tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9200417109189800502024-03-12T22:36:00.236-04:00more JOY everywhere!jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.comBlogger209125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-83163513674658763452014-08-11T14:12:00.001-04:002014-08-11T14:12:55.392-04:00Catastrophic Molting<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Finally, the boat is sold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">S/v More Joy Everywhere</i> has
found a new owner – someone who we’re certain will take good care of her and
restore her to pre-lightning-strike glory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She will ply the Pacific from Panama for a while – but there are plans
for grand voyages to South Pacific Isles, and we wish her fair winds and
following seas.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As we walked around starry-eyed for a couple of weeks after
the deal was done, one of us was apt to remind the other: “Hey, we don’t own a
boat!” And when we sat down to dinner and raised our glasses of wine, one of us
would say, “Guess what!?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No boat!!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not Owning a Boat made us
ecstatic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reminds me of the video that
was making the rounds in the cruiser community a while ago – <a href="http://youtu.be/R7yfISlGLNU?t=40s" target="_blank">“I’m On a Boat”</a> –
only in reverse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m NOT on a boat,
mothafuggas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In your FACE!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To get beyond the fists-in-the-air victory
dance, we needed a bit more time and space.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> In the past year, w</span>e
have taken a few mini-vacays to explore California’s central coast (and remind ourselves that we are still "Travelers"). On our first trip as
Boatless People, up to Cambria, I found a hook upon which to hang my boat baggage.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When you go to Cambria, you putter around the little town,
sip wine, eat at <a href="http://www.robinsrestaurant.com/home" target="_blank">Robin’s</a>, buy olallieberry jam from <a href="http://www.linnsfruitbin.com/" target="_blank">Linn’s</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On your way out to the vineyards in Templeton and Paso Robles, you drive
on roads so scenic that the view should be declared an “<a href="https://www.google.com/maps/ms?msid=204950882798615579175.0004f9eb57a94c0094e35&msa=0&ll=35.553178,-120.968399&spn=0.220382,0.396538" target="_blank">attractive nuisance</a>.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You tour <a href="http://hearstcastle.org/" target="_blank">Hearst Castle</a> and walk on the
beach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And then you drive just a few
miles up the coast, to the <a href="http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=1111" target="_blank">Año Nuevo State Reserve</a>, so you can look at the Elephant Seals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vqX7tSxe1Zs/U6sYIGdAVsI/AAAAAAAABZk/yjX4Yn5Hk9E/s1600/seals+on+beach.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vqX7tSxe1Zs/U6sYIGdAVsI/AAAAAAAABZk/yjX4Yn5Hk9E/s1600/seals+on+beach.JPG" height="376" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">May is the end of molting season for the elephant seals of
the Piedras Blancas colony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
“molting” doesn’t really cover it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s
called CATASTROPHIC MOLTING.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They come
up on the beach after months at sea and shed a layer of skin and hair all at
one time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can I just say? It’s
ugly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We stood and wondered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We walked up and down the boardwalk and took
pictures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We picked up the copy of
“<a href="http://www.elephantseal.org/index.html" target="_blank">E-Seal News</a>,” to better understand who and what we were seeing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uXiFKZ-rZok/U6sYEoeHXpI/AAAAAAAABZc/ar57uu5ATSM/s1600/seal+molting.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uXiFKZ-rZok/U6sYEoeHXpI/AAAAAAAABZc/ar57uu5ATSM/s1600/seal+molting.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zq7Nhqgryig/U6sYAWUQ6TI/AAAAAAAABZU/7N83rqtBqew/s1600/seals+facing+off.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zq7Nhqgryig/U6sYAWUQ6TI/AAAAAAAABZU/7N83rqtBqew/s1600/seals+facing+off.JPG" height="401" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><o:p></o:p></span> <span style="font-family: Calibri;">It occurred to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Ean and I have survived two cata</span>strophic
molts in the past few years – once to start the
cruising life, and again to end it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
were brave and foolish, and it led us to heights of joy and depths of sorrow
previously unscaled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The transitions
were ugly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3EykZeVEBwo/U6sX8jcNMpI/AAAAAAAABZM/gttTPuIH8DQ/s1600/seals+in+a+row.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3EykZeVEBwo/U6sX8jcNMpI/AAAAAAAABZM/gttTPuIH8DQ/s1600/seals+in+a+row.JPG" height="456" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It's been a year, now, since we flew from the boat and opened a new chapter. A year to start aching for the sunsets, the dolphins, and the sounds of a boat under sail. A year to make a few tentative decisions about who we want to be, now that we're not cruisers. But our mantra has been GO SLOW. No more catastrophic molting. No big moves. No irreversible leaps. Instead, we're taking pleasure in the small "yes." Yes to one thing at a time. Yes to a thousand steps that lead to yet another new chapter. No, we haven't figured it out. But yes, we're on our way!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
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<br />jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-18203907180749359552013-10-04T00:26:00.000-04:002014-08-11T17:31:55.268-04:00Reporting from Lompoc: Several Brief Updates<br />
Here's all the news that's fit to print.
<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li><b>The Blog</b>. Contrary to recent evidence to the contrary, we have NOT abandoned the blog. Our plan is to become a "travel blog" - and even while we are based here in Lompoc, we will sneak in some short trips here and there (like to Australia to visit my friend Ann?). So we are morphing, from one thing to another... evolving right before your eyes... let's see how it goes. Besides the travel, we want to keep our friends and loved ones up to date on how we're doing, so some of our posts might be progress reports on the Big Northside Reboot. Anyway, be patient with us as we transition.</li>
<br />
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<a href="http://northsidelompoc.com/img/nsc_mural.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://northsidelompoc.com/img/nsc_mural.jpg" height="181" width="320" /></a></div>
<li><b>The Big Northside Reboot</b>. Here's the short, short version. My family owns a piece of property, here in my hometown, that is in need of some tender loving care. It requires extra attention, in particular, because we currently have a HUGE vacant space, and it's going to take some creativity and some $$$ to re-purpose that space. On top of the gaping hole at the end of the center, it might be said that Northside is in the midst of a mid-life crisis. It is 45 years old, it's been the same old thing, year after year, and it's getting a little... tired. So our aim, here in Lompoc, is to rejuvenate the property and find some new tenants. But <i>more JOY everywhere!</i> is not going to become a Northside blog, so if you're curious and want to learn more about the process, "like" <a href="https://www.facebook.com/northsidelompoc" target="_blank">Northside Lompoc</a> on Facebook.</li>
<br />
<li><b>Other projects</b>. I will continue to coordinate <a href="http://themonkeysfist.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">The Monkey's Fist</a> (along with <a href="http://lifeafloatarchives.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Jaye</a>, who thank goodness picks up the slack when I am distracted for a while). Ean, meanwhile, has started a new website called <a href="http://columbussegg.com/about/" target="_blank">Colombus's Egg</a>. (This link takes you straight to the "about" page, because Ean explains it much more eloquently than I do.) If you want a daily dose of goodness - trust me on this! - go "like" his page on Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/columbussegg" target="_blank">Colombus's Egg</a>.</li>
<br />
<li><i><b>S/v More JOY Everywhere!</b></i> On the same day that I published our last blog post, about <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2013/08/egret-eating-fish.html" target="_blank">the egret in the dinghy</a>, <i>Joy </i>was struck by lightning. Big puff of smoke, bad smells of fried electronics. We had already made reservations to fly to California, and we decided, for the sake of our sanity, that we would keep those reservations. That last week in Panama City was absolute hell. I try not to think about it. After the lightning strike, we accepted an offer, and for a few weeks we basked in optimism that <i>Joy</i> would soon have someone to love her and take care of her properly. Alas, that offer has now fallen through, and <i>Joy</i> is back on the market - now for $165,000.</li>
<br />
<li><b>Operation BABSAM</b>. (Buy a boat, save a marriage) Although the boat has not been bought, I think I can say with some degree of confidence that the marriage has already been saved. We are SO relieved to be off the boat and on to something new. We've learned a lot about ourselves and how important it is to prioritize "us." And we KNOW how fortunate we are - even in the midst of our trials and tribulations (aka "first world problems") - so we haven't been throwing ourselves any Pity Parties.</li>
</ol>
<div>
<br />
We have a few more cruising-related blog posts that we plan to write, but now is Too Soon. Our desire to write about it and our sense of humor disappeared in that puff of smoke that I mentioned in #4 above.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There you have it. Thanks, everybody, for caring about us and for wanting to know what happens next. Our hearts have been warmed by all the well-wishing and positive energy that's been sent our way! </div>
jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-41766280820945778672013-08-10T13:20:00.000-04:002013-08-10T13:20:32.821-04:00The Nature Channel on JOY<br />
With our morning coffee and the cruisers net this morning:<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wLUU3J-i1u8/UgZxr_LbCzI/AAAAAAAABRI/ooMGnk2iiZg/s1600/DSCN2668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="296" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wLUU3J-i1u8/UgZxr_LbCzI/AAAAAAAABRI/ooMGnk2iiZg/s400/DSCN2668.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast time!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vlqzxyHhdxI/UgZxwnmk9mI/AAAAAAAABRQ/ZN3X0nO5HXI/s1600/DSCN2670.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="330" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vlqzxyHhdxI/UgZxwnmk9mI/AAAAAAAABRQ/ZN3X0nO5HXI/s400/DSCN2670.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh my, that's a big fish. Better hold it over the dinghy,because it's still wiggling. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RgUc5L-_d2g/UgZxkAHXy8I/AAAAAAAABRA/8B0Rzn0JQ2Q/s1600/DSCN2673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="388" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RgUc5L-_d2g/UgZxkAHXy8I/AAAAAAAABRA/8B0Rzn0JQ2Q/s400/DSCN2673.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drop it in the dinghy a few times, peck at it.<br />It's getting deader, but not any smaller, so....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hwgcSk9dkNs/UgZx1TdCB-I/AAAAAAAABRY/GejrNlKEl3k/s1600/DSCN2675.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="393" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hwgcSk9dkNs/UgZx1TdCB-I/AAAAAAAABRY/GejrNlKEl3k/s400/DSCN2675.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...Gulp!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vu-iu7lygsE/UgZyA0Hyw_I/AAAAAAAABRw/jhpgo-R54rg/s1600/DSCN2679.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vu-iu7lygsE/UgZyA0Hyw_I/AAAAAAAABRw/jhpgo-R54rg/s400/DSCN2679.JPG" width="371" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wow. That was a big fish.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u8mapOO9SVc/UgZx83wh-FI/AAAAAAAABRg/G8eqtA4WG_U/s1600/DSCN2680.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-u8mapOO9SVc/UgZx83wh-FI/AAAAAAAABRg/G8eqtA4WG_U/s400/DSCN2680.JPG" width="341" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stretch... gulp, gulp...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_UX2pNjsgWU/UgZx9d5l0WI/AAAAAAAABRo/mLUpeYzZuns/s1600/DSCN2681.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_UX2pNjsgWU/UgZx9d5l0WI/AAAAAAAABRo/mLUpeYzZuns/s400/DSCN2681.JPG" width="380" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lip-smackin' good fish.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-we5m4UDuF0E/UgZyGRl6RII/AAAAAAAABSA/h3ul4So6Rh0/s1600/DSCN2682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-we5m4UDuF0E/UgZyGRl6RII/AAAAAAAABSA/h3ul4So6Rh0/s400/DSCN2682.JPG" width="338" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phew. That was a big one.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wshn9L2yaRs/UgZyF28C8rI/AAAAAAAABR4/k3T-zY9KUpc/s1600/DSCN2683.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wshn9L2yaRs/UgZyF28C8rI/AAAAAAAABR4/k3T-zY9KUpc/s400/DSCN2683.JPG" width="332" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Breakfast over...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wnFG0I9i-iw/UgZyJANrSvI/AAAAAAAABSI/Oc_uccjOqdg/s1600/DSCN2686.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wnFG0I9i-iw/UgZyJANrSvI/AAAAAAAABSI/Oc_uccjOqdg/s400/DSCN2686.JPG" width="366" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Time to go...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Note: This. One of the things I'll miss about living on a boat.<br /><br />
<br />
<br />jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-22311852707715288522013-08-05T14:17:00.003-04:002013-08-05T14:18:59.724-04:00There and Back Again (pt. 2)<i>(Wherein, after more than a month, Ean finally recounts his adventures at his next and penultimate destination on his 4 cities in 3 weeks tour of the U.S. <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2013/07/there-and-back-again-pt-1.html" target="_blank">Here</a> is part 1. And <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2013/07/Ean-does-Epcot.html" target="_blank">here</a> is the part before part 1, which may aptly be referred to as part 0.)</i><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b>Ideas and <i>Ersters</i></b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Arrive: Boston.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.cityofboston.gov/images_documents/FreedomTrail_MikeRitter_tcm3-2667.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.cityofboston.gov/images_documents/FreedomTrail_MikeRitter_tcm3-2667.jpg" width="143" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">photo courtesy of <br />
cityofboston.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Years ago, when I visited the city for the first time, I happened on the the Freedom Trail, a self-guided walking tour. Having no better idea of how to explore the city (I had gone there on a lark, i.e., hopped in my pickup one day and thought, "East. I've never been East before. Go East, young man, say I. Go East"--I'm pretty sure that's a verbatim account. I chose Boston somewhere along the way only because I decided I wanted to see the actual art museum from whose actual store my condo was actually almost entirely decorated.) it occurred to me that beginning at the beginning, sort of, of our history, seemed like as good a place as any. I had no idea to expect anything other than some aerobic exercise and a congeries of historical factoids. But to my deep surprise, if the Boston Museum of Fine Art was my personal Mecca, the city itself was an unwitting <i>hajj</i> to the seat of my identity as an American, an identity, I might add, I never particularly knew I had or had ever given much thought to. A very typical American attitude, I suspect. Boston Common, Faneuil Hall, the Old North Church, the names, so familiar, on the gravestones at Granary and Copp's Hill burying grounds, Bunker Hill, the U.S.S. Constitution: These are places where men and women fought for an idea, a revolutionary idea, with words and deeds, in ink and in blood and birthed a land, the land of my birth.<br />
<br />
All that AND oysters. What's not to love?<br />
<br />
I've been back since that trip and now Boston is standard anytime we are on the East Coast. This time, I was again at a lack for specific plans--save for the MFA, of course, also standard. So, I employed a little deductive reasoning which went something like, "Big city. Symphony? Boston has a symphony. Is it symphony season? Wait, Boston has the Boston Pops. (checking Internet) What's playing at the Pops today or tomorrow, the 3rd or 4th of July? ...Boston Pops on the 4th...that rings a bell. Why does that sound so familiar...? Oh, oh, wait, OMG, THE POPS ON THE 4TH? THE BIGGEST FOURTH OF JULY CELEBRATION IN THE COUNTY, THAT'S ALL! OMG, WHAT SERENDIPITY, WHAT LUCK!+! ...Well then, that takes care of tomorrow. Wonder what I should do tonight?" (In the interest of complete accuracy, I actually arrived on the night of the second, but after a full day's drive and what would have entailed a long train ride into the city (far too expensive to stay in Boston proper, and no need with their awesome T system), I opted to hike over to the local Legal Seafood and begin "Oysterfest" with all due haste.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XsNm_i34j6E/Uf_h1FyCVlI/AAAAAAAABPk/0ovJhuT1S9U/s1600/buddha.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XsNm_i34j6E/Uf_h1FyCVlI/AAAAAAAABPk/0ovJhuT1S9U/s200/buddha.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me and Buddha, we go back <br />
more than a decade</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
By the next morning, the pace which I set for myself must have been getting to me because I didn't get a move on until about 11 a.m. and didn't get to the museum until 2ish. Sad, because it meant a scant 3 hours to see all that I could, a small percentage of what I would have liked. Ah, but wait! Artemisia (the goddess of art, no?) smilethed down upon me. The museum was open until 7:30 for reasons I couldn't care less about.<br />
<br />
Seeing again much admired objects of art is like seeing old friends only I do most of the talking. And so many old friends to see! Not to mention new ones to meet. As it happened, I ran out <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pmKAPto622U/Uf_isqTdX_I/AAAAAAAABP4/xEQ3C3MX2JQ/s1600/flying.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pmKAPto622U/Uf_isqTdX_I/AAAAAAAABP4/xEQ3C3MX2JQ/s200/flying.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey, whatcha doin' up there?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
of steam before I ran out of time; I left a half-hour before they closed. Sorry to leave, but hungry and on the hunt for...more oysters, of course. These I found at a place noted for the variety they offered. So before bidding a fond adieu to MFA, I set my blue dot's (a.k.a. the representation of me on my iPad map app) sights on my prey.<br />
<br />
The place was so crowded (can't imagine why on the 3rd of July. It's a good thing I never remember to take crowds into account before I decide to go somewhere--I'd never go anywhere cool), I was lucky to get a seat at the bar. But there I happily sat with my water and beer and JD on the rocks and salad and dozen oysters leaving little room for the patrons to either side of me. Oh, well.<br />
<br />
I confess--if "confess" is the correct word to denote something one does which feels very right--to having an ulterior motive for wanting to be at the Pops 4th Celebration. Boston, as I've said is where I go to <i>feel</i> American, especially when it is where I can stand in solidarity with other Americans deeply unnerved by a recent terrorist attack. Boston, could have, would have been well within their rights to have, and in light of the fact that they'd received threats maybe should have cancelled the whole event. But then again, how could they? Bostonians, too, feel very American. It is their birthright. And as such, they feel they bear a special responsibility to show the world they will not be cowed.<br />
<br />
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They also felt a special responsibility to have every conceivable branch of law enforcement--from Harvard police to the National Guard assist Boston's Finest in preventing a reprise of that tragedy. As for attendees, checkpoints controlled access to the esplanade where pockets had to be emptied (bag, backpacks, purses of any kind, and coolers with wheels (?) were strictly forbidden), people were "wanded" and wristbands were issued.<br />
<br />
I expected that attendance would be comparatively small, but having nothing to compare it to, I decided not to take any chances on getting a good seat, or rather, bit of ground and arrived just before 1p.m., six-and-a-half hours before the start of the show, my iPad and a book alone for company. What followed was the longest six-and-a-half land-based hours of my life. However, knowing that once I chose my spot, further sustenance would be long in coming, I began the day with...why oysters, of course. On the recommendation of my server of the night before, I headed to the North End to a place renowned for their oysters, only to find that, alas, they were closed for the holiday. No matter, or not much, at any rate; the restaurant two doors down boasted a selection of oysters and was open for business. I was their first customer. I ordered 2 each of 6 different types and an antipasto plate--it is the North End, after all. Happy was I to discover that by the last oyster, I had had my fill of oysters. Off to the esplanade!<br />
<br />
You already know that the festivities went off without a hitch because you heard nothing about it. Upon entering the park I was asked whether I wanted to see the show or the fireworks. "Can't I see both?" "No," the gate person responded and doing an admirable, albeit unintended, impression of the scarecrow, explained that the fireworks display was on one end of the esplanade and the show on the other. Having a presence of mind with which I surprised myself, I asked if I would be able to see the fireworks from the stage area and was told no. "Well, can I hear the music from where I can see the fireworks?" There were speakers throughout the park and so, I was told, I could. That decided that. In fact, there was a jumbotron LED screen about halfway back upon which I was able to see as well as hear the whole show.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ckSqindkz0E/Uf_jdIzFvrI/AAAAAAAABP8/qb7LrNVYxAI/s1600/jumbotron.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ckSqindkz0E/Uf_jdIzFvrI/AAAAAAAABP8/qb7LrNVYxAI/s640/jumbotron.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
...And then the fireworks.<br />
<br />
<br />
I thought it was just for the 1812 Overture, it and the cannons that boomed and reverberated to the beat. But that was just the preview, the pre-dusk appetizer, if you will. The main event was no less than 30 minutes long with illuminations I've never seen before. Smiley faces!? Clusters of lanternlike flairs hanging motionless, drifting on the wind, extinguishing themselves slowly, slowly (no shots of either, sadly; I was too mesmerized to move). Color combinations and monochromatic explosions were accompanied by a medley of songs, triumphant, sad, and grateful.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Afterward, I followed the ever-attenuating crowd toward what I hoped would be a useable T station and despite a few missteps found a train that would return me to the parking garage where my car would, in turn, carry me back my dank, little chamber of a room (or so I told Jane).<br />
<br />
Farewell, Boston, heart of my American heart. Until next time.<br />
<br />
Next stop: The Big Apple<br />
<br />Eanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15998175926624100083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-53544878512357300822013-08-02T08:14:00.000-04:002013-08-02T09:02:32.434-04:00"Normal" for Cats on BoatsI just collected a bunch of great blog posts about what passes as "normal" when you live on a boat. You can find links on <a href="http://themonkeysfist.blogspot.com/2013/08/normal-for-cruisers-and-liveaboards.html" target="_blank">The Monkey's Fist</a>. In most of these posts, you'll detect a bit of wistfulness for the "old normal" - life on land, with big beds, unlimited ice, short walks to flushing toilets and showers with unlimited hot water.... But also the recognition that the "new normal" includes some pretty cool stuff, like dolphin visits, self-sufficiency, and home travel (that is, traveling with your home).<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PUmOA9zZwDI/Ufue4sbWG4I/AAAAAAAABPE/Jxvb7Kk5DUE/s1600/isabel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PUmOA9zZwDI/Ufue4sbWG4I/AAAAAAAABPE/Jxvb7Kk5DUE/s400/isabel.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Isabel, chilling out in the salon</td></tr>
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Now that we are getting ready to move back to land, I've been thinking about the adjustments in store for our useless crew: Isabel, Tucker, and Percy. Mostly, they've done a great job adjusting to being on the boat - but I think they will be thrilled to be back ashore again. Here's what "normal" has been for the past two years:<br />
<br />
Our home rocks and rolls! When the cats jump up on the beds, they've learned to jump a bit higher than necessary, and they land on all four paws.<br />
<br />
Our home has windows of odd sizes and in odd places. Some windows can be used as doors, but others are not safe to climb through! All of our cats have gone overboard (once each, only while dockside) - Percy jumped out a porthole and found himself in the water. The overhead hatches are a source of endless wonder. They frequently sit on our bed and gaze skyward. They jump down on us from the open hatches with a battle cry - "Death From Above!" Our salon hatches are favorites for passage to and from the bow.<br />
<br />
Our home makes weird noises. I still remember how Percy flew the first time he was on hand to hear the electric toilet flush. Generator and engine noises no longer faze them. They've learned to ignore the random creaks and the slaps of waves hitting the hull.<br />
<br />
Our home is hot. They're used to the tropic heat and they've been mostly very healthy - except for some itchy ear problems. Poor Tucker has been driven nuts.<br />
<br />
Our home has a lot of great hiding places. It's not as big as a house, but the spaces are carved up in much more interesting ways.<br />
<br />
They've learned to share. Since we moved on a boat, the cats make due with fewer litter boxes (2 instead of 3) and fewer bowls (only 1 water bowl now, and 2 food bowls). They hang out together - for Isabel, especially, this is a huge concession.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/5rX6rHu6xXA?rel=0" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
They've transitioned from canned food to dry food. A sad few weeks. We took this drastic step in Colombia, when a can of cat food cost $2.50 and the grocery stores only kept a half dozen cans in stock.<br />
<br />
Tucker now poops on newspaper instead of in litter. Saves on litter and mess, and saves him from sneezing. <br />
<br />
On land, they used to love going outside and rolling in the dirt. Now, they still enjoy the great outdoors - but no dirt.<br />
<br />
On land, they used to try to catch birds. Here on the boat, they try not to be caught by the birds (pelicans and egrets are scary).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SQQFRhw5YJc/UfugIpCyUyI/AAAAAAAABPU/AhB7QSU2Lz4/s1600/egret.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SQQFRhw5YJc/UfugIpCyUyI/AAAAAAAABPU/AhB7QSU2Lz4/s320/egret.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do not mess with this guy - he will peck your little brains out!</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Click on the monkey's fist to read others bloggers on this topic.</div>
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<a href="http://themonkeysfist.blogspot.com/2013/08/normal-for-cruisers-and-liveaboards.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="The Monkey's Fist" border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7oAObjmZlKk/UPWUsrPpoFI/AAAAAAAAAlc/cn41CvM_QcA/s1600/monkeyfist_badge_art.jpg" /></a></div>
jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-91568217086239421822013-07-27T18:18:00.000-04:002013-07-27T21:25:19.587-04:00Answer: Lompoc, California<br />
Question: Where am I from?<br />
<br />
This is a query that depends on context, isn't it? Lately, when someone asks where I'm from, I say, <i>los estados unidos</i>. If I'm pressed for a state, I say California, even though I haven't lived there for over two decades. It's easy. Most people here in Panama have heard of California. (Wisconsin: not so much.)<br />
<br />
Sometimes, I'm asked, by someone who actually wants to know about my hometown: "<i>Where</i> in California?" It's a big state, after all.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FdJxpluek4c/UfQ8ivcN7mI/AAAAAAAABOo/fJ-9s0KLaok/s1600/point+conception.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FdJxpluek4c/UfQ8ivcN7mI/AAAAAAAABOo/fJ-9s0KLaok/s320/point+conception.jpg" width="311" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lompoc: 34.6392° N, 120.4569° W</td></tr>
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If you're a Pacific Coast sailor, I cut straight to the heart of it: "My hometown is just inland from Point Conception." <i>Respect.</i> <br />
<br />
But for landlubbers, additional context is important. Never lived in California? Maybe you're really just asking: "Are you from Southern California (beaches and blondes and sunshine) or Northern California (San Francisco, fog, Golden Gate Bridge)?" Then my answer will be: "Southern California." Or if I want to be confounding and slightly more accurate, I might say, "Southern Central Coast."<br />
<br />
You want more? Perhaps you're from California, or you've spent some time there? Still, I won't just blurt out, "Lompoc," as though you should know. Usually, I circle around, asking, "Do you know where Santa Barbara is...?" If your reply is sort of vague, I'll say, "A couple hours north of LA." <br />
<br />
If I get the sense that you have walked down State Street and driven up Hwy 1, I follow up with "... and San Luis Obispo...?" More head nodding...? Okay, finally, I give it up: "I'm from a town called Lompoc, right between Santa Barbara and SLO." If you've made it this far through the gauntlet, you might reward me with insightful comments that show some understanding of what Lompoc is all about.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Oh yeah, where the prison is."<br />
(Federal Correctional Institution - low security men's prison)<br />
<br />
"I went to the Flower Festival once: it was [insert one here] <i>cold/windy/rainy/foggy</i>."<br />
(Lompoc weather is NOT SoCal weather)<br />
<br />
"Isn't there an Air Force Base around there?"<br />
(Vandenberg, third largest AFB in the US)</blockquote>
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</ul>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-e-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/390011_534460966615548_1130053012_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-e-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/390011_534460966615548_1130053012_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many flower fields of the Lompoc Valley (image from <a href="https://www.facebook.com/VisitLompocValley" target="_blank">here</a>)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Maybe you're wondering why I'm talking about my hometown. <br />
<br />
Well. <br />
<br />
Lompoc, California, is not only the answer to "Where am I from?" It also answers the question: "Where am I going?" <br />
<br />
Lompoc, of all places.... Team Behr is moving to Lompoc. We are going there, maybe for a few months, maybe for a year or two, because we are part-owners of a piece of property that could use a bit of tender loving care. We are the only owners who happen not to have anything better to do at the moment.<br />
<br />
Our <i>s/v more JOY everywhere</i> is for sale, and although <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2013/06/catamaran-for-sale-by-owner.html" target="_blank">we just substantially reduced the price</a>, we know that it might take awhile to find new owners. So while we wait to see what happens next, we're going to go hang out in my hometown and take care of some family business.<br />
<br />
We think it's going to be fun, believe it or not.<br />
<br />
Think about the blogortunities.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
I CAN go home again!<br />
<br />
Everything you ever wanted to know about Lompoc, and more<br />
<br />
Stop calling it Lom-pock; it's Lom-poke<br />
<br />
My high school got painted a different color<br />
<br />
Look: I'm wearing pants!</blockquote>
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jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-60921723367581114902013-07-15T15:26:00.000-04:002013-07-15T15:26:46.313-04:00There and Back Again (pt. 1)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You may, dear reader, find yourself wondering what, exactly, it was that precipitated and ultimately culminated in my decision to take an impromptu three-week hiatus from my life at sea, or more accurately as it has sadly come to pass, my life at anchor. Verily, I grant that to leave one's wife and three small, furry children behind and embark upon a whirlwind tour of the east coast of the U.S. is worthy of a raised eyebrow, but pray, let us, to all possible extent dispense with the howsos, wherefores and other such idle speculations; I aver that the inclusion here of those sundry causes and details will add nothing to the recounting of my adventures thereat. The delight and wonderment I experienced during my travels which I will here, however inadequately, attempt to recapture and relay to you shall prove a sufficient recompense for your time. Put otherwise, I took a powder, period, end of backstory.<br />
<br />
Sailing (which I recently heard described as the most expensive way to travel fourth class) has ruined me for making travel plans. So when Jane asked me, and a few days later my friend Whitney asked me, and then a day or so after that Jane again asked me what I was going to do with my time, I could say only that I didn't know. All I knew when I landed in Ft. Lauderdale was that I was going to visit my friend, I had never been to Epcot, I had a wicked oyster jones going and I'd be damned if I was going to miss a chance to see some live theater. and of course, there is my abiding commitment to go to at least one museum in every city I visit. (I made an exception for Kissimmee because, well, firstly, it <i>is</i> Kissimmee, and secondly, in my view, <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2013/07/Ean-does-Epcot.html" target="_blank">Epcot</a> counts as the equivalent of at least one museum.) I had some wants and three weeks to fill them; the wheres, I felt quite sure, would dawn on me in due course.<br />
<br />
And so they did. Being a logical sort, as I believe myself to be, I decided to head right for the motherlodes: For museums, the Smithsonian; for oysters, Boston; for theater, New York, in that order, two days per city. To the better versed in geography than I was this must seem like an odd itinerary. What can I say? So, New York is south of Boston; I get that now.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XaDqRdqd24M/UeQ1fOOPZiI/AAAAAAAABKE/xRr5r4elaio/s1600/DSCN2484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XaDqRdqd24M/UeQ1fOOPZiI/AAAAAAAABKE/xRr5r4elaio/s320/DSCN2484.JPG" width="320" /></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">Living Languages</span></b><br />
<div>
My two days in D.C., which is to say my two day plan for the Smithsonian, was delightfully derailed by its annual Folklife Festival. Though I'd never been to one before and knew nothing about it until serendipitously stumbling upon it, the Festival, it seems, is the Smithsonian's annual celebration of people and their cultures. This year, as perhaps in all years, it highlighted three topics: Hungarian Culture, African American adornment, and my fav, One World, Many Voices. From their webpage:<br />
<br />
The Festival program highlights language diversity as a vital part of our human heritage. Cultural experts from communities around the world join us to demonstrate how their ancestral tongues embody cultural knowledge, identity, values, technologies, and arts.<br />
<br />
Through performances, craft demonstrations, interactive discussion sessions, community celebrations, and hands-on educational activities, highly skilled musicians, storytellers, singers, dancers, craftspeople, language educators, and other cultural practitioners are coming together on the National Mall to share their artistry, knowledge, and traditions; to discuss the meaning and value of their languages to their cultural heritage and ways of life; and to address the challenges they face in maintaining the vitality of their languages in today’s world.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Garifuna musicians</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ylga8Coe8X0/UeRJblnRXMI/AAAAAAAABNg/battxTVdMqc/s1600/DSCN2493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ylga8Coe8X0/UeRJblnRXMI/AAAAAAAABNg/battxTVdMqc/s400/DSCN2493.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Russian musicians</td></tr>
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<br />
Not long ago, you may have seen it, Mental Floss published a list of <i><a href="http://mentalfloss.com/article/50698/38-wonderful-foreign-words-we-could-use-english" target="_blank">38 Wonderful Words We Could Use in English</a>. </i>Somewhere between asking Garifuna scholar Ruben Reyes to translate "more JOY everywhere!" for me for our website and listening to a talk given by a Putumayan poet, it hit me: What if tomorrow, the last speaker of Scottish died without leaving a trace of his language behind. The world might lose what is indicated by "<i>tartle: </i>the nearly onomatopoeic word for that panicky hesitation just before you have to introduce someone whose name you can't quite remember." Or, what about the Georgian word, <i>shemomedjamo </i>which describes what happens when you're already really full but your meal is so delicious you just can't stop eating. "I accidentally ate the whole thing," they say. If Portuguese disappeared and Galician went with it, we might lose what the word "saudade" so precisely describes: "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saudade" target="_blank">a deep emotional state of nostalgic or deeply melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves.</a>" And these reminded of something National Geographic Explorer-in-Residence Wade Davis points out:“Language is an old-growth forest of the mind.” Which, in turn, reminded me of something I remember him saying during a TED Talk:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
The world in which you were born is just one model of reality. Other cultures are not failed attempts at being you. They are unique manifestations of the human spirit.</blockquote>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8ELvoFLLohQ/UeQ4DSOnHWI/AAAAAAAABK0/HnkRJgIai9o/s1600/DSCN2498.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8ELvoFLLohQ/UeQ4DSOnHWI/AAAAAAAABK0/HnkRJgIai9o/s320/DSCN2498.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you read it?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Ha! Not bad for Day One. Day two (a Monday; the Festival would not reopen until the following Thursday), was spent at the museum proper...oh, right, The National Museum of Modern Art and National Portrait Gallery. As befitting the thrust of the previous day's activities, I first visited the museum's permanent collection of Folk Art, which, I thought, bore and interesting resemblance to Western European art prior to and during the Renaissance with regard to its preoccupation with Christian motifs.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nr9cfyhuoNw/UeQ6jQdukdI/AAAAAAAABL4/GSha9sOHbms/s1600/DSCN2502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nr9cfyhuoNw/UeQ6jQdukdI/AAAAAAAABL4/GSha9sOHbms/s320/DSCN2502.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Is he doing what I think he's doing?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wait just a gall durn minit! They didn't have cell phones back then.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KPDhBDYfmPo/UeQ7UQ8kCTI/AAAAAAAABME/G22wWQlxY9U/s1600/DSCN2517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KPDhBDYfmPo/UeQ7UQ8kCTI/AAAAAAAABME/G22wWQlxY9U/s200/DSCN2517.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a governor. Don't know what it did then;<br />
don't know what it does now.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HBa6MjEUlcE/UeQ7W8bSonI/AAAAAAAABMM/fcvu54nlosc/s1600/DSCN2518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HBa6MjEUlcE/UeQ7W8bSonI/AAAAAAAABMM/fcvu54nlosc/s200/DSCN2518.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This model for an improved prosthetic<br />
had a leg up on the competition</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jRfaAP9m51A/UeQ7YryWNsI/AAAAAAAABMU/if4OGkF1VdE/s1600/DSCN2520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jRfaAP9m51A/UeQ7YryWNsI/AAAAAAAABMU/if4OGkF1VdE/s200/DSCN2520.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What if you lose your house key?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
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<br />
Models for early American patents was next. Early on, so the story goes, patent clerks couldn't envision the final product from descriptions and drawings alone; they needed to see an actual (though not necessarily full-scale) model in order to determine whether or not to award a patent. Consequently, a whole industry grew up around patent pending model making. Thus an unintentional art form was born.<br />
<br />
On the Portrait Gallery side, I made a trip to the hall of presidents. Having recently read Dolores Kearns Goodwin's book, <i>A Team of Rivals,</i> I was especially interested to see the section on Lincoln. I did, however, discover that Lyndon Baines Johnson was the first American president born in the Twentieth Century. And I heard this snippet from a famous presidential speech:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Minion Pro', 'Hoefler Text', 'Baskerville old face', Garamond, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 25px;">We had a bad banking situation. Some of our bankers had shown themselves either incompetent or dishonest in their handling of the people's funds. They had used the money entrusted to them in speculations and unwise loans. This was of course not true in the vast majority of our banks but it was true in enough of them to shock the people for a time into a sense of insecurity and to put them into a frame of mind where they did not differentiate, but seemed to assume that the acts of a comparative few had tainted them all. It was the Government's job to straighten out this situation and do it as quickly as possible -- and the job is being performed. </span></blockquote>
Any guesses?<br />
<br />
Behind that, there was an exhibit of the winners and some of the other entries in the <a href="http://newsdesk.si.edu/releases/national-portrait-gallery-announces-winners-outwin-boochever-portrait-competition-2013" target="_blank">Outwin Boochever Portrait Competition</a>. Though portraiture has never been a favorite subject area of mine, owing, I presume, to my affinity for cubes, I was very much moved, not only by the depictions themselves--some self-portraits; far more not--but by the plethora of media used. Film on glitter screens, string and brads, a weaving, accompanied the more traditional, charcoals, paints, and inks. First place went to a 2010 five minute and fifty second video with sound by Bo Gehring titled "Jessica Wickham" after the portrait's subject. Its exquisite beauty needs no help from me. See for yourself.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="1" frameborder="0" height="300" mozallowfullscreen="1" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/62003620?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" text-align="center" webkitallowfullscreen="1" width="400"></iframe><br />
<br />
The strangest thing happened to me while I was viewing this exhibit, something I've never experienced before. I had a definite sense that I'd seen some of these portraits before somewhere. I was sure of it. I even knew what the artist's statement that accompanied them said before I got close enough to read it. More than that, I could vaguely remember what their display location looked like when I'd seen them previously and where they were in physical relation to one another. It was such a bizarre feeling that I even asked the guard if she knew whether they had been exhibited somewhere before the Smithsonian. She didn't of course. I wonder if it's possible to visit too many museums.<br />
<br />
No museum visit is complete (for me, that is) without at least a swing by its modern art collection.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ALNL2oALmac/UeQ9retLryI/AAAAAAAABM0/ZdChjuRZ5XY/s1600/DSCN2523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ALNL2oALmac/UeQ9retLryI/AAAAAAAABM0/ZdChjuRZ5XY/s400/DSCN2523.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everything I love in one installation: The U.S., bright colors and TV! Genius!!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rK_NUwrXGmU/UeQ9qLUMkyI/AAAAAAAABMs/MA1nHmV-nps/s1600/DSCN2525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rK_NUwrXGmU/UeQ9qLUMkyI/AAAAAAAABMs/MA1nHmV-nps/s400/DSCN2525.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To look at her is to see her whole life encapsulated in one instant.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There was certainly more to see, I mean it is America's National Museum campus. I'd like to be able to say that I've visited every single one sometime before I'm D&G. But I had a very important date in Annapolis: The first ever Mofi Writers' Conference, hosted by fellow Monkey's Fist organizers Dan N' Jaye. The "conference" was, in truth, an improptu (see, it's that aversion to planning thing again) get together of some Mofi folk who happened to be around. There is nothing quite like "meeting" people you "know" for the first time; it's weird and not weird at the same time. We had a really good time talking about matters both marinerly and not. Dan and Jaye brought snacks, Suzanne, brought a not-so-red velvet cake (beets just can't compete with red dye #24 it seems), John, our new best Mofi friend, brought noshes as well and, yes, there was even Monkey's Fist IPA. All there wasn't, of course, was the reason for our very collective existence: she was watching <i>Hombre de Acero</i> at Albrook Mall in Panama City and she was deeply, sorely, missed, but we "sailored" on without her as best we could and drank a toast, or many, in her honor.<br />
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Later, back at my hotel in College Park, I had just one thing left to do after a very long day: find and book a room in the Boston area so I'd have somewhere to live the following night.<br />
<br />
Next Stop: Boston, MA<br />
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<br />Eanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15998175926624100083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-3685675120600575162013-07-05T22:01:00.001-04:002013-07-16T10:58:29.809-04:00A love letter to my virtual friends<br />
Dear [<i>you know who you are</i>],<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EomfPX_NOP4/Udd4Y_QRCGI/AAAAAAAABEE/qPPVZdH_OC0/s1600/virtual.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="167" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EomfPX_NOP4/Udd4Y_QRCGI/AAAAAAAABEE/qPPVZdH_OC0/s400/virtual.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">[snipped from <a href="http://www.collinsdictionary.com/dictionary/english/virtual" target="_blank">here</a>]</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Thank you. For your friendship. You have made me laugh and cry and rage and roll my eyes. Even though I've never met you. Thank you for sharing your stories with me, and for appreciating and caring about my stories. Thanks for buoying us up, and wishing us the best.<br />
<br />
When Ean and I started our blog, we had no idea what this might become: what relationships would develop out of it. Funny, because - can't remember if you already know this - Ean and I actually met online. I think probably I fell in love with Ean before I met him face-to-face. I should have guessed that I could, and would, make true friends online.<br />
<br />
My virtual friend. In the "real world," I talk to face-to-face friends, and I start to tell a story about you - about something that you did, or said, or learned. "My friend," I begin, but then I stutter a bit, and I feel like I need to explain - "I mean, she's a virtual friend - I know her through her blog, and we chat through email and on facebook...."<br />
<br />
I actually looked up "virtual" in the dictionary - in the <i>Collins Dictionary </i>(which I like primarily because <i>Collins </i>is my maiden name). "Virtual" is defined as "having the essence or effect but not the appearance or form of." Well, yes, that's it, isn't it? With you, my virtual friend, the form is a bit off, and it makes me stutter. But we share the <i>essence </i>of friendship, and I am getting all the beneficial <i>effects </i>of said friendship. I'm going to stop worrying about what it looks like. <br />
<br />
Virtual <i>doesn't</i>,<i> </i>at all, mean "not real."<br />
<br />
(virtual) XXOO -Jane<br />
__________________________________________________<br />
<br />
Sarah, one of our virtual friends, virtually interviewed us for her blog. She asked us insightful questions about our "end of cruising" decision, and then she wrote a post about it. The best part: we got to sit on her virtual couch in Brisbane, Australia, during our virtual chat. It was awesome. <br />
<br />
Click on over to <i>Blue Water Dreaming</i> to read the interview: <a href="http://www.bluewaterdreaming.net/2013/07/more-joy-somewhere-else/" target="_blank">More JOY Somewhere Else</a>.jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-89890717492190824982013-07-01T10:00:00.000-04:002013-07-16T10:59:06.604-04:00Have a Magical Day<br />
Dear Jane,<br />
<br />
The Experiment Prototype Community of Tomorrow (a.k.a. Epcot) lives up to its reputation, I'm<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.wdwinfo.com/Photos/600-spaceship-earth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://www.wdwinfo.com/Photos/600-spaceship-earth.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">not my picture of Spaceship Earth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
happy to report--any and all of them. I guess I didn't really understand how theme parks worked, having never been to one like this before. My misconception became apparent to me the moment I entered the park. You know the orb that looms above you the moment you walk in? Silly me, I had always thought that it was your basic Bucky Fuller geodesic dome, as in empty. Ho no! It's a ride called Spaceship Earth wherein one is taken on a tour (guided by none other than Dame Judi Dench) of the entire history of humanity and not just that, but a glimpse into our future. I sent a postcard back to the present when I was there. Did you get it?<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<br />
Next, I toured a "green" home with many energy saving features including, counterintuitively, a toilet that plays your favorite music. It's programmable from a smart phone or tablet so that you don't actually have to wait until you get to the toilet to hear your favorite jams. I'm not sure how that saves energy exactly, but who cares. It is square, no really. It's a square shaped toilet! You know how I love squares.<br />
<br />
I hadn't eaten breakfast, so I was pretty hungry by then. So many choices! I wound up at a place called the Electric Umbrella. I ordered a burger and fries. By the time I walked the five feet to the pick up counter, it was ready. Panama should give that a try.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3527/3758222099_65676c9bbe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3527/3758222099_65676c9bbe.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">not my picture of space module inside Mission: Space</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My next big adventure was at "Mission: Space." Astronaut training for the first manned flight to Mars. But wait, didn't <i>One White Tree</i>'s friend, Tim, the payload engineer for NASA, say they had terminated their manned space flight program? Oh, right, it's only a simulation, a ride. Check. There are two levels of training. More intense astronaut training and less intense ground control training. The more intense version comes with repeated warnings. "May not be suitable for people who are afraid of motion sickness, have high blood pressure, are afraid of tight, dark spaces, or spinning. Judging by the number of warnings on signs interspersed along the waiting line and on the "mission ticket" they hand out, I assumed they were pretty serious, so I took them seriously. Let's see: motion sickness? Pffffft. I live on a boat, for godssake. High blood pressure? I take meds and its only borderline anyway. Afraid of tight, dark spaces? You mean, like, my engine "rooms?" Spinning? How would I know if I'm afraid of spinning? Whatever, move along.<br />
<br />
Finally, I made it to the pre-launch area where Gary Sinise ran me and the other members of my crew through our pre-flight briefing and where his assistant provided one last reminder that it was still not to late to opt out and sign up for ground control training instead. You know how stubborn I am. All their warnings only had the effect of making me more determined to do this thing. Bring it! Our crew consisted of four members: a pilot, navigator, commander, and engineer, each with a set of responsibilities and each determined by the order in which we were queued up to file into the capsule. Sure enough, the role of engineer fell to me. These poor, unsuspecting people, I thought. They have no idea how doomed this mission is with me as the crew member responsible for repairs. I had a sudden, almost uncontrollable urge to confess all. It's only a simulation, I reminded myself. I can't really screw it up.<br />
<br />
We took our places and at Cmdr. Sinise's order, pulled the restraints down over our heads. I wondered how I was to perform my duties when my instrument panel was more than an arm's length away. As if on cue, it lurched forward to within 6 inches of my nose entirely eliminating the problem. Unhelpfully, the thought floated past my consciousness that unlike this capsule, I have the freedom to climb out of my engine rooms whenever I please and this struck me as highly significant. While pondering this, our rocket swung into place on the launch pad and through the portlight I could see the top of the tower. Oh, I get it now. I've seen this on TV. Our rocket is going to "rocket" straight up very, very fast. Huh...OH MY GOD! WHAT WAS I THINKING!! I never even go on rollercoasters because they terrify me. Abort! ABORT! Too late. I had only enough time to verify that the air sickness bag was where Sinise said it would be and to note, with alarm, that it seemed to be shared between me and the pilot.<br />
<br />
It's only a simulation. Breathe. It's only a simulaaaaaaaahhhhhhh! I screamed inwardly as my <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSWJ74NEEsUVS68fjGnEqvuR_aUD8229CCeXbKPHYkwM27PwuNxyg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSWJ74NEEsUVS68fjGnEqvuR_aUD8229CCeXbKPHYkwM27PwuNxyg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">not my picture of not me (but might<br />
as well have been)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
cheeks rippled back from the G-force necessary to launch us. Breathe! Breathe! Breathe harder! I kept thinking, becoming more fond of the air sickness bag by the nanosecond. Remember (breathe!) to tell (breathe!) Jane (breathe!): DO NOT GO ON THIS RIDE! ohgodohgodohgod!!! And. Then. Finally. ...the endless black dark of space where we would spend the next three months, the length of time required to get to Mars. Each of the crew had two tasks (because it really is only a simulation, pant, pant), the first of mine was to put the crew--including myself--into hypersleep. Unfortunate, that; I was really hoping to use the time to catch up on my reading. Seconds (to us, months to you) later, we were awakened by ground control who stayed on hand to guide us through the landing process (Yeah, I don't know why I needed to put us to sleep if they could wake us up remotely, either. We astronauts are apparently on a strictly need-to-know basis).<br />
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After a few harrowing moments of near-disaster, we landed safe and sound. Air sickness bag unnecessary, check. I decided that after my brief but brilliant career as an astronaut, I should probably take early retirement. So rest assured, honey. Wherever I am on earth at least I will be on Earth.<br />
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Speaking of being back on Earth (I still can't remember the flight back, must be a side effect of hypersleep), I opted for some more sedate types of amusement. Honey, did you know that while we've been at sea Michael Jackson has been brought back to life? Not only that, he's been restored to his 1986 incarnation. In probably his only acting gig, Jackson stars as Captain Eo, who along with his motley muppet crew, saves the Earth by singing and dancing (how else?).<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS2PezHqe3B0M9co3oesqBQLpX-kf-2AgqkI6Vj_snP9cfSycCaNg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS2PezHqe3B0M9co3oesqBQLpX-kf-2AgqkI6Vj_snP9cfSycCaNg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">not my picture of Ellen with Albert to her immediate left.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Next, in the Universe of Energy, Ellen Degeneres's subconsciousness is highjacked by Bill Nye, the Science Guy so that she can beat her snobby elementary school classmate and Albert Einstein on Jeopardy. I know you've been to Epcot, but it might have been before this presentation. If you'd seen it, you'd remember, trust me, it would be hard even for you to forget seeing an animatronic Ellen beating back a dinosaur with a branch.<br />
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A full day, I know, but it wasn't over yet. After Ellen, I listened to a lecture by Simba in an exhibit called--what else--"The Circle of Life." All about being more conscious of the environment. Now here was something curious. During Ellen's dream lesson on energy, the Hoover Dam was presented as a shining example of technology. During Simba's lecture, it was presented as a screwer up of the ecosystem surrounding it. Leave it to Disney to problematize the concepts of good and evil in a postmodern, post-industrial society.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://secure.parksandresorts.wdpromedia.com/resize/mwImage/1/630/354/90/wdpromedia.disney.go.com/media/wdpro-assets/parks-and-tickets/attractions/epcot/soarin/soarin-00.jpg?08102012061315" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://secure.parksandresorts.wdpromedia.com/resize/mwImage/1/630/354/90/wdpromedia.disney.go.com/media/wdpro-assets/parks-and-tickets/attractions/epcot/soarin/soarin-00.jpg?08102012061315" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">not my picture of nearly colliding with hang gliders (not me in it, either)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Well, hon, by this time, I admit, I was getting tired. I pretty much lined up for anything that involved sitting down for a few minutes. I sat in a boat and drifted past Epcot's botanical experiments. Interesting. I sat in a shell and watched Nemo and his friends expound on the creatures of the deep. Very clever animation. I even designed a prototype car and tested it on a track at up to 64 mph. Stupid. Not, however, as stupid as standing in a ninety minute line to go on an 11 minute ride. Although being launched into the air and soaring over parts of California, from the Golden Gate bridge to--big surprise--Disneyland, was pretty amazing despite the PTSD I earlier acquired from my space shuttle experience.<br />
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And that was just day one.<br />
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Day two was less eventful.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://superhypeblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/3140382480_6395275d06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="http://superhypeblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/3140382480_6395275d06.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">not my picture of Epcot's World Showcase</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I saved The World Showcase for my second day, starting with Norway, which, in my humble opinion was a little too reliant on the glory of their viking forebears. Their thing (I don't know what you actually call them, exhibits? rides?), was a low-budget viking ship that slid down a couple of three foot waterfalls. Lame.<br />
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China featured a 360 degree movie with highlights from many parts of the country. We are SO going there. I know you've been. I'll go myself on my next vacation if I have to. (How do they shoot 360 degree video, anyway?)<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSAYZAGQzzVtNP8AqXqHrMc3SEwtZKdTewcfIKavQ0lyJ1JZWzr" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSAYZAGQzzVtNP8AqXqHrMc3SEwtZKdTewcfIKavQ0lyJ1JZWzr" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">nope, not mine</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Mexico also had a tunnel-of-love type boat ride where Donald Duck and two other "<i>caballeros</i>" unintelligibly explained some of the culture of the country. Pretty dull stuff. That is until the boats got stuck in the middle of the ride for a few minutes due to technical difficulties. I thought we might be in for a real adventure, but they fixed it and we were on our way in no time. Bummer.<br />
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It was all taking much longer than I thought and I realized I wouldn't be able to get to every country.<br />
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But I didn't want to miss Morocco. You know how much I love Moroccan art. Morocco had a small <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.fauxology.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/Epcot-Center-5-Morocco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.fauxology.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/Epcot-Center-5-Morocco.jpg" width="181" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">not this one either</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
display of ornamental art, but really, the whole area was art.<br />
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Watching France's presentation (so going there, too) almost made me too late to get a good spot to watch Illluminations: Reflections of Earth.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.themeparkinsider.com/photos/images/ec-am-adv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="243" src="http://www.themeparkinsider.com/photos/images/ec-am-adv.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">no</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But before hitting France, I had to stop in and see how Disney presented the U.S. Disney does nothing by half, that's for sure. In this enormous theater, a 35 minute presentation of American history, hosted by Ben Franklin and Mark Twain (well, their animatronic doppelgangers), closed with a photo montage that featured every--and I mean every--conceivable sort of American. It was over the top cheesy, but also moving. So Disney, so America. If they ever do privatize the U.S., I hope they sell it to Disney. Think about it. What a clean, customer-service, and all-inclusive nation we would be. I mean, we could do worse.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mouseplanet.info/gallery/d/154672-1/AALantern.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.mouseplanet.info/gallery/d/154672-1/AALantern.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">no, but see the little movie?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
While waiting for the movie, I wandered through their collection of Americana, real and replicated. There are lanterns, coach lamps, really, but they call them lanterns that have little movies inside where the voices of Diane Sawyer, Whoopi Goldberg and other celebs discuss belief and hope and courage. I didn't get to watch all the lanterns but the last one I saw before I had to get in line for the movie said this: "Don't tell me the sky's the limit when there are footprints on the moon."<br />
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This is the last thing I did before leaving. So, girlfriend, in case we ever decide to stop trotting around the globe and settle down somewhere... Just sayin'<br />
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<iframe align="center" allowfullscreen="0" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/FWOuRl6PSD4" text="" width="560"></iframe><br />
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(Whoops! That's supposed to be "Earth." Yes, this is mine. BTW, the background music which I can best describe as a cross between a fight song and a lullaby plays all day long from hidden speakers.)Eanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15998175926624100083noreply@blogger.com2Orlando, FL, USA28.5383355 -81.3792364999999928.0917165 -82.0246835 28.984954499999997 -80.733789499999986tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-23168812402399403532013-06-28T13:08:00.000-04:002013-07-16T10:59:43.164-04:00Sloth Hunt!<div>
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Dear Ean....<br />
<br />
I went to dinner at <i>Mi Ranchito </i>with Heather and Ron (<i><a href="http://highseasandlowlatitudes.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">s/v Sundancer</a></i>) and Jill and Matthew (<a href="http://cruisingcrowsnest.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"><i>s/v Rock and Roll Star</i></a>). Back to the scene of the crime, so to speak.... But I'm proud to tell you that - this time - when Heather suggested a second bottle of wine, I Just. Said. No. And having said no to Bottle #2, the question of Bottle #3 never came up. Phew! We had the kind of conversation that I know you would have enjoyed, so it made me miss you: we talked about trash and plastic and human impact and evolution, and many other Topics of Great Importance. <br />
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When we walked back from <i>el restaurante</i>, it was black dark. A beautiful night. We were walking towards the Smithsonian gate, just about to take a left into the marina's parking lot. (Here's what it looks like during the day: did you ever notice those cables overhead?)<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IO7leQCT1NE/Uc2EfEhNfcI/AAAAAAAABCc/6z9XR-LOaLE/s1600/IMG_0033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IO7leQCT1NE/Uc2EfEhNfcI/AAAAAAAABCc/6z9XR-LOaLE/s400/IMG_0033.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the cable that the "night sloths" were hanging on.</td></tr>
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When Jill pointed up, I couldn't process what I was seeing at first. Big indistinct blobs hanging from what I knew to be the overhead cable.
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AQPzayI1hE8/Uc2ExCIFmII/AAAAAAAABCk/NLCk226PIyU/s1600/two+sloths.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AQPzayI1hE8/Uc2ExCIFmII/AAAAAAAABCk/NLCk226PIyU/s400/two+sloths.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="text-align: center;">But then the "blobs" became "sloth blobs." I didn't have the camera - to my great regret. We continued walking to the dinghy dock, slid down the ramp (</span><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cIQTTndiULI/Ucst_YD7xhI/AAAAAAAABCI/YXplwcqdirc/s1600/super+moon+low.JPG" style="text-align: center;" target="_blank">supermoon low</a><span style="text-align: center;">).... Then I dinghied back to the boat, grabbed the camera, dinghied back to shore, hiked back up the dinghy dock ramp, walked across the parking lot - and there they were, of course. "Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close up. But I'm not coming down, so use the zoom, 'kay?" </span>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pqLOW1CsB9A/Uc2E4ZU1E6I/AAAAAAAABCs/D6iA5oTXds4/s1600/one+sloth.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pqLOW1CsB9A/Uc2E4ZU1E6I/AAAAAAAABCs/D6iA5oTXds4/s400/one+sloth.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Lesson learned: I don't think this will work with OTHER types of wildlife - but with sloths, if you forget your camera, don't worry - they'll still be there when you get back. Note to self: <i>Carry camera constantly.
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<div style="text-align: left;">
This Night Sloth Sighting, of course, reactivated my sloth obsession. Remember the sloth in Shelter Bay Marina?</div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GYi2-3-oi84/Uc2gLFyJWwI/AAAAAAAABDc/VxsADFwDOUg/s960/shelter+bay+sloth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="306" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GYi2-3-oi84/Uc2gLFyJWwI/AAAAAAAABDc/VxsADFwDOUg/s400/shelter+bay+sloth.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bradypus variegates, or, a three-toed sloth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
I've been poring over and completely engrossed by the website of the <a href="http://www.slothsanctuary.com/" target="_blank">Sloth Sanctuary of Costa Rica</a>... when you get home, let's start planning our little "overland" trip to Boquete and Costa Rica, shall we? </div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
Anyway, remember the mysterious markings on the Shelter Bay Sloth's back? I read about it on the website: it is, indeed a Mystery. They call it the "<a href="http://www.slothsanctuary.com/2013/03/the-male-patch-mystery/" target="_blank">Male Patch Mystery</a>." While I was engaged with Sloth Sleuthing, I also discovered that the video of the <a href="http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/story/2013/02/26/mb-sloth-flower-petal-video-youtube-winnipeg.html" target="_blank">baby sloth and the flower</a> - remember that one? - was actually taken at the Sloth Sanctuary of Costa Rica. Can I just point out, that the woman who took the video must have been on the "Insider" tour, because I don't think you get to go in to the nursery and the "Slothpital" if you just take the plain old boring (cheap) "Buttercup" tour? I'm just sayin'.</div>
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The next day, about an hour before sunset, I decided to go on a Sloth Hunt. Excellent timing, as it turned out - <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8WY203_9ixo/Ucst72sb_JI/AAAAAAAABCA/tHfldZk9lqc/s1600/super+moon+high.JPG" target="_blank">superhigh</a>! So I piled all the trash into the dinghy and took advantage of the auspicious ramp sitch. Sloth Hunt AND Trash Run - see how I'm multi-tasking? I even brought in the two gallons of waste oil that had been sitting around in the cockpit for a month. </div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">In the big tree just behind and to the right of the dumpster (can you picture it?), I found this guy. (And you know when I say "guy" I don't mean that it was actually a male sloth; I'm using "guy" in that generic, ungendered way. Two-toed sloths don't have "male patches," so no clues there.)</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9myo-MTftQA/Uc2FEag5BEI/AAAAAAAABC0/xkOxBKrMnEo/s1600/IMG_0024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9myo-MTftQA/Uc2FEag5BEI/AAAAAAAABC0/xkOxBKrMnEo/s400/IMG_0024.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Choloepus hoffmani, or, two-toed sloth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Dude's got an itch. So he stretches his leg out, and - ahhhh, those claws are good for scratching those itches. On the Sloth Sanctuary website, they actually call them "fingers," not toes. Both types of sloths have three "toes" on their back legs, but the two types differ in how many "fingers" they have on their front legs (arms?). Yep, that's me: a fount of knowledge. Seriously, check out the website. More than you would EVER want to know about sloths, written by people who LOVE LOVE LOVE sloths.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kDDmquAF64M/Uc2FGSzltkI/AAAAAAAABC8/o3MAtkgANUI/s1600/IMG_0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kDDmquAF64M/Uc2FGSzltkI/AAAAAAAABC8/o3MAtkgANUI/s400/IMG_0025.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Still itchy, can't quite reach... yeah, that's the ticket. Life is good.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gOu0ITwx62w/Uc2FJH2VH6I/AAAAAAAABDE/4FHBpDVBVkw/s1600/IMG_0027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gOu0ITwx62w/Uc2FJH2VH6I/AAAAAAAABDE/4FHBpDVBVkw/s400/IMG_0027.JPG" width="395" /></a></div>
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After a bit more scratching and stretching, he's apparently ready to get on with his evening. Off he goes; back to the trunk, where he will catch onto another, higher branch and make his way further up into the tree. The picture's a bit blurry, because he was moving so fast. Just kidding. The lighting was challenging for our little point-and-shoot.<br />
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I walked across the parking lot, half-way hoping to find those same sloths still hanging from the overhead cables... but at some point in the intervening 18 hours, they had made off to greener pastures (that would be TREES, presumably). <br />
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I found this "guy" just 8 feet off the ground, nestled into a comfortable hammock of intersecting tree branches.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2n-GXGZh-zk/Uc2FL4Ma6PI/AAAAAAAABDM/NDS0ZEi8ag4/s1600/IMG_0039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="380" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2n-GXGZh-zk/Uc2FL4Ma6PI/AAAAAAAABDM/NDS0ZEi8ag4/s400/IMG_0039.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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Close to sunset, now, and and I was pointing the camera into the depths of the tree, so the flash went off. He showed his dismay by blinking, slowly, in my direction. "Dude. [<i>blink</i>] Not. [<i>blink</i>] Cool." So I apologized and left him to it.<br />
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There it is: all the news that's fit to be digitized. Reporting live from Slothsville.<br />
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XXOO, Jane<br />
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P.S. I know you think I'm a little crazy, about the whole Sloth Love thing. But you don't know nothin'. Watch this video, which is a clip of Kristen Bell (she's an actess - you don't know her - never mind) talking with Ellen DeGeneres about her Sloth Meltdown. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t5jw3T3Jy70" target="_blank">Kristen Bell's Sloth Meltdown.</a> She is crazier than I am. Be relieved. (Rebecca from <a href="http://summertimerolls.net/" target="_blank"><i>s/v Summertime Rolls</i></a> sent me this video. Isn't facebook fabulous??!!!)<br />
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P.P.S. It hasn't escaped me, of course, that this is our 200th blog post. I thought you'd be jumping all over it, the chance to do #200, since you were so gung-ho about writing <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2012/03/to-my-adoring-public.html" target="_blank">#100</a>. But, sorry! You were TOOOOOOO SSSLLLOOOOOOOWWWWW. Sort of like a sloth, come to think about it.<br />
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<br />jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-39674535459708910392013-06-26T14:24:00.000-04:002015-05-21T15:16:57.557-04:00Plain Jane, the non-cruiser<div>
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Dear Ean,<br />
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For the past couple of days it's been SUPER here in La Playita. Get it, SUPER? As in, the SUPERmoon? Here for your enjoyment are pictures of the dinghy dock ramp at a supermoon high and a supermoon low. You have to guess which is which. <i>S/v Pi</i> just dinghied past, saying they were going to do their final pre-canal-crossing provision. I wonder if they remembered, about the supermoon low.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8WY203_9ixo/Ucst72sb_JI/AAAAAAAABCA/tHfldZk9lqc/s1600/super+moon+high.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="311" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8WY203_9ixo/Ucst72sb_JI/AAAAAAAABCA/tHfldZk9lqc/s400/super+moon+high.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cIQTTndiULI/Ucst_YD7xhI/AAAAAAAABCI/YXplwcqdirc/s1600/super+moon+low.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cIQTTndiULI/Ucst_YD7xhI/AAAAAAAABCI/YXplwcqdirc/s400/super+moon+low.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Ever since we decided to quit cruising, I find myself, in various moments, imagining: what would a “normal” (land-lubber, first-world, not-too-terribly-adventurous) person think of this particular aspect of the cruising life? Would a "normal" person be paying attention to super highs and super lows?<br />
<br />
I was messing around with the dinghy this morning – climbing up on the arch, pulling one drain plug and unscrewing the other, replacing both plugs, jumping into the engine compartment to flip the breaker to the dinghy lift motor, lowering the dinghy and unclipping the lift cable, securing the lift cable to one of our stanchions so it wouldn’t rock ‘n roll ‘n bang in the constant swell. Later, when I sat down with a bowl of cereal, I realized that I had a little blood dribbling down my arm.<br />
<br />
You’re not here, and I can only spend so many hours on facebook, so I have to talk to myself. In an effort to make talking to myself more entertaining, I carry on imaginary conversations between Sailor Jane and a hypothetical “normal” Jane – let’s call her “Plain Jane.”<br />
<br />
Here’s how the conversation went, this morning.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>Plain Jane: </b> Aaarggh! I’m bleeding!!!<br />
<br />
<b>Sailor Jane:</b> Pffft. Barely.<br />
<br />
<b>PJ: </b>When did this happen? Was it the edge of the engine compartment? That sharp hinge? Or the corner of the solar panel? A stray strand from the lift cable? What happened? Why did this happen? Who let this happen?<br />
<br />
<b>SJ:</b> It’s a boat, wussy. A bit a blood. Bound to happen.<br />
<br />
<b>PJ:</b> What should I do? I’ve got to clean the wound, so I can see how bad it is. All this blood, I can’t even see the actual wound. Is it a puncture? A scratch? A cut? I think there’s too much blood for it to be just a scratch. I think it’s deep. Am I up to date on my tetanus shot? It’s my LEFT arm, OMG, I’m left-handed, what if it gets infected. I COULD LOSE MY ARM!<br />
<br />
<b>SJ:</b> Yer cereal is gonna get all soggy if you start some big “wound-cleaning” program.<br />
<br />
<b>PJ:</b> Well… that’s true… I hate soggy cereal.<br />
<br />
[<i>Later</i>]<br />
<br />
<b>PJ:</b> I’m going to get out the first aid kit now. I’ll wash all the blood off, check it out. Didn’t we buy some sort of antibacterial wound cleaner stuff? And then a bit of antibiotic ointment. I could use that gauze stuff and the sticky tape, but how am I going to wrap that around my arm without help? Maybe I should go over and get Paul from <i>s/v Pi</i>. What was his wife’s name again? Maybe she has some medical experience; she’s very friendly, anyway. She would probably take good care of me.<br />
<br />
<b>SJ:</b> Huh. [<i>eye rolling</i>]<br />
<br />
<b>PJ:</b> Well, maybe it’s not that bad. At least it’s not bleeding anymore. I won’t use the gauze roll, I’ll just use a couple of regular Band-aids… I'm sure it will clean up nicely - I'll probably find that the cut itself isn't that big.<br />
<br />
<b>SJ:</b> That blood has already congealed – if you wash it off, you’ll start bleeding again.<br />
<br />
<b>PJ:</b> OMG I don’t want to lose any more blood... I think I’m getting faint…..</blockquote>
<br />
Honey, don’t worry. I am, after all, up-to-date on my tetanus shot. And I cleaned the blood off the settee. It’s all good. I AM a cruiser, after all. Tough as barnacles.<br />
<br />
XXOO, J<br />
<br />
P.S. Here's a good link: <a href="http://earthsky.org/space/what-is-a-supermoon" target="_blank">What is a supermoon?</a><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-77007242673670560482013-06-21T19:35:00.000-04:002013-07-16T11:02:27.091-04:00Ean Has Fun While Jane Has None<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dear Ean, Thanks very much for your live(ly) report and the reminder that you are off having fun (and showers and cable TV) while I am having none. Here is MY report.</span><br />
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Picked up the new Raymarine control head from Air Facility yesterday - only $27 for shipping/handling and customs - how cool is that? Had a couple of drinks with Rick at the Balboa Yacht Club, talking about how unlikely it is that we will actually get the control head installed sans hitches. Oh, yes, there will be hitches, Rick warns. You know how he is - ever the optimist. But if you're lucky, the hitches will be unhitched before you get back. </span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UXZxRj_2jNI/UcTePhmfVbI/AAAAAAAABA8/tmr1mmWX-EM/s1600/IMG_0002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="283" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UXZxRj_2jNI/UcTePhmfVbI/AAAAAAAABA8/tmr1mmWX-EM/s400/IMG_0002.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px;">Steal THIS, panga-gang!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Then I had a couple of drinks with Ron and Heather, and I think I must have seemed a little pathetic, so Heather encouraged me to ramble on at great length about my Navy days - ha. I mentioned about the drinks, right?<br /><br />Shared a taxi from Balboa back to La Playita with an Aussie couple - they were headed for pizza night at La Eskinita. They're staying on a mooring at Balboa, they told me, because they think it's a tad bit unsafe down here- four dinghies stolen from Las Brisas! Don't ask me about the fourth dinghy - I think it's just the cruisers' coconut telegraph, telescoping the bad news from the wrong side of the <strike>tracks</strike> causeway. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, home sweet home! I had a healthy dinner: some chocolate chip cookie dough and <i>una copa de vino blanco con es-SKWIR</i> ( that's a glass of wine with Squirt - in case you've forgotten all your <i>español</i>, now that you're in <i>los estados unidos</i>). And then I went to bed. But I didn't actually go to bed. I was feeling a bit creeped out, I have to admit, being ALL ALONE out here. And no way to raise the dinghy by myself. I not only locked up the dinghy - I actually locked the door. I even closed some random sea cocks, to ensure that the boat would remain afloat, and tried to check our anchor waypoint, to make sure we hadn't dragged. Yes, it's true that we haven't budged from this spot for months - but still. Then I realized that we put the waypoint not on the chartplotter, but on your iPad, which you are probably using to read this blog post, over yonder in <i>los estados unidos</i>. So will you check it for me? Have we dragged? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-djfF7u1EZa4/UcTez36AdwI/AAAAAAAABBE/bceiVg37beA/s1600/IMG_0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-djfF7u1EZa4/UcTez36AdwI/AAAAAAAABBE/bceiVg37beA/s400/IMG_0003.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New dinghy lift motor: fun, fun, fun all the time!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Finally fell asleep at about about three in the morning, after a fearsome lightning storm and lots of rain. I slept with the fan running, even though it wasn't hot, after all the rain. I wanted the white noise to cover up the sound of the panga quietly approaching the boat... of the swimmer slipping into the water and boarding JOY to cut the dinghy free so it could drift off.. of the panga picking up the swimmer and putting the dinghy under tow, once safely away.... None of that actually happened of course. But I'm going to thank Heather, when I see her, for all this helpful imagery about how dinghies get stolen here in Panama.</span></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tonight, though: no worries about the dinghy. Juan and his amigo (did you catch that guy's name?) have finished installation of our shiny brand new dinghy lift motor. The dinghy, as I live and breathe, is High and Dry. Steal THIS, panga-gang. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So... All is well on JOY... except... the cats miss you. Not enough humans here to serve their needs.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-53435479426347748782013-06-20T19:46:00.000-04:002013-07-06T09:33:04.558-04:00Dear Jane<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3XGIzet0clg/UKulCpO6GCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/SvPgLj50HJM/w1319-h989-no/tropicana+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3XGIzet0clg/UKulCpO6GCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/SvPgLj50HJM/w1319-h989-no/tropicana+029.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Affordable luxury in the heart of Ft. Lauderdale</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><span style="color: blue;">[If you're here to BABSAM (Buy a Boat, Save a Marriage), please <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2013/06/catamaran-for-sale-by-owner.html" target="_blank">click here</a>.] </span></b><br />
<br />
I've only just arrived today and already there is so much to report I hardly know where to begin!<br />
<br />
First of all, let me just say that America is every bit as exciting as I remembered!! And the people are so friendly!!!<br />
<br />
On the plane, I met the nicest young man, born in Honduras, raised in Panama of Palestinian descent with an American name and perfect English because he was educated in Kentucky. Fascinating! Talking with him during the redeye flight was so much better than catching the only few winks I would get in over 24 hours. He was extremely knowledgeable. He explained that the reason the airline I chose seems to offer only overnight flights is because the winds die down at night which translates into fuel savings that they then pass on to their customers. He also mentioned something about not needing to use air traffic controllers since no one else in in the sky at that time, but I didn't quite understand it.<br />
<br />
It turned out that the company that I rented my car from is not actually on site at the airport. I got confused about the instructions for getting there and thought I needed to get on a city bus. I didn't have any change, but a nice man who was on the same flight as me kindly gave me all the change he had, $3.55 for my five dollar bill. How nice was that? Then it turned out that I wasn't supposed to get on a bus at all, but call the company for a shuttle pick up. Unfortunately, I'd already put one of my dollars in the fare box on the bus. The bus driver was very nice, though, and gave me an emergency pass, which means I actually made a net profit of 75 cents. Not bad for not even having had my first cup of coffee.<br />
<br />
For dinner, I had jambalaya and collard greens and, no, I didn't drive to New Orleans to get them, just walk half a block to the Shuck 'N Dive in the Winn Dixie strip mall. Who knew there were regional variations in jambalaya: "Ft. Lauderdale style" is served without shrimp. And speaking of "<i>jamba</i>," yes, there is a Jamba Juice in the same strip mall. I thought about depriving myself out of deference to you, but then I decided you'd much rather I just didn't enjoy it very much, so I promise not to.<br />
<br />
Traveling, as you have averred so often, is difficult and it is true. Did you know that this is the first time I've ever flown back to the U.S...on my own, that is? It turns out that to "declare" what you're bringing into the country to Customs does not mean to state it loudly. None of the customs officers particularly appreciated my announcement regarding the rum I had brought with me.<br />
<br />
By the time I could finally check in to my motel room, I was pretty delirious from sleep deprivation. I didn't realize how bad off I was until I had this persistent hallucination that the reruns weren't subtitled in Spanish.<br />
<br />
If you were to ask me when it finally hit me that I was back home, it would be the moment that, standing in the Winn Dixie liquor store, I was faced with the decision of having to choose between my three favorite whiskeys: Knob Creek, Makers Mark, and Jack Daniels. Ultimately, I wasn't up to the challenge, so I consoled myself with a decent bottle of scotch. I'm not sure it did me any good, but Larry gave me his extra Winn-Dixie loyalty card when I "declared" to the cashier that I didn't have one. Who's Larry? Beats me. Just some guy trying to get back home to watch game 7 of the NBA playoffs between the Miami Heat and the San Antonio Spurs. I mean is that friendly or what?<br />
<br />
Well, tomorrow I'm going to head over to Sears to buy some shorts since without the pair that we forgot to pull off the jib sheets and pack, I only have the pair I'm wearing. Don't forget to keep the two terminals of the wire we are using to charge our generator battery separate from each other or they will arc. Trust me, I know. Hopefully, we will sell JOY before we have to trade places, but if not, I vow to pull my weight as the other half of our crack sales and cat care team.<br />
<br />
Reporting live from the Tropicana Motel in beautiful Fort Lauderdale, FL.<br />
<br />
EHBEanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15998175926624100083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-28947052820389295062013-06-13T22:00:00.000-04:002013-10-01T15:13:43.533-04:00Operation BABSAM<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">In the spirit of NOT BURYING THE LEAD: </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">For the low, low, SEVERELY LOW price of </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><strike><span style="font-size: x-small;">$210,000</span></strike> <strike>$175,000</strike><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><b style="font-size: x-large;">$165,000</b></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">, JOY, a 1993 Fountaine Pajot Venezia, is yours. At the bottom of this post, you will find links to a detailed spec sheet and a web page with tons more pictures. Send speedy and serious inquiries to ahoy@morejoyeverywhere.com. <i>[8/17 Update: after the lightning strike.]</i></span><br />
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tN8pq8srNJk/UboH_ztIXVI/AAAAAAAABnA/vRRUSL6JVdE/s1600/splash+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="347" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tN8pq8srNJk/UboH_ztIXVI/AAAAAAAABnA/vRRUSL6JVdE/s640/splash+008.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shiny new bottom paint, a couple of months ago</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">We’re using our <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-end-of-cruising.html" target="_blank">two-year escape clause</a>. Cruising reminds us of camping, which we hate. Sailing involves lots of water and nature, which don’t appeal to Ean. Beaches are full of sand, which Jane finds icky. A boat requires constant maintenance and repairs, which we are neither qualified for nor interested in. And although they didn't officially get to vote, our middle-aged cats, like their middle-aged owners, are unanimous in their desire to live and die on land.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-edQFSeLuaaw/UboFbbLgBmI/AAAAAAAABmw/L0z-vVwwh30/s1600/canal+040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-edQFSeLuaaw/UboFbbLgBmI/AAAAAAAABmw/L0z-vVwwh30/s320/canal+040.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cockpit - bright new bimini - and you can see<br />
the back of the Raymarine MFD in the forground. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">We want to move on to new adventures, and thus, JOY seems less Magic Carpet and more Millstone. JOY is making us all quite crabby. It’s not her fault, really. JOY needs a fresh start with fresh owners.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">So we are initiating <b>Operation BABSAM (Buy a Boat, Save a Marriage)</b>. We will probably list JOY with a broker, unless we can make a quick deal with some eager beaver who is ready to make the leap. Hey, maybe YOU?! ...</span><br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">...if you’ve done your research, you’re seriously looking and ready to buy a 40-something foot catamaran - cash in hand - and you want to come to Panama (or possibly Mexico) to pick it up....</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">...if you know how to fix stuff when it breaks, because JOY is seriously tricked out with gobs of stuff, and it all breaks, and if we’re telling you something you don’t already know, you should NOT be buying this boat....</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">...if you want to be a live-aboard, blue-water cruiser on a well-equipped, safe and sea-worthy 42 ft. catamaran that has already circumnavigated the globe once and is ready to go again....</span></blockquote>
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">The BFFs (Big Fat Features) </span></b><br />
<b></b><br />
<b></b> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tliNbk0OdG4/UbombOrv88I/AAAAAAAABoA/CEH_ImoBkvs/s1600/vitrifrigo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tliNbk0OdG4/UbombOrv88I/AAAAAAAABoA/CEH_ImoBkvs/s320/vitrifrigo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vitrifrigo fridge, toaster (free with boat purchase),<br />
panel to the right of the toaster is the top of the freezer</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Power</b><br />
<br />
2 38 hp Yanmar engines<br />
1540 amp hour AGM house battery bank, new in 2012<br />
654 w solar (2012)<br />
6 kW Northern Lights generator in sound-proof cabinet<br />
<strike>Magna 2000 watt pure sine wave inverter/ charger</strike><br />
Balmar high-output Alternator (on starboard engine) with ARS-5 regulator<br />
<br />
<b style="font-family: inherit;">Navigation</b><br />
<br />
<strike>Raymarine E-120W multifunction display with charts for Caribbean, S. America, and Indian Ocean (2011)</strike><br />
<strike>Raymarine autopilot with new P70 control head (2013)</strike><br />
AIS 250 receiver<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
Radar (Raymarine RD418D 4 kW digital Radome scanner) (2011)<br />
<br />
<b>Galley</b><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X7ujVVsxFk0/Ubpy8fVvaDI/AAAAAAAABok/0DimUMydi4U/s1600/canal+084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X7ujVVsxFk0/Ubpy8fVvaDI/AAAAAAAABok/0DimUMydi4U/s320/canal+084.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The dinghy behind the bimini, lifted high on the arch <br />
with solar panels on top. Also, in the foreground, <br />
solid handrails instead of the standard lifelines.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b></b><br />
<b> </b> Vitrofrigo 2 drawer DC refrigerator (2012)<br />
Drop-in Engel 40L fridge or freezer (2012)<br />
Force 10 oven with broiler (2013)<br />
<br />
<b>And there's more...</b><br />
<br />
Sunbrella bimini with dodger (2012)<br />
Cruisair air conditioner in Salon with a Dometic Breathe Easy air purifier in-duct model (2012)<br />
Sea Recovery Aqua Whisper mini 170 DC watermaker, 7 gph capacity (2012)<br />
Carib dinghy and 15 hp Yamaha outboard (new in 2011)<br />
50 lb CQR anchor with 285 ft of 10mm chain<br />
beautiful custom arch for solar panels and dinghy - motorized dinghy lift<br />
strong and solid anodized aluminum handrails instead of lifelines<br />
bottom paint new in March 2013<br />
mast height is 64' - allowing for ICW travel (NOT that we recommend ICW travel - but hey, different strokes for different folks).<br />
<h3>
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></h3>
<h3>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">And There's More!</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"> </span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"></span></h3>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3B0Gry0uLYY/Ubob7T-QQoI/AAAAAAAABno/b5Bfw_Qs1qk/s1600/aft.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3B0Gry0uLYY/Ubob7T-QQoI/AAAAAAAABno/b5Bfw_Qs1qk/s1600/aft.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starboard aft cabin - port aft is similar</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">For the same low, low price.... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span> <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Do you really need to know about the EPIRB, the fully-battened mainsail, the roller-furling headsail, the VHF radios, the Lifesling2, the heads, tankage, the 2 burner stove, and the rest of the 93 features that you might find if you were reading this listing on yachtworld.com? Well, of course you do, if you are a prospective buyer. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tGpNYUGVQLg/UbpuhZE793I/AAAAAAAABoQ/lhz3XJSp4BM/s1600/washer+and+forward+cabin.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tGpNYUGVQLg/UbpuhZE793I/AAAAAAAABoQ/lhz3XJSp4BM/s1600/washer+and+forward+cabin.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Port forward cabin<br />
(Starboard forward is set up as workroom/garage)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Please email us. <b>BABSAM</b>. We'll send you a thank-you card every year on our anniversary.</span><br />
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<h3>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Update - Spec Sheet and More Pictures!</span></h3>
<i>Update, 6/17: Lots of pictures of the salon, nav station, and galley, click <b><span style="color: blue;"><a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/p/salon-nav-station-and-galley-looking.html" target="_blank">here</a></span></b>. We will be adding pics of the rest of the boat within a few days.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Update, 7/14: <b><a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/p/blog-page_7398.html" target="_blank">More pics (finally)</a>!</b> This page shows pics of the deck and some tech. stuff.</i><br />
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<i>Update, 8/17: Post-lightning strike, an updated spec sheet - <a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B__fmGp9n05BYjJucGNWdFJvQlE/edit?usp=sharing" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: purple;">JOY details, PDF</span></b></a> (If you have trouble with google drive, send us an email and we will attach the PDF to our reply.)</i><br />
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Eanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15998175926624100083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-51875958703627276922013-06-05T21:10:00.000-04:002013-06-05T21:10:32.604-04:00overJOYed<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yE1fFyfSix0/Ua_gG8NysrI/AAAAAAAAA9g/WtUJghXJNzs/s1600/facebook+cover+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="382" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yE1fFyfSix0/Ua_gG8NysrI/AAAAAAAAA9g/WtUJghXJNzs/s640/facebook+cover+pic.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This dinghy, along with the boat behind it, will soon be FOR SALE.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We are overJOYed. The title for the post is Ean's pun, of course. Anyone who knows him would guess it. As in: Dear JOY, we are OVER you. <br />
<br />
When we started this crazy adventure, we set a goal - to get 'round the world - but we gave ourselves a two-year "out" clause - if, after two years, either of us wanted OUT of this life, then we would get OUT and get a NEW life. <br />
<br />
The first time we WANTED out - really discussed it seriously - was in <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2012/06/parts-3-4-5-still-planning-our-escape.html" target="_blank">Key West last June</a>. I just went back to reread the blog post. I wrote, "I'm sure I'll look back at this juncture and either laugh or cry hysterically." <br />
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Well, I'm looking back now, and I realize, it's not an either/or thing. I can do both. <br />
<br />
After we'd been cruising for about a year, I wrote a post called "<a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2012/09/inspiration-for-cruisers.html" target="_blank">The Backside of a Dream</a>." I admitted:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
We're coming up on our one-year cruising anniversary, and Ean and I have been reflecting on our new life. We're still pretty clueless. We've found this life to be more difficult than we expected. Things break all the time and we don't know how to fix them. Ean misses toast. I miss floor space. We hate being mono-lingual and sand.</blockquote>
We realized, even then, that this lifestyle is not a good fit for us. But hey, we had agreed to two years. Let's see what happens. We had this GOAL, you see. Of circumnavigating the world. We thought we could do it. We wanted to have done it.<br />
<br />
To cruise or not to cruise....we've been back and forth a dozen times. It's hard to explain, but as I wrote a few months ago, <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2013/02/cruising-has-made-us-bi-polar.html" target="_blank">cruising has made us bipolar</a>. A couple of months ago, I was SO excited about making that big leap out into the Pacific. A couple of weeks ago, I was getting excited about gunkholing around Panama and making our way down the coast to Ecuador. Hey, maybe we'll do Galapagos after all! Hey, Easter Island, how cool would that be! <br />
<br />
A couple of days ago, after many long conversations, some bitterness and tears, some wistful sighing and wicked blame-slinging, we finally admitted to ourselves that the highs aren't high enough to justify the lows. Or the lows are too low... or too numerous...? Maybe, if we would have made it across the S. Pacific, we would have decided to stick out. SO close. But Things Fall Apart.<br />
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If you're a little sad for us... yeah. But don't be TOO sad. Me and Ean, we are lucky, and we don't lose track of that. We need to figure out what the new life will be - and we have lots of good choices... more than we deserve, probably.<br />
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I'll end here for now... although of course there's more to say. Stay tuned. Our next post: JOY FOR SALE (cheap).<br />
<br />jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-19867529093623863072013-05-25T14:36:00.000-04:002013-05-25T14:36:24.271-04:00New Rule<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://blendoku.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="" border="0" height="172" src="http://www.blendoku.com/ImagesNew/footer.png" title="blendoku" width="400" /></a></div>
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Sayonara, solitaire! I've found the most awesome (that's "pawsome" to you, <a href="http://baileyboatcat.com/" target="_blank">Bailey</a>) new way to dribble away my life. It's called "<a href="http://blendoku.com/" target="_blank">Blendoku</a>" It's sudoku but with color. I love color. I mean, I REALLY love color. How much do I love color? I love color so much that when we go to Home Depot style big box stores, if Jane and I get separated, she always knows where to look for me: in front of the paint chip displays. I confess, I've even brought home paint chips with no intention of painting anything. That was before I discovered color decks. Whole flip-out pages of colors! I love color so much that...well, here, <a href="http://eanbehr.com/spheres.htm" target="_blank">this should make it pretty obvious</a>. (I love Photoshop, too.)(Check out "waves" while you're there.)(Speaking of iPads, it won't show up, it's Flash.)<br />
<br />
So, Blendoku. I've been staring at colors (even better because they're pixels, not just color, but colored light!) and I'm pretty sure it's had a profoundly therapeutic effect. I'm more <i>tranquillo </i> than I've been since October 18th, 2011 (a.k.a. the day we moved onto JOY). And with my newfound equanimity has come clarity, and with clarity, a profound insight. Here it is, ready?<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>I am more than the sum of my (boat) parts.</b></blockquote>
(I set it off as a blockquote to underscore how profound it is.) For more than 18 months, "a guy with a broken-down boat that he has no idea how to fix" has been my only identity. It has defined me. And it has been an identity that has brought me no pride or joy. But never once--until Blendoku came into my life--did it occur to me to step back from my situation and remember that living on JOY is what I do, not who I am.<br />
<br />
So, there. New Rule: "Don't let it define you." And here's what that means to you. No more awful (Bailey: "pawful") posts about how hapless we are in the face of our incessant equipment failures. Everybody who lives on a boat has 'em. That I'm still as clueless about how to repair anything as I was at the beginning is no one's fault but mine and, in truth, I'm alright with that. Trying to understand manuals is just as unfun as living with broken somethings, so why compound the problem, I say. We cope. It's what we do. And coping, I must say, has just gotten a whole lot easier now that color has come back into my life.<br />
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<br />Eanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15998175926624100083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-34367389578905502662013-05-23T10:23:00.000-04:002013-05-23T10:23:47.152-04:00So Far Was So Close<span style="font-family: inherit;">Damn, we were so close. The South Pacific is Right There.
</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-c-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/p480x480/264564_453928261359610_1975678772_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-c-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/p480x480/264564_453928261359610_1975678772_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Two different cruisers asked us, "Do you have a cat?" Seriously.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Through the Canal, <i>no hay problema</i>. Two working engines, a clean bottom, and shiny matching propellers had us whizzing around, giddy with speed and maneuverability. Our generator was humming; the watermaker reliable. We brought four hundred pounds of kitty litter on board and filled our propane tanks. Against all odds, we had a new oven shipped to us and installed. (And it works. Seriously. Even the electronic ignition works! It is less "thermostatically controlled" than advertised, but this is another story.) For a brief - very brief - moment, we had two working heads. We sorted out our rigging problem - which had been a "left over" from the Haiti-Colombia passage. Old Joy still had her problems, but we had managed to get ahead of most of them. She was in better shape than we had ever known her.</span><br />
<br />
Ean reminisced in a blog post about our very first time underway (just the two of us) - <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2013/05/the.first.10.miles.html" target="_blank">ten miles from Edgewater to Galesville, MD</a> - and we marveled at the parallels between our upcoming 4000 nm passage and that very first afternoon cruise. I tested the sat phone and the inReach, and we learned how to <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2013/05/getting-ready-for-big-blue.html" target="_blank">post to the blog via email</a>. We bought charts. Seriously. We bought <i>paper charts</i>.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NVwAyaNEkJM/UZwqsQIhppI/AAAAAAAAA7U/35LBQ6-yZyc/s1600/marquesas+google+maps.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="319" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NVwAyaNEkJM/UZwqsQIhppI/AAAAAAAAA7U/35LBQ6-yZyc/s320/marquesas+google+maps.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Hiva Oa in the Marquesas (French Polynesia)</span></td></tr>
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I wrote a blog post that I cleverly titled, "The Big Blue Water and the Little Yellow Pushpin." I had updated "<a href="http://goo.gl/maps/QPplk" target="_blank">The Adventures of s/v more JOY everywhere!</a>" map, putting a virtual "pushpin" on the island of Hiva Oa in the Marquesas to show where we were headed. It was a post about falling off the edge of our known world - about going farther in one big leap than we had traveled in the previous 18 months. My post, sadly, got "disappeared" in the mystical Blogsy-iPad-Blogger triangle. Hmmm, an omen perhaps?
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<br />
Ye gods, we even had a weather window. (That reminds me. I really need to email <a href="http://www.metbob.com/" target="_blank">Bob the Weather Guesser</a>.)
<br />
<br />
But. There was a teensy-weensy problem lurking in the shadows that I was steadfastly refusing to acknowledge as a potential showstopper. We had this minor, intermittent "issue" with our... auto pilot. Yes I know. You can roll your eyes and snort if you want to. Your auto pilot, Jane? The totally indispensable piece of equipment that will steer your boat across 4000 nm of vast ocean? Which will allow svJoy's short-handed crew to engage in extraneous activities like sleeping, eating, sail-handling, and other stuff that will keep the space shuttle floating along until its return to earth?
<br />
<br />
No biggy! A loose wire! A silly bad connection! Easy fix! EZ-PZ. In anticipation of a magical solution, I was convinced that we should zip out and buy a gross of fresh eggs. (Ean was not convinced.) I was down deep in Denial Doo-Doo.
<br />
<br />
But at a certain point, you just can't distract yourself enough to completely shut reality out. Especially since reality is tick-ticking away. There's a cyclone season in the Pacific, and we don't want to be "in the box" when it arrives in November. Well, yes, November is still several months off. But the box is huge. The Pacific is a fearsome big ocean, and we are on a molasses-in-February slow vessel (February in the northern hemisphere, I should clarify). The later we leave Panama, the shorter our time will be to visit the islands and "cover" an enormous portion of the planet's circumference.
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MZxz7z9GbYQ/UZwuHKWPxcI/AAAAAAAAA7k/xbOWiJGaxK4/s1600/p70+raymarine.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MZxz7z9GbYQ/UZwuHKWPxcI/AAAAAAAAA7k/xbOWiJGaxK4/s320/p70+raymarine.JPG" width="310" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">The p70 control head, which is going to work just fine </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">with all the other bits and pieces, we're sure.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Tick tick tick. What we have here is a control head failure. We must replace the control head, which means the control head must be shipped from the US. Tick tick tick. That'll take a week or two. Then we just gotta get it installed, right? Tick, tick, tick. Just gotta... plug and play, right? You know how this modern technology is... right? It's prob'ly easy as pluggin' in a flash drive, right? Right? Tick, tick, tick. Just... finesse a brand-new control head into communicating effectively with a sorta-new chartplotter and a wicked-old auto-pilot compass, course computer, linear drive unit, rudder angle sensor, and wind indicator. Huh.
<br />
<br />
Just in case I was at all tempted to extend my visit to the State of Denial, Joy hit us up with a stalling generator and a frozen macerator pump. And when we went for a little sail to Isla Taboga, ten miles off the coast, we discovered that our roller-furling headsail is neither rolling nor furling, and there is a seam that needs re-sewing.
<br />
<br />
So, there is a moment at which Denial is no longer possible, but Reality has nothing to offer. Tick, tick, tick. At this same moment (<i>mas o menos</i>), Ean points out the obvious: THIS IS NOT FUN.<br />
<br />
Back the hell up! What do you mean, this isn't fun? We are On The Adventure of a Lifetime! We Live on a Boat! and We are Sailing Around the World!
<br />
<br />
How much "fun" we are or should be having is an open question, but for now, I'm just going to admit it straight out: we have NO good reason to push ourselves this hard to launch ourselves into the Pacific this late in the season. All the pushing has made me crabby, and Ean doesn't like me when I'm crabby.
<br />
<br />
So we are creating a new plan. I am sure we've made the right decision, even though I am still mourning the old plan just a bit. We will wait 'til 2014, to explore all those sunny South Pacific isles that we've been dreaming about.
<br />
<br />
We have several months to cruise, then, before we jump the puddle.... Wait! I think I'm getting excited about The New Plan. What should we do; where should we go? The world is our oyster! More accurately, the Pacific coast (of parts of Central and South America) is our oyster.<br />
<br />
But Ean reins me in. BE HERE NOW, he reminds me. Which, I recall with eye-rolling, is exactly the pearl of wisdom that was imparted to me more than two decades ago by an aging lesbian hippie on an Outward Bound trip through the Joshua Tree desert of California.
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<br />
Some lessons just keep coming around. "Be here now." Let's see how it goes.jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-28906652870812827202013-05-21T14:49:00.002-04:002013-05-21T14:56:48.457-04:00Anti-Inspirational Poster #004We did it! Relentless, unmitigated positivity for 24 hours. Phew. (Read about the 24-hour + challenge <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2013/05/cruising-sucks.html" target="_blank">here</a>.) Truth be told, we had a lot of fun with it. Laughed more in the past day than we had over the past week. It was like a mini-vacation to Optimist Island - and absolutely we are bringing some of that vacation vibe back home to our every-day life on JOY.<br />
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<div>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nrLILrNKFas/UZu-5XWmMkI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/Vpad8ncP_dA/s1600/anti-insp_logo.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nrLILrNKFas/UZu-5XWmMkI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/Vpad8ncP_dA/s1600/anti-insp_logo.png" /></a>But - <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2012/09/inspiration-for-cruisers.html" target="_blank">I've already owned up to this</a> - we actually <i>like </i>our little niche in the blogging/cruising community. We are the "is it too late to get your deposit back?" counterpoint to the Happy People. <br />
<br />
Honestly if I see that Mark Twain quotation one more time - you know the one - </div>
<div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.<br />– Mark Twain</i></blockquote>
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- I'm going to vomit. <br />
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So we found our own Mark Twain quotation. Without further ado, we present to you the fourth in our series of Anti-Inspirational Posters:<br />
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<a name='more'></a><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r6bs-80FxsA/UZu-dS8LIMI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/xIv_jpVhhww/s1600/004_adventure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r6bs-80FxsA/UZu-dS8LIMI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/xIv_jpVhhww/s640/004_adventure.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The first three posters are here: <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-413dkbx2Io0/UGcl9Ek6HDI/AAAAAAAABSY/0Pf3ka8AMFg/s640/rectitude.jpg" target="_blank">#001</a>, <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fk0ksGh9O5g/UG9LFD75a4I/AAAAAAAAAaE/7ZQtWcqwNU8/s640/unassailability.jpg" target="_blank">#002</a>, <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mhRsHPjWb8o/UH1p-MIbQEI/AAAAAAAAAbs/vSlK690eQu4/s640/003_clewlessness.jpg" target="_blank">#003</a></div>
jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-11977935501977016752013-05-20T16:19:00.001-04:002013-05-21T13:10:07.075-04:00Stupid stupid stupid everything<br />
Ean and I have been sniping at each other lately. I know, right?! Us? The happy couple? The smiling, laughing pair who put the JOY in <i>More Joy Everywhere!</i>?<br />
<br />
Things have been going wrong. Family tragedies, broken boat, ticking clock, draining bank account. Disaster. Delay. Depression. Disappointment. Debby Downer? Yep, that's me.<br />
<br />
So this morning, after a couple of - shall we call them "verbal exchanges"? - I say, "Let's make a deal. We won't say anything negative about the boat or each other for 24 hours." Ean says: "DEAL!"<br />
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A half-hour later I am sorting through a bag of items we purchased during our last trip to the hardware store. We had MEANT to purchase a deep socket wrench and a socket set, which we need, we think, to fix our generator. It was the primary purpose of our visit to Novey's. We found the guy with the spiffy blue Novey polo shirt and the key to the display case, and he fished out the bits we wanted. We already knew, from our other shopping excursions 'round these parts, that if it comes out of a locked case, you can't just stick it in your cart - it gets walked up to the cashier, and you pick it up and pay for it on the way out. Off he goes, up to the front, while we nod and wave and then finish our shopping. Only, by the time we got up to the caja with our other odds and ends, we forgot about the wrench and socket set. (It could be noted that if we would have remembered the tools, we wouldn't have known any words to help us get them from behind the counter, but probably wild exaggerated gestures would have done the trick eventually.)<br />
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As I'm emptying the Novey bag this morning, I say, "I can't BELIEVE we forgot the wrench and socket set. How could we be so STUPID?" And without missing a beat, Ean replies sarcastically, "REALLY? You can't believe it? You can't believe that we would be that stupid?!" It dawns on us. It is 11:52 a.m. We are Nattering Nabobs of Negativism.<br />
<br />
I say, "Start over!"<br />
<br />
Ten minutes later, Ean is engaging in his new favorite hobby: the door to the starboard head, which is still off its hinges - hinge-less, actually, to be more accurate. You can read about how we got help to fix the <b>port </b>head door <b><i><a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2013/04/creative-boat-repair.html" target="_blank">here</a></i></b>. Ean is tackling the starboard door on his own, but I am his trusty, if half-hearted, assistant. (I suggested we just throw the door away and put up a shower curtain.) He broke off a drill bit in one of the holes for the hinge screws, so he asks me to bring him The Big Screwdriver, which is one of our favorite tools, because it is so multifunctional. I say, "If it doesn't work on the screws or the broken drill bit, maybe you could just beat the door into submission." His lightening-quick response: "Or I could just STAB myself."<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cTK1XvIR68s/UT07HXVH3FI/AAAAAAAAEJ4/6ZadO7q6J9k/s1600/dns+sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cTK1XvIR68s/UT07HXVH3FI/AAAAAAAAEJ4/6ZadO7q6J9k/s320/dns+sunset.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image borrowed from the cheery, ever-optimistic Livia <br />
(<a href="http://thegiddyupplan.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">SV Estrellita 5.10b</a> -pfffftt, what kinda goofy boat name is that?)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Oh dear. It is now 12:08 p.m. and we are resetting the clock again.<br />
<br />
Sometimes CRUISING SUCKS. <a href="http://thegiddyupplan.blogspot.com/2013/03/govino-glasses.html" target="_blank">People will tell you it doesn't.</a> But. Really. It. Does. And now it is 12:31 p.m., and NO, dear reader, I am NOT going to reset the clock. I didn't say it out loud - doesn't count.<br />
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Tune in tomorrow (or maybe the next day?) to see if we manage to get through 24 hours of relentless POSITIVITY.<br />
<br />
<i>PS. I just realized that I wrote this post on one of our many technological devices from which we cannot access the internet while on board. And this particular device (an iPad) doesn't have a USB port, so I can't transfer the file anywhere unless I go ashore and find a wifi connection. So. HOW COOL IS THAT? An excuse to get lunch at Mi Ranchito, which is super close to the dock, and they're really friendly, they have free wifi, and good food - the most awesome papaya-melón smoothie - mmm hmmm.... Life is good. (phew. I turned that right around, didn't I?) </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>PPS. And now it's 3:15 p.m., and we had a VERY nice lunch, and the Batido de Papaya y M</i><i>elón </i><i> was AWESOME. We have now been positive for 3 hours and 7 minutes - and counting!!!</i><br />
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Oh, JOY!jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-14848513133663244562013-05-06T11:31:00.001-04:002013-05-06T11:31:12.128-04:00getting ready for the big blueThis is a test post. When we get underway, we will post to the blog via email using our sat phone - Insha'Allah. We will also send quick updates to our facebook page through the inReach. Ahh, I love technology (except when I hate it).<span></span><br> <br>-- <br><br> jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-74919461425333277602013-05-04T11:01:00.000-04:002013-05-19T15:53:58.099-04:00There's an App for ThatYes, we're still here in Panama City but our To Do list gets smaller every day, despite the fact that we keep getting things done that aren't even on it (and then have to add them just so we can cross them out). It's hard to believe we're about to make our way across some 4,000 nautical miles of water, more distance in one enormous puddle jump than we have done altogether so far. Hard to believe also, that a little over eighteen months ago, we girded our loins to make our very first passage.<br />
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By most cruisers' standards (including our own, now) it wasn't much of a passage, just out of the <br />
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South River at Edgewater, Maryland, into, very briefly, the Chesapeake, and then back into the West River to Galesville. Ten miles in total; none sailed, just motored. Had it not been for the late October bite in the air, a harbinger of much colder things to come, who knows how long it might have been before we cast off the docklines that first time.<br />
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Or, more truthfully, the first time without "adult supervision." About a week after moving aboard, our broker, Tommy, taking pity on us, took us out for an afternoon sail to run us through the basics. But still... What if we... or... or... The one thought that kept impressing itself upon us was how improbable it seemed to successfully move a boat from one point to an intended other knowing as little about how to do it as we did. But every morning was chillier than the one before.<br />
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In our defense, we weren't the only ones dragging our keels. Our survey had produced a very extensive list of repairs that needed to be attended to in order that our insurance company would remain happy to have our money. Here, our hands were tied. With our non-existent sailing resume, they were the only company who would take us on. We were young, then, and naive and reluctant to piss them off. The aforementioned Tommy "had a guy" that he called in to do any repair work needed on his clients' boats. We gave him our survey results and consulted with him as to which ones ought to be done immediately and which ones could be put off until we got somewhere warmer.<br />
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And then we waited... He'd see us on the way to someone else's boat and promise to come by later that afternoon or first thing the next morning. A day passed, two, most of a week. Had he been one of the many contractors we'd hired during the remodeling of our bungalow, I'd have given him one chance before I fired him and given the job to someone else, but we didn't know of anyone else. And besides, we thought, maybe in the world of pleasure boating, there was a different protocol. Maybe clients were just expected to be more patient. After more than 10 days had passed without him showing up to once, we were pretty sure we were being blown off, but couldn't understand why. Since he was our broker's guy, we went to our broker and asked him to light a fire under him, not the least of which because we needed the warmth; we were getting COLD.<br />
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Still nothing. Than one day, more than two weeks after we'd originally contracted with him, when we thought we had him pinned down to a time, we watched as he ran past us to help another crew with an emergency issue that would delay their intended departure time. Wait, didn't we have an intended departure time or, rather, week? We were done.<br />
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In bemoaning our plight with a few of our neighbors, someone suggested a boatyard a few miles down the "road" in Galesville. They had a good reputation, at least they had a reputation for actually doing something. Maybe it was just as well. For psychological as well as meteorological reasons, it was high time for us to begin our adventure. Every day of delay made going that much more daunting.<br />
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One very real obstacle remained. Though not an item on our survey, one of the projects requiring immediate attention was the installation of our new chartplotter, the very instrument we needed to navigate our way to the boatyard that could install it for us. If we didn't trust our ability to maneuver the boat, we certainly had no intention of trusting our fate to our very limited paper charting abilities with which we had even less experience. No, without a chartplotter with GPS, we couldn't budge. Then, a day or so later, we realized that there had to be a chartplotter app for smartphones, and sure enough, nine bucks later, we were in business.<br />
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So we left and we learned to back away from a dock and steer a vessel the size of 8 cars. We learned to trust the accuracy of our position as it was displayed on the tiny screen. We learned that we were fine with only five feet of water under our keel. By the time we tied up at Hartge Yachtyard a few hours later, we learned that we could do something we had no idea how to do ahead of time. We learned that knowing what you're doing can happen as you go along and maybe not until you get there, but that shouldn't (always) stop you from setting out. If we didn't actually learn how to sail on our first cruise, we learned that we would.<br />
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We've been on a few cruises and longer ones since then, but nothing's really changed. We're still going along and doing things we have no idea how to do. That's why we know it's an adventure.
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Click on the monkey's fist to read others bloggers on this topic.</div>
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Eanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15998175926624100083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-10338512705054982882013-04-23T12:26:00.002-04:002013-04-23T12:26:54.111-04:00Heads Up<br />
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So how many times has this happened to you? There you are, transiting the 8th (or 11th or 5th depending on which list you consult) wonder of the modern world with people you've never met before and people you barely know. You've planned and prepped for days to make a good...no, a stellar, impression. You want people to look back and remark, even years later: "Do you remember that time we crossed the Panamá Canal in that boat 'More Joy to All'.. or, 'Lots of Joy for Everyone', or whatever it was and it was so awesome? Man, those guys sure knew how to throw a canal crossing party! I've been through the canal 9 times since then on other boats and none of them were anywhere as much fun as that More Joy Something boat."</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">an una-door-able situation</td></tr>
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And thanks to all your planning and, yes, very generous spending, you pull off an excellent, once-in-a-lifetime event. Flawless, really, except for one small technical difficulty: the head door comes loose from its "hinge" (by design, a piece of plastic covered wire running its length) causing your translucent door to dangle precariously and leaving the unlucky occupant to wonder at how he or she could have misunderstood so egregiously the operation of a door. But they are an exceptionally hardy bunch and all is forgiven, if not forgotten and, after all, the rest of the transit does go beautifully and you arrive at your anchorage and your anchor sets perfectly on the first go and all is well.</div>
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...Except for the door, and really both head doors, since the one that fell off you'd <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2012/05/good-news-from-department-of-redundancy.html" target="_blank">cannibalized</a> from the other hull, so it, too, is <i>sin una puerta</i>. What to do? You've no idea; your best attempt at a fix resulted in awkwardness and embarrassment on the part of many. Well, you could ask the rigger to fix it. In fact, you already had before your crossing. There just wasn't enough time. But since he's coming back to fix your rig anyway, why not? Because he's a full-fledged, fourth generation shipwright with 200+ years of experience and charges a reasonable hourly rate for all that know-how which, you suspect, is a lot more know-how than you need for this particular project, that's why not. No, just a handyman with a little creativity who could take a look at the problem and come up with a very permanent and, if at all possible, somewhat aesthetically pleasing solution and who will charge a handyman rate for doing so. Not that you're cheap, it's just that you happened to have stumbled into a hobby that costs more than collecting antique spaceships.</div>
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You wonder how in the world you'll ever manage to secure the services of such an individual in a predominantly Spanish speaking city when the bulk of your Spanish vocabulary is geared toward effective communication in restaurants. Fortunately, there exists an instance of the very pinnacle of cruising culture--a cruisers' net. So along with finding out who's just come, who's leaving, who needs linehandlers or tires, who has a "treasure of the bilge" to sell, trade, or give away, there is a section for help needed or offered, the perfect place to put out a call. And so you do. And within seconds another cruiser responds, offering to take a look at the problem.</div>
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He comes over a little while later, inspects the offending bits, remarks on what a bizarre and pathetic excuse for a hinge your door has been hanging on all these years, points out that whoever tried to fix it previously probably actually made it worse (you remain silent regarding the identity of the culprit) and comes up with a solution involving a few heavy duty, <i>normal</i> hinges and tools which he--not you--owns.</div>
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Over the next few days, he comes back at least four times to see your project through its several phases. He knows exactly what he's doing and everything works just the way he said it would. </div>
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He doesn't charge you a dime.</div>
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He asks to borrow a couple of jerry cans for a fuel cleaning project he's working on which you are very happy to be able to loan him. You have a few old charts that you hope he might be able to use, anything to reciprocate, though you know you can't match the value of his time and materials. </div>
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He'll be transiting in a couple of days--going to where you just came from--so there's little chance you'll ever be able to return the favor. But he's not concerned in the least; he knows that in the cruiser community, what goes around, comes around.</div>
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Thanks, Neal. May Aeolus smile upon your travels.</div>
Eanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15998175926624100083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-46583087496388555272013-04-14T15:03:00.000-04:002013-04-14T16:08:06.892-04:00"See You on the Other Side"At Shelter Bay, we hear it alot. It conjures unnerving images of people in matching tennis shoes and large batches of Kool-Aid. But, no, no cult activity implied or intended, just a 47 or so mile trip up three locks, across a lake and a cut and then down three locks to the other side (in our case, the Pacific side) of Panama. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-srRvVOE9jqQ/UWr3GweuUrI/AAAAAAAAA3M/FYpnpuQcu1c/s1600/joy+with+tires.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="342" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-srRvVOE9jqQ/UWr3GweuUrI/AAAAAAAAA3M/FYpnpuQcu1c/s640/joy+with+tires.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready to go!</td></tr>
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Its wholly earthly nature notwithstanding, it probably takes as much or more preparation as would a trip to a next plane of existence. The Panama Canal Authority takes this whole transiting thing very seriously; an accident inside one of the locks could really mess with the commercial traffic--some 12,000 plus vessels a year--that pay $50,000 or more apiece to cross. (A sum, by the way, which makes our $2000 transiting fee sound like pocket change.) First, there is the admeasurement (yes, <i>AD</i>measurement) of the vessel. An admeasurer comes to the boat and actually measures its length. The width and draft of the vessel are ascertained and navigational lights are checked for functionality. Fortunately, JOY (by her previous name) had already transited once and the canal authority retains the paperwork for every vessel forever. So, we were saved from actually being measured--just questioned as to whether everything was in working order, which, in fact, it was.<br />
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Next, lines and fenders must be obtained. The lines (4 of them at 125 ft. apiece), are for tying the vessel to the walls of the canal and/or another vessel. Fenders, old vehicle tires wrapped in garbage bags, prevent the vessel from being damaged. There are any number of ways to get them. We got ours from boats who had just crossed. We ended up with so many of them that our agent took our extras away BEFORE we crossed.<br />
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In addition to lines and fenders, a transiting vehicle needs linehandlers, four of these also; one for each "corner" of the boat. It's generally not hard to find linehandlers. They can be hired through one's canal agent. (While hiring an agent is not required, most cruisers do for the same reason most people hire a wedding planner: why bother to get good at the details of something you're planning to do only once), but most people find that other cruisers are more than willing to serve as linehandlers for the experience before they themselves transit. Having served as linehandlers for our friends Tim and Cath on Helena May, we decided to use the linehandler they hired, a young guy named Eric, who has been doing this for seven years and doesn't even know how many boats he's helped transit. With yours truly serving as another linehandler, we needed only two more and Jane's niece, Rachel, and her boyfriend, Josh, took time off work to fly down and help us (as well as deliver our Amazon.com shopping cart items).<br />
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We were so pleased they could both get the time off. The very minute our transit date was confirmed, Jane texted Rachel who in the very next minute bought their plane tickets. Against some pretty unlikely odds, they were actually going to make it--and they almost did. On the day before our transit, while our agent was collecting our aforementioned surplus of tires, Jane got an email from Rachel who said that she'd been turned away at the gate of their connecting flight in Atlanta. They shouldn't even have let her on the first flight in Cincinnati because her passport was expiring in under three months, the minimum time Panama requires passports to be valid in order to issue a visa. Of all the bizarre turns of luck! On the very small upside, our agent happened to be at the boat, so we explained the situation and asked to hire two additional linehandlers. He had two guys he could use, but it meant they'd have to work on their day off. But he was going to set us up.<br />
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We were very, very bummed about Rachel and Josh, but there was still too much to do to dwell on it. I had been cleaning the boat for days and still hadn't gotten to the outside. We needed to refuel, take the boat out to give the starboard engine one last chance to fail. (I realize that sounds absurd and fatalistic, but we never did figure out why it sprayed all of its oil all over the outboard wall, were never able to replicate the problem and were sure that if we didn't give it every possible opportunity to do otherwise, it would reprise its act of mischief while in the canal. An engine failure while crossing could cost us, at the very minimum, our transit fee and possibly much more), stow all the provisions we'd been collecting for the past month wherever we could find to put them, since we needed every available berth for our extra crew. This was, ironically, made easier by a hinge failure on our port head door. We took it off and used the door from the starboard head as a replacement, leaving the starboard head more accessible as a storage spot. The downside was the time I spent--about 6 hours--trying to get the starboard head door to work on the port side (they are identical and identically hung). It worked for a day, then it, too, fell off its hinges, much to the consternation of the unlucky person who was trying to exit the head at that moment.<br />
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Eventually, everything was done: Beds were made, snacks packed, meals prepped, provisions stowed, laundry done, water tanks filled one last time, holding tank emptied one last time, boat passably clean. We worked so hard we had two whole hours to spare! I was wiping down JOY's rails when two young women asked if we needed linehandlers. We didn't, I told them, and added that I wished they'd stopped by the day before. (Ironically, over the previous few days several people, mostly backpackers, stopped by to see if we needed linehandlers. Assuming family was coming, we turned them down. The girls asked if we knew of any other boats who needed help. We didn't, but I suggested they do just what they were doing: walk up and down the docks and ask. They bid us good day and went on their way.<br />
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After they left, Jane, who had heard my conversation with them, who can still surprise the crap out of me, suggested that we invite them along anyway. Still bummed about her niece, she...actually, I really don't know what she was thinking, but we have a lot of room and we had a lot of food, so what the heck. She went down the dock and fetched them back. Several minutes later, our agent stopped by with our hired hands. We said that since we'd already committed to hiring them, for which they were forfeiting a day off, we'd honor our deal, but if they'd really rather have the day off, we'd use the girls as our additional linehandlers. He told us it would be fine, but that a small tip for their time would be appreciated. We happily agreed.<br />
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We had a 3:11 p.m. appointment to pick up our advisor (every vessel must have an advisor employed by the canal), so at just before 2 p.m., JOY and her crew, Captain Jane and linehandlers Eric, Kasja, Nadja, and I, motored out of Shelter Bay. Though it meant nothing to our hired hands, JOY's regular crew was thrilled to be leaving.<br />
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From the perspective of the Canal crew, organizing transiting vessels in an efficient manner is a bit of a logistical puzzle. It depends on who goes when and how big they are and how big the commercial vessel going at roughly the same time is and, etc. etc. Typically, vessels our size are "nested," that is, tethered side by side with two or three other vessels and cross together as a unit, leaving the majority of the lock's 1050 ft. length for commercial vessels. At other times and depending on several factors, a vessel will be tethered to another vessel which, in turn, wil be up against the lock wall. This is how we transited the first three locks (uplocked); tied alongside a Panamanian warship. The nice thing about this configuration is that only one side of the boat is tied up, so only two linehandlers (fore and aft) have any work to do, and the lines don't have to be adjusted as the water level in the locks changes. So for the whole first half of the transit, our guests got a (work) free pass.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We "rode" the three Gatun locks alongside this Panamanian warship (which should NOT be referred to as a "gunboat," by the way)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L_0vraSqdBQ/UWr33DeaUrI/AAAAAAAAA3c/vjF84r17-oE/s1600/george.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L_0vraSqdBQ/UWr33DeaUrI/AAAAAAAAA3c/vjF84r17-oE/s640/george.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approaching the first of the three Gatun locks. The warship is already on the wall. Our advisor George is surveying the scene, with Eric and Kasja on the bow.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bOuDX8zicrs/UWr40fU4icI/AAAAAAAAA3s/hJzqBWvkVdc/s1600/tucker+uplock.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="614" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bOuDX8zicrs/UWr40fU4icI/AAAAAAAAA3s/hJzqBWvkVdc/s640/tucker+uplock.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker was particularly stressed out during the up-locking, when the water was more turbulent (down-locking, the water drains like a bathtub).</td></tr>
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Once though the Gatun locks (the uplocks going southbound), we motored across Lake Gatun to our mooring. While linehandlers spend the night on the boat, advisors leave while the boat is moored. We said good-bye to our advisor and his trainee. Our second advisor would be onboard between 6:00 and 6:30 the next morning. It was around sundown by the time JOY was tied up. That left us nothing to do but eat, drink and chat until bedtime. Kasja and Nadja who are from Holland and Cologne respectively spoke perfect English, of course. (My advice to the unborn: if you suspect you will be a lazy person, make sure to be born in a country that uses English as its first--or only--language. You'll be able to talk to almost anyone on earth without putting forth any extra effort.) Eric, as he did on Helena May, stayed off by himself somewhere while the four of us had a lovely evening.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tucker and Kasja slept alfresco on Gatun Lake.</td></tr>
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Our second advisor showed up at 6:19. Those of us who drink coffee had barely had a few sips when his pilot boat dropped him off. While Jane motored us through the lake, I made breakfast. This is the slow part of the trip. It's about a four hour ride through the lake and down the cut before getting to the first of the three locks that lower you to the Pacific Ocean. Eric chatted with Roy, our advisor; the girls chatted, wrote in their journals, read, napped, snacked, napped, read, etc. Jane drove. I cooked and washed dishes.<br />
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At long last it was time to get through the downlocks. We were just two miles from the Pacific. Roy had hoped to get us through a little early, but the ever changing choreography of canal traffic management was against us. To kill time, we literally spun in circles about a half mile from the first lock until the tour boat we were to be tied to and the car carrier that was to share the lock with us arrived.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4-RV9DGCEtk/UWr5l3kmHgI/AAAAAAAAA30/JMo3hdbcmkA/s1600/atlas.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="346" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4-RV9DGCEtk/UWr5l3kmHgI/AAAAAAAAA30/JMo3hdbcmkA/s640/atlas.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">M/V Atlas III, a pre-WWII vessel currently employed as a tour boat, approaches the Pedro Miguel lock as we spin in circles waiting.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ZWJ0hXUNxM/UWr7Q017jWI/AAAAAAAAA4M/BmWoi4e2cQc/s1600/jane.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="444" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ZWJ0hXUNxM/UWr7Q017jWI/AAAAAAAAA4M/BmWoi4e2cQc/s640/jane.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alongside <i>Atlas,</i> waiting at Pedro Miguel.</td></tr>
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The tour boat was only going through Pedro Miguel, the first of these three locks. We would tie up alongside her to get through this lock, but for the last two, the Miraflores locks, we would be centerlocked. Just 23 feet of JOY in the center of the 105 foot wide canal with our linehandlers--all of them now--keeping her centered. The water emptied, we moved through, rinse, repeat. The last lock, the one that means you are literally feet from the ocean always takes the longest to get through no matter how long it really takes. It seemed like we were there forever, waiting, waiting. Finally, finally, the water let us down, the lock opened and there we were in the Pacific Ocean, the smell of <i>pescado muerto</i> filling our nostrils! Yeah, well...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EdzH4DAAJ1I/UWsE9idHjeI/AAAAAAAAA4c/409y1qDvefE/s1600/ean+linehandler.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EdzH4DAAJ1I/UWsE9idHjeI/AAAAAAAAA4c/409y1qDvefE/s640/ean+linehandler.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's the Pacific! Drain this water, stat!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6leQManVHYI/UWr6NDvZ6aI/AAAAAAAAA38/hWE2IKRVsjY/s1600/nadja.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="506" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6leQManVHYI/UWr6NDvZ6aI/AAAAAAAAA38/hWE2IKRVsjY/s640/nadja.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nadja hams it up (remember, it's like a bathtub draining) with our friend the car-carrier sharing the lock with us.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-284Hw9lS-18/UWr6qvdXBhI/AAAAAAAAA4E/BP3JfnYhh48/s1600/100+feet.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="368" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-284Hw9lS-18/UWr6qvdXBhI/AAAAAAAAA4E/BP3JfnYhh48/s640/100+feet.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kasja is on the job. Notice the numbers on the lock wall: here we are a mere 100 feet from the Pacific Ocean.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JdGzY7Ul8D8/UWr7zug91FI/AAAAAAAAA4U/6jEed7kV9sM/s1600/locks+to+pacific.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JdGzY7Ul8D8/UWr7zug91FI/AAAAAAAAA4U/6jEed7kV9sM/s640/locks+to+pacific.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last set of locks opens: here we come Pacific!</td></tr>
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Minutes later, our advisor's boat came and swooped him away. Minutes after that, Eric and the two girls boarded a water taxi at the Balboa Yacht Club. Minutes more and we were anchored at La Playita and the bubbly was flowing. All in all it was a perfect crossing. With the exception of the head door falling off its hinges, the trip went off without a hitch. And now here we are on the other side.
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Eanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15998175926624100083noreply@blogger.com1Panama8.9942689 -79.5187919999999628.7433504 -79.841515499999957 9.2451873999999989 -79.196068499999967tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-15723418463481271772013-03-08T09:04:00.000-05:002013-07-05T10:36:19.606-04:00Hard Ship<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8qjSMO_eyhg/UTnrJwCZlAI/AAAAAAAAA10/smA4cVjhvXo/s1600/DSCN1993.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8qjSMO_eyhg/UTnrJwCZlAI/AAAAAAAAA10/smA4cVjhvXo/s400/DSCN1993.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">JOY, sitting on her bare bottom.</td></tr>
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Last weekend we were motoring across Gatun Lake with our friends Tim and Cath aboard <i>s/v</i> <i>Helena May</i>. The weather was, well, Panamanian, but it mostly didn't rain. We even got to have a wee bit of an escapade when we went to shore after having bid our "Panamanian Cruise Directors" safe travels and fond farewells. Our stay at the Sheraton was a slice of paradise. Tim and Cath: we thank you kindly for your unparalleled hospitality, but you are just not equipped to compete with unending hot water, a mini bar and room service. Short of ironing our t-shirts we availed ourselves of every amenity the Sheraton had to offer. Emboldened by our night of luxury living, we successfully navigated our way through the wilds of the Panamanian bus system and to top it all off, DID NOT get mugged in Colón in the dark in the rain waiting for a taxi.<br />
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And then we were back at the marina and our "palace in the clouds." Life on the hard, it turns out, isn't that much different from living in a hotel. True, there's no hot water unless we walk the two blocks to the marina showers, which we might as well do since that's where we have to go for a toilet, anyway. We wash hardly any more dishes than we would staying in a hotel since it leaves a big, dirty puddle under the boat which never dries. There's no room service, but the marina restaurant is closer than the bathrooms and the food is almost as good as the candy bars and potato products we prepare at home. But, what we do have that our hotel room did not is a maxi bar. No college dorm sized fridge here. No sireebob! We have cases and cases of beer and bottles and bottles of spirits and the best part is that we don't have to walk down the hall to get ice; it's right here.<br />
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And, of course there are always projects with which to distract ourselves. I'm waiting for a beetle to die that I trapped under a tupperware container several days ago. I've just deleted 205 tv shows I've been storing on my Mac. (It was so full I couldn't open Photoshop and anybody who uses Photoshop knows the magnitude of such a disaster.) And while her partner Jaye is on vacation, Jane is singlehandedly turning <a href="http://themonkeysfist.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">The Monkey's Fist</a> into a lean, mean blog collecting machine. And just today we discovered that ants have discovered us, so I'll need to annihilate them periodically. So it isn't as though we're just waiting for things to get done around here.<br />
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We'll be up here for about another week or so. The paint on JOY's bottom has to dry, of course. Once they apply it, that is. We need to replace the propeller that got mangled when we went aground plus a few odds and ends. Then we'll be back on water to tackle the rest of our repairs. If all goes as planned, we'll be bored of this whole refit thing in a few weeks and we'll leave to embark upon our own Panama Canal cruise. South Pacific, don't go anywhere, we'll see you eventually!<br />
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Eanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15998175926624100083noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-920041710918980050.post-38139546292514040142013-02-25T09:09:00.001-05:002013-03-06T10:40:58.007-05:00Cruising has made us bi-polarWe've just celebrated our sixteen-month cruisiversary. We're like toddlers: you keep counting by months for the first couple of years, right? We've been out here, living and learning.... wondering what the HELL we've got ourselves into.... <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Op5lG95Aw0/USrnoXGGWqI/AAAAAAAAA1E/jtT3vLClhYA/s1600/DSCN1868.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Op5lG95Aw0/USrnoXGGWqI/AAAAAAAAA1E/jtT3vLClhYA/s400/DSCN1868.jpeg" width="367" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bananas ripening at Coco Banderos Cays</td></tr>
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But now, I have a major breakthrough to report. We have made a quantum leap in our understanding of the cruising life. As Ean was writing his three-part series about our "adventures" in <a href="http://morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com/2013/02/cruising-caused-mental-disorders.html" target="_blank">Kuna Yala</a>, we came to this realization: cruising has made us bi-polar.<br />
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I don't suppose that we meet DSM standards to actually be diagnosed by a mental health professional, and I certainly don't mean to make light of what can be a crippling disease. But now that it's dawned on us, we can find no better way to describe the mental state that for us has been a primary "side effect" of cruising. Sure, I had highs and lows before we moved aboard JOY. We had good days and bad days, sad moments and happy moments. <br />
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But since we started cruising, the spread between high and low has been wider. The highs are higher, the lows are lower, and the speed at which we travel between the extremes is whiplash-inducing. Joys and sorrows. Boredom and terror. Wonder and dismay. The past three weeks have been a microcosm. It reminds me of that cartoon depiction of a dog's life, where she greets each event with either MY FAVORITE! or BUMMER!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yRW5DVh3VPE/USrnr8MLUbI/AAAAAAAAA1M/wlJH7CzjlsA/s1600/photo+%252834%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yRW5DVh3VPE/USrnr8MLUbI/AAAAAAAAA1M/wlJH7CzjlsA/s400/photo+%252834%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snorkeling off Isla Tintipan</td></tr>
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Leaving Cartagena, heading for San Blas and the world: MY FAVORITE!<br />
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Anchored in 25 knots of wind on the windward side of Isla Grande, afraid that we're going to drag onto the rocks: BUMMER!<br />
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Anchored off the lee shore of Isla Tintipan, tucked in, safe and sound, and I'm snorkeling in ten feet of gin-clear water: MY FAVORITE!<br />
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We start our passage to Panama with no wind, but the seas are big and lumpy and on the beam: BUMMER!<br />
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Arriving at Tupbak in Kuna Yala in the early afternoon, after a nice overnight sail: MY FAVORITE!<br />
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Ean has already written about stupendous Ustupu, Sally the starboard engine on strike, the GROSS grounding, our hero Amelio and his ulu, our wind-on-the-nose squally sail, the ups and downs of Elvis the generator, and a perfect drinks-and-dinner moment in the cockpit (MY FAVORITE, BUMMER, BUMMER, MY FAVORITE, BUMMER, BUMMER, MY FAVORITE, MY FAVORITE).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RmoxKVRO6tk/USrgnkUB_PI/AAAAAAAAAzg/KW5PNhqaj58/s1600/photo+(29).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RmoxKVRO6tk/USrgnkUB_PI/AAAAAAAAAzg/KW5PNhqaj58/s640/photo+(29).JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Andres from Ustupu helped us translate <i>more JOY everywhere!</i> into the Kuna language.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yu4UC4uAg5w/USrg5M39mRI/AAAAAAAAAz0/WMeS53czdeI/s1600/photo+%252830%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="484" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yu4UC4uAg5w/USrg5M39mRI/AAAAAAAAAz0/WMeS53czdeI/s640/photo+%252830%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Both the rudder and the coral head were a little the worse for wear after their encounter.</td></tr>
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The next day we had the most beautiful sail that anyone could ask for. We had planned to stop at Nargana, but it was such a wonderful sail that we decided to go to Coco Banderos. But then we kept sailing on to Holandes Cays. We just couldn't stop. MY FAVORITE!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EM2Vaha5zHw/USriZOlpqHI/AAAAAAAAA0U/t_WCQ5exwW0/s1600/DSCN1802.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="460" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EM2Vaha5zHw/USriZOlpqHI/AAAAAAAAA0U/t_WCQ5exwW0/s640/DSCN1802.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the kind of sailing day it was. We weren't the only ones out enjoying it. <br />
If you know the Canadian flagged s/v Aries, please send along this picture with our compliments.</td></tr>
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In Nargana - Internet: MY FAVORITE!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9j_wEaxd9sI/USrfkvdFVmI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/DjuomXxP8Uc/s1600/photo+(31).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="516" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9j_wEaxd9sI/USrfkvdFVmI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/DjuomXxP8Uc/s640/photo+(31).JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It looks like I'm in Nargana, but actually I'm on the WorldWideWeb, baby!</td></tr>
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But then the internet was down and Nargana was out of coca cola. BUMMER! But when the coca-cola boat arrived, I bought a few bottles to go with the big bottle of Abuelo rum we found at the billiard hall: MY FAVORITE! The island is covered in trash: BUMMER!<br />
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Molas from a master mola maker: MY FAVORITE! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V4TlgWzBzYI/USrkFVi83iI/AAAAAAAAA0s/VrOYKurvrcU/s1600/photo+(33).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="526" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V4TlgWzBzYI/USrkFVi83iI/AAAAAAAAA0s/VrOYKurvrcU/s640/photo+(33).JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We went to Mormaketupu (Mola Makers' Island) and bought molas from Venancio</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DdVPoxcC3UM/UTdizdjLLyI/AAAAAAAAA1k/6Cp1L5B2dg0/s1600/DSCN1990.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="496" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DdVPoxcC3UM/UTdizdjLLyI/AAAAAAAAA1k/6Cp1L5B2dg0/s640/DSCN1990.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's one of the molas we bought - learn more about this Kuna art form <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mola_(art_form)" target="_blank">here</a>.</td></tr>
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I stupidly wrapped the dinghy line around the prop while we were anchoring later that afternoon: BUMMER!<br />
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Hanging with friends (who had sailed from Cartagena ahead of us): MY FAVORITE!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FyODJ62UFsM/USriNW1Fn5I/AAAAAAAAA0M/w25geJh-QXw/s1600/photo+(32).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FyODJ62UFsM/USriNW1Fn5I/AAAAAAAAA0M/w25geJh-QXw/s640/photo+(32).JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We first met Kirk (<i><a href="http://www.sailingsalsa.com/" target="_blank">s/v Salsa</a></i>) in Cartagena, where he had just completed his circumnavigation. <br />
We had a couple beers with him in Lemon Cays.</td></tr>
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And on and on it goes. Getting into a slip at Shelter Bay Marina on a windy afternoon with one engine: BUMMER! But then here we are, and we're getting big hugs from our buddies Arjan and Maia from <i>s/v Skye</i>: MY FAVORITE!<br />
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There are peaks and troughs. We are learning to let the highs lift us: to truly appreciate all that is good. And when it turns around, and we go tilting into the trough, we remind ourselves that the next big swell is coming. As I sit here typing away, Ean pops over to the marina store and buys me a fudgesicle. And if I'm lyin', I'm dyin' - it is the BEST fudgesicle I HAVE EVER EATEN. And Ean: well, of course, he is MY FAVORITE!<br />
<br />jane morejoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14871633865109014202noreply@blogger.com4