Old Woodies

Yesterday marked the second time in my life I've ever been in a sailboat race. And just like the last race, it was marked by ferocious winds and fierce competition, as you can see by the photos.

Well okay, so there really wasn't any wind this time either. And had we done what others did, which was to motor up to the start line, cutting their engines as the starting horn sounded, we would have done better. But no, silly us, we were trying to sail in no wind, which meant that the tide, which was stronger, pushed us down onto the committee boat. It took half an hour to jibe around and get through the start line, which gave our competitors a huge lead. As the day drew to a close and the dampness of the chill air began to penetrate our bones, we gave up, turned on the motor, and headed back in towards the party. That blew our chance at the last place prize, but by god, next year we'll go for it!

What do you do when you're headed back to the mooring and discover that someone had come along and 'borrowed' your boat hook?:*

*These remarkable boat hooks will soon be available for sale at Alitloff Center for $89.99 + s/h. Order yours now to beat the Christmas rush!

Ahhhhh

I feel as though I should run through the fields beating my chest, shouting, "I HAVE FIRE!!!" ala Tom Hanks in Castaway.

As long as I don't catch on fire, we're good. I now have the one thing that makes New England winter tolerable (other than buggering off somewhere tropical until spring), and that is a wood stove.

Now all I need is wood.*



* The sticks that are burning were 'borrowed' from a friend. I have to give them back when I'm done with them.

Still Ticked Off

Originally, I started this blog so friends and family could follow my travels as I sailed around the world. For those who read the drivel that I write, you know very well that this never happened.

Thinking that the adrift period would be brief, I tried to fill this space with funny stuff, until I found myself back at sea again, blogging about my travels to tropical paradises, turning my readers green with envy as they plodded through everyday life.

Yeah well. That damn deer tick’s plans for his life overthrew mine in a complete coup.

And as sick as you are of hearing about my lyme disease, believe me, that comes not even a parsec close to how tired I am living with it, day in and out. Some days I just want to hurl myself into the compost heap, decompose, get spread all over the garden, and sprout again in some other form.

But instead, feeling like a freshly dug up turnip that the dog has carried around, I slog along slowly. Every now and then, I have a lucid moment, where I look around and notice that the world is still turning. Most of the time, I’m just not on it, but am circling in my own foggy orbit.

And finally, in those rare glimpses of the world outside my head, I’m beginning to be able to see the humor in my situation.

I’m not planning to turn this blog into the lyme journals (any more than I was planning to spend years on shore:), but maybe, if I can couch my confuddlement in comedy, I can give another lymie a laugh, which, as we all know, is the best medicine.

C’mon, folks, go ahead and laugh at me and with me. Then we’ll all feel better.