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June 2018

When Cruisers Own a Home

 

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When those who cruise still (or later) own a home, they “get” it.

They tell you to bring your dirty laundry when you go to dinner. Often, they let you know that you’re invited to arrive early enough to take a shower prior to the meal.

They offer a ride to the store.

They get it.

To be fair, as liveaboards for over 16 years, we have land-lubber friends and family who also get it and for that, I will be eternally grateful.

This weekend I saw a whole new level of “getting it”.

We have dear friends in St. Augustine who are off for a cruise this summer, seeking cooler air, fewer hurricanes, 20180624_125010and more light-houses, ports, restaurants, and beaches. In addition to preparing and loading the boat, they prepared their home: turning off the water, emptying the fridge and pantry, setting the air-conditioner to a lower level, and hiring a lawn service.

As their dear friends, we and another boater have access to the home (and workshop!) and check it frequently.

They left their Internet service, have strong Wi-Fi and readily agreed to let me go over there for as long as I needed in order to move this blog to Word Press.

I spent much of Saturday and Sunday in their home. It was one of those times when the only accomplishment was to have “learned a lot”, but it was (sort of) time well spent.

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While I waited for things to download, I did a housekeeper’s check of the home and found a whole lot of dead flies. Dead flies in the sink, on the windowsills, and a whole bunch on the floor. It was my pleasure to remove the bodies and it’s something I’ll be sure to do before they return.

But here’s the thing. Here’s where they really “get it”.

They had said that if we get yet another hurricane this season, we three were welcome to hunker in their home, and they left us notes.  This was not an idle comment. After they prepared their home to be left, they prepared it for us, providing notes, water to flush the toilet, and a pair of reading glasses (because I have frequently shown up there without mine).

How cool is that?20180624_125041

Some of the weather gurus have dialed back their dire predictions for the number and severity of hurricanes this season. I hope they’re right. Even so, if one heading our way is not more severe than Matthew or Irma, we’ll be taking our neighbor, Tim, our water jugs, food, and butane stove on over to the home that’s set up for us. We already feel welcomed. They certainly “Get It.”

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Living in Limbo

 

LIM-bo

an uncertain period of awaiting a decision or resolution; an intermediate state or condition.

"the fate of the Contras is now in limbo"

synonyms:
in abeyance, unattended to, unfinished;

suspended, deferred, postponed, put off, pending, on ice, in cold storage;

unresolved, undetermined, up in the air, uncertain;

informal on the back burner, on hold, treading water, in the balance

"our mortgage approval is in limbo"

 

Yep. You haven’t heard from me because we have been in Limbo and Limbo is boring

Also monotonous.

Also, it makes me whinge and I’ve whinged enough here.

    (This is my current favorite word. It rhymes with hinge and is Great Britain speak for "whine".  It is my belief that babies whine and adults whinge. Neither is attractive. 

 

So I’m getting out of Limbo, even though we aren’t yet getting out of St. Augustine. The weather has not been conducive to painting – for the past five months. No joke.

It rained almost every day in May and was cold through most of April. It was frigid (by Florida standards) December thru March. (This is posted with apologies to all who endured this past New England winter. Been there. Done that. My blood’s thinned.)

Enough whinging. As I truthfully assure EW, “I still love you, the boat, and our lifestyle. Though the order may vary.”

I’ve discovered that being in Limbo gives an excuse to eat more and exhibit fuzzy thinking. Here is a sample of what can happen when one is in Limbo

Bacon_slices

Tipo Fathers' Day (That’s pronounced Tee-po. It’s a phrase we picked up in the Azores.)

For some reason (OK, I know how it happened, but it’s truly boring and immaterial and makes me sound like an idiot) so, for some reason, I believed that June 10th was Father’s Day.  

Earlier in the week told EW it was Father’s Day and promised him bacon. We haven’t been buying bacon because our temporary fridge system doesn’t keep meat all that well and, well, bacon. He was very excited. (He is quite easy to please. I love that.)

I also promised to make eggplant parmesan for his pre-Fathers' Day Saturday meal and he was very excited about that, as well. He picked up a few groceries on his West Marine run on Saturday morning, including a pound of his favorite thick-sliced smoked bacon. I had an invitation to actually go SAILING on Saturday and accepted it with great glee. (It was a wonderful day.)

Afterward, my hosts invited me to enjoy a bit of wine on the dock and I said, “No thank-you. I have to get to Rype and Ready before they close and get some Eggplant. I’m making EW one of his favorite meals for a pre-Father’s Day treat.”

Now, of course, they wondered whether EW gets special meals for the entire week before Father’s Day, but didn’t say anything until I mentioned the much-anticipated bacon for “tomorrow”.

I was gently informed that we were a week early. One person suggested that I not tell EW and just let him enjoy his day early, but I knew Favorite wouldn’t call a week early so had to confess. The Saturday meal and the bacon with over easy eggs were a tremendous success.

With a pound of cooked bacon (because not a great fridge) EW was delighted to indulge in those smoky, salty, strips of fat Sunday through Thursday. Bacon in a hearty spinach salad with chopped boiled egg was delightful however, EW did not enjoy the BST, or Bacon, Spinach, and Tomato sandwich, quite as much.

Favorite better call on Sunday because I have no desire to fry up another pound of bacon for EW’s real Father’s Day.