Whadda Ya Do All Day?

I just got back from Pilates class on the beach (actually it was on a concrete slab behind the Hope Town Methodist Church, but beach sounds more romantic) and the cap'n is out racing on a friend's boat. Life is wonderful and idyllic. Actually some friends had to pry our lazy asses off the boat.

Life is one big circle. We spend our first few human years with nothing to do but learn the basic skills of walking and talking and controlling our bodily functions. All of this happens rather naturally without much effort on our part. The rest of this time is spent, well, just playing. This too comes rather naturally and without much effort on our parts. Most of us probably spent countless hours banging on a metal pot with a spoon. We didn’t spend a whole lot of time worrying about what we were accomplishing or contributing to society. Life was simple.

And then they ruined it! They sent us to school. Our life became a routine. 8:00 a.m. first bell. 8:15 a.m. time to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. And on it went. Even recess was organized play and as we got older the recesses got shorter and shorter until they finally disappeared altogether.

Most of us endured this for at least twelve years. A lot of us suffered even longer. Why? So we could get a job! That’s right, after years of forced routine and learning, we traded it in for more routine and even shorter vacations. For what reason did we endure another 20, 30, 40+ years of enslavement? In order to make enough money to go back and do what we were doing all those years ago. Play.

So now you’ve been on your boat for a few months and ….

“Waaah! theres nothing to do!”

Snorkeling and fishing all day were a blast when they were a once or twice a year event but they lose some allure when you do it every day. I know you won’t believe me but you can get real tired of a steady diet of fish, even lobster.

You don’t want to admit it but your bored out of your mind. Try admitting that to a working person and you won’t get a whole lot of sympathy but lament to a fellow “first mate”and believe me they’ll know where you’re coming from. We all started out with great expectations of the nirvana of the cruising life. Water of unbelievable beauty and all the activities that go along with it, perfect weather, beach barbecues, nights under endless stars…and it’s all out there, the only problem is it doesn’t seem to be enough. All those years of routine and learning and accomplishing have altered us. We want to be doing something. We want to be challenged.

Okay, so you’ll learn new skills. You’ll paint or write. But you may find if you haven’t used these skills since high school or college you’re bound to be rusty. You can learn on your own but you’re going to have to be very self-disciplined and not give up after your first disappointing efforts. Channel your inner child, you know the one that picked up a crayon without any concern whether the result was going to be a masterpiece, and just have fun. The good new is that in some of the larger harbours there are organized painting and writing circles that readily welcome newbies. And where there's internet, there's a way, or at least an online course, either for fun or for college credit. One friend of mine taught herself oil painting (and she was good at it), how to play the flute and sax (and she was good at it), she also wrote a book, and, in her spare time, she monogrammed clothing for friends on a special sewing machine she brought on her boat. All of this in four months. Oh, I forgot to tell you she also jogged every day. She had retired from the military and was obviously very self-disciplined. I hated her.

So have I finally convinced you to give up on the idea of sailing off into the sunset and living happily ever after? I hope not. You don’t have to become unhappy and bored but you have to be prepared to prevent it. You have to realize you’re not going to be happy for long with nothing to do everyday but walk on the beach or snorkel in crystal clear waters. I know this is hard to buy when you’re in the middle of a fifty- hour work week with additional children and grandchildren obligations to top it off, but take my word on it. Unfortunately, all those years of routine and productivity can’t be wiped from our subconscious right away. You’ll find that you miss routine. You’ll find that you miss having something you’ve got to get done and deadlines. That’s right we creatures of habit need routine. The good news is now we get to be in charge. We get to say when and what we’re going to do and how. Oh yeah, and we get to put recesses back in the schedule. The only problem is we’re going to have to learn to play again but we’ll discuss that later.

Let’s get started.

Step One: Don’t enforce the routine the minute you cast off the docklines. Do take a vacation. Spend the days like you dreamed. Walk the beaches. Find some shells. Do nothing! You’ve missed a lot of recesses. You deserve it. You’ll know when you’re getting a little restless. Then you’ll be ready to add a little routine. It took me about four months to start feeling restless but a lot longer before I did anything about it.

Step Two: Decide what your routine is going to be. That’s the beauty of it. It’s entirely up to you. Most of us spent our working careers with someone else engineering our days. Now we get to do it ourselves. The routine you create will depend on how much you want to accomplish and how much time it will require. I am not a very regimented person. I like flexibility. Instead of planning my routine on an hour to hour basis, I like to make lists of the things I want to accomplish each day and the approximate times I intend to dedicate to them. My list looks something like this:

Sample List: Write 2 hrs.
Exercise 30 min. (Maybe…probably not)
E-mail 30 min. (Actually it’s more like 3 hours but I steal it from my exercise and boat chores time)
Boat chores (laundry, cleaning, varnishing …) However long the chore takes. Boats are a lot smaller than houses and you can get a vast amount of work done in an hour.

(Sorry! Can't make the friggin' tab work on blogger. AARRGH!)

Never mind! Blogger was smarter than me as usual. Mea Culpa, Blogger


I don’t usually schedule more than four hours. I feel like I worked enough 8+ hour days to deserve a lesser work schedule. This is enough for me to feel like I haven’t become a beachbum or cockpit potato. Some of you will want more and some of you will be more regimented. Once again, it’s up to you. Just don’t forget to make time to play. I like the daily list so I can tailor it around where we are and what boat activity we might be doing that day. Plus I love crossing things off of the list so I feel I’ve accomplished something that day. In my former life I was an over-achiever. As you can see, I expect a lot less of myself these days. It’s amazing to what depths of laziness you can sink on a boat.

Step Three: What are you going to include in your routine? This is probably the most difficult and important step. The best time to figure this out is before you slip those docklines. Most of our former lives were centered on our jobs and families. We didn’t have time to figure out what we’d really love to do. I’d always known I wanted to write and had written articles for various magazines before we moved on the boat. I had done research on writing and publishing while I was still a dirt dweller so I had a few tools in my toolbox and I knew it fulfilled my need for productivity and creativity. Many women I met brought art supplies or musical instruments. I did too. We carried a guitar around for two years before we gave it away and I still can’t play a tune on my harmonica. I am just a little more proficient at my pastels. I consider these my “play” things and I don’t devote a whole lot of time to them. Mostly because I don’t believe I have the gene to surpass my painfully embarrassing level of talent in these skills. I can still have fun playing with them though. If you wish to spend a “routine” amount of time in developing this type of skills, then by all means do so.
However, if these skills do not have enough substance to fulfill your need for productivity you might want to investigate “real” jobs you can perform from the boat. Internet access is pretty much accessible in all areas of the world and many people are working from their boats. You may even be able to bring your old job with you. My friend, Joan, on “Joan Marie” tried to retire from her job as medical laboratory technician instructor at a medical college in California but they wouldn’t let her. They still employ her as a consultant and she contributes to several textbooks in the field. Any of these jobs may require additional learning and skills that would be much easier to acquire while still on land. And, of course, lots of people in the computer sector are going about their business as usual. If I can talk to a guy in Timbuktu about my computer problems, why can’t I talk to a guy in George Town, Exumas. So while making future preparations for the boat in planning a long-term cruise don’t forget to make a few preparations for yourself.

An additional activity many cruisers take part in while in paradise is volunteer work. This may seem difficult to plan if you’re moving around frequently but you’ll be surprised how simple it is. Almost any church or school on an inhabited island will be very grateful to find something for you to do. This might range from picking up a paintbrush to reading to a group of children while the teacher spends a little extra time with an individual student. Most volunteer jobs require no special skills although if you do have applicable special skill they are also always very appreciated. Another “Joan” friend of mine on the boat “Ola B” was waiting out a hurricane at a school when she happened to mention to the principal that she had been a psychologist in her former life. Well guess what? She’s now counseling a couple of kids a couple of times a week and she loves it. Here in the Abacos there are many requests for volunteers with any building skills for many of the non-profit organizations there that receive no aid from the government. Believe me, if you put yourself out there some one will put you to work.

If there aren’t any opportunities make your own . If you happen to be on an uninhabited island, take in a couple of trash bags and pick up the debris that litters the beaches and haul it to the next settlement that has a trash pick-up. If there’s more than one boat in the harbor invite everybody to do the same thing and make a party out of it. It may not seem like much but every little bit counts. Another fellow boater, Niels on Westwind, organized a shore clean-up in Marsh Harbour and it has now become a yearly tradition with both boaters and locals involved.

Step Four: Convincing the captain to cooperate. Although some of these activities can be done together, you will have to put your foot down and insist on some time for yourself. Probably before you even get restless you’ll notice that the captain is starting to get on your nerves. Most couples have never spent as much time together before going cruising, much less in the close confines of a boat. In my experience it seems that this sudden aversion to your spouse occurs earlier and much more frequently to the boat’s first mate than it does to the captain. Probably because the captain is just so doggone happy to be on his boat. And that is where you get your edge. Remember he really wants you to be happy on the boat. He doesn’t want you to make him sell his boat. You don’t have to hold this over his head 24-7 but it sure does make a good bargaining tool when you want something to go your way. This really isn’t a big deal. Discuss it with him when you’re at the “ Setting the Rules of Our Cruising Life ” stage and it won’t be a big surprise to him when you demand your space. Discuss with him how much time you need and when you want it if it is going to be on a regular basis. Remember to be flexible. If you’ve just sailed into a new anchorage and he really wants you to go explore it with him, by all means go and put off your plans for a few hours. But if you’ve been lazing around in the same harbor for a week or two and you’ve become locals let him go off on his own to snorkel or fish. It will do both of you good.

Step Five: Oops! Sorry the bell just rang. It’s recess time. Let’s go play!

For Evelyn

I wrote this article several years ago. Since then my father has died. I was honored to have spent the last months of his life with him. I held his hand the night he died and prayed to my mother to release him from his suffering... and she did. He was 76 and had truly lived his life. He was not a great adventurer or a traveling soul, he liked his front porch and a drink in his hand and his friends. On the other hand, I got an email yesterday from a friend about a friend. A daughter of close friends of ours was killed in a car accident yesterday while returning to her home after visiting her parents over the Christmas holidays. Miranda Hale, 25 years old, daughter of Mike and Kathy, sister to Justin, and mother of Kyler. It just reminded me of how quickly things change and how if you have dreams, you better live them now. Here's the article.

I lost a friend today. Too suddenly. Too young. And before I had a chance to really know her. I didn’t know her dreams. What did she really want ? What did she want to be? I know she had plans for someday. “Someday” when the kids are grown. “Someday” when she and her husband had saved enough money. I last saw her two days before she died. She had eight children at home, six of them adopted. They had just moved into a beautiful home. She wasn’t ill. She didn’t have the time to prepare herself or her family for this unexplainable loss. None of us were prepared. Since her death, I’ve wondered if she could have known what would she have done different. She was 31 years old and gone overnight. Her “somedays” are spent. Her dreams untouched.

Death causes us all to take stock of our own lives. An unexpected death lends a sense of urgency to this contemplation. A fear of being cheated of all life has to offer us. “Did I live my life the way I wanted to?” is a question all of us will have to answer someday. Almost daily someone approaches me and says “I wish I could do what you’re doing.” I’ve given up assuring them that they can do anything they want to do because they will not be convinced.

All of us that have decided to go off and live on a boat have had hurdles to bound. It requires sacrifices and, most importantly, compromises to live the life we want. Believe me, when the captain first started talking about living on a sailboat, I tucked that notion away very securely in the “future” file. After all, it just wasn’t possible. I had sons in high school who were not going to be convinced to give up their social life to go live on a boat. I also was the child that had lived closest to my father since my mother died. And let’s not forget our jobs and our bills.

Stubbornly, the captain kept pulling the dream out of the file. He didn’t want to get too old to live his dream. As health care professionals, we had witnessed too many times the scenario of the retiree who waited too long and was not healthy enough to enjoy what he had worked for all of his life. So we started jumping those hurdles. My sons already lived with their father for six months of the year which would allow us to live the dream at least part-time. My father is a pretty independent old cuss who really doesn’t need his youngest daughter fawning over him. Besides, without me being so conveniently located maybe the rest of the kids would come around more often. We sold the big house and most of the stuff. We quit our jobs and bought a boat.

There are still times I question if we’ve done the right thing. My father fell and broke his shoulder a year ago and I wasn’t able to get there right away. I’d like to see more of my youngest son’s football games and I miss my family and friends but the captain compromises with me by letting me fly back home when I feel the need. This keeps everybody happy. Although we’ve been lucky with employment so far, we always have to cross our fingers when it’s time to come back to Kansas for our six months on the hard that we’ll be able to find work. Currently the captain drives 80 miles one way every day to work. That is sacrifice!

But today, when I learned of my friend’s death, I felt so fortunate that we’ve decided to live our life as we do. There will always be other places I want to see and more people I want to meet, but I am so very thankful for the dreams I have realized in the places I have seen and the friends I have made.

We all have a choice in how we live our lives, no matter how hard we try to convince ourselves that we don’t. Live the life you want now—before “someday” is out of reach. What are you waiting for?

Lastly, take a moment today and everyday to treasure the warmth of the sun, the energy of the wind, and the majesty of the ocean—for Evelyn and Miranda. And drink some cheap whiskey for my dad, Joe.


Happy New Year! Go Out and Live It.

Shopping 'til I Drop

I spent the weekend in Houston with my sister and my wonderful, smart sister-in-law who would sweep the gold if shopping was an Olympic event. Unfortunately, or fortunately if you're the cap'n, I couldn't buy anything because we're heading back to boatland tomorrow and I have no way to tote it and I have no place left to store it (except for that secret drawer I mentioned in "Personal Orifices"). So I thought I would shop vicariously through you my loyal readers. Don't panic! I'm not turning this into a commercial site, it's just that once I started I couldn't quit. There's so much useful stuff out there and some really cute stuff too. Wouldn't you rather wear rainboots with bumblebees on them instead of those ugly foul weather boots. Oh shush you old salts, a girl knows that looking good is more important than not sliding off the boat. The two cookbooks are the only ones I have on the boat since I tend to save space by cruising the internet for recipes but the one by Kay Pastorius is the one that has my sourdough starter recipe in it and a lot of great recipes. The Cruising Chef has lot of great stories and info about using local ingredients.

The one item I definitely, recommend is the hook and go. We have had one or two of these aboard the boat since we've been aboard. It will hold as many bags as you can hook on it and it has a really wide wheel base so it has never tipped over. Plus it folds up to nothing. Boaters and non-boaters that have seen us using this strange contraption have asked us where we got it. Now you know.

And of course, there's my beloved Kindle but you've heard enough about that.

So thank you for indulging me in my round of guilt free shopping and tell your cap'n your just looking, not buying. Then show him the Nigel Calder book.

First Mate Mary's Peanut Brittle

I took this peanut brittle over to Concerto that night at Grand Cay. I also made it for the Hope Town Christmas Caroling. It is simply the best peanut brittle I've eaten and I'm not just sayin' that because it's mine. I'm sure I stole the recipe from someone but I don't remember who. So whoever it was, Thank You!

FIRST MATE MARY'S
PEANUT BRITTLE


3 c sugar
1 c corn syrup
½ c water
4 Tbsp butter
4c peanuts (I use cocktail or Spanish peanuts)
1tsp salt
2tsp vanilla
2tsp baking soda


Combine sugar, syrup and water and bring to a boil over med-high heat, stirring constantly. Reduce heat to medium and heat to 230 F. Add peanuts and heat to 300 F, stirring constantly. Stir in butter, salt, and vanilla. Remove from heat and stir in baking soda until mixture is foamy. Pour onto buttered cookie sheet. Allow to harden. Crack by banging cookie sheet against a hard surface (like the capn's head).

O' HOLY NIGHT IN THE ABACOS

We are off the boat and back on the Mother Land for a bit of work this Christmas. We will be spending our Christmas in a motel in Bay City, Texas. As we pulled into this hard-scrabble dusty south Texas town, I thought to myself, “This is where I’m going to be spending Christmas?” At that moment I was thrown back to Christmas Eve 2003 on Grand Cay, Abaco, Bahamas. My first day in the Bahamas, and I bawled my eyes out.

We had been working toward this moment ever since we bought the boat. We had been restricted to the East Coast for our previous sailing years because of family and custody requirements but since my youngest had graduated we were free to reach further. We had spent the summer and early fall readying the boat for passages south and attending two of our sons’ weddings and one grandchild’s birth. Shortly after Thanksgiving we made our way south toward West Palm Beach. We did our time in Purgatory at Lake Worth waiting for that elusive weather window. We became the pilot boat for the whole anchorage. Every morning the other boats would watch us pull up anchor and head out the inlet. They would then wait with bated breath, and coffees or Bloody’s until they saw us come back and do the anchoring dance again. Maybe tomorrow…

Then came the big day. December 23rd, 2003. We went out early a.m. as usual aaannnd came back, as usual. Put the anchor down and settled in until the next morning but waddayuno right in the middle of our brunch of stale bread and green tinged bologna we noticed a mass exodus of boats out of the anchorage. The cap’n , grateful for any excuse to throw his sandwich overboard, jumped up and hollered, “Haul Anchor”. And away we went.

I don’t remember if we motored or sailed but at about 11:00 pm that night we were on the banks and we were exhausted and decided to put down the anchor. The fact that the passage was not memorable is a good thing. We could see three other mast lights out there in the vast nothingness. We had left with 30+ other boats. Against the cap’ns wishes I lit the Christmas lights and blasted Bing Crosby across the ocean.

At about 4:00 a.m. the wind was piping and we pulled anchor and headed towards Walker’s Cay. It was Christmas Eve. We arrived at our anchoring place at about 10:00 a.m. I won’t call it an anchorage because we were way out in no man’s land because of our 6.6 foot draft, but that’s okay because there were three other boats stuck out in the aqueous boondocks with us. The first boat came back with great news. “Easy clear in. No problem”. We made ready for a landing. Unfortunately, we ended up being the last of the fleet. Unfortunately, it was the first year that the Bahamas had increased the cruising permit fee. Unfortunately, we were preceded in the clearing in process by a disgruntled Norwegian?, Finnish? Danish? One of those Viking type sailors who decided to wage his battle against the Bahamian government on the only customs agent on the island. Unfortunately, the agent took afront at this and walked out. She did return….an hour later. Unfortunately, we bore the brunt of her anger when she charged us $150 for a fishing permit that was supposed to be included in our cruising permit and that we only needed for two days, but as usual that’s another story. Thank you Ma’am. Have a Merry Christmas.
So four hours later we head back to the boat. Unfortunately, we are in an unprotected non-anchorage. Unfortunately, there is a storm brewing. So we haul anchor….again and head for Grand Cay

Grand Cay. Hmmm. Grand Cay. What can I say about Grand Cay? We were anchored about 2 zillion miles out. At least that’s the way it seemed to me. Keep in mind, I was sleep deprived, I might as well have been 2 zillion miles away from my friends, my kids and my Dad. I saw our future in the Bahamas as a boat on the horizon staring hungrily at the lights of an unreachable civilization. I could hear the hounds of trash island calling to me. (Anybody that’s been to Grand Cay knows what I’m talking about). I may have been PMSing also, maybe that’s why the hounds were howling. Let’s just say I made the cap’ns life a veritable hell that night which is my sole purpose in this world. Happy, Happy Christmas, Baby.

Christmas Day! We’re up early and head to town. Either my chakras are more balanced or my eyes are too swollen to take in the whole picture, but Grand Cay is looking better this am. Not good, but better. It’s Christmas Day though, so will we find anything open?
Good news! Grand Cay is not only open but it’s right out there on the street. Every inhabitant is either parked in a chair along the main street, (men on one side, women on the other) or, if they are of the younger variety, whizzing down the road on shiny new bikes or skateboards. The only population that is inside are the ones shooting pool at Rosie’s. I always thought Rosie was a petite older black woman….not! On all accounts…not!

We walk by the house/store fronts and ask the women sitting out front if they are open for business.

“Sure, Sweetie, What you want?”

We fall in love with the two cuties with matching hair ribbons and dresses, all dressed up and holding hands as they skip down the road.

We cheer wildly for the young daredevils racing their new bikes down the main drag.

We wince at the plethora of Styrofoam containers in use and disuse at the same time we sniff appreciatively and wonder where they got the contents..

Later that night we are aboard the S/V Concerto with our first new friends in the Bahamas, June and Geoff. This friendship continues today, even if they haven’t reciprocated in years, we still love them. We were joined by that disgruntled Dane, Hans and his Yankee wife, Joy. Hmmm…Joy?….Christmas?…..She was joyful and so was he away from the customs office.


My message? Don’t judge a book by it’s cover or an island by it’s refuse. Instead judge it by its’ people. You won’t be disappointed and you might just fall in love. Islands are like a box of chocolates and as Forrest Gump says “You never know what you’re gonna get.”
They all taste different, but they’re all good.


Merry Christmas from mine to yours!

P.S. My thanks to AwayTeamAbaco for the beautiful picture of the Hope Town Lighthouse (actually the Elbow Reef lighthouse)all decked out in holiday splendour. Our thanks also to the Hope Town Harbour Rats that worked so hard stringing the lights.

Chicken Souse

Last night we went caroling in Hope Town. This is a yearly tradition here. The locals, visitors, and boaters meet up at the Post Office dock and we wound our way through the streets singing the traditional songs. Several people carry handheld VHF radios so the caroling can be broadcast over the VHF radio. It was a lovely night, it had finally warmed up and we were able to wear shorts. Afterwards we were rewarded with bowls of hot chicken souse. Souse is the Bahamian remedy for the dreaded hangover, and in my opinion a lot better than Menudo. While chewing on piece of tripe from a bowl of Menudo in Miami, I turned to the cap’n and said, “If I were eating steak, this would be the part I would spit out.” Of course, hair of the dog ain’t bad either. The first recipe is a little more authentically Bahamian, the second one is for us that are neophytes to Bahamian cooking.

Chicken Souse Recipe 1

Ingredients
5 lbs portion chicken wings
1 onion
8 lemon/Lime "big sour" (your desired amount)
1/4 lemon Juice
pepper (your desired amt)
all-spice (your desired amt)
1/2 tspn salt (your desired amt)
1 carrot
1 stick of celery
2 Irish potatoes (if desired)

Directions
Clean portion wings in vinegar and warm water.
Place wings into pot containing and 8-10 cups of water. (this will ensure that all remaining oils and other particles are removed) let wings boil for about 5-8 minutes.
Remove from pot and place into a bowl containing cool water, rinse well with water and lemon juice. Place wings into pot with about 8-10 cups of water or until wings are completely covered.
Slice onions, pepper, celery, carrots, and potatoes. Add salt, onions, celery, lime , pepper, lemon juice and all-spice seeds. (Boil for about 45 minutes). Add potatoes and Carrots.
Boil for another 15-20 minutes. Serve with home made bread or Jonny Cake if desired.

Cooking time: 1 hr 30 min
Serves: 8

Chicken Souse Recipe 2

2 lbs of chicken (preferably wings or drumsticks)
4 chopped potatoes
2 sticks chopped celery
1 or 2 diced onions
1\2 cups allspice
1 or 2 bird peppers
salt to taste
2 limes cut in half

Cooking instructions:
In a large pot bring chicken to boil for approx 10 minuets, then strain. Return chicken to pot, fill pot half full with water and return to boil. Add potatoes, celery, onions, bird peppers, allspice, salt, lime. Boil until potatoes are done, stirring occasionally.
Final cooking time 30-35 minuets.
Prior to serving add more if desired. Serves 4
Try a Tropical drink with your meal

PLACES I'VE BEEN AND SHOES I'VE LOST

I was sitting here contemplating my gnarly old arch deprived feet the other day and I thought about the people that would be envious of me and my barefoot lifestyle. You know, the “No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problem” kind of life. The truth of the matter is….I don’t have any friggin’shoes left.

I don’t remember the first time I lost a pair of shoes. It was probably somewhere up north. Maybe in Block Island at the tiki bar at Champlin’s Marina. Probably the same night I learned to do the hand jive from some little girls that were sitting outside the bar’s entrance, the same night we couldn’t find the boat for a couple of hours. Hey come on, there were 1200 boats in the harbor.

There are a few times I do remember, though. Like my favorite pair of “Candies” sandals. (I admit, I never was a Manolo Blahnick kind of girl and anybody that knows me knows that.) They now rest in a watery grave at the Las Olas Marina in Fort Liquordale. We’d started our happy hour at Blondies on the corner of Las Olas Blvd. and A1A. Of course, Blondies’ happy hour starts at 10:00 a.m. and goes until. This is one of the cap’n’s favorite bars. He says it’s because of the scenery. Blondies is smack dab across the street from the beach which sports many signs that say nude sunbathing is not allowed under which numerous young nubile bodies are blatantly disobeying these public sanctions and the authorities are turning a blind eye but risking the other just for a peek. The cap’n went inside for some freshers and conversed with one of the patrons leaning tiredly against the bar.

“I’m so drunk. I really need to go home but I just can’t tear myself away from the view,” says the patron as he eyes one of the sun worshipers who I hope only had to pay for the half of the bathing suit she is wearing.

“Come on, man,” says my noble cap’n, “They’re obviously fake.”

“My complimentsh to the shurgeon,” drooled the bar patron.

Later on that night after bar bouncing down A1A with the cap’n and four other guys, (Mary’s a lucky girl!! One of them even looked exactly like Steven Segal, but his shirt was wrinkled and he lived in a cinder block house so I don’t think it was him.) we ended up back at the boat for a nightcap (like we needed one!). The tide was out, waaay out, and I was faced with a little 6 ft. hop down to the deck of the boat. I decided to do my best Baryshnikov impression and leapt…and missed…again. Instead of partaking of the assistance offered by my four handy male companions, I decided I’d retain what was left of my dignity while floating around with the skirts of my very short dress swirling about me and climb aboard myself. No, not by using the ladder. The cap’n never puts it down. I guess he doesn’t want it to get wet. Instead I’ll use the barnacle encrusted piling to which the boat is tied up. I’ll just use the barnacles as foot and handholds. Just like one of those climbing wall on those fancy cruise ships. Not a good idea, as my oozing scraped up arms and thighs would attest to in the weeks following. I did eventually make it back onboard but alas my poor “Candies” didn’t.

Marsh Harbour Marina and Jib Room Restaurant, Abacos, Bahamas. It was a dark and stormy night. I don’t remember what kind of shoes they were but I’d lived aboard long enough that I’m certain they were of the moldy variety. I can’t even blame it on too many Bilge Burners or any of the other lethal adult beverages that Steven, the bartender at the Jib Room, serves up. We hadn’t even gone into the Jib Room, instead we’d had a nice quiet dinner with some friends who lived across the road. Just a couple of glasses of wine. When the evening wound down, we made our way down the death defying steps of the Marsh Harbour Marina without mishap and proceeded to the dinghy dock to continue our passage home. Did I mention it was raining? For some imperceptible, idiotic reason I chose this night to abandon my usual “old lady, ass slide” into the dinghy and leapt feet first. And I made it! At least my feet did! The dinghy lurched one way, of course I lurched the other and with arms windmilling I ended up in the drink….again. By the time I sputtered to the surface, whatever shoes I had on were permanently embedded in the muck of the bottom. Another innocent pair of shoes left behind along with a pretty good chunk of my scalp on the dock. Thanks, Cleatus. Whooee! Those scalp wounds sure do bleed! Fins to the left, fins to the right. And I'm the only bait in town!

So this year before we got on the boat the cap’n refused to invest anymore capital into my shoe inventory. “Nothing but thongs,” he pronounces. I presume he meant the shoe kind. Have you ever tried to find flip-flops in Colorado in the winter? So here I am shoeless. But you know what? If shoes are required, I don’t think I want to go.