I am in love, in love with where I am and with what I am doing. I love it! The recent sailing trip with a good friend on her Flicka 20, where we saw all conditions, from speeding downwind under drifter, flat calm, bashing to weather, getting rained on, getting sunburned, losing the engine, sailing to anchor, all in the same day, made my summer. Not that each day hasn’t been perfect since I arrived.
Unfortunately, I have this severe allergy, and too soon that season will be upon us. That terrible time of year, when leaves turn brown and temps drop below 80. I am allergic to cold, and will have to flee to warmer climes. I don’t wanna go. But I know only too well what happens after that leaf browning thing. Everything is gray and then white stuff falls out of the sky. I can’t wear my sandals, unless I want my toes to turn black and fall off. I can’t sail unless the boat is on skates. The abundant pool of money freezes over and poverty reigns until half a year later when it all thaws out again.
Then why in the heck has the thought even crossed my mind to remain here for the winter??? What am I, even more insane and incapable of rational thought than I imagined?? What on earth would make me even consider such a crazy thing? Is it the allure of wonderful friends? Is it the possibility of that warm cozy cottage heated with a wood stove, complete with rapid internet? Is it being weary of drifting, of having no real place to call my own? Or am I simply completely bonkers?
Somebody please whack me with an oar until I get this silly idea out of my head. I don’t want to have to go shopping for winter clothes ever again, let alone wear the darn things!
Unfortunately, I have this severe allergy, and too soon that season will be upon us. That terrible time of year, when leaves turn brown and temps drop below 80. I am allergic to cold, and will have to flee to warmer climes. I don’t wanna go. But I know only too well what happens after that leaf browning thing. Everything is gray and then white stuff falls out of the sky. I can’t wear my sandals, unless I want my toes to turn black and fall off. I can’t sail unless the boat is on skates. The abundant pool of money freezes over and poverty reigns until half a year later when it all thaws out again.
Then why in the heck has the thought even crossed my mind to remain here for the winter??? What am I, even more insane and incapable of rational thought than I imagined?? What on earth would make me even consider such a crazy thing? Is it the allure of wonderful friends? Is it the possibility of that warm cozy cottage heated with a wood stove, complete with rapid internet? Is it being weary of drifting, of having no real place to call my own? Or am I simply completely bonkers?
Somebody please whack me with an oar until I get this silly idea out of my head. I don’t want to have to go shopping for winter clothes ever again, let alone wear the darn things!
Maybe I shouldn't be worrying about things when it's only August, but one must be prepared. It could start snowing at any moment!
1 comment:
All the great adventurers have been ice bound. Just think of Ernest Shackleton as your bubble maker goes tits up this winter. As for allergies and RI in the fall....The whole of New England comes alive that time of year. You are where you want to be!
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