A Fun Family Weekend

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)

We ended up anchoring in the same place we did on day one of our Turkey Tour.  Something was noticeably different this time though and that was the giant influx of Angry Birds. As evening approached and we sat in the cockpit we couldn't help but notice thick clouds of noisy black birds (crows?),  ala  Alfred Hitchcock, noisily flying overhead.
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?
Me: Huh?
Hans: Someone pissed the bed!
Me: Well, it wasn't me!
Hans: It wasn't me either!
Wilbur: Snoooooooooooooooore.

Epilogue:

If Wilbur starts ripping the wings off flies and starting fires, I fear we may have a future serial killer on our hands.

A fond yet odd farewell to the 'burgh

This past weekend when Hans' baby brother came from Toronto to visit us for one last time here in the 'burgh (before we move), we decided to do things right and became tourists in our own city. We went on a Ducky Tour and I have to wonder why we waited until now to take one. We had a wonderful time and I highly recommend this tour to anyone even if you don't intend to move away, and c'mon! how many New Yorkers have yet to see the Statue of Liberty






Quack, Quack, Quack! Get used to yelling this if you want to take the tour!!!!


I did and I'm proud of it!!

Once our ducky vehicle hit the water Captain Hans volunteered to operate it and I was so proud of him I nearly had to wipe the tears from my eyes.


It wasn't until he sat back down and three little kids (I swear one was in diapers) took over the captain's seat that we realized maybe adults don't usually volunteer.


Oh well, who cares! Hans can add this tour of duty to his resume.




We were on our way home when we traveled past an ice cream stand that we've driven past about a thousand times before and asked Baby Brother if he'd like to stop. He didn't, but he asked us if we'd ever been.

My reply was, "No, but I've puked in their parking lot."

And thus began an odd series of reminiscences that I never dreamed I'd engage in.

That being, 'Places I've Puked, in Pittsburgh.'

So, let's jump on the way back machine and zip about seven years ago into my past.

I'd only known Hans for a few months and after attending a Christmas party with some of his friends I thought we really needed to go clubbing. It didn't take me very long to realize that after inhaling prime rib, chocolate fudge cake, and more than a few pints of beer, this might not be such a good idea. The effects of throbbing rap music and over exposure to cheap perfume left me feeling like a drill was being directed straight into my brain. I'm just thankful that the parking lot of the ice cream stand loomed on our horizon when it did because the three mile stretch leading up to it was strictly a no pull over zone.

Rest assured this happened in the middle of winter and I'm sure my deposit was gone long before the store opened in the spring.

Fast forward to a future Christmas when Hans and I paid a visit to the home of an old friend of his. Hans' friend's mother was there and offered to make me a drink. Let's just say that Kay is from the 1950's cocktail generation (where knowing how to mix the perfect martini was as important as getting your washing out on the line first). I should have known better. After sucking down a few screwdrivers that were ninety-nine percent vodka, and perhaps Kay waved the orange juice carton over mine I'm just not sure, I found myself walking a crooked line as I attempted to find the facilities. We had a jolly good time but as soon as I got into our car for the trip home, I knew I was in trouble. While Hans drove, I opened my door and proceeded to decorate a few blocks of gutters along Hans' friend's delightful little neighborhood in a pretty much non traditional way. Thank God snow covers a lot of indiscretions and I learned to never ask for anything stronger than a beer during future visits that involved Kay.

Then there was the time we were invited to a graduation party for the daughter of one of Hans' hockey friends. It was a lovely event and not unlike that of a high end wedding reception. Caterers and bartenders abounded the premises and I found myself sucking down appletinis and margaritas as quickly as they were handed to me. Unfortunately, at the end of the evening Hans had to fish me out of their swimming pool, wring out my sundress, assure me that my new sandals were not ruined, and pour me into our car. I swear the only thing that kept me from falling out as I puked our way home, was the fact that the seat belt was wound about my face.

I was happy to hear that my David Yurman ring (anniversary gift) was found at the bottom of their pool the next day but I wasn't surprised when we were never invited back.

For some reason Hans doesn't remember this next incident, possibly because it didn't involve alcohol but I actually threw up two different times during the same night! A couple of years ago I finally gave in to pressure and had an impacted wisdom tooth removed. This procedure involved anaesthesia, which wreaks havoc on my system, but I finally bit the bullet and had it done. I had no sooner awakened from my surgery than we took off for a graduation party about two hours away. Have no fear, I made sure I had my pain pills in hand and thought I was doing quite well until we pulled into a Wendy's parking lot and I announced, "I have to puke." "Where?" asked Hans. "I don't care where, but I have to puke and I'm not going to make it inside." Hans whipped our vehicle to the back part of the lot that had a small square of grass and I barely make it in time.

I hate anaesthesia.

We got to the party and I spent it with an ice pack on my cheek and a diet coke in my hand. I probably would have been okay if I hadn't caved at the sight of a carrot cake, one of my all time favorites. It came back to haunt me on our long journey home and after too many ess curves I ordered Hans to pull over. He protested that it wasn't the best place to do so, but did, after I asked if he'd rather I puked all over his car.

He pulled over, I lost my carrot cake, and the car didn't suffer one bit

This has been an interesting trip down memory lane and maybe it's a good thing we're leaving.

After all, Pittsburgh, thanks to the steel mills, has long struggled to lift itself from suffering the reputation as one of the dirtiest cities in the world, to being one of the cleanest.

Maybe now that I'm leaving it can now realize its dream.




Wilbur only calmed down about an hour before Baby Brother was scheduled to leave.

Welcome to Miami whose motto is Yankee Go Home!

It was very exciting to actually motor past Hans' old family home in the Venetian Causeway area. We could have anchored there if we'd wanted to but the winds were too strong so we ventured onward.









We ended up anchoring in a very small yet pretty area called Sunset Lake near Belle Isle. It was here that it was pointed out to us that we, who have been on this earth for over 50 years each, are not nice people and are really the scum of the earth.


We had no sooner dropped anchor when a land owner buzzed over on his jet ski and informed us that we had a problem. Why we even talked to him I don't know. I guess we were just trying to be polite. But anyway this poor guy apparently has the nastiest wife in the world or as he put it, "My wife is driving me nuts! She won't leave me alone and insisted that I ask you to move." We told him we weren't moving and then when we informed him that Hans was from the area, it seems they actually know a lot of the same people. So things took a bit of a different turn and he said he'd tell his wife we're friends of his and that we could go ahead and stay but only for two nights.

Whatta guy!

Then since we were now good old buddies he filled us in on how awful his life is. Obviously forgetting that we were on a sail boat he told us how his wife can't function when dirty sailors drop anchor in their lake. She fears for their children's safety (like maybe we're all pedophiles), she can't open the drapes in her bedroom (like we really want to look at her anyway), and don't even get him started on the 'filthy Canadians' (and I only wish we had a Canadian flag on board as Hans is a citizen of Canada) whom he's had to chase away. His tactic is to move his motor boat out beside the offender and blast them with rap music until they leave. Personally I like rap music but I can't imagine his neighbors appreciate this. He pointed to various houses and told us to ask anyone and they'd tell us the same thing; all of the wives are miserable (I wonder what their excuse would be if they didn't live on a lake?). One neighbor even put up huge ugly privacy hedges so they wouldn't have to view our nasty boats and we wouldn't be able to spy on them all day. Oh, the sad sad life of the wealthy folks of Hysteria Lane.

And could we believe it? One sailor had the gall to tell him he should divorce his wife! When he finally left I laughed and said to Hans, "Guess who isn't getting any tonight."

The next day he came over again but we were down below and when Wilbur (who's pretty darn smart) saw him he went nuts. We didn't know he could bark like that and so Mr. C. went back home. We weren't so lucky on our third day when he returned again and this time he was very sad. "Now we really do have a problem." he mourned.

Really?

"My wife is hysterical and I can't take this anymore. She won't shut up! You said you'd leave in two days and you're still here. I can see I'm going to have to bring my motor boat out here and blast you with rap music."

Hans was very nice and informed him that we could stay for as long as we liked and did his wife has some psychological problems.

"She certainly does!! She's under extreme emotional duress because of you! She feels like a prisoner in her own home!" Then he told us that he wasn't sure if we were aware that during the night a storm washed through (we live on a boat! Of course we knew a storm washed through, who the hell does he think closed the hatches, our hired help!!) and he was sure our boat was going to drift into his dock and damage his boat, and that our anchor had dragged.

Our anchor did not drag we assured him.

Hans finally ended it by telling him we were leaving anyway and not because of him but because the winds were going to be in our favor.

All I know is that for the most part we had a very lovely weekend when we weren't being harassed (and that's exactly what it was and you didn't see us knocking on his door and telling him we thought his ugly house was offensive). On the other hand, he had to listen to his shrew of a wife, he had to come out to our boat three times, and he couldn't sleep one night because he spent it watching our boat.

I think it's true that money certainly can't buy happiness.

I wish I'd taken pictures of the lake but between going ashore, taking care of boat chores, and spying on the residents, I just forgot. So if any of you out there enjoy a spirited debate, I encourage one and all to please anchor in Sunset Lake while in Miami.




This is the only picture I took while in Sunset Lake. As our boat swayed on the hook, the palm trees would appear and disappear.











Finally, Ma and Pa Kettle and their fleabag pooch Wilbur, reanchored in another body of water.

After being treated like low life's in Sunset Lake, we decided to treat ourselves to a trip down South Beach, Miami, and there we were treated like royalty.

Wilbur went with us and you'd never know pit bulls are banned in Miami as I think we counted at least 4 of them along with an 8 week old pup. Wilbur was fascinated and got nose to nose with it but I didn't get any pictures.

Wilbur was hailed and cheered and petted and fawned over so much so that you'd have thought he was a visiting prince.




This is the hotel Hans' family used to own and it's in the Art Deco district. I'd never heard of this area and if you ever have the chance to come here you've got to see it. Block after block of renovated buildings and sidewalks full of cafes. We couldn't believe how busy it was for a Monday afternoon.









Hans and Wilbur taking a rest on the steps of the hotel.

































Here we are in front of the church where Hans' father and his step mother were married.



















Our handsome man sitting under the table like a good boy. South Beach is very pet friendly and they even bring water to your pooch if it needs it.

We ended up having lunch with a good friend of Hans' brother. Ros worked with Peter in Switzerland and now spends the winter months in Miami before going back to Geneva. We didn't get to spend much time with her but we had fun.







Sunset over Miami.



We passed up an iffy chance to cross to the Bahamas a few days ago but tomorrow the winds are supposed to be S SE 9-12 knots, becoming S SW with 2-3 foot seas so we're going to give it a shot.




Of course I ran into someone at the marina who told me that the people I saw arriving at the mooring beside us this morning, crossed over last night and they had 20 foot seas!!! We did hear about some Gulf Stream warnings but 20 foot seas?! I'm hoping to hell they were exaggerating as I'm sick to death of all the horror stories associated with the Gulf Stream.


So tomorrow at 4 AM we should be departing but Hans already knows if I'm not happy with how things are looking we are turning around and that's it!