At Sea or in a Marina, Life is Always Interesting While Living on a Boat

Wilbur enjoys a Bloody Mary morning.

Hmmm, so what's happened here at our marina since April?

Thanks to an unusually low tide, a boat across from us would have completely sank instead of settling onto the bottom after a simple hose worked itself  free of a clamp. I did take a couple of pictures but I'm not going to post them as I wouldn't want anyone doing that to me.

 The man who fell off his boat this past March ended up spending two weeks in the hospital with three days of them in intensive care. He developed pneumonia within hours of falling in and I really didn't think he was going to survive. I told him that recently, and he laughed and said he's done dumber things in his life. He'll be 80 this month!

Our neighbor fell and broke 3 ribs. Hearing his screams of pain during the night when he coughed and his ribs didn't realign themselves properly is something I never want to experience again and I'm sure he doesn't either. Of course his cat chose to fall overboard that night too. It wasn't the first time and it won't be her last.

During my Mother's Day phone conversation with my 30 year old son, I told him that Hans and I are now swingers. After a long pause he told me I really need to learn how to phrase my comments to him in a way that won't give him a heart attack. I thought he knew that I meant we'd taken up swing dancing. Actually, I just like messing with his head.  About our swing dancing.  I love it. Hans, not so much.

I wonder how my son will feel when I tell him we have crabs. We've found two of these poor guys all dried up in our guest berth.

Hans and I are attempting to play tennis. We bought our rackets at WalMart and mine is designed for a 9 year old (the tag didn't state whether it meant physically or mentally).  Hans is experienced, I am not, but I'm very thankful for his patience. I do feel badly for him as he suffers from neck pain due to the car accident he had over a year ago and his mobility is not what it should be although it does level our playing field a bit. During the day I've been hitting a ball against a wall and in addition to sweating up a storm, I fear I now have tennis elbow.

The other day I watched a sailboat roar through the marina like it was in the Indy 500 so of course I ran up to our bow to watch. The renegade boat managed to turn around at the lower end (it was either that or run into a wall) while two men from the marina both armed with boat hooks, jumped aboard. Pretty impressive stuff.
The boat shot back up the marina, zipped past me and then attempted to get into its slip. It bounced off a piling and since we were at low tide all the oyster shells and barnacles that had collected at the high tide mark crashed into the water. The boat now skidded around toward the boats on the other side (our marina is U shaped with boats lining the inner long sides of the U. This creates a lane of water between that we use to get in and out). Luckily, it didn't hit anyone and revved up for a second attempt at docking. Wham! it slammed into the next piling and sent another cascade of barnacles into the water (at this point I wondered if we just might have chanced upon a rather unorthodox way to rid pilings in our marinas of those pesky and germ ridden creatures). The crew, looking and sounding like a band of pirates, shouted and brandished their boat hooks like swords as they caught the lines from the pilings and managed to screech to a stop before the cement wall stopped them.
Those poor people had just bought the boat and must not have had a survey done and this was their maiden voyage. Apparently the throttle only worked at full speed and was then only interested in going forward. It would eventually reverse but took forever getting there. Also, the rudder cable didn't care to cooperate and having its own agenda, didn't want to go where everyone else wanted to go. Considering all this, I think the man who jumped on board, took over the helm got this boat back into its slip did a pretty good job.

What I'll never forget was the look of sheer terror on the faces of the two women who were sitting in the cockpit while tightly clutching a toddler. The women's eyes were as big as saucers as they sat frozen in fear. The toddler's eyes were as big as saucers because he was being squished like a bug. But since we were at an extreme low tide and the water was about four feet deep I wasn't too worried about anyone disappearing from sight if they did sink.

This alley of water seems much more narrow when you're trying to maneuver  your boat in it.

Wilbur still loves going to the park, he likes whipped creme on his breakfast kibble, he sneaks up to the bow of the boat when he thinks I'm not looking because he's a big boy now, he peed himself when a dog from another boat knocked us over during a walk, he's still afraid of the neighbor cat and the Yorkie from a few boats away, he's very selfish and won't share toys with other dogs at the park although he feels they should all share with him, and last week during a dinghy ride he jumped out and towed us to shore.

Every thing tastes better with whipped creme.

Gee, I wonder what's going on over there?

"OMG!!" Wilbur exclaims in true teenager fashion, "When are you going to stop being a helicopter  mom and leave me alone??"
Never!

From Live-aboard to Motel Dweller

Oh My God!!!! I want to go home!

I mentioned in a previous post that while the Knotty Cat is on the hard in order to get her bottom cleaned and painted; Hans, Wilbur, and I get to luxuriate (read sarcasm) at a motel.

And I gotta say, I don't know how people do it.

The fun started around midnight last night when I was awakened by slamming doors and yelling people. Why, oh why, do people wait until the dead of night to start fighting? Luckily this was a very short lived event and then everything was quiet.

Then while I was at the dog park this afternoon I found out that a body had been found at our particular motel the day before. I guess this explains why the police were here all day and a homicide detective left a calling card in our door.

So tonight while eating our dinner of pizza (I love pizza but I'm already longing for a home cooked meal) the yelling and door slamming started again. This time it was right across the court yard from us and as I peeked through our curtain (I'm destined to be Gladys Kravitz wherever I live) I recognized a man I'd seen earlier on my way to the ice machine and even then I could just feel the anger coming off of him. He was now storming up and down the walkway and screaming into his phone. Hans made me get back from the window and we could hear many doors slamming, and more than one voice yelling. I looked out again and Angry Man (skinny and wearing no shirt) was still pacing and I could see the glowing screen of his cell phone clutched in his hand. When he started shouting again to someone about his having three thousand dollars in the bank by Friday so leave him the 'F' alone we called the front desk. We were informed that Angry Man had just been told to shut up right now or he was going to get kicked out.

Things finally quieted down.

I have to wonder why anyone would feel the need to leave the privacy of their room in order to have a loudly nasty conversation on their cell phone.

What's sad is the fact that this really is a nice motel. It's clean, well maintained, and the staff is very friendly.

I have my own opinion about why this kind of crap happens these days but I don't intend to turn this post into a political debate so I'll stop right now.

Wilbur wants to go home too!

Today We Moved Our House

Actually we only moved the Knotty Cat around the corner to a boat yard so she can get hauled out tomorrow for a good cleaning and bottom paint job. But after we arrived Hans observed that all we really have to do is cast off our lines and just like that we can move our home to wherever we want.

It's quite liberating.

I did manage to get the boat out of our slip with much better results than I did last week and when we arrived at the boat yard we were very happy to note that we were docking in a slip at least 20 feet wide. Wow!! It made us realize how tightly squeezed we are in our current home port.

The only place we can find on our boat that will hold our over sized dinghy motor is a side rail at our stern. Either port or starboard it doesn't make a difference, but this damned motor has become the bane of my existence. Getting in or out of a slip means that this little bugger gets high priority attention as it just loves to grind itself into pilings any chance it can.

This morning Hans was at the bow and while he pulled the Knotty Cat forward, I braced myself against our stern piling in an attempt to fend off the dinghy motor. It probably would have helped if I'd kept my right hand clear so it wouldn't end up pinned between the piling and the motor.

Ouch!! Luckily Hans heard me screaming and gave me some slack and I managed to free my hand before it could be completely crushed.

Never again will I do that.

Now that we're at a different marina we have to keep the starboard stern away from the dock so the stupid motor doesn't dig into the dock. Luckily we get hauled out in the morning.

Wilbur was at his most irritating this morning and when he wasn't jumping ship to he was constantly underfoot.

Naughty Dog!

The Welcome Wagon arrived to greet us.

And then flew away.

I was under the impression that this was January. So why the hell have I had to take two showers already today? Honest to God, by the time we arrived here this afternoon the sweat was running off us.

Gee, I just can't wait for summer to arrive.

 

A Bunch of Middle Age Cruisers Celebrate the New Year

Rich with his drum machine, and Hans with his new keyboard. Some serious music is about to take place!

This little guy was left out of most of the festivities and he ended up sulking below in our berth.

 

When we ended up at anchor on New Year's Eve around 2 PM we realized there was no way we'd stay awake to ring in the new year. But just after the sun went down we were surprised to get a call from another live-aboard couple in our marina who had finished up their work day. They were on their way out into the bay and did we want to meet up with them?

They ended up rafting next to us and I have to tell you this was a first for the Knotty Cat!! I'm just not a rafting up-let's party till all hours-act like a bunch of idiots kind of person. Especially on what I've always referred to as Amateur Night.

Really, I'm not.

Yet we had a great time. We laughed about anything and everything, witnessed a beautiful full moon rise over the bay, and by eleven o'clock we were back on our own boat with a pouting pitty. We hooked up our TV and antennae, and while Wilbur refused to budge from under his blanket, Hans and I actually witnessed the ball drop at midnight.

Getting up in the morning wasn't so easy but by 11 or so we were finally moving around and enjoying breakfast and mimosas.

Danee patiently waits on her boat while we try to wake up.

On New Year's Day, Hans got the chance to use his new keyboard. Rich and Danee's good friend's motored out and before we knew it, all three of our boats were rafted together and don't think the Knotty Cat wasn't hugely proud of herself. All three boats hanging on her anchor!!! What a girl!

 

So we ended up spending New Year's Day sitting at anchor with good friends and music. The wind also kicked up and many boats with smiling, happy occupants sailed past shouting out greetings to us (at least they didn't tell us to shut up).

Luckily, we got back into our slip with no mishaps since Captain Hans was at the helm and not me.

 

And now we're back to reality and of course our vehicle has decided that the Knotty Cat gets way too much attention. Therefore it decided to light up the dashboard with many alarms and then screamed and beeped at me and Wilbur the whole way to the Doggy Park. I then drove a very scary 4 miles enduring the mushiest brakes in the world to our local mechanic.

The good news is that Wilbur thoroughly enjoyed the ride back to our marina in the courtesy van where he gave our driver many big pitty kisses the whole way.

Here's to hoping this isn't a portent of things to come.

 

Life at our Marina with neighbors

This post addresses the age old issue of 'neighbors' and I have an odd  feeling that even if I  live long enough to find myself residing in a nursing home I will still find myself living next door to a pain in the ass.

For some reason I've had far more experience in the neighbor department than most people would ever want starting way back when I was a small child and we lived next door to a mean drunk (I still have vivid memories of the night he decided to straighten a crooked bullet with a hammer). Back then we thought that calling the police would put a stop to the harassment he heaped upon us (music blasting outside our bedroom windows at 3 AM, fish, fireworks, and bricks thrown into our pool during the night, and that time he tried to run my mother down with his truck).  But at the end of the day our calls for help just seemed to add fuel to the fire and my parents put up with and suffered through the most unbelievable abuse for over 40 years until the idiot finally died.

While my parents were putting up with this continuing nonsense I got married and found myself living next door to Gladys Kravitz (these days when I take my daily walks around the marina, I tell Hans I'm going Kravitzing). Let me just say I can't imagine approaching a neighbor to announce that I didn't recognize a car that I'd seen in their driveway a day or so earlier and expect an answer, but Gladys did (too many times). And to this day it pisses me off that I actually felt the need to answer her questions.

After my divorce I moved into a new house where my retired neighbor insisted on mowing my yard even though I was thoroughly capable of mowing it myself. He ignored my protests and deep down I knew nothing good would ever come of this situation so needless to say I wasn't too terribly surprised when Mr. Good Deed turned on a huge hate campaign ten years later when I put up a For Sale sign. In his opinion I was selling out, I was in cahoots with a couple who owned the vacant lot next to me, and  I didn't give a damn about my neighbors. Honest to God, he thought a huge corporation was going to snatch up my tiny little lot and the whole neighborhood would then go to hell in a hand basket. I know this because he showed up at my work place one day and screamed at me in front of all my co workers. He also erected a barrier of sorts along the back perimeter of our properties consisting of old tree branches woven together in a makeshift fence. The reasoning behind this still puzzles me but I'm pretty sure he was hoping I'd knock it down. Of course I didn't and I still can't believe my house finally sold. I do admit I harbored a nasty desire that the new owners would park a few rusty vehicles and perhaps an odd refrigerator or two in the front yard if it would only piss off Mr. Good Deed.

Then I moved to The Big City where Hans and I lived together for a couple of years.  We really didn't know our neighbors very well but they certainly made themselves known to us thanks to the constant police presence in our neighborhood.  Never in a million years would I have thought that I would actually find myself side-stepping gun wielding policemen (more than once) upon returning to our apartment from a store run and I felt like a relic from the old west and  prayed they wouldn't shoot my purchases out of my arms before I could flee upstairs. And right before we moved away we watched as the coroner's office hauled a body out of the back yard of a house from across the street. I was more than ready to leave.

We eventually arrived on the west coast of Florida aboard our Knotty Cat and were barely settled in when my newly carved Halloween pumpkins that I had sat on top of our dock box were tossed into the water and my recently purchased potted plants stolen.


And I met one of our new neighbors, Joe.

Initially I felt sorry for Joe. Joe was upset because his girlfriend had been forbidden to set foot back in our marina 'just because the owner found her smoking in the bath house'  and could I believe someone would throw a homeless cancer survivor out into the street? But I soon discovered that the girlfriend was a nut case (and that Joe's mother is the one who didn't want her around. By the way, Joe was well into his 50's) who though supposedly homeless was able to afford a cell phone and cigarettes and enjoyed stealing Joe's vehicle on a regular basis including Thanksgiving morning. The girlfriend continued to visit Joe and they would have hugely loud fights and would then be stunned when the police showed up. 
Every single time. 
Then there was the morning the young couple who lived next to Joe discovered him in their cockpit with his arm deep in their beer cooler. Upon being caught 'red handed' Joe played the fool. "Oh my God! This isn't my boat? How embarrassing! I can't believe I did this! But anyway, I'm out of beer so do you mind if I take one?"  It wasn't until a few months after he'd been evicted that another live aboard couple realized that Joe was most likely the culprit who'd stolen all but one bottle of beer from a case they'd left on ice in their cockpit. 


But, my relief of finally having gotten rid of Joe didn't last long when he was replaced by a whole new neighbor.

A neighbor who felt the need to hail us at 11 PM, far too often, in order to impart some valuable piece of information upon us such as how many knots the wind was going to blow during the night. I finally learned to quickly close our cock pit door as soon as I smelled the cigarette smoke that always preceded another unwanted visit from Neighbor.

Neighbor thought he knew much more about 'boat stuff' than we did and succeeded in completely screwing everything up the second time Hans sent me up the mast. It was a Saturday morning and we finally had the proper bulb and o-ring for our steaming light (or so we thought), and a new bolt for our radar. 


Up the mast I went and out came Neighbor full to the brim with commentary. 


Now, I'm terrified of heights and Hans being aware of this was very carefully hoisting me up the mast  manually as opposed to using our electric halyard since he knows this gives me an odd sense of control. This was more than Neighbor could handle and he fairly danced about his boat with impatience and shouted instructions to both of us. Hans assured him that this was a simple routine for us and that we were just tying up some loose ends and then did his best to ignore Neighbor.
Then I discovered the replacement bulb for the steamer light was too small and the o-ring too big. And the bolt we'd bought to replace the missing one on our radar was the wrong size too. I shouted this information down to Hans and we decided we may as well give a bigger bulb we'd found on board a try. But since I was already up the mast and didn't feel like coming back down only to go up once again we were debating on how to get that particular bulb up to me.

Poor Neighbor went nuts.

"Oooh! oooh! I know! I know!" And then he was on our boat. While Hans tried to calmly explain what we were going to do, Neighbor kept shouting, "No, No! Listen to me! Listen to me! Shut up! You're not listening to me!" Hans had found the spare bulb and taped it to our boom so it would be within easy reach for him, and he'd tied off the halyard that was holding me in place. While Neighbor leaped and jumped about and continued to shout, the wind started puffing a bit. From my perch up above these conditions combined to cause the mast to start swinging to and fro and my heart to pound.

Me:  Would you guys hurry up and do something, I'm moving around too much and anyway I'm getting sunburned.

By now Neighbor is swinging a huge thick line like a lasso and thinks he's going to loop it over one of the spreaders.

Me: It's getting windy up here, would you guys hurry up?

Neighbor is in a frenzy of throwing and wants me to shut up.

Me (noting with great alarm): Hey, I'm sliding down the mast!

Neighbor: No you're not.

Me (still sliding): YES I AM! What the hell are you doing!

Neighbor: You're not moving.

Me: I'M SLIDING!!

Neighbor: Oops, I stepped on the winch handle.

And in order to step on the winch handle this meant he'd jumped up on our boom during one of his tossing efforts. This also meant that he'd somehow dislodged the bulb Hans had taped to the boom and it was now gone.
Hans cranked me back in place and told me to try the original bulb one more time.
We discovered that a tiny little bulb when dropped from a great height will shatter into more pieces than you can imagine.
I didn't bother to go back up the mast until after Neighbor was finally evicted and in only a few minutes I calmly and successfully replaced the light, the o-ring, and the bolt.


Someone recently asked me if we're enjoying the quiet these days now that Neighbor is gone and I had to admit that while I like not having to peek outside before leaving the boat anymore, it's almost boring.

But I've no doubt new neighbors will arrive as they always do and I can get back to some serious Kravitzing. 

More liveaboard stuff

So life continues to march on at our marina.

When we skidded to a stop here this past August there was just a handful of boats bobbing around. It's now January and we pretty much have a full house, and most of us are liveaboards.

I make the rounds almost every day which involves walking the full length of the marina in order to get rid our garbage, pick up the mail, get ice, and once a week do our laundry. During my little sojourns I have a chance to visit with whomever is out and about and Wilbur usually accompanies me, except for the days when I have a full load and little patience.

Depending upon who's awake, above board, new to the marina, all of the above and/or sober, I may be gone for a few minutes or a few hours because the one thing I've discovered; most cruisers like to talk. And talk. Even more so than me if you can believe that!

And of course I get a kick out of those with pets aboard. One newly arrived and cute young couple has a dog named Luvvy. Luvvy is an adorable Jack Russell-Chihuahua mix and even though I've been assured that she's 'trained' she spends a great deal of time jumping ship every time another dog (especially a certain hunk o' burnin' love named Wilbur) ventures past her boat. Luvvy's boat is directly across the marina from ours and while Hans has gone to great length to explain to me (with his scientific brain) about how sound travels over water louder than it travels over land, this much I know; Luvvy's full name is Luvvy BadGirlBadGirl because I hear her being called this all day long.

I guess this means that everyone in the marina knows that Wilbur's full name is 'Wilbur GetOutOfTheGarbage'.

And thanks to Hans' scientific explanation about sound waves I'm pretty sure everyone here knows that poor Luvvy BadGirlBadGirl fell overboard yesterday and had to be fished out of the yucky marina water.

I also know that Luvvy BadGirlBadGirl gets her ass smacked on a daily basis.

I no longer try to do our laundry on the weekend and let those who don't have time during the week to do theirs. And that brings me to the 'what do I do with someone else's clothes that have been sitting in the washing machine all day long' dilemma. Normal laundry rules state that if you find wet clothing in the washing machine you have the right to remove them and place them on a table. I knew this rule yet was hesitant to take action one day upon finding both washers full of wet clothes, and then another live aboard couple took care of that situation for me and the guilty party got all pissed off at them instead of me. When all was said and done, Guilty Party (whom we discovered had gone out to breakfast after starting her laundry) accused the other live aboard couple of stealing the quarters she'd supposedly inserted into the dryer (I mean c'mon! who puts money into the dryer ahead of time?!). The live aboard couple was furious at this accusation and in a very dramatic fashion threw Guilty Party's wet clothing into a dryer and slammed a bunch of their own quarters into the slots.

So laundry room drama aside, what I'd really like to know is why Guilty Party (a live aboard here for over 6 years) has air conditioning units running 24/7 all year round on her boat, even in January, when the rest of us are huddled around our space heaters.

Hmmm, when was the last time anyone saw Mr. Guilty Party?

I'm just asking.

One of our neighbors is a disabled vet and he bought a refurbished sewing machine a few years ago with the hopes of replacing some of his interior furnishings. As of tonight, his machine is now in my possession and tomorrow I'm going to try to figure out why 'the sonofabitch keeps jamming'. But only after I dump the garbage, get mail and ice, hit Beall's outlet store to return a couple of shirts (Monday is Senior Citizen Day and I insist on getting my 15% discount), take Wilbur to the dog park, and hopefully get about four loads of laundry done.

Just in case anyone feels like giving me a hard time at the laundry room, I'm taking Wilbur GetOutOfTheGarbage with me. Who's gonna argue with a crazy lady and her pit bull!





You can see for yourself why he's to be feared.

More liveaboard stuff

It's kind of funny how when people find out we live on a boat in a marina, you just know they get the impression that we're living a glamorous kind of life style, when in reality, we basically live in a trailer park.

For the most part almost everyone in our marina is middle aged or older and God only knows how truly seaworthy a lot of these vessels are, but for now they are home. A lot of the men have jobs and head off to work everyday and those who don't have jobs, tinker. There's an outside workshop area and I have no idea what they're doing but I've never seen or heard so much sawing and sanding and hammering in my life. Some men work on their cars for hours at a time, and some seem obsessed with keeping their boats clean.

I appear to be a bit of an oddity as I'm one of the only people here who actually walks all the way from our boat to the main office for our mail, ice, and to do laundry.
Everyone else drives.

Needless to say Wilbur always accompanies me on these jaunts and even though he's a pistol in that he needs to sniff every blade of grass and prove to all that he's a big boy now by marking everything in his way, he stoically ignores all the yappers that live on the other boats.
Wilbur is the only pit bull in the marina. And also the quietest dog.

On one side of us is a disabled veteran who adores his cats and parrots (who sleep in the same big cage by the way!). When he cleans his birds' cages they sit in the cockpit and cheerfully call out hello when they aren't wolf whistling at everyone who walks by.
On our other side is a charter fishing boat and I met the original owner shortly after we arrived here. Bob (also a veteran) was dying of cancer and knew he only had a couple of months to live. I was struck by how pleasant and cheerful Bob was despite his prognosis and his brother would bring him to his boat daily so he could sit in the cockpit and enjoy the day. When he found out I liked to read he gave me an old paperback book (actually a Pulitzer Prize winner) from his home and I was moved that he would even think to do this.
Bob died a couple of weeks ago but his boat is still in operation. He gave it to a friend and it's now back in business.
A couple of days ago I awoke to a loud engine, diesel smoke, and shouts of laughter right outside my berth hatch. Did the fact that it was 7AM bother me?
Not at all. Hearing people having a good time just can't upset me.
Before they set out, I managed to get a look at the charter group which consisted of four well over 7o something men. They had to be friends of long standing because they were so easy with each other, talking, laughing, interrupting, and even though they were in no way spring chickens I felt like I was watching a bunch of little boys lined up on a bench and getting ready for a big day at sea.
I have a feeling that if they hadn't been able to go out, they still would have had a blast just sitting in the slip all day.
In the end they came back with some good sized fish and over 60 snapper.



I told Hans I was having a hard time finding a retractable clothes line and he told me to just use Wilbur's retractable leash.

What a smart guy.

I was a bit concerned that I might get in trouble for airing our laundry in public and looking like we live in a tenement (some snobby subdivisions forbid clothes lines you know) but I soon realized we were probably safe when I noticed that a newly arrived live aboard couple were airing out their port a potty on their foredeck (I would have taken a picture, but remember? we live here!).

I made a huge mistake today when I left the boat to go shopping and forgot to remove our garbage.
I arrived home to find chewed up foil, coffee grounds, filthy paper towels, and a very guilty pitty. What bothered me the most is that I've been doing a tremendous amount of sewing these days and in that very same garbage was discarded needles and a rotary cutting blade.


Bad Dog!! I told Wilbur it's time he started pulling his own weight on this boat and he can just start planning some menus.

"Awe!! C'mon Mom! Do I have to?"














"Wow! I had no idea there were so many tasty recipes out there!"











"Mmmmm, bird poop, smelly clam shell, and rotten conch broth!! I love it! May I please have the keys to the car? I need to go shopping at the beach."











I think I need to come up with a better form of punishment.

Who would want to live on a boat?

And I don't mean some kind of mega yacht, I'm talking about your average sail boat (or trawler). It's not like there's all kinds of room or a lot of floor space with tantalizing promises of chances to redecorate with different styles of furniture over the coming years. Because let's face it, on a boat everything is very stationary. We have our galley area and I'm sorry but no matter how 'in' stainless steel appliances are right now (and have you ever tried to keep those big stinkers clean?), you'll have to remain happy with your chest type refrigerator/freezer, and happy indeed you'll be to even have refrigeration.

Our propane stove consists of two burners and an oven (which is actually more than we had in our old apartment), and sorry, we won't be replacing yards of pine cupboards with cherry cupboards or installing acres of corian counter tops in hopes that this will enable me to suddenly conjour up gourmet dinners (otherwise known as pizza delivery) ala todays suburban housewives.

Our salon area consists of a small 'L' shaped stationary 'sofa' that can be converted into another sleeping area if need be. This area is where we do most of our living while on our boat and I decided early on to make slip covers in order to preserve the cushions. I used some old king sized sheets that are already showing wear and since we are now truly live aboards I plan on making some new covers that are more durable and attractive.

Even though we're on a boat, we are very lucky to have two full heads (bathrooms) complete with separate stand up showers. We also have a hot water tank and for us this is a big plus.

Our berth is queen size (as is the guest berth) and I thank God for this as Wilbur is a very restless pitty and isn't happy unless he's stomping all over us all night long!

But anyway, Hans and I were talking about living aboard the other day and I reminded him about a family reunion trip we took to Trier, Germany a couple of years ago.

We had gone for a walk and I was curious about what lie behind a long line of hedges we were walking beside. And just like that a gate appeared. Of course we couldn't resist and walked right in. I immediately got goose bumps and felt an incredible thrill of excitement when I found ourselves in the midst of Munchkinland.

Check out this tiny little house. A child's dream come true.

At least mine!

Compared to Hans, do you see what I mean when I say tiny?

I was fascinated to find that in Germany, if you live in an apartment or condo but would still like to garden, you can rent/own/sublet a small piece of property and do just this.

Some of these lots have been handed down from generation to generation. There are boards who can decide if your family may inherit or not, and if you don't keep up with the Jones' you stand a chance to lose your very coveted plot of land.

Stumbling onto these properties was one of the bright spots of this particular trip (right up there with finding out some of Hans' distant relatives own a vineyard), and even though I don't live in one of these adorable little cottages, I live in the next best thing.

A boat.

And the nice thing is, we can pick up and move any time we want.

That's who would want to live on a boat.

Home Sweet Boat...

...or is it Boat Sweet Home? I'm really not sure.

Anyway, even though the days are still pretty hot here in Florida, I can feel a slight shift as we move into autumn which has always been my favorite time of the year.

I believe Halloween is my all time favorite holiday, and I remember like it was yesterday how excited my sister and I were every year when it came time to carve our pumpkins. I also remember my sister's brainstorm that involved us stealing our mother's tin cookie cutters in order to make intricate and what she thought would be very original designs on our pumpkins. Her brilliant plan failed in a spectacular way and all we did was completely ruin the cookie cutters as they crumpled and collapsed under the pressure of us trying to shove them in to thick and unforgiving pumpkin flesh.

To this day I don't think my mother knows what we did. I think I'll spill the beans when we go back home for Christmas, especially since I can tell Mom it was Cindy's idea and not mine.

I'll take my points any way I can.

When I had kids I just assumed they'd love Halloween as much as I did. However, doing things like carving pumpkins lost a lot of its flavor with the advent of cable TV and video games. Therefore, I ended up doing all the carving myself and after awhile I just gave it up.

The kids never even noticed this small detail but they did appreciate the very detailed costumes I made for them. Someday I'll dig out some pictures and post them.

But now that we're living on a boat and are really restricted as to how much holiday decorating we can do, well, it bothered me. So I bought a pumpkin at Publix and a stencil kit at the Dollar Tree, and got to work.


Here is the stencil attached to my pumpkin with duct tape. Of course the tiny little serrated knife that came with the kit broke immediately so I ended up using one of mine.










I was busy carving ashore, and Wilbur, who was stuck on board, was not impressed.



"Mama, I don't like that big orange thing, and that ugly pink bird is taunting me!"






You see, in addition to the pumpkin, I also lucked upon a pink flamingo (and I absolutely was not going to feel like I was 'home' until I had my own tacky piece of home decor)!


So I now have an evil pumpkin and a flamingo that's artistically decked out in a Halloween themed kerchief and scarf.


Wilbur finally got up close and personal with his taunters.

"You talkin' to me??" He asks the flamingo.









"You talkin' to me??" He asks the pumpkin.














"Mama! Did you hear them? They was talkin' to the pitty and they was mean!"

Poor Wilbur.

Just wait until Thanksgiving. I can't even imagine what a flamingo, dressed as a pilgrim, will say to a poor little pit bull.







Happy Halloween!

Living as a Couple on a Boat Part III

This installment is about fixing the many things that go wrong on a boat...as a couple. And if you think that boat you just bought won't need repairs in the near future, we have some swampland in Florida for sale (actually we really do!!!)

(Note the band-aid in this picture. I'm thinking of buying stock in the company)

But, the big question is, even if the boat survives, can the same thing be said for the couple?

Once again, I'm very thankful that Hans MacGyver is a very calm and rational man who actually enjoys a challenge. And after each and every disaster we've encountered with this boat; instead of throwing every tool he owns at me and cursing all Gods known to man, he has actually been heard to say, "I think I learned a lot from that."

And for any ladies out there who find this to be a very desirable trait in a man; Hands off! I saw him first!

However, I do remember the time the muffler fell off my car, and after I reattached it with a wire hanger and Duct tape (while flat on my back on my cold garage floor at 7 o'clock in the morning so I could get to work on time), Hans, who was still in his robe, inspected my work and commented that perhaps he would have done it differently.

Obviously, I didn't kill him.

When we found our port locker full of water and ended up replacing this hose ourselves, we were told not to use an elbow. Most likely because this particular hose 'bends' as a result of the wire that's spiralled around its whole.














Here are the leaky hoses we ripped out of the locker and replaced in October.

We threw them into the cockpit and even though they were already dead and rendered useless I thought they looked slightly evil, and was very happy to toss them into a dumpster.













We found out the starboard side locker hoses had already been replaced, and just this week we dug out our original survey and discovered that the work was completed shortly after we bought the boat.


Honestly, we don't even remember having it done!


Notice here that they used an elbow.









Together, Hans and I have discovered a lot of interesting things on the Knotty Cat and I'm not kidding when I say it took us two years to figure out the how the two water tanks worked as the original owners had them re-routed, and left no information behind.

But this fall found us performing our biggest repair yet as a couple and it involved our GPS antenna.

'Fritz' the GPS, decided to act up on a fairly nasty voyage in the Chesapeake and insisted upon showing us on shore a good bit of the time. Fritz became rather emboldened with his brazen ways and threatened to start up a union amongst our other electronics. I, however, who once belonged to a union, knew that if we didn't nip Fritz in the bud right now, he'd become a boil on our backside forever!

I want it on record to all union members that we gave Fritz many opportunities to mend his ways but he chose to ignore us.

So it gave me great pleasure the day West Marine personally delivered a new GPS antenna to us while we were on the hard at the Charleston City Marina.

"Well, this should be easy." Hans and I said to each other after examining the directions, and then after about eight hours of rewiring that big stinker we realized why boat yards charge so much for their work

We still have no idea why the many, many wires, deemed necessary to keep a boat running, need to be secured every three inches or so with tightly cinched tie wraps and then run deep into the bowels of the boat. After trying to fish our new antenna wire (taped to the old wire) through this myriad of craziness, we finally said the hell with it and bypassed most of them.

This was only after we realized that we forgot to thread the wire through the nut on the outside of the boat first, and then had to pull it out and start all over again.

Another problem was the fact that a running fan in the engine room (where all the fun wiring stuff was taking place) made it necessary for me (in the cockpit) to shout very loudly to Hans (in the engine room) in order to be heard.

After yanking (and swearing), pulling (and swearing), ripping (and swearing), we lost the new antenna wire in a very tight conduit (and yes there was a lot of swearing).

We figured out a way to bypass most of the tie wraps, along with the nasty conduit, and finally got the new wire through. Our joy was short lived however when we realized it still wouldn't work and an hour later found that a blown fuse was the culprit.

We walked into the boat yard's part's store at closing time, just as all the employees were getting ready to quit for the day. While they found a fuse for us I proudly explained that we'd spent the day replacing the antenna to our GPS. "Yeah, we know." remarked one of the mechanics who'd been working on our boat, and everyone laughed. "Really? How'd you know that?" I asked.

And he happily answered, "Oh, we all heard you."

Never let it be said I don't exercise my vocabulary any chance I can.

Living as a Couple on a Boat, Part II

One of the things I like about the Chesapeake are the many anchorages that can be found just about anywhere.

But, I've discovered that the ever popular St. Michael's, Maryland, might just possibly be the Bermuda Triangle of anchoring.

We found this out for ourselves a few years ago. After hanging lazily on the hook for a whole weekend, our Knotty Cat waited until 3 AM and then quietly lifted her anchor and innocently drifted into a sexy french catamaran that Hans and I had gushed over earlier in the day. Using her swim platform, the Knotty Cat neatly punched two holes into her rival, just above the water line. The owner was extremely nice about it and thankfully our insurance company made everything all better.

Then a couple of years ago we decided that it would be uber fun to watch the Fourth of July fireworks from the bay of St. Michael's. I have no idea why, since this is tantamount to being in Times Square on New Year's Eve when idiots who otherwise never get out, do, and create mayhem for everyone in their vicinity.

We weren't disappointed.

The above picture shows just a few of the boats that anchored that weekend. Anyway it was a dark and stormy night (I've always wanted to write that!), and a powerful storm complete with wild bolts of lightning and slashing rain ripped through the bay long before the fireworks were due to start. Suddenly, like a bunch of earthquake evacuees, everyone (except us) frantically tried to weigh anchor and beat feet out of the harbor (I'm not sure why, as all this meant was they'd be underway in some pretty crappy weather). We immediately noticed that a boat had drifted uncomfortably close to us and was having some difficulties. The captain was running fore and aft in a wild attempt to unfoul his anchor, and I couldn't help but notice that his female counterpart sat on the sidelines and did absolutely nothing, leaving me to ponder the intelligence of women who wear hot pink velour sweatsuits in public.

An anchored yet unoccupied boat on our port side suffered two separate assaults from renegade escapee vessels gone wild, and the offenders didn't even bother to leave polite notes of apology under the windshield wiper of the victim! I've often wondered how long it took the couple of that particular boat, who rowed back after the storm, to discover the damage that had been inflicted upon them.

A motor boat full of drunks just scraped past us and I swear I saw the nasty tonsils of the chick who leaned over and screamed, "You need to have more lights on!" And I screamed back, "We have our anchor light on you idiot! Maybe you need to read Boating for Dummies again!"

And as suddenly as the storm started, it ended and we enjoyed an incredible firework display.

For some sick reason we went back the following year only this time with my youngest college age daughter and a couple of her friends. The only irritation we suffered that night was the party boat that anchored right beside us. Complete with bad '80's music, pulsating disco lights, and hysterical drunks, they were kind enough to leave us in peace at midnight.

Other than that, Hans and I have spent many peaceful nights at anchor and we have our system pretty much down pat. With some simple signals from Hans, I maneuver the boat to port, starboard, or straight ahead, and before you know it we're on our way.
Or at least I thought so.
How well I remember the weekend when some of Hans' hockey friends sailed with us, and with Hans at the bow and me at the wheel, I was smugly explaining our system to them when Hans made a signal I'd never seen before and unfortunately, I'm one of those people who speak before thinking and everyone was treated to, "What the F#*@ was that!?"

One of the funniest (and saddest) anchorings I've ever witnessed was during our last weekend on the boat this summer, and yet once again St. Michael's played a starring role. It was late in the evening when we heard what was obviously a domestic squabble aboard a boat quite close by, and I was immediately jerked back in time to my bartending days where I was often forced to witness abusive behavior between couples thus leaving me very grateful to be poor and single, yet not stuck with an idiot!

I also sincerely hoped I wouldn't hear a splash in the night and wind up being a witness in court.

Come morning, I informed Hans that one of the nearby boats was a lot closer than it'd been the night before, and it only took one bellow from the captain to realize this was the domestic squabble boat.

Then the fun began.

The captain went up to the bow and the little woman (surely his wife because no man would ever treat a date in such a nasty manner) sat at the helm. He then screamed out signals complete with intense fist punches and the poor woman reciprocated by flooring the engine. The boat responded by flying in reverse thus yanking the anchor line tight and I felt myself holding my breath because I just knew what was coming. I wasn't disappointed and the captain started bellowing again. This time the boat shot forward causing the anchor line to stretch in an alarming fashion along the starboard side. This went on again and again, and all the while the captain continued to scream and punch the air.

Finally (and most likely out of sympathy), the anchor gave way and the (un)happy couple sailed off into the wild blue yonder.

I'm just glad I didn't have to testify in court because I'm afraid I would have been tempted to show that idiot some real punching!

Living as a Couple on a Boat. Part I

I realize a lot of people believe that living aboard a boat is the epitome of the romantic dream. Bloody Mary's at sunrise, cocktails as sunset, feeling like you could reach out and touch the fat whip cream clouds that glide on by during the day, or snag one of the zillions of stars that hang over your boat each night. Days are spent lazily adjusting sails as you silently cut through the water.
And I'm sure anyone reading this and who's spent any amount of time on a sail boat is splitting a gut right now.

But let's talk about about docking the boat, lifting the anchor on the boat, and (gasp) attempting to make repairs on the boat, as a couple!

This particular post will address docking the boat which is very much at the bottom of my 'let's have fun' list. Winds, currents, and narrow slips have created many heart thumping moments for me.

Actually, my issues with fenders (while docking) are something new. In the first two years we owned this boat we almost always tied up at the same docks so of course I knew exactly where to place the fenders. The thing is though, that no dock is ever the same. Some are floating and therefor the fenders have to hang way over the side nearly at water level, while some docks are fixed and depending on the tide, the fenders might need to be just over our deck. This means that each fender needs to be retied to the rails which isn't a big deal but when you only catch sight of your dock moments before tying up it can be quite a race.

A few days into our trek on the Intracoastal we were quickly approaching a dock when Hans told me to toss the fenders over the side. I realized that it was a floating dock and that our fender lines needed to be lowered but I hadn't had a chance to touch even one when he yelled, "What are you doing up there?"


Me (quite incredulous): "Getting the fenders!"

Hans: "What the hell's taking so long, just drop them!"

Me (wondering if he could possibly be serious): "They need to be retied, they're too short!"

Hans: "Just throw them over and get that bow line ready!"

Me (not sticking my tongue out and retying a couple of fenders anyway): "I'm going, I'm going!"

Afterward, Hans was very puzzled and once again asked me what the hell I'd been doing up there.

Me (quite angry by then): "I was doing my hair, that's what!"

Hans (genuinely puzzled): "Really?"


The only reason I didn't throw him overboard is because he knows how to parallel park the Knotty Cat and I don't.


A similar event occurred in Swansboro, North Carolina when, during a rain storm complete with gusting winds and strong currents, we shot into Dudley's Marina like an Indy Five Hundred race car. One second Hans was telling me to drop the fenders and the next second he was yelling, "What are you doing? Don't worry about the fenders! Throw them the bow line!" But we had swooped in so fast that one of the guys on the dock actually reached out and snagged the line leaving me to run as fast as I could to the stern where I'm embarrassed to admit that that line promptly got hung up on an old GPS antenna (BTW, that antenna is going to get ripped out as soon as we get back on board after Christmas). With Hans putting our girl into reverse the helpers were finally able to secure us.


If I ever win the lottery I'm going to buy a ton of fenders and tie them at every possible level they'll ever be needed.


That should give me plenty of time to do my hair while docking.

So You Want to Live on a Boat, but Where do You Start?

Hans loves sailing. He loves the challenge, the water, the life.

I love water, but will probably never quite grasp the concept of sailing (I have severe problems with following direction, and would like to blame my mother who smoked while she was pregnant with me).

But I do love Hans and whatever Hans wants to do, I want to do.

So when he expressed a desire to fulfill his lifelong dream of living on a sailboat I made it my goal to do my part and research this lifestyle to the best of my ability.

And I did what any other land lubber would do under these circumstances; I turned to the Internet. Sadly, I'm a very literal person, and If I'm unfamiliar with a subject I'll believe just about anybody who professes to be an expert. Okay, I'm gullible!

So for the next year or so, depending on whichever sailing forum I was (un)lucky enough to stumble upon, I vacillated between wanting to sail away right now... blue water/freedom from the rat race/sunny skies ... to wanting to hide under my bed in fear of, Oh my God... engine failures/bad seas/pirates/custom's officials.

I still remember the day I breathlessly informed Hans (over the phone while I was supposed to be working) the exact type of motor we would need for our (still non existent) dinghy because a fellow blogger had done exhausting research on this subject and should not be ignored. And Hans said, "It's a f***ing motor! It's not rocket science! Who the hell is this joker?" And I realized I needed to relax.

So now a word of caution about forums (whether they be about sailing or not); unfortunately they remind me of my old bartending days when I was forced to spend my entire evening with the buffoon... the know-it-all wannabe... and my advice is to ignore them! At least until after you've bought your boat.

I do visit forums now and then for technical stuff (but again, beware of the know-it-all) and just last week I was furious when I stumbled across one that totally blasted our boat!

We have a Bob Johnson Island Packet Cat, and being a bit boxy she doesn't resemble a typical catamaran. A couple had expressed interest in buying one, and that's all the naysayers on this particular forum needed to read. They immediately unleashed their completely uneducated opinions like venom, but what really pissed me off was that not one of these idiots had ever set even one dirty toe nail on board an Island Packet Cat, yet they knew everything! I won't go into all the uninformed comments but one asshole in particular stated that if this couple was stupid enough to buy a Packet Cat, they better want to own it for life as its resale value was nil.

Really?

All I can say is that when we fell in love with this particular model, there were 10 of them on the market. They all sold within a year and considering the thousands of boats that are sitting out there now, rotting away and desperately needing to be sold, I think those are pretty good odds. And let me add, each one of these cats held their value very nicely! So there!

I realize the Internet is a fabulous place; it's been an invaluable resource for my sewing questions, but I've also learned to take some of the stuff I read with a grain of salt. Can you imagine what craziness you'd be bombarded with if you went onto a home buying forum? Speaking of which, I remember years ago when I was unfortunate enough to run into a parent of one of my kids' friend's. This woman held me hostage for about an hour (of which I could ill afford) while she informed me, via a very trembly voice just this side of a nervous breakdown, why she would never buy a house because of the danger of lead.

But finally, by the age of 50, I'd had it with the 'Oh My God Something Might Happen' way of life because I figured out 'Oh My God Something Might Happen' no matter where I lived, be it land or water! And when Hans announced this summer that we were moving aboard, I was ready.

We were only out for two months, but during that time we realized what was going to work for us and what wasn't. We got rid of the microwave (hellishly heavy and never used) that came with the boat, and we're having solar panels installed in order to keep our batteries topped off.

I ditched the TV (also only used once, and the absolute bane of my existance while we were on board because every day that we were moving, it had to be moved down to the settee in order to keep it from flying through the air and beaning Wilbur in the head!), and Hans finally installed some DC fans.

When we sail away in January it will be with a lot less clothes, a huge supply of dog food, and more than a weeks worth of food provisions. Yet, I've no doubt we'll learn even more about life on a boat and that's just fine.

Wilbur the Salty Dog is anxiously awaiting a new life in the Bahamas, and hopes to meet some Salty Dog Chicks.

Here is his SeaHarmony profile pic.

I have a feeling he's going to be quite popular.

Give me strength!

Happy Anniversary!

To us!

It's been a month since we moved aboard, and what a month it's been. And check out my blueberry muffins complete with pirate flags (I have to find some way to amuse myself!).

I think we've learned a lot and if I were to ever do this again I would certainly do a better job of provisioning. We have a lot of room on board and I'd rather store 10 boxes of spaghetti purchased at three for a dollar than have to rely on a marina market and pay $2.50 a box.

I would also probably rethink the whole dog issue. We love Wilbur but unfortunately the U.S. is way behind the times with their no dogs allowed policies. This makes any shore trip a lot more complicated. In Europe we often see dogs in stores, restaurants, and even subways.

When we were in Solomons Island we met Steve, who's a liveaboard, and he invited us to a morning coffee get together at Woodburn's, a local grocery store/market, in order to meet other liveaboards.

One couple has lived on their boat for twenty three years! Another couple is starting on their thirteenth year. But the couple that I was in total awe of was from Sweden and they sailed their twenty six foot boat from Sweden to the states. They built the boat themselves and you should see it. I have no idea how two people can sit in the cockpit, it has a wooden tiller, no motor (except for a 2 HP for emergencies), and instead of a keel it has a centerboard!! A centerboard!!

Anyway, some people have generators, solar panels, wind generators etc... and everyone was eager to share their advice and stories.

I then met a woman in the laundry room at Point Lookout Marina and we laughed at our very similar 'starting out' stories. After two months spent replacing the transmission in their engine five times they finally got a new one before being able to set sail. They are just now finishing their first year and are going to have to decide whether they want to continue. They did get to the Bahamas and loved it but they were also stuck in Florida during last winters cold. That might not sound so bad but they bought their boat from a man who removed the shower, hot water tank, and refrigerator!

We have all of these features and I'm going to try real hard not to complain (I said I'll try!) in the future.

All I can say is that living on a boat is a totally different life.

Never in a million years would I have thought when asked if I thought I wanted a shower, I would sniff my armpits and say, "You know I really didn't sweat that much today, I'll take one tomorrow."