Springtime on the Gulf (the Craziness Continues).

While we enjoyed a wonderfully cool March it would appear summer is trying very hard to arrive here in the way of  sticky temperatures and a hot sun with a bit of humidity thrown in. Forget all this expensive weather radar crap, just one look at my hair will tell you what's going on.

Last weekend we sailed a good 8 miles out into the Gulf in the hopes of catching a Mahi which of course didn't happen and we then anchored for a very uneventful night in Gulfport. After we got back into the marina on Sunday we found out fellow live-aboard friends from here had been also been anchored out and were quite close by, and in addition to yelling to us, they tried hailing us on the radio. We never heard any of it and I hope they weren't close enough (I'm too afraid to ask) to observe that I spent the day enjoying the spectacular weather in our cockpit in my sleepwear and it wasn't until late afternoon that I finally put on some real clothes. If they need therapy I refuse to pay for it.

While Hans has been very busy at work, I've been creating dog and cat collars on our boat.  And without a designated sewing room, this whole sewing thing is just not that easy. A lot of hauling things out and then putting them away while sidestepping a snoozing dog and crawling over junk in the garage (guest berth); I estimate each process takes up most of an hour.

But, today, instead of sewing I finally did some cleaning which involved digging dog hair out of some tight places with wooden BBQ skewers, dusting our salon shelves with dryer sheets which made my hands horribly sticky, running boiling water and vinegar through my shower pump which has been sounding odd this past week, and sweating. 

And even though I've tried to forget it, I ran into my very first truly scary crazy person this past Sunday.

Hans rode his bike to a pool so he could swim some laps and  I was to meet him when he was done. I jumped on my bike and riding in the proper direction on the sidewalk, I found myself approaching a pedestrian. For some reason down here people don't warn pedestrians of their approach while up north we always call out, "On your left," which alerts the walker and hopefully avoids a collision.

After my "On your left," warning, the elderly man I'd been approaching turned and before he even saw me he started waving his arms like a windmill and screaming. "GET OFF THE SIDEWALK, GET OFF THE SIDEWALK!" I was shocked as riding a bike on the sidewalk down here is legal and expected. I was just abreast of him and his arms were still flailing when he screamed, "GET OFF THE SIDEWALK YOU STREET NIGG*R, YOU F*CKING STREET NIGG*R!" and I could see the spittle flying from his mouth.  I was stunned and as I slid past him for some reason I felt the need to call back, "It's legal to ride on the sidewalk." This brought forth, "NO IT'S NOT, YOU F*CKING TRAMP, YOU F*CKING STREET NIGG*R, NO IT'S NOT, GET OFF THE SIDEWALK!" The whole time this was going on he continued to swing his arms and I seriously thought he might try to knock me off my bike and I was extremely thankful that the draw bridge I was approaching didn't need to lift or I'd have been trapped. It wasn't until a minute later that I really started to shake. Hans met up with me and after I explained to him what had happened we were waiting to cross the street at a traffic light when I saw the crazy man approaching. It was just like a horror movie where the monster moves at an incredibly slow pace and the damsel in distress can't seem to get away. Well, we couldn't get away because of the stupid traffic signal but luckily at the last minute the light changed and we took off.

You can bet I'll soon be purchasing some pepper spray.

But enough of the negative stuff! On to more fun things.

Wilbur models the matching nautical collar and leash I made him before heading out for a poopy walk with Hans.

Wilbur wants to be a big boy and contribute towards his keep so I let him use my computer to find a job.

"Hey, Mom! Someone said a bunch of dogs want to hire a Chip-N-Dale Dancer. Don't wait up!

I don't think I'm ready for this..

While the Cat's Away...

... the mice will play.

The Cat being Hans, and Wilbur and I the mice.

Hans has been away on business this week in Canada and normally this would be great for him as he gets to visit his baby brother but wouldn't you know this would be the year of the endless winter.  He very narrowly escaped being snowed in while in Halifax and is currently enjoying (read sarcasm here) 20 degree temps, gray skies, and heavy snow in Toronto.

We're both looking forward to his return tomorrow night and I've promised him a huge pot of home made chile with lots of Italian bread and butter, and a cooler full of beer (purchased at American, not Canadian prices!).  Actually, I should say we're all three looking forward to his return as poor Wilbur, who is fine during the day, surely misses Hans in the evening. Wilbur gets worked up every time a car drives by and he alternates between sitting in the salon with me and then thumpety bumping down to our berth  where I believe he thinks if he falls asleep there, Hans will magically reappear.

So get this.  Today I was at my favorite fabric store (no sarcasm here, it really is fantastic) when the lady waiting on me said, "Is the weather improving out there yet?"  

I was puzzled because the sky was bright blue and completely cloudless while a wonderful cool breeze with absolutely no humidity made me realize (for now but probably not next week) how happy I am to live in Florida. "Oh my God!" I exclaimed.  "It's gorgeous out there!"  and understand, I was in my usual uniform of shorts and flip flops.

"You must be nuts." was her casual reply.  Because heavens to Betsy, it was a bitter 68 degrees out!  These crazy native born Floridians!

Wilbur toasts his sad little bones in the cockpit while he awaits his masters return.

I made Wilbur a new collar last month and I've been on a tear ever since. The boat is now covered in fabric and dog/cat collar hardware as I hope I've found something I can do to earn money (and hopefully donate to some helpless fur-babies) while living on a boat.

Wilbur went to bed in our berth tonight much earlier than usual while waiting for Hans to come home.  He heaved a huge sigh when I covered him with a blanket. He's not happy unless we're all together as a pack.

So while Hans has been gone this week:

I woke up later than usual, didn't get the things done I thought I would, and ended up eating bologna sandwiches for dinner (just one night. Really).

I got out my sewing machine and it's yet to get put away.

Therefore there's no room on our table for me to eat my meals.

But that's okay since Wendy's take out containers are pretty sturdy.

Even though our queen sized berth is missing a rather large German Man, I still find myself mashed up against the wall.  It would appear that Wilbur requires a great deal of room for his tender pitty body, and I'm thrilled that he so loves my Memory Foam Pillow.

I've kept an eagle eye on our bilges and batteries.

Yet, after carefully locking Wilbur and myself in for the night, including securing all our hatches and having my phone beside me, I awoke one morning to find my keys still stuck in the cockpit door. On the outside.

I know Wilbur and I will be very glad to have Hans come home tomorrow night.  The boat would never get cleaned otherwise, Wilbur needs his daddy, and I can't eat a whole pot of chile on my own. Actually, I could. I just miss Hans.

An Eventful Week.

I find it strange that shortly after posting about things one doesn't want to hear or say while on a boat, we soon thereafter experienced a middle of the night equipment failure, and a couple of days later I certainly didn't expect to hear the horrible cries for help from one of our fellow liveaboards who fell into the water while getting on his boat after a grocery run.

During the summer when someone falls into the water here at the marina it's usually a comical experience. But when it happens at night, in the winter when water temps are much colder, it's not so funny.  

And our friend, who was maybe in the water for five minutes is still in the hospital.

I remember reading somewhere that more people on boats die while at dock than they do at sea, and I don't have any doubt that that's true.  

Very peaceful and calm during a hot summer day.

I will never forget the night Hans went into the drink and it will forever haunt  me that I could have lost him in such a simple and stupid way. Don't think I've ever let him forget this.

I, for one, would hope this is the last post I write about things I prefer not to say or hear while on a boat.

But since I live on a boat, I think I know better.

Nancy Drew and the Case of the Missing Stern Shower

Around 2:00 AM the other morning I heard a noise in our cockpit, which reminds me of this post that I wrote just a short while ago.  The noise sounded a bit like a screwdriver falling to the floor.

  

And since the wind was blowing pretty steadily and we currently have all kinds of crap lying around the cockpit due to our on going gel-coat repair job,  I wasn't too concerned and tried to fall back to sleep. I then heard the sound of rushing water which in itself isn't too unusual what with a lot of liveaboards here having water based heat pumps, so I again tried to fall back to sleep. 

The running water, now accompanied by an irritating humming noise continued.  I was in that half-awake-half-asleep stage and wondering why the water seemed to be swirling between our twin hulls when Wilbur decided he needed to visit his potty patch.  It was now around 2:40 AM.  Hans got up to let him out, and once our cockpit door was open, the humming noise grew much louder and it was strange enough to drag me out of bed which believe me is not an easy thing to do. We were just about convinced that an electrical problem on shore was the problem when Hans asked me if we had anything turned on.  I wasn't wearing my glasses (meaning I was pretty much blind) but I did see that that our water pressure light was on (I know my boat!) and after switching it off the noise stopped.

Oh, crap!

I won't go through the whole convoluted, " Turn it on, turn it off,  I SAID, TURN IT OFF!" stuff we went through when Hans suddenly announced, "Oh my God, our stern shower is gone!" And just like that, it was.  And what a strange sight it was to see that where our stern shower hose and nozzle sit, there was now a gaping hole where a geyser of water was erupting and running over the side (I told you I heard water rushing between our hulls).  And the only reason water was erupting now was because once we finally realized the irritating humming noise we'd heard had been our water pump desperately trying to re-pressurize itself as one of our tanks had run dry, we'd switched over to our other tank. The water pump, screaming its displeasure at having to work so hard at such an early hour, finally got down to business, and started pumping like mad.

But what the hell had happened to our stern shower hose?  Where was it? Our suspicious little minds took off (after all, shortly after we arrived here last year someone stole my potted plants and threw my Halloween pumpkins in the water). Had someone boarded our boat and literally ripped it from our stern?  We were at a total loss, because still sitting in our cockpit were an air compressor and a lot of tools and supplies. Wouldn't a vandal have targeted those things first?  It was now at least 3:00 AM, we were cold, Hans had to be to work in the morning (meaning a shower at the bath house), and I would now apparently have to spend my day trying to either fix it or at least plug it so we could turn on the pressure.

Come morning, I hustled out of bed determined to check out a hunch (ala Nancy Drew) before taking Hans to work. And I found it.  Peering into the gaping hole that had once held our stern shower hose I spotted something. After poking about with first needle nose pliers and then finally my tweezers, I jubilantly yanked out the remains of our stern shower hose sans nozzle. 

Aha!!!  Mystery solved.  There had been no subterfuge.  No sabotage. No, what we'd had was merely a simple system failure most likely due to the lack of a little hose clamp. 

A couple of years ago we had to replace our stern hose nozzle and unfortunately we had to settle for a 1/2 inch inside diameter fitting instead of a 3/8 inch fitting. This meant stretching our hose in order to push the fitting in and I have no idea why we didn't secure it with a clamp. We had created a volcano just dying to erupt.

And two years later it did.  At 2 AM. And the result of the nozzle shooting through the air and hitting the deck before going overboard is the sound that woke me.

I actually took this picture (due to our gel-coat work) the day before our stern shower went missing.  If you look just to the right of the middle of the picture you can see the yellow water nozzle sticking up from its hold.  

And here's its replacement.  It's a bit droopy but it should do the trick.  I just need to come up with a cover for it since it isn't UV rated. 

It took most of my day to get it done but I did indeed fix the problem.  But not without help from one of our neighbors. This neighbor is a really nice man whom I'm sure wonders why he got stuck living next to a woman who spends her day talking to her dog.  After explaining to him that I couldn't find the proper fitting at Home Depot and then not understanding exactly what he told me he would do, he took pity on me and volunteered to go back to Home Depot with me. And what should have been a relatively boring trip to the store turned out to be an entertaining ride when another marina friend asked us if we could give him a lift up the road. Even though it was early in the day, Friend was feeling good and in fine spirits and we talked him into going to Home Depot with us. After getting our supplies, Friend was anxious to be dropped off, and his panicked reaction when we jokingly told him we were now going on a shopping spree was priceless. So we dropped him off, got back to the marina and shortly thereafter had a working stern shower.

And here's our hero, the ever vigilant Wilbur with his radar ears at the ready for the next Bump in the Night Noise.  If he hadn't politely asked to use his potty patch our water pump would have been ruined.

Lassie has nothing on this dog, and while she runs around fishing that stupid Timmy out of wells and dragging him off of railroad tracks, Wilbur valiantly serves and protects his Knotty Cat.  This particular Nancy Drew loves having a dog with a nose for trouble.

Rainy days and Tuesdays...

                                                                   ...just can't get me down.

And shame on me for skewing the lyrics to the Carpenter's 1971 hit. What's really sad is I remember when that song came out!

I had huge plans this past Tuesday which included hanging our laundry on my 'solar dryer' (fancy phrase for red neck clothes line), scrubbing both heads from top to bottom, washing the galley floor, clearing all of our junk from our salon shelves in order to dust and rearrange said junk, and vacuum.

But I knew I was in trouble on Tuesday morning when I was awakened by raindrops hitting me in the face from our overhead hatch.  And since rain to me means closed hatches and high humidity where nothing will ever dry, I figured my day was pretty much screwed. Things got worse when I discovered we were now down to one washing machine (still waiting for that pesky repairman) which required my walking all the way around the marina (in the rain) times two and why I bother with an umbrella I'll never know.
I believe the last good hair day I had may have been back in 2011.

But remember, this is Florida, and by noon the rain had stopped which put a damper on my backup plan of eating Bon-Bons and drinking a pitcher of Wilbur Wow Wows while watching old movies on TCM.

In between laundry runs I lathered our heads in Dawn detergent and then blasted them with the garden hose that I dragged down through the cockpit door.
I love hearing the bilge pumps do their thing.
I only wish I could hear them after cleaning the galley floor, but unfortunately there is no drain there.  Instead, I have to push tons of soapy water into a shallow reservoir (known as the dust pan) in the center of the floor and then sponge and sponge and sponge soapy water into a bucket. I wish there was a better way but I've yet to discover one.

So anyway, even though I got a late start to my day and didn't have time to attack the salon shelves I'll tackle those another time.

We're also in the middle of repairing some damage to the Knotty Cat's gel-coat.

Taped off area to be repaired.

Not sure where all these 'dings' came from.

These are just a few, there are a lot more.

I was looking forward to cleaning those salon shelves tomorrow, however, our friend who's repairing the gel-coat has informed me instead that we need to go to Island Packet in Largo once again for more supplies. 

So that's about as bad as it gets here;  we're talking rainy days not rainy months, and a day of cleaning ruined by a trip that just may involve a detour through a Duncan Donuts drive-thru isn't such a bad thing.

And that's why rainy days here just can't get me down.

Still humming along.

At least my sewing machine is.  

My last post dealt with cleaning and re-hemming our shower curtains. And while I love sewing, I hate the whole 'hauling the machine and all of its accessories out in the morning only to have to put them away again in the afternoon' let alone dealing with the heat from my iron. But thankfully with this cooler weather the iron hasn't been the issue it is during the summer.

This January a very good friend of mine became a grandmother for the first time.  

And it was a girl!

I realize not everyone wants to see everything I made but I will show you the items Wilbur begged to model.

I didn't have enough fabric left over from the dress and ruffled panties  to make a  matching bonnet so I  ended up getting some eyelet for the brim of this hat.
Stunning!

And since I had so much eyelet left over I made a shabby chic head-band.
Wilbur tries his best to look humble.

Unfortunately, much to Wilbur's distress, his big pitty feet just won't fit into these little shoes so you'll have to settle for this very plain picture.
Wilburless.

I've also been working on my own fish-themed wine bag pattern but so far it's been a dismal failure.  Thank God I'm no longer a bartender and I don't have to drink my mistakes or I'd be in big trouble.

 

Slightly gross boat stuff that just needs to go away.

If I had any shame or pride this post would never be written.  However, anyone who knows me knows that my life is basically an open (if somewhat boring) book and I never seem to know when to keep my big mouth shut.

So, this brings me to our two shower curtains.

These curtains are original to the Knotty Cat (circa 1995) and even though I don't think they got a lot of use before we acquired her, the hems were in a bit of a grubby condition.  The first thing I discovered was that the curtains couldn't be removed in an ordinary way like those in an apartment or a house.
 Believe me, I've tried.
But, I had no desire to rip down the caulked track on the ceiling that holds the curtains in place, and that's the only way they can be physically taken down. I'm not kidding.

I tried soaking the hems, as is, in bleach etc... but they still looked like crap and I finally gave up and tried not to look at them.
But they continued to prey on my mind.

Here is what the shower curtain hem looked like to the the casual  (family or friend) observer
.

And an even uglier close up.  Disgusting!

Yesterday, out came my trusty seam ripper and after opening up the hem of one curtain,  I found that it was stitched in a double fold which meant that after being exposed to water and soap, it never had a hope of drying out between uses.

Soaking in detergent.

Aha! After a good scrubbing, an opened up and very clean hem line.

On the port side I had to set my machine on the toilet.  The mirror version on the starboard side had my machine sitting on the sink.

I opted to turn the hem up on the outside as opposed to the inside of the shower. I didn't sew a double hem either and thanks to the holes from the previous stitching I hope less moisture will build up.

Why I decided to do this on Valentine's Day I'll never know.  Because in addition to all this cleaning, scrubbing, and sewing, I stuffed and roasted a chicken, made mashed potatoes and gravy, baked an apple pie, and found time to take a shower and wash my hair.  As a former waitress I refuse to go out to dinner on this particular holiday.

I'm loving my Winn-Dixie flowers and I love my coffee pot vase too (I've had this coffee pot for over 25 years).

I feel like I should get a Home-Ec-Gold-Star-Blue-Ribbon Reward for my day but then I remember that back in the day this is what women used to do on a regular basis.

Oh, what the hell, I still want that award!!