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.

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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!

Oh, Crap!

I don't think I've ever been as frustrated by technology as I have been these past few months. My camera died days before our wedding and after replacing a costly battery I discovered it was really the battery charger. Of course the new charger arrived after the wedding. Then my computer, which for quite some time had been whining for attention like a snotty toddler, refused to have anything to do with the new blogger updates and had a melt down. Ignoring it did no good and I finally had to take it to the doctor. It came home last night and I was finally able to download Google Chrome (but only after about 3 time sucking attempts).  

Anyway, we've been very busy here on the Knotty Cat. This includes: An on-board wedding at sea (past post but still plenty of pictures and a video to come). A neighbor got the boot, thank God (future post). Another (yet very unsuccessful) trip (unsuccessful because of aforesaid neighbor) up the mast for me (future post). New house bank batteries have been installed (costly, too boring, no future post), but at least when we escape for a weekend and get to anchor in the bay, we don't have to pray that our anchor light lasts the night.

And then there's our issue with the head. And for all of you who know anything about boats, depending on what kind of a person you are, you're either cringing or laughing (and if you're laughing, you're no longer my friend). It all started when I was attempting to flush our 'toilet' and the handle stopped moving. Wham. Dead in my hands. "Hmmmm," I thought, "this is strange." After a few frantic emails to Raritan (toilet people. And I laughed when we were asked if we had an exploded view of our head. Let me tell you, I now know exactly what an exploded head looks like. And I stopped laughing) and a few feeble attempts on our part to unfreeze the handle, it all came down to 'you probably have a blockage in your exhaust hose', and we saw the writing on the wall. Although after my efforts all I really saw was a lot of 'crap' on the wall (and the shower stall, engine room, screw driver, wrench, power drill, socket set, the towels I forgot to move, the shower curtain, and me). By nature I'm a very stubborn person, but why I decided to become stubborn about unclogging our head is just beyond me. But I did. Go to work I told Hans. I'll take care of it I told Hans. This was on a Monday. And by Thursday I was thinking about writing a book entitled, "Muriatic Acid is my new best friend and why you too can lose 10 pounds in 4 days by using it". This is because after reading far too many forums on the pros and cons about this cheap yet deadly fluid, this much I know; when you fear that you'll be blown to kingdom com any minute, your heart races, your metabolism kicks in, you run like a maniac when your hoses foam like a rabid dog, and that apple strudel you ate for breakfast will be burned up in no time.  Just keep in mind that you'll also be wading in soupy poo that oozes from the hose that was connected to your head. And you'll be happy because that means the acid must be doing its job. You'll also be pleased to know you can scare the heck out of the marina maintenance man when after knocking on your boat you emerge into the cockpit wearing safety goggles, face mask, and rubber gloves.  Zach just shook his head and said he didn't want to know what the heck that stuff was was all over my shirt but I'm pretty sure by the way he wrinkled his nose he realizes we aren't cooking meth on board.

But I still wasn't done. Two days into the job I was beyond excited when I finally broke through the crunchy blockage and saw my snake emerge at the other end of the hose. That excitement was short lived however when it immediately closed up with what was no doubt a mass of more shifting sh*t. I then spent the rest of the day fending off the snake (I finally attached it to our power drill) which whipped about in a very menacing fashion, covering everything within its range with crap every time it came upon a stoppage.
By Friday I admitted defeat and on Saturday we replaced the hose. It had to be fished through the wall behind the shower but I attached an old plastic sewing tape measure to the old hose (which I also plugged up  so that the continuing ooze wouldn't spill out) and it helped us guide the new hose into place.

I took these pictures before the sh*t hit the fan. I have better ones (if you want to call them that) but they're pretty gross so I'll just post these.


A parting picture of our little man.  Here is Wilbur modeling the collar that Miss M and Mr. B from Two Pitties in the City sent him. It sports a nautical theme and came complete with a bow tie. It's from Silly Buddy (an etsy shop) and it's a very well made collar. Wilbur wore it for our wedding and he hasn't taken it off yet.

Wilbur has a crush on the Divine Miss M but he realizes she's already taken so he just dreams about her instead.

Tying the knot on the Knotty Cat

Last month Hans and I finally tied the knot.

It's not like we were in a hurry or anything considering we'd been engaged for over four years but after Hans' awful car wreck in January we just decided that it was time. Originally, we were going to have a small ceremony with a notary and a couple of witnesses but a week after we applied for our license my daughter passed away. Needless to say, we postponed the ceremony but since the license was already paid for and was only good for two months we went ahead and got married anyway. But now instead of just a couple of witnesses, my other two children were able to attend, along with Hans' baby brother, a hockey friend of Hans, and a childhood friend of mine and her husband.

We had a full house.


Last minute galley preparations. My baby girl Becca is helping the bride(zilla).

Wilbur the ring bearer took his role seriously and tried very hard to appear manly. The rest of the time he played kissy face with every hapless innocent who was unfamiliar with his affectionate pitty ways.


 

My wonderful groom.







The ceremony was performed at the bow while at anchor. And yes it was pretty windy.





My bouquet (Publix!) matched my home made dress perfectly.

Hans, and his baby brother, who was able to come down from Toronto for our big day.
Becca, Bridezilla, and my oldest, Ryan.

The blended family.
Becca, Bridezilla, New Step Daddy, Ryan.





This post is just the tip of the iceberg. There has been so much going on around here it makes my head spin but I really wanted to get something/anything positive going here. And we received pictures from Hans' brother too, so I'll warn you now to be prepared for even more wedding photos and a really great video.
And what wedding doesn't suffer from a bit of craziness? Ours occurred the night before but more on that later.
Unfortunately my computer has been acting up and blogger went and made some updates that sent it into a tizzy and now I can't download pictures (I was lucky to get these posted before the breakdown).
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The evening after the wedding was over and the dust had finally settled, we were relaxing in the salon when Hans asked Baby Girl how she felt about him finally being her official step-father and no longer 'Future Step Daddy' as she had often referred to him. She was slouched on the settee and busy with her IPad but she stopped long enough to scrunch up her face and think about it. Her response was, "Can I have an allowance now?"

And when I asked Hans how he felt about everything he said, "At least Wilbur isn't a bastard anymore."

The former 'bastard' would like to know when I'm going to go to bed so he can stretch out. Apparently while I try to post on my blog, I seriously inhibit him.

Yeah, right! Because as soon as we go to bed, the little man will be right there between us with his big pitty paws which he'll then kick the hell out of us with while he has wild dog park dreams.