Home. Again

 

Very pretty. But cold

It seems like we'd barely unpacked our bags in Hooterville this past spring where the grass never stopped growing when all of a sudden it was January 1st and time to repack and head back to the boat.

Just like that, nine months of hard work was over.

Speaking of hard work, December didn't disappoint as we were busier than hell and my Pacer App logged in several 10 mile waitressing days. Dear Friend and I were beyond counting down the days, we were now counting down the hours, and yes, finally the minutes to when the inn would shut its doors for the season.

Again, very pretty. But cold.

I crawled through the door of our little farmhouse after my very last shift, took a shower, put on my pjs and fluffy robe, and collapsed into my camp chair. Everything from my arches, heels, and ankles, to my back ached, and while I've never taken a Xanex or Valium in my life I believe I now know what it must feel like. Knowing there would be no more emergency summons (Oh my god! Get your uniform on, we need to go in early!), I let the stress of the last month drip off me and I felt like a strand of overdone spaghetti while I dozed in front of our space heater and TV while snowflakes drifted outside our windows.

This occurred at noon and I pretty much stayed comotose until collapsing in bed and sleeping soundly til the next day.

 

But, it was time to get back to our boat. Our home.

I tearfully hugged Dear Friend goodbye and we departed on a 17 degree(F) morning and crossed the state in order to visit the cutest baby in the world (our granddaughter!). Andi greeted me with one of those huge smiles only a three month old can pull off wherein her whole body contorted and we all got a wonderful view of her toothless gums. She then demonstrated to Papa Hans just exactly how far she can stick out her tiny lower lip before letting loose a banshee wail.

On a different note I have to say I'm extremely pleased to find my son is an excellent cook and not one of his dishes contained Skittles.

Our next trek was further south where we spent a couple of couch-potato filled days with our youngest daughter and her girlfriend. Baby Girl has a knack for picking out great movies to watch and we finally got to see 'The Martian'. And also on a different note, I'm extremely pleased to note Baby Girl is an excellent cook and even though I love Chinese takeout, it was not on the menu this time.

 

We once again piled into our car (man it was still cold outside!) and this time we aimed straight south. At each rest-stop we would shed a layer of clothing and all of a sudden we were in Florida. Well, not really 'all of a sudden' as we had to fight our way through some of the craziest traffic and insane drivers I've ever encountered.

Are we there yet?

We (mostly I) were vastly relieved to find the Knotty Cat in excellent form (ie; cockroach free) and she was launched with little fanfare. A lot of drama on my part was avoided when we were informed that we could spend the night on the wall and not have to leave within an hour of launching. This allowed me time to scrub the topsides (three hours alone on this project), do a quick provisioning run (bread, lunchmeat, COFFEE, etc...), drain and fill our water tanks, make up our berth, put away all our junk (how does one stuff so much stuff into a Corolla is beyond me) and try to talk Wilbur into using a potty patch again. Gone are his long days of 'boys only' walks with Hans in the countryside.

After working on the outside all day long there's no sitting down until all this crap finds a home!

We left early the next morning, got through a lock and arrived at our home for now.

I fear progress took a giant leap forward while we were on the farm and has quickly surpassed us. Since the water fountain at a rest-stop was frozen, I asked Hans to get me a bottle of water and just as I was ready to send out a search and rescue team he arrived back at the car in a foul mood. It would appear the vending machine not only didn't take quarters, it didn't state just how much said water would cost. "Oh, I know how many calories everything there has, like I give a shit!" He huffed. "But I have no idea what the hell I just spent on this damned water!" He was livid. "For all I know some asshole is using my credit card now!"

I had to laugh and brought up the movie The Martian. "You know, Matt Damon might have been able to get off Mars with all his MacGyverish methods but after being up there a couple of years I bet he wouldn't be able to figure out these vending machines either."

I was hoping there hadn't been too much progress on the waterways while we were gone but then we jumped onto our Active Captain App. Let's just say I'm glad we have a couple of months to figure things out again.

 

Very pretty. And warm.

 

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Back to the Boat and Reality

 

Poor Wilbur. He has one tiny space in the back seat. He's a good traveler.

 

So six months after putting The Knotty Cat on the hard in Florida for what we thought was going to be a couple of months, we are now ready to get back on board.

Everyone keeps asking us if we're excited. Hans will tell you yes. Me, not so much.

I think this is probably because Hans handles problems in a much calmer manner than me. I already dread finding out what's gone bad or failed since we left her in June. For example: did any hatches leak during the insane rains of this summer (and if so, is there mold?), are the batteries okay, do all the systems still work, how about the water pump; the hot water tank? And my one big fear; cockroaches! We've never had them but you never know what might happen while you're gone. And if we do have a lot of issues, we really don't have the financial reserves that we had in the past. Hans quit his real job over a year ago and we managed to rip through most of our savings in about six months.

While we were in Pennsylvania this summer I worked as a waitress while Hans continued his insurance sales as a PA and Florida agent. And then in November when business got busy at the inn, he joined me and played the piano in the dining room on the weekends.

This year's Christmas tree.

 

Lunch with Santa this year. Five years ago I burned my elf outfit swearing I'd never do this again. Never say never!

I know a lot of cruisers take time out to earn money so they can continue to live this lifestyle but for us, these jobs just supported us while we were on land. Let me tell you, the Dollar Tree and Dollar General got quite a bit business from us this summer. Of the two of us, I'm the tightwad, and one day at the grocery store I told Hans we had exactly twenty dollars to spend on groceries for the week. We got lucky and chicken was on sale. That week we had: white chicken chile (McCormick's best seasoning packet ever), grilled chicken salad, grilled chicken with fresh green beans, and two days worth of crock-pot chicken noodle soup (I used a pack of frozen vegetables but forgot potatoes. It was still good).

The inn closed with a success on New Year's Eve and it was time to head south. We stopped in Pittsburgh for a couple of days to visit friends, spent two days with my son and his wife, and then three days with my daughter. Our last two days here in Florida at a pet friendly LaQuinta Hotel used up the remaining points on our credit card.

Don't get me wrong. We may not be rich but we're not destitute either. We'll just continue to find work where we can and in the meantime we'll still have a roof over our heads.

Where we go from here, I'm not sure. I have an idea where I'd like to go but until we get re-situated it's all up in the air.

Our hotel mattress tester. This one got 5 stars.

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Together again, finally.

I just realized I have no pictures of our Knotty Cat in her new home so you'll just have to suffer with pictures of Wilbur during his two week stay at Doggy Day Care.








King of the mountain.

Wilbur does this at every park.

Finally after two weeks apart, Hans, Wilbur, and I are together again aboard the Knotty Cat.

I picked Wilbur up the day after I arrived back at the boat, and the both of us picked Hans up at the airport on Saturday.

All I can say is, I'm surprised I'm not still frantically circling the airport in search of Delta Blue # 2 Arrivals in search of Hans, and I hate airports! I think I really hate Tampa International Airport the most.

I have no sense of direction and GPS can only help so much. But when one follows the signs to an airport and arrives at a fork in the road, one should be given more choices at said fork than, 'Short Term Parking' (on the left) and 'Car Rental Returns' on the right.

Like how about 'Departures' and 'Arrivals'??? Where the hell are they???

All I knew was, I wasn't looking to park, and I was not returning a rental car.

Of course I took the wrong fork and before I knew it I was exiting the airport and entering the Twilight Zone. Now, normally the voice on my GPS is that of a very calm English lady but even she became a bit hysterical at this turn of events and in addition to shouting 'Recalculating! Recalculating!' she implored me to 'Turn Left' Turn Left' ! even though that would have had me making a sharp turn into the guard rails of a major highway. Unfortunately our GPS is over four years old and it's very apparent that some major road work has been done in the area since then and our old girl couldn't handle it. I also became a bit hysterical and told her to shut the hell up but she wouldn't. We are no longer speaking to each other

I ended up pulling a very iffy U-Turn and zipped off once again toward the airport only this time I approached from the North instead of the South and I prayed the signage from this direction might be better.

It was not and I ended up in a short term parking garage. By now I had Hans on the phone and even though he was the one who'd suffered through an interminable flight across the pond with no knee room whatsoever, a huge line through customs that caused him to be late for a connecting flight, and then a missed flight in Atlanta because he couldn't print his boarding pass in France (where they'd originally tried to send him to Helsinki!), I was the one having a hissy fit. Poor Wilbur wondered why he had to be yanked out of Doggy Care Care where life is 'all about the pitty' only to find himself trapped in the back seat of a vehicle while his mama screamed at an invisible woman.

Thankfully as I shot out of the short term parking garage an attendant assured me I wasn't the first person this has happened to. She then pointed me in the right direction.

I finally found Hans (who by now probably wished he'd taken that damn flight to Helsinki), and for some reason he insisted on taking over the driver's seat. Little Miss Prissy Voice loved this and in a sweet cooing voice, talked him all the way home without a hitch. Bitch!

Hans was supposed to start work yesterday but the owner of the company, after leaving France for the USA, found herself stuck in Rome and would be arriving a day late. Something about a broken windshield wiper on the plane and there was no mechanic available with the proper training to fix it. I personally think that GPS's are trying to take over the world. I bet somewhere out there, a pilot is still wondering how the hell he ended up in Rome when he thought he had the plane pointed towards Atlanta.

I only hope he doesn't tell anyone that a strange voice told him where to go.

This little voice is begging me to take him back to his little friends at Day Care.

Long time no post...

...for a variety of reasons I must admit.

One of them being, that while at anchor (something we've ended up doing for very long stretches), I only have about 1 hour of computer battery time and add to that, very poor Internet coverage.

The other reason is that I flew home for a week.

Honest to God I did, but only after arranging for a week of Doggy Day Care for Wilbur. My reason for the whole day care thing was that if anything happened to my baby while I was gone I would want to blame anyone but Hans. And believe me, I wouldn't be worth living with!

Here I am (pouting big time because I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE!!!) with by poor baby and his belongings as we walk to his home away from boat.

Sitting atop Wilbur's Steeler's pillow is his stinky potty patch (in the black garbage bag), and underneath all of that is his bag of dog food. The bag I'm carrying holds his Kong, peanut butter, canned pumpkin (tummy troubles!) shampoo, benedryl (allergies!!), and various topical medicines for whatever ailment Wilbur might suffer from while I'm gone.



Poor Wilbur doesn't have a clue.

I endured a total of six flights (to and from, and BTW I hate flying) mostly because I figured if I didn't show up for a couple of very important functions, Baby Girl (senior college student) would some day see fit to put me in the nastiest nursing home she could find.

I didn't breath a sigh of relief until I was back on our boat in Marsh Harbor with Hans and Wilbur. And I might add that even though we've been through some pretty rough seas, nothing can really compare to the wild 6 AM taxi ride I endured from our apartment to the Pittsburgh airport. I'm not kidding when I say my palms were sweating when I saw the speedometer reach 85 MPH as we weaved in and out of traffic on rainy pavement that for some reason causes any and all inhabitants of this great city to drive like senior citizens in Oldsmobile's

Happier Bahamian days with Wilbur at the beach.












More to follow.