So long, Isaac, it was nice not knowing you.

Since Isaac decided not to show up at our party we're finally getting back to normal here at our marina.

Actually, I think Isaac realized he couldn't compete with the Ryder trucks full of barrels of human urine and feces (can you imagine volunteering for that job) that the protesters of the Republican National Convention were bringing into our state, and decided to veer off toward poor old Louisiana. I sincerely hope Isaac doesn't cause a lot of damage there.

Hans worked from the boat yesterday and without air conditioning (we were still in defensive mode and didn't want to put our huge air conditioner back in place just in case it would need to come down again), it wasn't very pleasant.  There was a decent breeze going on which would have been okay except it would start raining and we'd have to close the hatches. The boat would heat up, it would stop raining, we'd open the hatches...aahhhhh, more fresh air.
It felt so good.
And then WHAM.
Rain.
We opened and closed hatches all stinking day long.

Early in the day I made the huge mistake of thinking I'd do some very much needed inside boat cleaning. After all there was all that fresh air blowing in. Then of course it started to rain. First of all, I don't do well in heat.  I grew up in snow belt country and this much I know; you can always bundle up and stay warm when it's cold. But if you don't have air conditioning in Florida during the summer, with over 80 percent humidity--you're going to sweat like a whore in church and most likely be cranky.
I grew cranky quite quickly (yes, I meant to say that), and I'm pretty sure Hans wished he'd gone into the office.
By the time I was done sponging up all the soapy water full of Wilbur hair from the floors of our galley, heads,berths etc..., I could have wrung a bucketful of sweat and tears from my shirt alone. The only thing that got me through the torture of my own personal sauna was the promise that even if it was raining, I was going to go for a swim.  But when that time came, the rain and wind had kicked up to such a degree that it just didn't make sense and I swear there were white caps in the pool. I could go on ad nauseum, but I'm sure you get the picture. I ended up taking a shower on the boat and I was a sweaty mess before I could even dry off.

Wilbur practices his 'Stink Eye' for Isaac.
"You talkin' to me, Isaac? Well, get lost, 'cause my mama is cranky!"
And notice that he's properly attired in his bow tie collar.  It's the one from  Silly Buddy the gift we received this spring from Two Pitties in the City  (the blog that made me think I surely needed to own a pit bull of my own thank you very much!).

The fun girls contemplate where they're supposed to poop if Isaac shows up (and pooping is a serious hobby for these two). 

We expected this much and more (photo from Tropical Storm Debby). Yet it never happened.

Honestly though, we're quite happy that Isaac passed us by and we were pretty impressed at how quickly everyone pulled together and got our marina 'hurricane ready'.  

We're not done yet though and I'll be glad when December rolls around.
Except I hate Christmas shopping.
I'm not happy unless I'm complaining.

Hurricane Isaac, where are you??!!

Thanks to all the hype about Hurricane Isaac, we're completely stripped down and naked.  But the question of the day is, 'Where the hell is Isaac anyway?'
We usually sleep in on the weekend but today we were up early in order to batten down the hatches.  I decided to add a load of laundry to my ice run/Kravitz trip as I'd really hate to go down in a storm without clean undies.  During these sojourns I noticed a newcomer had arrived. It was a sail boat that had taken quite a beating at a neighboring marina and the owner decided we offered a bit more protection.  His very new bow sprit was demolished and his jib hangs oddly. But when he left today with a casual, "See you later,"  we couldn't help but notice he'd tossed out but one lonely little fender and his jib is still hanging by a thread.
The polar opposite is the boat next to him. This particular cruiser is usually full of banter and always joking but yesterday he was a bit grim as he literally tore his boat apart and announced that we were sure to be evacuated and he wasn't waiting around for it.

I have to tell you that gave me a little pause.

A huge cabin cruiser that resides at the far end on the sea wall left yesterday morning with a boat full of party goers. As they ran the gauntlet of those of us choosing to remain, they shouted out that they were going out to meet Isaac (Ha Ha) and we were all left wondering just what was really going on. They never did come back and word has it that they were going somewhere else in order to get hauled out because during Tropical Storm Debby they'd been bashed against the wall far too much for comfort. At least that's what they said. I have to kinda wonder if they didn't appreciate the fact that Wilbur chose to take a huge dump right beside their boat (in the grass and anyway Wilbur has been pooping there long before they ever brought their boat in here) during one of their on board parties which included a lot of snotty teenage girls.

Across the way, the boat with the hurricane ready tarps got ship shape very quickly after a severe tongue lashing from the marina owner and by noon or so we were all ready for Isaac.
Sally (from Blue Moose) and I decided to take advantage of whatever nice weather we had remaining and headed for the pool but then Hans showed up and announced that it had started raining in Pass-a-grille. I got out, took a good long shower in the bath house and washed my hair.
Once back on our boat we awaited the big blow.
We ate Publix fried chicken.
I had two Wilbur Wow Wows and worked on a crossword puzzle.
The rain stopped.
The sun came out.
The boat got hot (we now have no air conditioning).
I got pissed.
The radar showed that we were currently being slammed with a huge amount of rain.
We were bone dry.
I went back to the pool.
An hour and many laps later it started spitting rain.
We went back to the boat, again.
The rain stopped.
Sally and Brian, and another couple we know stopped by for an impromptu cocktail party and with the same question on their minds.
Where the hell is Isaac?
I've finally figured out that Isaac is a blow hard.  He's the 'Party on Down Dude' who's really just full of his own hot air.  He's the 'Big Man on Campus' and after assuring all us low life hangers on that he'll be showing up at our party, has really just chickened out.

We were so desperate for entertainment during our Getting Schnockered While Waiting for Isaac Soiree we actually stopped talking long enough to watch a fellow livaboard across the way get on her boat.  I'm ashamed (not really) to admit that we all hoped for a repeat performance on her part where she takes a misstep and falls into the water.
This would have been spill number five but alas it wasn't to be.

Maybe next time.

Hans ridding our boat of its many layers of sun protection.

"I think it's time to start cruising again."

"Where's my sunscreen? I have tender skin you know!"

It's late Sunday night and I'm amazed at how calm things are here.  We fully expected to be under siege by now. 

Of course there's always tomorrow.

Tropical Storm or Hurricane Isaac

I was so hoping hurricane season would end this year without us becoming directly involved with one. But I guess that's not going to happen. We were surprised at the force Tropical Storm Debby exerted and I have a  funny feeling that Isaac scored himself some steroids and intends on showing us exactly how a proper storm should behave. Poor old future storm Joyce started forming right behind Isaac but when he started roaring and pounding his chest Joyce grew depressed, lost her momentum, and headed north out to sea.

Today we were kept busy readying our Knotty Cat for what's sure to be a hell of a blow.  We took down the Home Depot patio curtains that we had draped over the boat in order to provide a bit more sun protection, re-secured our dinghy which is currently upside down on our bow, and bought some washing machine hose to put on our dock lines for chafe protection. Tomorrow we'll take down the bimini and dodger (which we did not do during Debby because we didn't know she'd hang around so long), lug our air condition down below before tons of rain sneak around its horribly inefficient tarp, and move our car to higher ground.  Oh yeah, I also emptied our dock box. You might recall that during Debby our dock box was flooded and all of Hans' hockey gear got soaked.  His gear is now in plastic bags and stacked in the car.

Since we're relatively new to this whole live aboard life (it's been just one year this month) I found myself Kravitzing around a bit more than usual as I was curious to see how other people in the marina were preparing for Isaac. I expected to find everyone in a panic and braced myself for the most dire of predictions (kind of like the cruiser's forum in real time) and I was almost disappointed to find that everyone was pretty calm.
Today we all looked like a bunch of worker ants; tarps, biminis, dodgers, jibs, a lot of main sails, cushions, potted plants, dinghies, etc... have been removed.  We didn't remove our jib but wrapped the jib sheets around it a couple of more times and we have an in-boom furled main so it too was left alone.
By coincidence our marina's palm trees got trimmed this week and now with everyone's boats getting stripped down we resemble a poor depression kid with bad summer buzz cut.  Hans thinks everything looks clean and neat.

During my ice run/Kravitz trip this morning I came upon a sight that both horrified and delighted me, and I knew I had to go get my camera. I immediately made a pit stop at The Blue Moose and told Sally (the better half of that live aboard team {sorry Brian}) what I'd seen. Of course she wanted to go with me and after dumping the ice in our cooler I informed a pouting Hans that he could most certainly start taking down our many layers of curtains without me since a photo-op was awaiting me.

Look at this (and while I took tons of pictures these ones turned out best).

Hmmmm. Hurricane ready?

Honest to God the owner of this boat showed up yesterday, declared it 'Hurricane Safe', and then left.

While I was taking pictures of it a puff of wind (that I didn't even feel) billowed the tarps out in an alarming fashion.  

Check out the frayed fringe on that back pole. The rest of the tarp is held in place with a couple of small bungee cords.

Wilbur loves going to 'the front' (that's what we call the bow when we talk to him).   Hans is removing our Home Depot Curtains.

Wilbur is not looking forward to having his schedule upset and as far as he's concerned Isaac can kiss his very cute butt.

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. 

Good riddance Debby.

Tropical Storm Debby became one of those events in our life where reality far outweighed expectation.
However, I have to say I only appreciate this type of experience when it comes to things like vacations.

Here at our marina we've all agreed that we were pretty complacent about this storm and we consider ourselves very lucky that we didn't sustain any more damage than we did. It doesn't help that our weather forecasters are huge fear mongers and they practically salivate every time a cloud squeezes out a drop of rain.
Which happens nearly every day.

One of our dog park friends cracked us up when he shared a news story he and his wife saw on TV awhile back. It depicted a weather man in full foul weather gear standing next to a (very poorly anchored) stop sign that was flapping madly in the breeze as he announced that residents were fearful and gearing up for a siege of terror.
I've no doubt the poor guy was mortified when right in the middle of his spiel a woman wearing flip flops and carrying a cocktail strolled into the picture and very calmly meandered right past him.
I like the way she was gearing up.

So you can see why people get so complacent when it comes to storms here. After a while we all get sick of Chicken Little screaming that the sky is falling.
However, I do have to admit that Debby did get the better of our SEVERE WEATHER TEAM and even they underestimated her power.



This is the sidewalk that goes around the whole marina.  This is what it looked like when poor Hans tripped getting onto the boat and ended up on his back. (I promise I'm not still laughing ;-)  )

One liveaboard said that in the 6 years he's lived here this is the first time this has happened.

This picture was taken of the bay on Sunday during the storm.

Poor little awning.  It looks like road kill

We thought Debby was on her way out of town and pretty much out of the picture but on Monday night she picked up the marina work shop awning (that was bolted to the cement floor) and tossed it over the fence and into the pool.








We are really hoping that Debby hasn't set a trend for the summer. But all the same we're going to try to be a bit more prepared the next time.

Which will probably be pretty much every week.

Tropical Storm Debby Continues

Poor Debby. She's one of those annoying guests who is totally oblivious to the all too broad hints aimed in her direction that she just isn't welcome here anymore yet continues to hang around.

After taking Hans to work today I arrived home totally primed to take care of soggy boat business and found myself treading water both physically and metaphorically.
Thanks to all the wet towels and clothing left over from the weekend I had four loads of laundry as opposed to my usual two. But I do consider us lucky in that while during the incredible amount of rainfall we endured, we only had to live with a frustrated and slightly constipated pit bull, and didn't have to put out numerous drip pans to catch those pesky (yet all too well known) leaks coming from only God knows where like so many of our friends did.
I was well aware that high tide was due to arrive at 6 PM tonight so I didn't worry too much about getting off and on the boat during the day in order to take care of all our chores. I'd already unloaded our groceries, made a couple of treks to the laundry area, filled our water tanks, pulled up the carpet in our berth and settled it to dry at the bow (where it tried to blow away all day),  hosed and scrubbed down our heads, emptied Hans' underwear drawer so that it could dry out (and we still have no idea what the hell happened there),  when I realized I should probably check our dock box which is normally way above water level but unfortunately about a third of it had been submerged in salt water thanks to Debby.
I almost wish I hadn't because what I found in there was Hans' hockey gear.  Hans' gross, disgusting, stinky, and very wet hockey gear. Heaving a huge sigh I spread his skates, pads, and gloves out on the sidewalk to dry and added his jerseys and socks to my laundry mess.
I then went down below to finish scrubbing the galley and salon areas.  At one point I realized that a couple of vehicles driving past our boat had slowed down considerably but it didn't make a huge impression on me as we're used to feeling like animals in a zoo when people drive by and gawk at us (I've threatened to scratch myself and act like I'm eating fleas but so far Hans has vetoed this bit of fun).
I was just a bit frazzled when I realized that I was very shortly due to pick Hans up from work, I'd yet to have a shower, and poor old Wilbur never did get to go to the doggy park.  Then I poked my head outside and nearly cried for all of Hans' hockey gear that I'd lovingly (?) placed on the sidewalk was now happily floating and sloshing about in a very merry fashion.
Thus the gawkers.
I nearly choked and I'm pretty sure I screamed.
I gathered everything up, deposited it in a picnic area, didn't give a damn whether anyone stole it or not, and went to pick up Hans.
On the way home we made a pit stop at West Marine for more dock lines.

Check out Wilbur's manly pose in the cockpit!

You can see we no longer have a dock but we do have steps.
Our grill cover (that inverted white mass on the post) is drying out way down below the grill itself.  Normally the grill is lower than where the cover is.
Seriously.

During these extreme high tides we get on and off the boat at the stern where the swim ladder is.
When the tide is normal the swim ladder is about 4 feet below the sidewalk and we step onto the beam from our dock.








I dragged Hans hockey equipment over to the picnic area to dry out after I found it floating by our dock box.
Actually, one of his gloves took off and waved itself all the way down the marina where our dock master rescued it and brought it back to its friends.
What an adventure.





I really want you to get a good look at this picture.
Our boat is in the lower left corner with our swim ladder sitting upright.
Our dock box is to the right.
During high tide we get on and off the stern at this point.
On our way home tonight, I drove and Hans critiqued (since his January car accident we've both become horrible back seat drivers).
I was tired and cranky and got on board first and Hans handed me our supplies very carefully and one item at a time.
Then it was Hans' turn to get on board.
I only wish I'd had my camera in hand when Hans (after telling me how to get on board) stepped forward (with his big size 13 sandals) onto the swim ladder area and tripped over a stern line. Down he went and I actually thought he was going to disappear from sight. But only one leg actually went all the way down between the boat and the wall before his butt landed on the sidewalk and he then rolled around like a Weeble (or a turtle on its back) before finally righting himself.

Just before dinner Hans thanked me for not laughing at him and I thanked him for the floor show.

That big pest Debby will probably find a way to take credit for the entertainment.

Tropical Storm Debby

When Debby arrived last night she was on pretty good behavior.  She rained on us and blew a little wind around and Hans and I relaxed below and watched a video.  The forecast kinda led us to believe that Debby wasn't going to hang around very long as she other places to go.
I guess this gave Debby the impression that we found her to be a weak and slightly boring guest.  This didn't please her at all and today she let us know that before she leaves she wants us to know just how powerful and exciting she can be.

Our dock box a couple of hours ago and we still haven't reached high tide!










This was this morning around 11 AM and we were shocked at how high the water was.  Normally it's about three feet lower.










This was at about 2:00 PM and high tide is supposed to be around 4:00 PM.  However the overflow is running into the parking lot so it really shouldn't get much higher than this.

If you'd have seen Hans get off the boat in this you'd know why once he got back on I told him he was staying put. His middle name is not Grace. So I left and walked to the marina office to get ice because tropical storm or not I refuse to drink warm Wilbur Wow Wows.

This video shows a little of what it was like here today and it went on and on and on and on!  Poor Wilbur, who's been through many storms with us, wasn't having any of it and has only gone pee on his potty patch once. I'm sure he's gotta be pretty full of it by now and we wish Debby would get sick of hanging here with us and move on. 

I've no doubt Debby has had a wonderful time here.  I just hope she's not too insulted that we don't intend to invite her back.

------------------------------------------------------
UPDATE


Let me just state right now that I don't care one bit whether Debby likes us or not.  She's a nasty b*tch and doesn't deserve any one's consideration.  My poor parents who live in PA called us as they were concerned about our welfare since the media was having quite a field day with this particular storm.  After I assured them we were okay and that the worst was over, Debby kicked it back into high gear and I ended up atop our boat, naked under my foul weather gear (I didn't want to traumatize the marina folk but I'm the one who does the laundry around here you know and our shower area is already full of soaked clothing!), trying once again to secure the completely ineffectual tarp- like covering that came with our very over priced West Marine air conditioner (Hans spent the better part of his day standing underneath the hatch attempting to deflect a constant influx of water). Soon thereafter Hans and I together, and with a lot of 'what the hell are you doing' comments (mostly on my part), took the damned air conditioner down.
And right after a fellow live aboard called to warn us about a tornado warning we watched a runaway jib on a boat behind us rip to shreds. After it was finally released and cut down we sat below and listened to halyards cling and clang  like xylophones all the way up and down the marina.
And poor Wilbur is literally cross eyed as he still hasn't gone pee on his patch since this morning.
We hate you Debby!