Hans' baby brother came all the way down from Canada this past weekend to celebrate his 45th birthday with us.
We were thankful for two things; the first being that I was able to get our boat out of the slip without smacking into our new neighbor (a very impressive Beneteau), and that we were able to sail in the Gulf all day long before anchoring for the night.
The only problem that perhaps slightly overshadowed our wonderful weekend was my horribly-gone-wrong haircut. In all my years on this earth I've never been as stunned as I was this past week with what I'm calling the hair cut from hell (dirty dishwater blond, dutch boy bowl cut might give you an idea) which explains why I'm not in any of our pictures and why I'm sure Hans is thanking any and all Gods that I got it re-cut today.
A man should only have to put up with so many tears.
PS, I'm still not completely happy but thank God my hair grows fast.
|Holy Crap!!! We actually put up the main!!!|
|Wilbur loves the birthday boy, Uncle #1|
|Wilbur suffers so in these cold Florida temps. Brrrrrrr|
|Wilbur's Uncle #2 enjoys our new anchorage|
|The Knotty Cat after a fun weekend. Look at all the dishes (which I actually enjoy washing)!|
|Baby Brother, Hans, and Wilbur's best side.|
(Check out my holiday dock box)
I remember being awakened in the early morning hours the next day by the noise of these birds and I swear I thought they were sitting right outside our hatch (which I eventually found out they were). "CAW CAW CAW!" uh oh uh oh uh oh" "HA HA HA!" "warble warble warble", went their conversation just over my head.
Wilbur's Uncle #2 happened to be up early and was sitting in the cockpit at that time and he told us we had at least 50 birds perched on our mast, boom, forestay, backstays, and jib.
I'm just thankful that they didn't use us as a port-a-potty and we only had a few poopy bird messes to clean up.
Wilbur had a wonderful time too, but after our guests left it would appear he slid into a slight depression.
Thus the conversation overheard in our berth around 3 AM last night:
Hans: What the hell? Why are our sheets wet? Did someone piss the bed?
Hans: Someone pissed the bed!
Me: Well, it wasn't me!
Hans: It wasn't me either!
If Wilbur starts ripping the wings off flies and starting fires, I fear we may have a future serial killer on our hands.