself up. Getting back aboard I've often had to sit on the pier to reach the boat.

I already lost three mats (one coco-fiber and two carpet) into the water from the high winds; I won't be putting any more mats on the finger pier unless they are nailed or stapled down. While pup was stuck aboard, I bought a rubber-backed carpet door mat for the cockpit and an astroturf one as well, with the hope of teaching her to do her business on the astroturf. If she can learn to do that it will be safer during snow and ice or extremely high or low tides, rather than trying to get her ashore. It will also offer us more cruising flexibility to be able to anchor out and not need to get ashore; though she certainly will still want the chance to stretch her legs, a few days without that is not life-threatening the way a few days of "holding it" would be. I put "piddle pads" down in the boat and tried to convince her to "go" but she just wouldn't do it in front of me. But I knew if she really had to go she would use the pad if I wasn't around. So, while I was off buying the astroturf, she did at least piddle on the pad, and the next morning got a nice long trip ashore.

She wasn't willing to use the astroturf before I got her ashore, but when she was peeing on the grass I stuck the mat under her to catch some pee and "infuse" the mat with her scent, so I'll start trying to get her to use it aboard. I've read both success stories and ones of failure at this, but here's to hoping pup dog can adapt to this aspect of life as a boat dog.

I'd had no word from the floppy-haired sailor guy for just shy of two weeks and was quite heartbroken and worried about him. Losing a loved-one is so hard and I wish I could comfort him somehow. I finally got a brief message from him, so at least I know he hasn't gone overboard. There was a time he seemed so crazy about me. I'm probably a fool to hold on, but it's been years since anyone got inside my heart and I'm just not willing to let him go so easily. Studies show that happiness is not tied to money, success, or health. Across cultures the one key factor to happiness is finding that "one" to share life with. 2012 was the worst year of my life, so I am pleased to let it go and I am hopeful this year will finally be full of health and financial security, but most of all full of love.