winterizing

New Year's Eve the surfer took me to DC to see a funk band from Brooklyn, the Pimps of Joytime. I love dancing with the surfer and the music was fun and groovy. Definitely my first NYE being kissed at midnight by someone I love. We danced the night away and then spent New Year's Day walking all over DC and through the National Zoo. 

Our first date was five months ago today. It's definitely a challenge nurturing a relationship in the small confines of a boat, where the only way to "take a break" when there is a disagreement is to take a walk. Not every day is a cakewalk for us, but the good outweighs the challenges and I wouldn't want to be with someone who always agreed with me or expected me to always agree with him.  Ups and downs, this one has my heart and I hope I have his.

After an unseasonably warm December, winter arrived. Initially I'd only seen one brief bit of snow, which didn't stick, but we've had some cold nights/mornings, even down into the high teens. And typical winter aboard... we've had north winds blow water down the Bay, leaving us a couple feet below the dock. Pup dog doesn't like it when the cabin top is level with the finger pier. Those are the days that I'm in the galley and the port light looks out under the pier.

Just a few days later we were high above the dock, but it's just about as difficult to board (other than being able to at least move the boat closer to the pier since we aren't stuck in the mud). I would have had a very difficult time getting pup on and off the boat during the high tide, especially as the winds were howling (we were under a gale warning). So thankful to have the surfer here with us; where I would struggle to lift the dog, he can lift the pup with relative ease and doesn't have my fear of falling.

Pup and I both seem to have a fear of falling. I have to keep telling her she's brave, that she has to just "puppy up" and deal with it to get on and off the boat, get down stairs. I don't expect her to be fearless, I'm certainly not. The surfer seems to think I'm silly and scared of everything and I admit, the list of things I'm not afraid of might be shorter than the list of things that terrify me. But being brave is not being fearless; being brave is being scared as hell and doing something anyway. I'd rather be brave than fearless and it's probably my fears that have kept my recklessness in check so that I'm still alive so much longer than I ever would have expected. I just have to remind myself not to give up when things are hard, or sad, or frustrating. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm braver than I know and I can get through anything.

Here are some photos of the very high tide we had in early January.

The water didn't overflow the docks but was ankle deep in portions of the parking garage.

Water was rushing into the parking garage. We moved our cars to the back wall. Luckily it never rose too much or made it all the way to the back of the garage or my storage locker would have been swamped.

Lots of snow on deck after the late January blizzard.

One Saturday, the surfer and I played disc golf out on the Eastern Shore and pup got to spend most of the time off-leash wandering the wooded course. At some point she found something especially interesting, not sure if it was deer poop or a dead animal. Then at a party that evening she and another Lab decided to tear open several bags of garbage and have a party. I thought for sure her being sick the next day was related to one of those excursions, but it seems it was just a boring old urinary tract infection. Nonetheless, we were worried because she was shivering, listless, drinking copious amounts of water, and peeing excessively. She had to take an urgent trip to the vet that Monday and was on antibiotics for a few weeks. Naturally, her need for urgent medical attention coincided with me having less than $10 to spare after setting aside just enough cash for my commute to work for the week. Luckily, the vet let me float the bill until I got paid the next Tuesday. Even when I knock myself out to get hours at work, nothing seems to make a dent as the bills just keep rolling in. Alas, I didn't hit the Powerball numbers. But the surfer took good care of pup dog while I was gone long days to work so that gave me some peace of mind that she wasn't sick and alone. 

With more bitter cold on the horizon I couldn't take the risk of damage to the engine so I had the mechanic winterize the Perkins diesel. It means staying in the slip until Spring, but odds were that would happen anyway, and the peace of mind that I won't have a cracked engine block is well worth the $75 bill from the mechanic. Unfortunately, I still have to keep a 60 watt bulb going in the engine room (and sometimes run a heater in there as well) to keep the bilge pump from freezing up in the cold. 

The blizzard that came through the third weekend in January dumped two feet of snow over most of the Annapolis area. I made the tough decision to leave the boat, board the cats at the vet, and hunker down with the surfer and pup dog at the surfer's parents' house. We spent a few days snowed in, during which I fretted over the fate of the boat, but gratefully dockmates kept an eye on her lines and shoved some snow off when the weight of it, combined with the strong winds, had her listing to port. The entire cockpit was filled with snow upon our return, but the only damage was the loss of a fender--it must have become trapped between the pier and the boat and the line snapped (the line is still securely tied to the lifeline). A week later I noticed a fender floating into the adjacent slip and we grabbed the net to fish it out. Lo and behold--it was the very fender we had lost in the storm, come back home on the tide.

So... I quit school. I lost all respect for the massage therapy program at Anne Arundel Community College after seeing how they handled the creeper in our class who was repeatedly inappropriate with class members and could hardly identify any muscles other than the gluteus maximus on which he was quite focused. Despite his inappropriate behavior and his dangerous lack of knowledge of anatomy, he got to skate through the semester getting free massages and groping girls he would never otherwise be able to even buy a drink. I just couldn't get excited about having to be massaged by relative strangers every week and I definitely do not wake up and want to have to massage whatever random client may end up on my table. It'll also be nice not to have every guy I know "volunteering" to let me practice on him. Ugh. Anyway, relieved not to be spending money on tuition and not have school as an impediment to getting in hours at work. I am sick of jobs that require licensing in every different jurisdiction and massage would have just been more of the same, and more throwing licensing and membership fees into the wind. Time to move on.

The entire cockpit filled with snow.

While my running has slacked off to nothing of late we have been playing disc golf as often as weather and schedules permit. I got to try a new course, Rockburn, which was challenging, but a nice change of pace. I'm still far from being competitive with the surfer, but every once in awhile I even win a hole, and more and more often I manage to make par on a couple of holes during a game. I just bought a putter and another driver to add to my fledgling disc collection and replaced a lost "Nuke" for the surfer. I ordered the new discs from Amazon and there was no guarantee on what colors we'd receive. I like the funky green Mantis and the pale pink putter, but I'm jealous that they picked a bright pink for the surfer's Nuke when I'd love that color and he'd probably prefer anything else. C'est la vie. It'd be nice if there were more courses nearby. I probably most enjoy that playing disc is a way for the surfer and I to be out together without phones, television, or other distractions coming between us; it can be so hard to find that quality time when people can truly connect.

Pup dog adventuring while we played the course at Tuckahoe.

New discs; woo hoo!

Work is, as usual, draining, monotonous, and of uncertain duration. The latest I've heard is that the project will last until the end of February--which means I may be out of work in less than three weeks. Naturally, my budget cannot handle that sort of hiccup, so I need to cross my fingers they roll me onto another project and redouble my efforts to secure more lucrative, meaningful, and reliable income. In my heart of hearts all I want to do is write. I would love to be able to travel the world, experience all the different sights, sounds, flavors, wildlife, and cultures. But I think I would be happy in a little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere if I could support myself writing and have the privacy I crave. 

I've certainly been having a bit of an existential crisis with respect to being aboard. While I love being rocked to sleep by the sea and love to be out on the water, I do not enjoy sailing. Sailing is a means to an end--travel, getting to an interesting destination--and is not something I enjoy in and of itself. I suffer through it because I don't really have a choice anymore, but I wish I had bought an old VW camper van back in 2012 and driven around the country having adventures, seeing new sights these past few years, instead of being stuck in one place, never able to cobble together the funds needed to fix up the boat and take her places. Being at the helm is a chore; it means a day of being the responsible one, worrying about running aground, having safety gear at the ready, not being able to relax and have a cocktail. I can't really fathom why someone would want to spend precious free time that way. I certainly don't. I want to get somewhere and then enjoy myself. I fear that on a boat it just isn't going to happen, at least not anytime soon. But the boat did save my life in more ways than one and she keeps me from being homeless, so for now, home is where the boat is. Whether aboard or ashore, I just want to find some peace, joy, and prosperity with my pack around me. Home and family are so incredibly important to me and I guess home is wherever my pack and I manage to land. I can hardly wait for spring to come, with warmth and light and hope.

all souls' day

I was tempted to get done up again yesterday on the actual Day of the Dead, a/k/a All Souls' Day. I'm not Catholic, but came very close, and it never hurts to take a day to remember our loved ones who are gone. I told pup dog the story about the last time she saw my father. He had measured out individual ziploc bags of dog food for all her meals on a crazy road trip of me and pup driving alone across the country. On the larger bag he had put all the small ones in he had written a note: "For Buttercup, hand-packed with love by Grampa."

Here is a photo of my Halloween Sugar Skull Bride. Random strangers were coming up and taking photographs. The makeup took three hours and three glasses of wine, (twice I had to scrap it and start over because the white hadn't gone on as smoothly as I wanted), and I only had it on for three hours. The night was pretty much a bust and I never got where I was headed. C'est la vie.

I was trying to get to my local pub, where I probably could have won the costume contest. It should have been easy to make it there by 7pm, I only planned to stop for a quick, cheap, happy hour beer and pizza at Boatyard at 6pm. A friend and her new beau met me there and then my drinking crew got there, two guys I've only known three years but seems like we've known each other forever. Time started slipping away, but I figured we would get out of there soon. Then someone else ordered food and an acquaintance hijacked me on the pretense of introducing me to a friend who is a local attorney. I only left my friends thinking it'd be a quick intro and since I'm always looking for work I just wanted to make the connection. But instead they were trying to fix me up with some guy I wouldn't even be able to recognize if he walked past me right now. Zero chemistry, completely not my type. And I just hate people trying to fix me up. If they knew me at all they would know that. If I'm interested in a guy he'll know it. So I was wishing my friends would come grab me and rescue me from the hijacking but they headed outside to smoke. 

It seemed like they'd been gone forever and I worried they'd already headed to the next spot and a busser started clearing all their stuff away. I asked the bartender for my tab, and totally freaked out when I saw it was $60. After paying bills, I only have $50 until my next pay day around the 11th. So my Halloween drinking budget was $30, which was still more than I hoped to spend. A couple beers at the pub is all I really wanted to have since I wanted to get up early to run and didn't want to feel like hell. And since my cheap beer at the pub is $3 a pop, I could pretty easily have a $20 night out. My tab at Boatyard should have been a whopping $8 plus tax, so when I saw this huge tab I started freaking out. The first things I saw were a bunch of beers and one of my friend's margaritas, so I thought the bartender had put my friend's boyfriend's tab on mine. I told the bartender I don't even know the guy. He said it was my friend I had lunch with the other day and he put his stuff on my tab, we're friends, so he put it there. I looked farther down the tab and saw a pizza and shots he'd ordered. The extra beers were likely his, too. I guess they were right outside smoking but when I texted I didn't hear right back from him because he was on the phone with someone. The bartender just kind of shrugged rather than splitting off my stuff and I headed into the head to take a deep breath and get away from everyone. One of the people trying to fix me up came in and over my objection just snatched the tab out of my hand and someone in that group paid it. I didn't want to be some charity case, I just didn't want to be stuck with anyone else's tab since I'm so broke and literally couldn't have paid the whole tab. I always hate having my tab mixed with someone else's. I just want to be able to pay what I owe, not have to hassle with anyone over who owes what, and be able to leave when I want. After putting all that stuff on my tab without my permission and then just shrugging about it, hell will pretty much have to freeze over before I set foot in Boatyard again. I was frantic to get away from the acquaintaces trying to fix me up and wanted to get out of there right then. I should've just waitied, gone to find my friends so they could take care of their portion. But I was all flustered and just freaked out, needlessly. I guess being stuck in this noisy, crowded bar, trying to get away from these people, and then not being able to, being so broke, it just all wound me up into a panic attack. I washed all my makeup off there in the bathroom and rolled straight home to bed. So, Halloween fail. 

To make matters worse the acquaintance gave my phone number to the guy he was trying to fix me up with and showed him my boat, so the guy was banging on the hull when I was trying to sleep and came on the boat to drop a note with his number. High on my list of pet peeves is people just "dropping by" my boat. Just text me if you're in the neighborhood. If I'm up for company, I'll respond. I like my privacy aboard. I would never just show up at someone's house banging on the door. Even if I'm home that doesn't mean I want to see anyone. I might be sleeping, taking a shower, on the phone, screwing someone, or just not in the mood for company. I keep odd hours, so one night I might be up until 2am and another night I may go to bed at 8pm. I sound totally anti-social; maybe I am. I just think I have a right to be social on my terms, when and where I feel like it. 

The winds howled all night Saturday. I stood on the deck pulling a stern line, leaning back with all my weight, trying to get another inch or two off the dock. I forgot to take my sleeping pills so the wind and banging and rocking kept me coming in and out of sleep. But I worry about being too deeply asleep during a gale. I had a bad feeling the tides would be very, very low from the north winds, but it's only the beginning of November, it wouldn't be too bad, right? Then I accidentally caught a glimpse out a port light in the morning and saw how far below the dock we were. 

No way I could get off the boat without getting soaked climbing up to the wet dock, so donned my snow pants and foulie jacket. I thought I would have to untie the dog ramp from the deck and run it from the cabin top to the dock for pup dog to make it ashore, but she looked at the dock and looked at me and while I was adjusting lines she just jumped on up. I had to climb up on hands and knees. When we returned from our walk I figured I would have to get the dog ramp because jumping down is definitely scarier than jumping up. But pup looked at it and then looked back at me and then jumped right down. She turned back and gave me a look: "Mom, I got this!" I told her what a good pup she is, so brave. Then she kept climbing back to the side deck as if to help me. I had to sit on the dock, reach my feet down to the toe rail, and then launch myself over. But this was nothing compared to how low it will get and doing it in daylight without snow makes it much easier. Ah, living the dream.

The schlepp into DC for this project is a major drag, very hard on pup, and completely wrecks my running schedule. Gratefully, I managed to knock out 4 miles on Friday, 6 on Saturday, and 14 long, slow, cold, windy miles yesterday. I should have ran that 14-miler two months ago, so I am under major pressure to get my mileage up quickly without getting injured so I can make it through the 50K right before Christmas. I'm really good at procrastinating, but I'm also a machine when I'm down to the wire and something simply must get done. So, we'll be ramping up to 16 and 18, umm, immediately. The good news: I'm not even sore from the 14 yesterday. Everything else may be falling apart, literally and figuratively, but these legs are rock solid!

april showers

A week ago Monday I had an opportunity to go out fishing. Although I'm allergic to seafood and don't really want to hurt or kill nature for entertainment, I hate to pass up an opportunity to get out on the water and I want to develop skills to serve as a mate on fishing charters. Those mates can make some good tips on a half- or full-day charter, and if I can do the job looking cuter than the usual old salts, well, I figure my tips would be even better. I've found that "soft skills" aren't much rewarded financially and are easily outsourced offshore, so I'm on a mission to stockpile some "real" skills like fishing, sewing, and fixing mechanical things. On my few trips out rockfishing I've learned how to put out the planer boards, clip in and send out the trolling lines, keep an eye out for knockdowns, bring in the lines, tidy up the reels for storage, and clean the lures. I've brought in a few fish, but I still need to learn how to safely net the fish, remove the hook, and filet it up. Although I learned a lot on this past trip (thanks Cap'n Chris and Mate Bob!) and we had 14 lines out, we didn't get so much as a nibble. It didn't look like other boats were having much more luck, though, so I don't feel too bad. The fishing gods must have sensed me typing this and in walked the captain of a local charter boat asking if I could work a charter this Friday. Fingers crossed I do well, make some good money, and get invited back for more work. I should be able to make as much in tips as if waiting tables, but with the potential for more. And it's time on the water, getting some exercise, and developing a skill I can take with me anywhere.

As you may recall, one Tuesday the car died and the following Tuesday I learned the A/C in the car doesn't work and I lost all my important keys (other than car keys). Perhaps the most important of the lost keys was the only key to the lock on my storage unit. So last Tuesday I started my errands with heading to the storage unit to pay the bill and see if they would cut the lock for me. The manager said of course they could cut the lock...for a fee. My heart sank; I'm painfully broke and whatever it cost was coming straight out of the small grocery budget. Then he smiled and said "Just kidding! Of course we'll cut it for free." I just had to sign a liability waiver saying I'm me and won't be upset they cut the lock, et cetera. Annapolis Self Storage rocks! Sparks flew, it smelled like melting metal, and voila! The 5'x5' unit is not even waist high with stuff, much of which just needs sorting, tossing, or donating.

Items I like to keep in the car were at the top in the storage unit, e.g. a trunk organizer, jumper cables, beach chair, hockey skates, emergency overnight bag, and my portable backgammon case. It was a rainy gloomy day so I hit up a fellow liveaboard and suggested I drop by after picking up my groceries and we could play some backgammon and hide out from the rain. He's very competitive, a racer. I'm not. I wanted him to have an edge since he was new to backgammon so I let him pick the black dice, which I suspect to roll doubles on a higher-than-average basis. Although he did roll doubles often, apparently I just have a gift for rolling more of them. Even when I didn't need them my double sixes kept coming up. After just three games he said he never wanted to hear me say "box cars!" again. I guess there's a hidden competitive streak in me, after all. So I promised to let him win at chess.

Having totally lost track of time hiding from the rain, it was about 1:00AM as I was finally heading home. But if it's Tuesday the universe has it in for me, and the car was dead again. I got a ride home only to find that the gasket in one of the port lights had come out of its track and what seemed like buckets of water had rained onto the settee and pillows. There's really no fixing it when wet, so I had to pile towels and a basin below the port to try to catch the rain. A couple days later I managed to get the gasket back in, though it still leaks a bit (I seriously hate the design of these port lights), but I'm still without a car. Every time it freaks out and fails it's been raining. The dealer is thinking it may need a new computer, but the part is elusive and I think they need to figure out how water is intruding and shorting it out so I'm not continually replacing an expensive and hard-to-get part. In the two months I've had the car it has run less often than it's been broken down. At this point whenever I'm about to cry I just start laughing kind of hysterically, like I'm on the verge of a psychotic break. At least I can look at the situation and laugh!

The rain, south winds, and high tides converged to flood the parking garage at the marina with a good 5 inches of water. Water didn't come over the docks but it was close and the boat was high above the pier. I wore my foulies all day Wednesday and had to sit on the deck to jump down.

After what seemed like endless rains, we got some sunny, warmish weather and the dock water was turned on. I borrowed a pressure washer from a dockmate and spent Sunday giving Ambrosia a bikini boat wash. I spent four hours going over the decks with the pressure washer. The boat went from gray to white. One guy said he always found it cathartic to clean the boat like that, and I have to agree. She was just caked with grime and it definitely gives a sense of accomplishment to blast it away. By the time I reached the cockpit I was feeling rushed because the temperature was dropping and winds were kicking up. I didn't want to be caught out in a thunderstorm. Gratefully it passed us by. I spent another hour working on spots by hand and still have more to do to clean up the topsides, but she looks so much cleaner and brighter now.

Come Sunday evening I had a bunch of chicken to cook up but no one was up for coming over for dinner and drinks so I was on my own. I've always left grilling to men. Everyone needs their own "turf," their own things they are good at, skills they get to "own." Since I'm a pretty decent cook and baker, I like to be in charge of my galley. So I've always left the "killing beast over fire" Neanderthal thing to guys. I let them own that primal manly task. But being a single gal and (perhaps overly, painfully, stridently) independent, I have to do for myself these days. For a while I've been using a little George Foreman grill, which I actually quite like. However, it only fits a couple chicken breasts or burgers and if I'm cooking in larger quantities (as is often the case), it takes a long time and there is a lot of clean up. So, this past Sunday I got a fellow dockmate to show me how to light the communal grill by the dinghy dock and lo-and-behold, I grilled up my first batch of chicken by myself. Folks walking by ooh-ed and aah-ed; one family said they wouldn't have gone to Boatyard for dinner if I'd been grilling when they walked by, another guy said it smelled delicious and could smell it a block away. I'd say the real skill in it was marinating the chicken for a few days in a Ziploc bag with olive oil, garlic, fresh ground pepper, and kosher salt, but I guess my grilling abilities aren't too shabby, either.

I had been planning on moving slips but don't like the slip open on the main pier. I'd be stuck between two power boats (which cuts off breezes and could make me feel boxed in) and the view would be of a shabby boat at the marina next door. I'm going to pass. I was mostly resigned to staying put, which pup dog would probably like and would avoid drama dealing with Comcast, but the parking garage noise and being right next to another liveaboard really do bother me. There is another slip possibly opening up on a pier with a gate (so less risk of strangers walking up to the boat) and the docking situation would likely be relatively simple, but that slip would cost almost $1,000 more per year than where I'm at...money I obviously don't have right now. So, we'll see. I think I would have more privacy and peace and quiet there. It's an adjustment being in a more urban/commercial marina with all the noise and foot traffic, but I think what is harder for me is all the liveaboards, gossip, and unsolicited advice. I've got to get the boat fixed up so I can take off on some mini-cruises and get away.

Although it'd be nice to fall in love or at least find a good guy and have a playmate this spring and summer, I'm so thankful that I am not trapped in a stale or bad relationship. I'm saddened when I see someone encoupled with the wrong person, staying by default because inaction is easier than action. There is an enormous opportunity cost to doing that because the love of your life might walk right past you but not see you because you were on another's arm. I keep telling myself (and want to yell at my friends): Don't settle! You deserve better. The person you're with deserves better. No one should ever be pressured to get married or have children, nor pressure anyone else to do so. Marriage is hard. Marriage is a partnership and a sacrifice. If you don't wake up every morning wanting to be there, you are shortchanging yourself and your "partner." If you wouldn't stay if there weren't a legal bond between you, you sure as hell shouldn't be together. Too many people marry for all the wrong reasons, under all the wrong pressures. Too many women marry because they want a wedding, because all their friends are doing it, or because they think they can't have a kid on their own. If a guy truly loves me he won't need legal papers, or a name change, or a joint checking account. He'll show he loves me by being there in my bed every morning and not fucking anyone else. By being his own person, independent, self-fulfilled, seizing and sharing his dreams.

One thing I think we often forget is that we are not responsible for anyone else's happiness. We are each responsible for our own happiness and only when we love ourselves, are independent and complete in ourselves, can we truly love someone  else, seek only to lift them up, not pull them down or revolve around them. I don't want to be the center of anyone's universe (well, other than pup dog's). It's too much pressure. And it isn't love, it's obsession or dependence; there's a very big difference between those things and love. Jealous people, like drunks and addicts, don't truly love. They lack the self-value and self-confidence to do so.

I consider having some fun here and there, but I know I won't be satisfied with that. Even if it's just a physical thing, and especially if it's just a physical thing, I don't want to be with anyone that there isn't just this immediate, gut, pheromonal desire to rip each others' clothes off. I deserve that kind of passion. Anything less than that is selling myself short. So I have to stick with my mantras: Don't settle. Just keep running. Be the lioness, not the gazelle.

cold

The oil-filled radiator I bought last winter already gave up the ghost. That was the one heater safe to leave running when I'm away from the boat so the pets aren't shivering and systems stay above freezing. I had to borrow back a small space heater I had given a friend. We're getting by with it, but I don't feel safe leaving it running when I'm not aboard. I may try taking the oil-filled one back to the True Value to see if it is still under warranty, but it'll probably have crapped out on day 366.

It's hard to see because of the boat's shadow, but if you look carefully you can see the rudder extending above the water in the first shot below. In the second shot you can see that the water is at the boot stripe above the bottom paint toward the bow, but the bottom is more and more exposed moving aft.  I have a boarding gate amidships, lined up just before the end of the finger pier. It's a long walk down that narrow little pier late on a gusty night.

I've been checking the depth sounder frequently to get a sense of how low the water levels are getting already.  A couple of nights ago it was at 4 feet. Last night it was so low that the sounder simply wouldn't give a reading at all, just a series of dashes on the screen. This morning we were at 3.3 feet. The downhill walk in the boat is noticeable and small loose items quickly roll toward the bow. The boat is resting on its keel in the mud, tilted forward, and with the rudder sticking a few inches out above the water. Farther down the dock, the "dinghy dock" is high and dry and the slip beside it has only a couple of inches of water and only on one side of the slip. A neighbor has left his small powerboat aground and doesn't seem concerned.

Last night was perilous and stressful, for both me and pup dog. I measured the distance from the deck to the finger pier: 36.5 inches. Even when sitting on the pier there is still a good distance from the bottom of my feet to the deck, and just too far to reach even if I scoot to the edge and stretch my foot forward. I have to summon some courage and all at once reach down for the stanchion aboard with my right hand as I push myself off the pier with my left and try to firmly plant my feet on the deck. If I slip and fall between the boat and the pier I'd only be in a few feet of water, but I would probably sink in the mud, the water is already very cold, and I may hit the boat or pier on the way down. With no one else in the marina, no one would hear the commotion or calls for help. There aren't any ladders along the dock, so I'd have a hard time getting out of the water and back ashore. It's much easier to handle getting on and off the boat in these conditions during the day because the visibility seems to make it much less psychologically challenging. On the other hand, during the day it's more likely neighbors are chuckling to themselves watching me pull myself up, laying flat hugging the narrow pier, inchworming to pull myself up the electrical pedestal, steadying myself to turn around, and then carefully walking down the pier to get ashore.

Once I got safely aboard last night that was it; I was in for the night. It is just too frightening getting on and off the boat in these conditions. But as I worked away on the computer the pup dog sat at the base of the steps staring at the door. I put down a piddle pad in the head and told her she absolutely wouldn't be in trouble if she went there. She would sniff it and then just sit down and give me the saddest look, with her ears back, begging me to take her out.

I told her she wouldn't like it. I told her she should just go on the pad. I finally broke down and took her topsides. She balked at the ramp, as I knew she would. But she had to "go" badly enough that she finally went up it. A huge mistake I really must not make again. Once she was ashore she refused to come back down the steep ramp. I can better ensure the ramp doesn't fall off the dock if I am on the boat holding it than if I try to hold it from on the dock. And I didn't want to risk getting on and off the boat again. I begged and pleaded with her. I commanded her sharply. She would try, and then whimper pathetically and lay down. Lights were on in the marina owner's house, so I called to ask for help. But they were already in bed. I tried calling the club across the street but just kept getting voicemail. When we heard the car there start and drive away we both knew for sure we were just on our own. If I didn't have any friends close by I could call at 10:30PM to help us, I certainly didn't have any at 11:15PM either. Any friends I might have asked for help were long asleep.

I thought propping the ramp on several cushions to raise the end about 8 inches, flattening the angle of the ramp, was pretty ingenious, but pup dog still wanted no part of it. I tried to ply her with treats and with a bowl of kibble. I kept pleading and commanding. Even when I broke down and cried she just whimpered and refused to come down the ramp. At one point she ran down the dock and then toward the gate and barked very loudly, very aggressively, imploring the neighbors (who never so much as nod a hello) to come help us. I finally resigned myself to going ashore. I wasn't sure if I'd have to put the heat on in the bathhouse and have her sleep on the bathroom floor (I should've taken some towels for her, just in case), or if I'd actually be able to shove her down the ramp. She tried to get away and I had to pick her up, legs flailing, and set her on the ramp, begin shoving her butt, and hold onto the ramp as best I could to keep it from retracting and falling off the dock. She balked at the end of the ramp because she had to then hop down into the cockpit, but she finally did it and then inhaled the bowl of kibble sitting there. She knew I was pretty mad at her and I knew she was just scared and didn't want to be in trouble. I gave her a big hug and told her she was brave and smart, but we just can't do that again. Somehow we managed to get through the process this morning, but the tide was a couple inches higher and the light of day seems to make it less scary for us both. Still, I have got to train her to use the Astroturf door mat on the deck. It's increasingly tempting to move the boat as soon as possible even though I have to pay through the end of the year at this marina.

Note the snoozy counting sheep on the label.

On the upside, our heated mattress pad arrived yesterday. I unpacked it, read over the instructions, and then tried to make the rectangular pad fit in some logical way on my almost-triangular mattress. I set each side on high and let it get started. A note mentioned that it will not feel hot to the touch. That was a little disappointing. But the note reassured that once in bed, the warmth from the mattress pad would be noticeable and relaxing. I don't know if the pets were able to feel it through the duvet, down comforter, and top blanket, but under the covers it was definitely cozy. A few times I wanted to kick the covers off a bit, but then the cold air would nip at my toes and I'd tuck myself under the blankets again. The instructions say to keep it away from pets and not jump on it to avoid damaging the wires...yeah, no way around a 55 pound dog jumping up and down on it several times a day, so fingers crossed it holds up. So far, definitely worth the $110 investment.

Circa 8:30AM this morning, weather report:

Outside: 32 degrees.

Inside: 55 degrees.

Engine room: 50 degrees.

Time to brave the cold again to shower ashore. Can't put off washing my hair any longer, that walk coming back from the bathhouse is gonna be chilly! I might prefer a warmer climate soon, but even with the daily challenges I wouldn't trade living aboard for anything.

plotting a course to somewhere

Yesterday the outdoor thermometer at the marina was at 30 degrees when I took the pup out at about 7:30AM. By early afternoon the temperature had risen to just shy of 60 degrees. But once night fell the cold set right back in and come 8:00PM we were at the freezing mark. I pulled out one of the work lights, plugged it in, and set it on top of the engine. There is a light socket in the engine room, but I haven't figured out how to switch it on; it would be much easier to use that than to run work lights in there. I filled the water tank today though the marina owner said he won't turn off the dockside water until it gets consistently colder. I go through a tank of water in about two weeks, so it would be nice to at least get to the next fill-up before having to run a hose from the bathhouse. The boat is pretty chilly and an upgrade to a heated mattress pad will need to happen sooner than later. I could just sleep on the settee in the salon, where it is warmer, but it's so much nicer to be able to stretch out in the large v-berth.

Tides are my enemy now. The tide dropped so far yesterday I had to go loosen up lines that needed to be tightened the day before because the winds were whipping. Those same winds blew the water out of the bay and left us pretty dry in the marina. I could see the barnacles on the exposed portions of the bottom and the few inches of rudder sticking out above the waterline.

Pup dog does not like going ashore when we have very low tides because her ramp is at such a steep angle. I sat next to the ramp yesterday to reassure her and told her it'd be fine. I may have spoken too soon. Just when her front paws hit the dock the ramp slipped backwards towards the boat and off the dock. It's tied to some eye-bolts so it won't fall into the water, but it does end up hanging down several inches below the dock when it falls off. I kept telling her I'm sorry but that she's OK and she's so brave. I tightened up the aft spring line to keep the boat from moving forward and tightened up the stern lines, as well, though the boat wasn't really able to move around much being stuck in the mud. When I tried to get her back aboard she just looked at the ramp, looked at me, and then laid down in the grass in protest. She gave me a plaintive but determined stare telling me she was terrified of the ramp, didn't want to be in trouble with me, but also had no intention of moving an inch. Poor girl. I got some treats, showed her that I was holding the ramp and that it was firmly planted. After some coaxing and false starts, she scrambled down the ramp to plenty of praise and treats.

I usually ignore the many emails I receive from West Marine but yesterday's one-day-only deal was too good to pass up. 25% off the chart plotter I had been coveting. Touch screen. NMEA 2000 plug and play. Built-in GPS. Pre-loaded with US Coastal and northern Bahamas charts and able to take additional charts via SD card. Once I can afford an anemometer and a radar, they are easily hooked up to the unit. I may route my depth sounder's data to it or I may wait and add a newer transducer later on to add the sonar to the chart plotter display. So, I raided a good chunk of my little "cruising fund" built up from the sale of most of my worldly possessions, but having a real marine chart plotter will be a major convenience when cruising. And once I add on radar I will feel more comfortable on the water at night and in heavy rain or fog. This is my biggest single purchase for the boat since buying the boat. Now I just have to install it!

I'm still not sure where I'll be at the end of this month. I should be running a marathon after Thanksgiving and an ultra in December for which I am woefully undertrained. I may be here, running, drinking "special cocoa" with peppermint schnapps, wintering over in Annapolis. I may be sailing to Hawaii and beyond. I may be donning foulies to take the boat to southern climes. I simply don't know. And that's just fine by me.

all wrapped up

Mike and Jen helping fix the inside-out jib.

A little over a week ago I was planning a nice day cruise with friends. It would have to be shorter than usual due to the need to time the tides, and no one would want to go swimming in the 60 degree water, but it would still be a nice, crisp, sunny day for a sail. A lot of preparation was needed to get the boat ready to go, both because of loose items on deck and inside, and because the roller furler for the jib still needed to be rationalized. Mike, Jen, and I spent a good three hours getting her ready to go. I'd had a couple of experienced sailors not get the jib set up quite right, so we needed to unfurl it and figure out how to get the line to furl it in the right direction. It had kept wrapping inside-out. My jib has a wide blue border which when the sail is furled provides UV protection to extend the life of the sail. We needed to get enough line wrapped on the furling drum and then have the drum spin in the correct direction so that the cover would be on the outside. A few times unfurling and furling the jib and Jen used her geometry skills to figure it out for us. She may not be a sailor (yet), but she's smart and determined, which is exactly what we needed to fix the problem.

I had realized in an "a-ha!" moment back in September that the reason the jib wasn't trimming properly to sail upwind was that we were using the wrong blocks for the jib sheets. Prior trips out the jib sheets had been run through turning blocks just aft of the winches in the cockpit. To get a tighter angle on the sail to head upwind, we needed to first run the sheets through blocks farther forward. Those blocks have been shackled to some anchor chain up at the bow, likely for safe keeping when the prior owners traded her in. We shackled those blocks to cars on the jib tracks that run along the top of the toe rail on either side of the boat. I've heard that I can get horn cleats that will run on the jib track, which would be much easier for tying my spring lines rather than running the (very long) spring lines through the cars. I would also like to add cam cleats inside the cockpit below the winches as they will be easier for me to manage when singlehanding. The wish list never stops growing it seems.

The dinghy dock high and dry.

With the sails in order we secured the pets below and started the engine. In the cold fall weather it took a few tries to get her to turn over. In the summer she always started on the first go. Diesels just don't like the cold it seems. But we got her running. A couple of hours before high tide the depth sounder said 5 feet. I draw almost five, and the depth alarm beeps incessantly at 5.2 and below. We were now at high tide but when I turned the depth sounder back on we were in 4.4 feet of water. Three days of steady NW winds were blowing water out of the bay, so although the tide was coming in, the water level had continued to fall. We tried pulling her out of the slip on the lines. I tried gunning the engine, which probably just dug us deeper into the mud. After all that preparation, the sails finally in order, our day sail was hard aground. I repeatedly apologized to Mike and Jen but they were great sports and we just hung out in the cockpit and had drinks before strolling down to the pub for a late lunch.

The trip out wasn't only going to be a pleasure cruise, however. The harbormaster's pump out boat has been out of service awaiting a part and my holding tank was full. I also had no idea how much fuel was in the tank and it is best to keep the tank full over the winter to minimize condensation. I do have facilities at my marina and they are not far from my slip, but trust me when I tell you it isn't ideal to have to bundle up, climb up on the pier during a low tide, and run to the head at 3AM. Add rain or snow to the mix and it's even less fun. With the tank full that also means there is sewage sitting in the hoses; over time it will permeate the hose and make the boat very stinky. So, getting over to the fuel dock for a pump out was a priority.

My furry crew can't seem to handle a boat hook.

Midweek I popped by the pub for lunch to see if I might find someone willing to take a little cruise across the creek with me. I probably can handle taking her over by myself just fine, but because my docking situation is a little tight I am more comfortable having someone to help fend me off other boats or pilings while docking. I didn't manage to find anyone at lunchtime but went back about 3PM (circa high tide and the beginning of happy hour). The guy I asked for help initially chided me that I should be able to do it myself without help, but when I mentioned I had a cooler of beer aboard he agreed to come along for the ride. He's an old salt and knows his stuff, so he barked at me a bit for being trepidatious around other boats. He did give me some good tips though to keep moving between gears in short bursts to kick the boat in one direction or another and keep good control over her while docking or waiting to approach the fuel dock. I was surprised to only take 7.4 gallons of fuel. I put some cetane enhancer in before filling her up, but wish I had had stabilizer to add. Now I have the stabilizer, but might need to use up a little fuel to make room for it in the tank. This winter I really have to be diligent about starting the engine once a week to keep her happier, especially if I will have to take her out to find pump out facilities. The harbormaster's office said they will run the pump out boat on Saturdays through the winter, but I'm not exactly holding my breath since they don't even have the boat running at all right now.

My huge, sturdy, lightweight IKEA bag is great for laundry.

After the little cruise across the creek I resigned myself to an evening of laundry. There is free parking at one of the local laundromats, but that one is definitely the kind of place I worry about someone stealing something. Although parking is a nightmare downtown, I still head to the laundromat on Maryland Avenue, which is clean, uncrowded, and I don't worry as much about someone stealing my panties. Although Galway Bay is a pricey watering hole, it is directly across the street from the laundromat so I generally have a pint there and just run across the street to put items in the dryer et cetera. I managed to knock out three loads of laundry in an hour and only drink one pint of Magner's Cider. When I first walked into Galway, a guy stopped me and asked "Was that your plan all along?" I looked at him quizzically. "Was it your plan to put your laundry in and then come here and drink while you wait?" he asked. They seemed to think that was a humorous, but sound, strategy. It does make the whole laundry day experience a little more pleasant, though I would still prefer to have laundry right at my marina.

I tried to get the dog to dress up for Halloween but she wanted nothing to do with it. Myself, I was a corpse bride. I think next year I will wear the gown but have day of the dead makeup. It'd be really nice to have a whole group in that theme or at least have a skeleton groom to complement my costume. The party at Davis' was fun and then I met up with friends for dinner at Vin 909. I had to work the next morning, so I couldn't make it a late night, but it was certainly better than last Halloween.

Winter aboard is here in full force. I definitely need to add a heated mattress pad for the v-berth. The oil-filled radiator is warm, but even with a couple of fans going I am not getting the heat evenly circulated throughout the boat and the salon remains much warmer--perhaps by ten degrees--than the stateroom. I don't really mind bundling up to sleep with flannels, thick socks, a sweatshirt, and hat, but that isn't exactly a sexy nightie and it isn't exactly romantic when an overnight guest is shivering. Now you know the secret to my youthful appearance: the meat-locker temperature of the stateroom is like being cryogenically preserved every night. Just kidding... it's that 45+ sunblock, being a non-smoker, chipmunk cheeks, and being young at heart.

Perhaps the mattress pad should be a reward if I ever manage to clean up the interior of the boat! I have had her in a pretty good state at points, but the last flurry of cleaning and organizing was interrupted half-way, so now piles of clothes, kitchenware, and tools are stacked in every available space. I pulled everything out so I could clean and organize storage lockers, but now I am just buried under stuff. Then came moving out of the office, so more stuff came aboard and my car is packed to the brim. I need to get groceries today but there is no where in the car to put a 30 lb. bag of dog food much less any of the other groceries. I have sold, thrown away, or given away probably 90% of my worldly possessions, but let's face it: I still have too much stuff!

I have been storing pots, pans, and food in the cubbies behind the settee and the dinette but am now rethinking that approach. Because dog hair seems to get everywhere in the boat (sigh), I end up having to re-wash all the items stored in those cubbies before I can use them. I also cannot use all the space in those cubbies because I need clearance to lift pots and pans in and out. I am considering using one of the cabinets that currently houses clothes and shoes for the pots and pans, and storing off-season clothing and extra bedding and towels in the cubbies. Then I can fill them all the way up and they will act as insulation against the hull. The problem is those cubbies are prone to terrible condensation because they are against the hull, though it is not as bad now that they are all lined with Reflectix insulation. So, if I put soft goods there instead of pans I have to protect them from the moisture lest they be soaking wet and moldy. I may get oodles of zip-lock bags and/or space bags so items will stay dry. I just have to buckle down, find a few days I can set aside, and tackle the organizing head on. I need to get to it before too long so I can have friends over for cozy dinners aboard and "special cocoa" with peppermint schnapps and baby marshmallows.

I'll leave you with this: Max thinks the top of the dodger is a groovy hammock. Silly cat.