Home is where the ticks are

For the first time in my life, I’m not looking to move on. Yes, I often miss the sailing life, and yes, I miss traveling to new places. But as I wandered hither and thither throughout the years, I always kept returning to this one particular harbor. I never stayed for long, because of that freezing thing, but still I came back, almost every year.

Now, as an icy future stares me in the face, I have decided to stay. And even more insane than that, I’m not moving back into my house, instead leaving it to the overactive night squirrels who have completely ignored the eviction notices. Sleep has become so invaluable to me, that I have decided to attempt to spend the winter in my blissfully quiet tin can, which has very little insulation, and is nicely equipped with a furnace that only blows hot air when the outside temp is 70, otherwise, on dark cold nights, it works really well as an air conditioner. The single pane trailer windows with the large gaps was what I loved about living here all summer. It was just like living outdoors, except that the skeeters couldn’t get in through the screens, and I didn’t get wet when it rained.

Why would I consider major winterizing modifications to a twenty year old camper, when it would be infinitely cheaper to drag the entire rig to Mexico, where I could afford to live for next to nothing in the warm sun?

Scroll to the top of this blog and read the title: ALITLOFF. Okay so maybe I should change that to ALOTOFF.

In the spring I made a deal with myself: If I could eradicate my tick borne debt by the end of September, I would go south with the geese. Not only did I not come close to meeting my own expectations, but sometimes I still completely drop all my balls, and wander off to smell the pretty flowers. It only makes sense to stay here among friends, in an area where even many strangers understand the effect that lyme disease can have on a formerly competent person. Being here with the people I love will keep me warm in a way that I won’t find anywhere else. I know, because I’ve looked for nearly 20 years. That, and I still need a lot more sleep before I face the world again. The long dark days of winter are a perfect time to stock up on zzzzs, in the hopes that I’ll wake up a complete non-lymie in the spring.

So, if anyone has any spare insulation, firewood, etc, bring it on over. I wouldn’t say no to thermal socks either.

Here's Mud in Your Eye

Because we have an even number of people on the farm, we have two winning captions for the disaster that befell our lovely 'pond', which used to look like this:


But now looks like this:



The winning titles are:

Haiti
Meteor Crater

Luckily, Earl is coming to break the tie for us. I'm guessing that in the aftermath, "Haiti" will be declared the winner, because all that mud is going to slide down and fill in the crater.

Will humans ever learn to quit messing with mother nature?

Lightning DOES Strike Twice

History almost repeated itself, but thankfully, this time there was a happy ending. Conditions were almost the same, except that it was actually windier than when Safari took her final journey. The difference to Phoenix living to tell her tale was that she miraculously avoided all the rocks on her trip to the beach. Soft sand is no match for a tough boat.

The owner attests that it's much better to wear yourself out scrubbing the exposed hull at low tide, and then, on the evening's high tide, cranking on lines and anchors to haul the boat back into deeper water, than it is to chop up your beloved vessel with a chainsaw.

And also, that boat is getting chained to her mooring. No more beach parties.

Farewell Old Friends

I had the most delicious dream last night. I was aboard my anchored boat, and through an open porthole, could see my love’s gray steel boat anchored right next to mine. In the dream, each morning I awoke, day after day, and there he was, still beside me. Plus, my boat had a brand new engine in it!

When I started to awaken into the real world this morning, I fought to stay asleep to keep the dream alive. But alas, daylight reality entered, and I had to admit that dream was blown long ago.

But dreams do have meaning.

I purchased my last pair of sandals in 2007 at a Key West dive shop, while my love browsed the spear gun selection. Could that have been a hint of foreshadowing, a sign of what was to come not long after, when our relationship took a dive and I fled?

I wish he had harpooned me and reeled me back in.

Regardless, those aged, well worn sandals should never have been in this summer’s wardrobe. But there they were, in all their holey bottomed, strap failing glory, because I had been unable to locate any suitable replacements. Until today, when simply passing a storefront window, there were exactly the sandals I’d been waiting for all summer.

I just hope that pitching the old sandals into the rubbish bin and getting new ones has no meaning whatsoever.

How Safe Is Your Car?

That depends on how you drive it. If you believe that you have one of those magic cars that will glide smoothly across ice all by itself at 70 mph, here’s a tip: your car is not safe.

If you’re driving on a jam packed three lane highway where everyone else is going 40, odds are, that if you believe you can continue to travel at 90 by zipping in and out of traffic, your car is not safe.

If your mechanic told you a year ago, when you last got your oil changed, that you needed new brakes, your car is probably not safe. Especially if you have to start slowing down a quarter mile away from a stop sign in order not to skid through it.

If you stole your car, it’s probably not safe.

If your car doors lock automatically when you accelerate over 25, and then you drive into a lake causing all the electronics fail, your car is probably not safe.

If you’ve aged past the ability to merge into traffic from an on ramp, your car is probably not safe.

If you leave the keys in the ignition and the doors unlocked while parked in front of a Bronx mini mart, your car is probably not safe.

If you pass a cop who’s going the speed limit, your car is probably not safe.

If one of your wheels just flew past you on the highway, your car is not safe.

If you own a Yugo…well nevermind, if you own a Yugo you don’t really own a car.

If you bought the biggest, honkenest, most expensive gas guzzling SUV that you could never afford, and then got laid off, your car is probably not safe. (BTW: driving a hummer is the same as wearing a sticker that says ‘look at me I am a giant weenie’-which we all know means that it’s actually very tiny.)

And because I just said that to all the hummer owners out there, my car is not safe.