Marin(a) Life

"Sometimes you choose to live on a boat to isolate yourself and sometimes you do it to be with yourself."  J. Abravaya

People who live on their boats are called "liveaboards" and are an interesting group of people.  Some live permanently in one marina and others are transients, stopping into a marina now and then, maybe to do laundry or just take a break.  Now I have not met many liveaboards, but I've met a few at our old marina and some at the new temporary marina where we are having our repair work done on Nalani after the lightning strike.  Liveaboards are tough and can live through some wild weather conditions.  We had the pleasure of meeting a gentleman the other day who has been living aboard for 28 years.  He and his kitten are at our old marina now to get some transmission work done. 

Some of the boats go places; some are permanently docked with frozen motors in their slips.  I've been curious as to what drives a person to step outside what is considered the mainstream life as a dirt dweller and go afloat--to go from a safe, seemingly stable existence on land to one on water, which is about as fickle as Mother Nature can become.  One minute the water is like glass and the sun is shining bright and the next minute the waves are pounding the sides of the boat and the rain is pelting sideways, happily showing you where all the leaks are in your vessel.

For some, the life does not come the easy way.  They move onto boats because they have encountered troublesome times; a death or a divorce or a job loss.  Sometimes short on funds, life on a boat is a respite from high rents or mortgages.  Singles and couples occasionally have this as an only recourse.  Would they ever go back to land if they could?  Some would, but many would not because they love the lifestyle so much.

For others, living on the water has always been a lifelong dream and as soon as the chance arises, they are moving in lock, stock, and no barrel, because downsizing is an important part of moving aboard.  If you trade in living in a house for living on a boat, very little of what is in the house can accompany you to your floating home. 

Others may have come to a point in their lives where they've stashed a little money away or invested well and can no longer justify the long commutes or long hours of their jobs.  They have reached the end of their rope and figure that with some careful budgets and odd jobs here and there, they can live quite well on a boat where ropes are seen only in a positive light.

Living on a boat brings you so much closer to nature, whether you are stationary or moving.  Wild things nibble at your hull, jellyfish float ethereally by, herons feed at the water's edge, seagulls with a call that sounds like a sick cat fly over your boat and you hope, hope, hope it doesn't let go of its digested earlier intake of food.  Cawing crows litter the treetops and sound like they are in constant disagreement with each other:  Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh!

Living on a boat will change you.  It will make you appreciate the space you used to live in, no matter what the size.  It will make you appreciate a big shower!!!  A dishwasher!!!  A washer and a dryer!!!  A full-size refrigerator with an ice maker!!! A toilet you don't have to pump!!!!

Liveaboards are a special breed in other ways, the most important in being so incredibly welcoming, even to transients.  We've been on the receiving end of meals, invitations to yacht club breakfasts, priceless advice, borrowed tools, great conversations, and doing things that we may not have even considered, like watching football games and drinking beer at the local bar. 

With some of the competitive constraints of the work world erased, people will go out of their way to help in any way they can.  Most like nothing better than helping out their fellow boaters; whether you are a newbie at the lifestyle or an old salt, help is always just a finger pier away.

The Next Day

So, with all the stress and anxiety and craziness, what do I do for the next two days?  Go sailing, of course!

I had talked to Gary some about my feelings, fears, and anxiety, but I think it took seeing it in print on this blog that he finally realized how the "unknown" was affecting everything I did.  We had been doing land trips and really enjoying them; that's usually my way to calm down.  It would be fun for Gary, but always, in the back of his mind, were the myriad projects waiting at the boat.  (It is here that I can say I'm glad he was able to talk the owner down on the selling price of this lovely boat, though all the money we "saved" will end up being spent anyway.  Sailing kitty?  What sailing kitty?)

After a few tears and some hugs, he smiled in that quirky way he has and suggested that we really should get back out on the water.  We had some testing of systems to do anyway, so it would kill two birds with one stone.  I slightly reluctantly agreed and we got settled on the boat in the afternoon after closing up the camper.

We spent the night on board and all of a sudden, the temperament of the family changed.  Even though I was still grumbly and grumpy about Elliott's doings, I looked at him a lot and kept telling myself how much I love him and how much he means to me, no matter what.  At one point, I just pulled him close and told him that I loved him and that I hoped we could just start over, working on how we talk to each other.  He agreed and his father got on board, too.  Thankful for being able to reach out when the time is right and know that with time and work and love, we can change the paradigm.

We motored out of the slip the next day into the Narrows; if you hug the channel just so, a sailboat with our draft can make it through.  We did well and as soon as we were in the clear, we started working with the autopilot.  The autopilot was working when we took delivery of the boat in Florida, but halfway up the ocean route, it decided to call it quits.  I can't imagine how frustrating that must be.  They made it home fine, a much more tired crew than needed, so it was a priority to get that fixed.  After a few mishaps (wrong size, etc.), we finally had a new one in place.

To calibrate the autopilot, you get to sail in circles (three of them, actually), until the program tells you to straighten up for the next step.  Wheeee!  Urp, feeling a little woozy.  When will it stop?  Thankfully, just in time!

Then we sail North and the wheel takes over moving us in a zigzag 13 times.  We had not spotted the boat ahead of us (she had come in from the starboard side), so we got a little nervous that the zigzags wouldn't be completed before we got to her.  But all was good and we went on our way.  Since the wind was very light and we wanted to charge our batteries for refrigeration, we motored up to our destination on the Corsica River.  Anchored in a very nice spot with lots of swing room, we had the idea of taking the dinghy over to the city dock and do some exploring.

As soon as we decided to do just that, I hear splatters of rain on the deck top.  Okay, maybe we'll wait until it stops.  It slowed, but never got very clear.  We stayed in and I made a chicken stew for a nice hot dinner.  Love the chilly night, but even better was bundling up later for sleep.

Always harder going uphill!

The next day, the weather was flaky, so we stayed on board, doing projects and organizing.  We watched the crew team from a private school practice (boy, they will need a lot of practice!), but they had good instructors.

Gary found some other problems with the boat, including some schmutz leaking from the generator, so dejected, he decided we should not stay out another night.  We were also having our usual battery problems, made worse by the strike, we think, so we went decided to make our way back to the marina.
  

I took over the helm as we motored while Gary worked below.  The seas started churning up a bit and the wind got stronger.  A humongous black cloud was coming our way (and we thought the little black cloud was something to worry about), but I hoped we could be far enough away to not bear the brunt of any storm.  Seas got more choppy and the sun went behind the clouds, making it colder, but I held on, making a port turn in the Chester River towards our marina.  Gary decided to set the jib and of course, my stomach got anxious right away.  But he set the autopilot and the boat was doing great, UNTIL, of course, Gary went down below.

Then, Nalani started going to starboard straight for land.  That was very odd.  Maybe she would correct, anytime now, correct now.  Any time now! Okay, she was not going to correct.  GARY!!!!  

He came up quickly from down below and was as confused as I was; a quick check showed that the batteries were so low that they would not support the autopilot. 

We both stayed at the helm, then, Gary wildly enjoying the chop and wind.  "Now this is the way to sail!" he gleefully cried.

At one point, I got us up to 8.7 knots.

It wasn't terrible and was really small in the grand scheme of things, but I've still got the anxiety part to deal with, so I took a deep breath.  I looked around at the beautiful surroundings and watched the glorious sun as the earth rose up for a sweet brief kiss.

I grabbed my camera to make some photos; that always makes me calm as I've got to focus on what I'm doing and not necessarily on what is going on around me.  Granted, in higher seas, I would not be close to a camera, but when I can use it, it helps a lot.

We finally got into the Narrows and made that port swing into our dock area.  Gary came in, turned wide to starboard, and let Nalani's aft end swing around and brought us up nicely to the dock where our friends Jack and Glenn were waiting to help us tie up.

It reminded me of the scene in Ace Ventura where Jim Carrey is in the car and he does that awesome parallel parking job -- "Like a glove!"  Oh yes.

So we were back from an exciting ride, but the look of disappointment in Gary's face later when talking about the new problems almost made me cry.  I guess we're finding out why a lot of sailing families start planning seriously about five years out; you take longer and longer trips to figure out what is good and what does not work.  Our time on the Chesapeake was supposed to do some of that, but the lightning strike set us on our ear in that respect.

So what's next?  I'm not sure.  The big-ticket item, the generator, has some weird stuff leaking out, so who knows?  I'm going to pour a shot of tequila in the water for Neptune, just in case he's paying attention.  We need all the good juju we can get.

And my anxiety?  I've labeled it, talked about it, and know it better now and all I can do is just put one step in front of the other--that's the right compass heading for now.

Splashdown and a Meltdown!

Teenaged boys have one thing in common with each other; they all, at some point, make their mothers wish hormones had never been invented (or that our partners had used a frickin' condom?).  Same thing for a hormone-crazed menopausal woman.  Put the two together and life as you've known it seems so far away and unreachable.  There IS a reason women are pushed to have children early in life.

Have you heard this saying?  When your kids are little, they are so cute that you just want to eat them up.  When your kids get to be teenagers, you wish you had.

My second son has always been a doll baby, just like my other two children.  Sweet and cuddly and always helpful.  Overnight, it seems, the demon from teenage hell took over his body and brain.

Maybe it was the stress of the lightning strike and having our plans dashed for our trip.  We had invested so much emotionally in doing this adventurous thing; saying goodbye to friends and family, finding someone to sit at the house with the animals and collecting incoming mail, giving up 15 months of social activities and work; it was a big deal.

Downsizing from a house to a boat and then to a camper (which I love, but only if I'm in it by myself, you know), has been tough.  Crammed into the space, it is hard to have privacy.  Maybe we were just too close (physically and emotionally).

The marina where our boat was on the hard during repairs was a groovy place to be holed up with a pool, snack shop, close-by bike trails, and restaurants, so many restaurants on both side of the highway.  My son, who is charming and very social, met a lot of people and became fast friends.  All of a sudden, his parents were boring.  We don't have cool condo boats and we don't necessarily like to play video games with him.  And I'm really alright with how social he is, but it really wore on our patience after a while that he was never around and that he'd be taking meals with other people and telling us about it afterwards.  And when he did open his mouth, watch out!

You know I have a sweet tea addiction; I've been very up front with it and know I have a problem.  I'm working with it with a 13-step program.  For some reason, that became his problem.  When I would buy sweet tea, he would have to drink most of it to keep me from drinking too much (his words).  Whenever we went out, he'd snarkily say, "I know what YOU'RE going to order to drink!"  I mean, really?  Is that necessary?

Because of his age and the hormonal takeup on the brain, he forgot to ask for things; instead stating what he was going to do.  We worked hard to nip that in the bud.  And of course, there was conflict about everything that I said or asked for or hinted at or . . . .

His father grew up in a sarcastic household; I'm not kidding, the whole family (and some relatives) subsisted and still subsist on sarcasm and teasing.  It's a very dysfunctional way to be, but it's been that way for generations. I know why it happens, but that's a whole other chapter of this blog. I've always believed that every joke is based in truth.  And I am as thin-skinned as they get.  

Elliott's been raised on it and thinks it is okay to treat some people that way, especially his mother.  Unfortunately, I've gotten that way myself (with these two guys) because I've been acting in self defense (and I don't like it, believe me).  I'm not that way with friends, so why can't I not be that way with these two jokers?

I think back to when his older half-siblings were that age and I would swear that they never spoke to me in the same way, the hurting way that drives a metaphorical knife into your heart.   Not that we didn't have crazy times; they just were not cruel.  Our years of being soft with this one have come back to haunt us.  

I remember thinking it was so cute that he could debate bedtimes and other choices when he was two; what was I thinking?

So yeah, it's been tough.  And I've more than once thought about jumping ship.  Like ten times.  My anxiety is through the roof; I have a deep-rooted fear that was not there before and I feel that anxious groin pain all the time. Thinking about redoing EVERYTHING! Reacclimating to the weather, having to restock groceries, rethinking wardrobe because of weather differences, changing trip logistics, too many decisions to make and things to act upon.  I am paralyzed with the enormity of what lays ahead.  I finally told the Captain that I can't do this anymore. 

My new profile picture

There are other extenuating circumstances, too, important family circumstances, and I'm really at the point where I'm wondering if we're making the right decision to just up and leave.  On my side of the family, I was always called "selfish."  So there's that painful childhood memory/training to deal with; argh.  Are all the boat issues really make the Universe telling us to slow down and take it easy and wait?  But then what ?  I really, really don't know at this point. 

Single-handing the camper on a photographic tour of the U.S. is looking more attractive every day; hmmmmmm.  Or is that being selfish, too.  Oh my.

Splish! Splash!

The day after our Cape Henlopen trip, I awoke to an empty camper.  Who knew where Elliott was, but I could guess that Gary was with the boat.  There were rumors that Nalani would be splashed today, but of course, we have to take every bit of news with a shot of saltwater. 

Gary was working on some project and so I thought I'd have time to make a grocery run.  

At that point, I can hear the crunching of gravel and up rolls the boat lift to OUR boat.  I still thought I'd have time because there was still paint to be applied to the bottom of the keel and on the spots at which the boat had been held up with the jackstands.

I drove off and got almost over the bridge and looked over my shoulder.  Our mast was moving!  Yikes!  Did a quick U-turn by the crab boats and recrossed the bridge before it was raised--happens every half hour (had about 30 seconds to spare!) and raced back to the marina.

I flew through the gate and pulled up just as the lift was moving over the water to relaunch Nalani.  It was pretty exciting as this was my first launching.  I filmed the drop.  Gary jumped on and got ready to motor her over to the slip.  He signaled for us to come on and Elliott and our mechanic Tyler joined him, but I'd left the car open and the keys in it, so I said that I'd meet them at E dock.

I drove rather quickly back to the camper to grab my good camera and took some shots of Nalani making her way back to the T-end of the dock.  Our dock friends Jack and Glenn were there helping to tie her up with handshakes all around after the landing.

I wish I'd planned better to celebrate with a nip of Champagne with some tequila for King Neptune. 

Gary was beaming and I know he was so relieved, even though there was still a bit of work to do . . . his boat was back in the water!

Up Next:  Kids Say the Darndest Things!

Cape Henlopen and Lewes, DE

Our original plan for Monday was to visit Lewes, DE, to spend the day on the beach.  The weather did not serve us well for that, so we visited Cape Henlopen State Park.  The skies were cloudy, the wind brisk, and the rain would occasionally pelt us with wet. 

We visited Fort Miles and marveled at the different between this bare-bones "base" and the more up-scale and luxurious one at Dover we visited just the day before.  We surveyed the shoreline from the large dunes.  We climbed a World War II observation tower, got vertigo with the spiral staircase, and marveled at the 360-degree view from the top where the wind blew us sideways.  We learned how triangulation was used to get a fix on boats in the waters beyond and how we'll be using that same idea on the boat.  We saw really, really big anti-ship guns.  

Do you know about the Oozlefinch?  This is a bird which is the unofficial mascot of the Air Defense Artillery; the oozlefinch is portrayed as a featherless bird that flies backward at supersonic speeds.  I believe the imbibing of lots of alcohol caused this bird to appear to soldiers in a double vision.

We also walked the shoreline behind the nature center over to the rotting pier where people were fishing while being blown around.  Elliott found a dead seagull and he and Gary gave it a shoreside burial.  We stayed bundled up yet waded in the warmish waters.  It would be a really lovely place to visit on a sunny day, but we also enjoyed it from this different perspective.

We had been told that we must visit a specific store in Lewes and pick up a Bounty bar, which is an English equivalent (or better) to the Mounds bar we know and love stateside.  I remembered the store because it has gourmet food items on one side and then puzzles of all kinds on the other side.  We used to bring home puzzles for the kids from this place.

The candy bars (milk and dark chocolate, for those with discerning tastes) were found happily, and got a steel puzzle for Elliott.  

Very hungry by this time, so we searched out a few options for dinner, but two of the recommendations were closed, so we decided on an Italian place called Touch of Italy. It felt like walking into a New York  deli and I've never been in a New York deli.  But if I did, it would be like this, except probably a lot noisier.  We had a great meal, great service, and left with a loaf of bread and some Tiramisu (with real ladyfingers!!!!!) for later.  Oh boy, this dessert stuff is getting out of hand, eh?

A sweet time away and we got back later than expected, but dropped into bed quickly to be ready for whatever was going to come the next day.

Hot Tub Time Machine, Part II

Grateful I made good time on the roads on Sunday morning because we had made arrangements to go to Dover, Delaware, to meet up with some new friends.  Now when I say "new" in this case, I really mean "blast from the past new."  Ronnie and his partner Terri visited us at the boat on their way back to their home from a visit in Fredericksburg about two weeks back.  Ronnie and I went to the same high school, with him graduating a year behind me.  I knew who he was, he knew who I was, but we weren't friends and didn't hang out together.  Too bad for me, I can say now. 

At our first meeting, as we were sitting in the cockpit of our boat, we were invited up to their house for a visit.  Probably to their surprise, we decided to take them up on it.  We set a date and set out within the hour of my arrival back at the marina this past Sunday morning. 

We were greeted with such warmth, generosity, and hospitality.  Ronnie showed me where he had stashed my sweet tea (oh yeah!), said he'd picked up turkey burgers to grill, and gave me a sneak peak at the peach cobbler we were going to have after the cookout.  We met family and were made to feel like family (more like a royal family). 

The television was on because Ronnie and his family are big football fans; his mom (who is in her 80s) had on a Redskins jersey, Redskins hat, and Redskins puffy slippers.  She said she didn't want to embarrass him in front of us, but he insisted she wear the getup.  I don't think she minded that much.  That extra oomph did not help the team, though.

Ronnie is some cook!  Even though we thought we were special, he said they do this every Sunday.  People are always dropping in so they make sure to have enough to go around.  He made beef burgers for grilling that were stuffed inside with onions, bacon, and cheese.  Wow!  I'm going to try that with turkey burgers next time.  We were all given the formal tour of the house, which was amazing and seemed to never end, but Elliott's eyes grew real big when he saw the "Man Cave" downstairs.  All of Ronnie's military certificates and medals hung on the walls.  He put in 24 years of service for our country.  Proud of him for that.

OCD Boy Strikes Again!  (Or CDO, as he would put it!)

There was a bar area, a model train room, and a pool table.  There is a Redskins' themed bath where everything is team related, except for the bowl of the toilet where he has affixed Dallas Cowboy stickers.  Zing!  Elliott and I played a few games of pool; he beat me by one game.  My technique is terrible.  Elliott stayed in the basement perfecting his.  Then he discovered the Wii and came upstairs sweating after playing.

The meal was wonderful; the burgers,baked beans, macaroni salad, peppers grilled with cheese, just all good. And the cobbler after, oh my!   With vanilla ice cream!  Double Oh My! 

We all were in a food coma, but said yes to a visit to the Dover Air Force Base.  I hadn't been on a military base since my Dad's Fort Belvoir days, so it was neat to see how upscale everything was.  There is a whole community inside those gates; offices, housing, pools, commissary, gas station, it's really amazing to see.  Ronnie showed us where he worked and we saw the biggest airplane I'd ever seen:  the C-5.  Wow.

When we got back to the house, even though we were still in a food coma, we decided to spend a little time in the hot tub.  A lot of our discussion in the hot tub was about school back in the day, so it was cool to travel back in time and think about the old days, and oh, those bubbles are hitting just the right spot!  We talked about old friends we've lost and old friends we still stay in touch with.  I heard about an upcoming reunion of sorts in September that would be cool to go to, but I can't commit to anything right now.  Gary didn't want to join us, so he sat outside the hot tub chatting with us.  A little while later, something we said must have changed his mind, because all of a sudden, there he was, sitting in the bubbling stew with us. It was wonderful.  I don't know how the idea of a hot tub being a time machine came up, but it did, and we thought it would be hilarious to name one of the blogs just that.  Not sure how to bring it all around except to say that I did not know it was a movie.  I may have to watch it even though it may be pure schlock.  Our hot tub time machine was all about the past, and it seemed our visit the next day would prove much the same, but much further back.

After chatting some more inside, we all turned in.  Next morning, I got up early and made breakfast for the crew that was still there.   We really enjoyed our visit and hope to make that trek again, if not this year, then next.  Thank you, Ronnie, Terri, and Ruby!

Are Hot Tubs Time Machines? Part I

With all the stress of the boat and wondering when she will be ready, we decided to take off this weekend and travel a little bit.  Of course, this was when our mechanic tells us that the boat should be back in the water by Monday.  We had plans to be in Delaware Monday so the splash date was changed to Tuesday.  We didn't have a lot of faith that the boat would splash that day, anyway; you know, something WILL come up to delay us once more.

Figuring It Out

I first flew the coop and went back home for less than 24 hours on Saturday, but those hours were so well spent.  First, I did laundry.  Then, by wonderful coincidence, Saul visited for two whole hours while his parents went out to spend some together time on their 7th anniversary.  That boy is just something; he figures things out so quickly and it's such a blast to watch the processing going on.  I remember the same thing with my kids as they were growing up.  And I could listen to his voice all day long.  So lucky to get that time with him.

After they left and my laundry was finished, I drove out to Culpeper to visit my Dad and stepmom.  We had another good visit.  He's done with the radiation portion of his cancer treatment and is meeting with doctors to discuss next steps.  I told him that I would stand by him whatever decision he made.  

Culpeper Skyline

Later that afternoon, I joined together with a group of lovely women to wish one of the group well on her upcoming marriage.  You know, what happens in the women's circle stays in the women's circle.  I can say, though, that it was a sweetly uplifting experience with tears, laughter, and so much love.  And the FOOD, oh my GOD, the FOOD!

My thoughts about driving back to the Island that evening were for naught; stayed with my friend and slept so well on a wonderfully comfortable bed, and then found it hard to leave the next morning because when she and I get together, we love to talk and talk and talk (usually for about three hours).  With promises of a visit soon, I got in the car and made good time up the highway back to the guys.

I had not left on good terms with the hubby because we had argued about nothing other than directions.  I won't go into the whole stupidness of it all, but thank goodness I can find my way from Point A to Point B (or is it C?).   And we must remember that not all who wander are lost.  Fo' sho'. 

Part II Coming Up!

And Then There are THOSE People . . . .

This past Sunday started out really well; Gary and I took a 15-mile round trip bike ride from here to the Chesapeake Bay.  I do well on the trails here because they are flat for the most part and not very strenuous.  The trail wends over marshes and into woodland, and even though you're right next to Route 50, it feels like you are miles away.  A family of deer were grazing not 20 feet from where we were riding.  We had paved trail for most of the ride, but then we jumped onto an oyster shell path that was bumpy, but still level and fun.  Years and years ago, when I was still working for the Department of Transportation, I joined some coworkers on a 30-mile bike ride from Easton to Oxford via ferry.  I did well and we ate great food in Oxford and I made it all the way back.

It was very cool to catch sight of the Bay Bridge from the trail and the walk along the shore was cooling after running down a really hot bit of sand to get there; we'd accomplished something good.  Getting back was hot and sweaty, but we knew the pool was waiting for us, so we kept on and arrived in pretty good shape.  I did get a little woozy from the exertion, but some water and fruit got me on good legs again.

During this time, Gary's parents had arrived at the marina in their tug.  His mom would join us later at the pool; his Dad walked over with us and we got lunch, which was pretty darn good.  I had chicken salad and the guys had fresh-grilled burgers.

For the first time this season, the pool called an "adult swim," which was very nice; I reveled in it for a while.  I am not a fan of being splashed, so it was sweet to just swim.

Gary's mom finally joined us and decided to do her usual exercise in the adult lap pool.  She dons a mask and snorkel and swims back and forth underwater for about 20 laps.  Typically, this isn't a problem.  Where she usually swims, the crowds are non-existent.  Today, at this pool, however, folks were congregating in the adult section to chat and have drinks.  But she was determined to do her exercise.

Gary's mom has been on drugs for depression and anxiety for more than 20 years.  The effect these drugs have is to make her very self-centered (in a protective way, I guess) and because of that, she doesn't care what people think and in fact, delights in bringing even negative attention to herself.  If you're speaking to her, she laughs at everything and yet hears almost nothing because of some script she has going on over and over in her head.  The effect on family and friends is a whole other story.

At this point, in the pool, I noticed that, instead of choosing the far (and empty) lane away from where everyone was congregating, she chose the closer lane and she swam right into the people, literally.  The first few passes it seemed were guessed to be mistakes, so no one said anything, but I could tell as time went on that she was being a nuisance.  Personal space is another thing that she has trouble with in social situations. 

After watching her a while and having both my husband and his father fall asleep in their pool lounge chairs, I had to do something. I walked over and jumped in the water to help direct her in the other direction.  The father of a young son at the end of the pool was teasing her, too, by doing the "Jaws" theme as she came towards them.   

I got her attention and told her what the effect of her swimming close to people was, and she said she didn't care because no one had said anything to her, and took off again.  I reached out and grabbed her and explained as firmly as possible that it was not appropriate to be swimming in the lane where the people were standing and mentioned how lovely and unblocked the far lane was looking.  I insisted that I wanted her to be in that lane only.  She got it, moved to that lane, and slowly swam away, doing her dog-paddle stroke underwater.  I thought I had solved the problem.

Unfortunately, the mixture of pool water, hot sun, and fermented hops causes grown men to act like little pricks.

Back in my chair, but keeping a sharp eye on the situation, I noticed that even though she was well enough away from the groups, these "men" were laughing about her and one of them had the audacity to time dives under her as she swam by to see if he could do it without her noticing.  "Oh, that was so funny; aren't we funny boys?" (And I have no respect for the women who were with them and watching and laughing along with them.)  

She had also knocked into some people dangling their feet in the water, so one of the guys thought it would be funny to lay back with his legs spread at the edge so that she would come up between his legs.  She turned before she got to him, thank goodness, but by that time, I'd had enough.

I hate confrontation and don't do it well as my throat closes up and I usually cry, but my hackles were up and I marched over to the group taunting her and yelled at them, "Don't you have anything better to do?"  Mumble, mumble from them.  I continued, "That is my mother-in-law you are mocking and I want you to stop right NOW!"  The jerk diver tried to be syrupy; "Oh, she's great; we like her!"  Again, I said, through gritted teeth, "Stop right now!"  He came back with, "And you are great, too!"  I just glared at him, pointed my finger at him, and with so much anger, my voice cracked, "STOP!"  I left them open mouthed; stupid numbskulls.

My heart was pounding so hard I was worried about stroking out.  I sat down and breathed in and out until I felt more relaxed.  The guys were still sleeping, so I just stewed and kept my eagle-momma-eye on that group. 

Now, I can tell you honestly that dealing with someone who has been diagnosed as mentally ill is very hard.  In this case, conversations are very one-sided.  Combative comments abound.  Regressive traits are not unusual.  Obsessive behavior is common.  And I know the huge cocktail of psychotropic drugs she is prescribed are such a hindrance to memory, common sense, and good decision-making.

BUT, these guys did not even know she was impaired in any way.  It seems they would do this to any older, more able woman who might take it upon herself to get some exercise.  Okay, the other woman may not have knocked into people haphazardly, I realize that, but still!  What would their mommas say if they saw this behavior?

Maybe I overreacted; I don't know.  I just couldn't stand to watch the drunk, infantile behavior anymore.  Maybe I'm just tired of pretending nothing is wrong.  My mother-in-law would never have known what happened because she is oblivious of her impact and can't tell when she's being abused or teased (or she blocks it from long years of experiencing it), but that absolutely doesn't make it right.  And it worries me, too, to think what may occur when she's out someday, somewhere, in the future, being taken advantage of or abused by someone else.  I hope that day never comes, but it could so easily happen.  

It's All About the People

Since we've been incarcerated staying at the marina waiting for our boat to be made whole again, we've been on the receiving end of a lot of caring and kindness.

When we had to move because of the crowds expected for the bikini contest (don't get me started), we moved to the side where it is quieter and the view is of the marsh and its denizens.  

Within an hour of our tying up, we were greeted by Jack, who is a liveaboard.  He welcomed us as part of the "community."  We met his dog, River, who is a gorgeous Australian shepherd.  Jack introduced us to Corlita and her partner Glenn, who live on the next boat over from him.  They've all been wonderful, especially when it comes to food (my favorite).  We've been to Corlita and Glenn's boat for dinner.  They've invited us to partake in the weekend breakfasts served up by the Kent Narrows Yacht Club.  

At the start of the season through to the end, which is Labor Day, the volunteers prepare a great buffet of food:  boiled eggs, single servings of greek yogurt with granola and many different fruits for toppings, bagels, toasts, muffins, doughnuts, cereal, oatmeal, and the best--make-your-own waffles!  There is no cost for this breakfast; the way they make back their money is by selling raffle tickets to win t-shirts, jackets, and other yacht club tchotchkes.  They've been doing this for 31 years and we actually met some of the people who've been helping out every one of those years.

Corlita won the raffle on Sunday and instead of picking out something for herself, she chose a windbreaker for Elliott.  Glenn, who is a former commodore of the club, asked Elliott to help take down and fold the flag on the last day of the season.  When we thank them for their generosity, they say, 'We're all family here."

Elliott goes over to their boats to play games on the computer and hang out with Jack's grandson when he is on board.  Elliott knows more folks around here than we do; he's great at socializing and he also likes to help out with the lines when people are coming into their docks, so he chats up the folks then, too.

For me, I'm still relying a lot on my relatives and friends back home.  Because of our new-found situation of only being two hours away, I sometimes sneak home for visits. I try to see my girlfriends and I always make sure to visit as much family as possible.  One friend, especially, has been amazing; she sends me cards, notes, and calls to check up on me.  That extra effort really lifts my spirits.  Does it make it easier to be away?  Well, not really.  Maybe I miss them more, especially after a phone call with my daughter that ends up also being a conversation with my grandson, who is chatting like a pro now.  Leaving my kids and their families has been the hardest part of all of this; I wish I could be two places at one time.

We also had a great visit with a classmate whom I didn't really know well in school; he lives in Delaware now and stopped by to say hello in person on his way back from a trip to Fredericksburg.  Ronnie is a great guy who served our country well and was injured, but his enthusiasm is contagious.  Met his fiancee, too, and she and I are now battling it out in Words with Friends.  We are planning an overnight trip to the beach soon with a stop at their place for a longer, more relaxed visit.  We are always open to having visitors!

Gearing up in my mind for longer trips away makes me a little anxious.  Technology will help with kind of bringing us face to face, but I'll always be missing my people.  Thankfully, where we'll be going, there are lots of folks that I've already made contact with via a Facebook forum (there it is again!) called Women Who Sail.  We have our own burgees that we can fly so that when we pull into a marina, we can recognize group members and say hello, socialize, and maybe have a meal together, or even better, some Margaritas!

Some people may think that what we are doing is getting away from it all, and granted, some parts of the trip may make us feel like we're in the Amazon, but mostly this is a trip that will bring us together with like-minded people who love what they are doing and love sharing their adventures with us.  That will keep the positivity flowing!

Up Next:  And Then There are THOSE People . . . .

What's Behind the Mirror?

While this title may sound like some psychobabble for introspection and the like, it is far from it.  Nor is it the beginning of some horror story about spirits hiding in the mirror waiting for a  vulnerable person so that they can inhabit his or her body.  It is a literal statement concerning our boat Nalani.

Today is Monday, September 1 and we've been living here at Mears Point Marina for six weeks.  It's starting to feel like we're never going to leave.  It's like we're stuck in the nautical version of  "Groundhog Day."  Every day we wake up and it's the same thing over and over; our waiting for some news about the fixing of our sailing vessel.

And especially after a holiday weekend with all the accompanying hubbub, mechanics were off doing their own thing, which they are right to do, but we still anxiously wait.

One of the things about getting a boat that is new to you is that you have to relearn so much.  Our first boat together was very basic and very simple.  This boat is grander in scale and highly engineered.  Granted, my knowledge of the boat is an nth of what Gary knows, but even he does not know everything about it. 

While new electronics were being installed, even the mechanics were thwarted by the placement of "boxes" that fed power to the electric winches.  They found the one on the port side easily as it lay just under the decking and was accessible by removing a panel from over the pilot berth.  Done and done.

The second port side winch and one on the starboard side proved very elusive.  Nothing was found right under decks and more searches following all the electrical components brought up a big fat zero.  Mulling over it for days, no answers were forthcoming.

Being the social media addict that I am, I suggested that maybe one of the Moody or other sailing forums on Facebook might lead to some answers.  My husband was skeptical, but I'm a get to it person; thinking about something that proves a dead end over and over is no fun.

I got on the forum and posed the question.  I got an answer within 24 hours!  Oh, but it didn't really answer my question.  The poster suggested that I go to the Moody website and pose the question there.  I signed on there and found the question-and-answer forums, wrote out my question, filed it in the right boat size category, and waited.

Who knew how long it would be?  At this point, all we could do was wait, but I felt good knowing that I had taken a positive step forward.  The effort was well-rewarded with a detailed answer the next day from a Moody owner who was sailing the Chesapeake.

He said the boxes in question were behind the vanity mirror in the aft cabin.  I thought he meant the bathoom (head) vanity, but no, it was the huge mirror that measures about 4-1/2' by 3-1/2' feet.  Now, why would a boat company put something like that in such a strange place; who would ever think to look there?  Moody is a British company; maybe this is part of their UK humor.

When I passed along this message, Gary and the mechanic clambered up the ladder and onto Nalani to check it out.  Success!  Behind the mirror was a panel, which, when removed, uncovered the two missing electronic winch boxes. 

It was a great feeling to have solved the puzzle, so to speak, and to have had such great teamwork on the FB Moody Owners' Association page and the Moody webpage itself.  Many thanks to Laurence G. for a referral, Mike S. for a referral, and Michael B. for the answer.

* And just in case you're thinking, "Why didn't they just check the manual?"; well, it isn't in the manual because electric winches are an option. So now I can't blame the Brits for their quirky humor.   Lesson learned and we'll never skip the opportunity again to engage in electronic conversation to help solve a problem again.