EW's Sis presented this for dessert: lemon curd blueberry cheesecake. I am blessed.
We are getting our travel shots. The Snoopy band aid marks EW's typhoid shot.


Man, I'm beating this topic to death. But until this week, I didn't realize in my heart that we are Moving. Moving with italics and an uppercase "M".  

I know we're going sailing, and leaving the area, but I just didn't recognize that we are Moving and the stress and heartache I have been feeling is normal for people moving far away from home. Moving.

In a cursory search on other blogs posted by those who have taken off for a long cruise, few mention this. One blogger writes eloquently about experiences at sea and on shore -- but when I looked back at the year they left there were no posts between buying the boat and being at sea.

We are moving. We have lived in the Portland area since the early 80's. We are established here with friends, physicians, dentists, and clubs and organizations. We know the restaurants, the roads that are likely to have commuting traffic jams (except for construction, a traffic jam in Maine means you wait 3 turns of the light to get through), movie theaters, music venues, and quiet anchorages. 

I have never lived outside of Maine. (Six months in Salem, New York when I was 4 doesn't count. Never even lost my accent.) We live within two hours of most of my relatives, an hour from EW's sister, a half hour from K - a dear friend of 40+ years, and 15 minutes from L and R - dear friends for the past 5 years. We are Moving. Far away. It is normal for me to be stressed, verklempt, and on the verge of tears. I finally get that.

Last night, we had dinner with EW's brother -H,  his sister - D , and her partner - N. They prepared a feast with much wine - made by H. As D said, "We see each other only about once a month. But it has been so nice to know you are close by." I have felt the same way.

They presented us 12 bottles of H's wine (mmmm) and a lovely and useful Yacht Log book. N, a writer and a poet wrote this poem for us.

We know the sea has been beckoning to you all along,

and the time has come to heed her call.

Still we sing a glad but saddened song

to greet this splashy fall.


Each time we walk the beach we'll wonder where you are

on some exotic island or on the rolling tide.

But no matter if you're near or far

we'll feel you at our side.


So anchor up, unfurl the sail,

let a fair wind be your guide.

And as you live your mariner's tale

May God sail at your side.

--- Norman Abelson, 9.16.10

We are blessed.


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Alex Nislick

Read the article in this month's Ocean Navigator on page 22 about a couple returning home after 10 years of cruising. The same feelings in reverse.You're so connected, you'll be in contact all the time with Mainers.

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