Who's anxious?

Valentine's Day and John's surgery day.  An interesting combination, but I was prepared, stalward and ready to go. I had bought a romantic Valentine card and delivered it to him as he woke up this morning.  It must have scared him that it wasn't my normal quirky card, because he didn't smile or say anything, except, "I didn't get you a card."  "Of course you didn't," I laughed.  "You can't walk more than 50 feet and I had the car at work yesterday."  I kissed his cheek, walked into the living room and began to pack up my papers and computer so I could work at the hospital  while he was under the knife. 

I knew he was a bit anxious.  This is his first big surgery.  However, the pain has gotten the best of him and he was more than ready to get if over with.  I, of course, assured myself that I was not anxious nor worried.  John had told me that the doc does 5 or 6 hip replacements a week and Georgetown has a great hospital. When I met his doc in the pre-surgical room I found him to be not handsome -- a good sign of the lack of a big ego-- and patient -- he answered all of John's many last minute questions without a single sigh.  But, as I sat next to him John looked small and fragile in his compression hose, hospital gown, blue hair net and IV dripping a clear solution into his body.

Almost an hour later than scheduled, two men wheeled John down the hall to the OR.  I trailed a bit behind him.  At the elevators that took me to the surgical center waiting room, he gave me a slurpy smile and a kiss.  I smiled back and waved good-bye.  I checked in at the center's front desk, went for a bit of lunch, then came back to settle in a chair to do some needed work.  Only then did I discover that I left my RSA key on my key ring that was with the parking attendent.  "That's ok," I hissed to myself, "I put the documents I need to work on a memory stick yesterday so I won't need to access the work network."  I scavanged my bag only to discover I'd left the stick in my other purse.  I would have to work from scratch or just wait.  Who's anxious now?

Youngest grandson morphs into teenager

From the time Ian could walk, he loved clothes. As he grew, his passion for them grew. He organizes them, hangs them, carefully selects outfits before he goes to bed on school nights and has been known to change his outfit several times a day on weekends. He is an official clothes horse. When we arrived at my daughter's house on Christmas Day he immediately brought out his presents, all sorted by style and color -- enough clothes to make a new wardrobe. Skinny jeans, baggies, tee shirts, dress shirts, and hoodies, most with logos and numbers of his favorite football teams. When he opened our present - a "fur" lined hoodie from Abercrombie he didn't take it off for two days --- Amazing.

This Tuesday this sports fashionista of a kid became a young man. He's now an official teenager. Speaking to him about what he'd like for his birthday (meaning what clothes should I buy), he told me with great authority that he wanted a gray cardigan sweater and a pink plaid dress shirt. Overnight, he's turned from sports to prep. Amazing again. He called Thursday to say he gotten the package and they items were "just right". His mother told me he had already lined them to wear to school the next day. His soon-to-be 17 year old brother, who I could hear in the background, just sighed. I know he was shaking his head wondering how he could actually be related to this fashion plate.

Waiting

We're waiting. It's that time between John deciding to get his hip replaced and the operation. He's scheduled for Valentine's Day and none too soon. After a week in the office in Memphis, he arrived home Friday night barely able to move. He had to walk everyday from his car to the hotel and from the parking lot to his office. The most difficult walks were in the airports. He has to stop every 50 feet or so to brace himself against the pain. It's bone against bone.

We drove out to the boat today. The sky was clear blue and the air almost warm. We wanted to check on Forte Vento to reassure ourselves that the lines are holding well and that the bubbler is ready for preventing water icing up around her hull. John had to wait, sitting in a chair overlooking the harbour while I walked out to slip. He's side lined.

We wanted to go see an exhibit at the Corcoran, but he can't walk the museum's corridors. He can't stand to view the pictures. He tried to grocery shop with me on Saturday. He had to offset the weight on his hip by leaning heavily on the cart as we strolled through the store to pick up a few things. He pretty much stood while I gathered what we needed.

It's frightful for us. We're learning just how fragile our health can be. It's out of our control. It's not like he did some stupid thing that hurt his body. His hip just broke down. It's genetic. We worry together. But, to worry does as much harm as the fragile health itself. I am optimistic that the surgery will be a success and that my sweet man will recover. We'll be urban hikers once again by mid-April when we are off to London to see our friend Martyn. We will. We will.

Reconnecting

Reconnecting with a childhood friend made my whole body smile today. Rich Clymer, who I've know since second grade, looked me up while visiting his brother here in DC this weekend. In just a few hours, we shared years of memories and laughed at what the 47 years since we graduated from high school has done to our bodies as well as our minds. With a facebook screen in front of us, we went down a long list of classmates -- What happened to her, do you know? What about this guy, is he still alive? What is so and so doing? We filled each other in as best we knew. In the end, our alives have played out differently, but we are both pleased at our choices and looking forward to what the next stage of our lives brings. Thanks Rich. It was a great day!

Understanding where our lives are going

Donald Hall, past Poet Laureate of the United States, wrote in the New Yorker this month (January 23, 2012) about where is life has taken him now that he is 83. Like his grandmother and mother before him, now sits at his window watching his narrowed world of barns, birds and weather and laments his invisibility on becoming of "the old people -- of another world".

I read this article at 2:30 AM last night. It helped me put my work worries into perspective. No matter what I do, in the end, it just won't make much difference in the greater scheme of things -- I, like everyone else who will survive a rapid death, will end up in front of a window waiting for the last of life to past. In the smaller scheme, I do need to do the best I can -- to do no harm -- to be kind -- to keep my friends close while I have them -- and to live each day fully. That way sitting in front the window will make me smile.

The Silly Season

Following the Republican primaries these past months been heartstopping at times. To have so many men in suits (or kakais and one woman) pandering to crowds with language can only drive us farther apart. Any time anyone said anything sensible "the base" rejected the candidate. For example, when Rick Perry said he'd rather make education funding available for illegal immigrant children and children of illegal immigrants rather than create a larger underclass made real sense. It was one position I agreed with "W" on - he understood the need for a sane immigration policy.

Now that Gingrich has won South Carolina, his ability to make his weakenesses into strengths made me sit up and stop laughing when he spouts some new grand idea. I recommend the New Yorker, January 23 article on his wife, "The Good Wife" to understand more about why he his behavior is so off the wall uncampaign-like. I do think Romney, the Republicans Mr. Stiffneck, will eventually be the nominee. Why? Gingrich will eventually say something so out-of-the-box that Mr. Stiffneck will look reasonable to Republicans who have a bit of sanity left in them...so much for being a pundit. But, I am addicted to the following events blow-by-blow. You couldn't write fiction this good.

Back to work

The three day weekend is spent. Tried to use it wisely -- two movies -- Tinker, Tailor, Solider Spy and The Iron Lady; a bit of shopping -- a small red cabinet for the front entrance now sits where the seven year old beat up bargain from Pier I used to reside; a bit of home repair -- wood puttied the door hinge gaps in the archway between the living/dining room and the sitting room; a bit of home cooked dinner -- John roasted lamb and root vegetables; and some exercise -- I dragged myself off to the gym at 8AM for an hour of heart stopping treadmill.

I look forward to the rythum of the office tomorrow -- a selection memo to write; a senior staff meeting to attend; projects to watch over; and strategy sessions to schedule. If the weekend was all that there was, I could not sit about and read all the books I promised myself to read. I would go to work the Arlington Food Center. I must have purpose and that would give me purpose -- until sailing time again and then I don't need purpose. I have the water, the sun and the wind.

What keeps me up at night

It's 3:56 AM and I've been tossing for the past hour. I pulled myself out of bed and came to the living room. First, I did a cross word puzzle; then I logged onto "Words with Friends" and tried to place clever words on the scrabble boards of two games. Still my eyes poke open, refusing to shutter.

Silly stuff seeps out of my mind. It refuses to go into the rinse cycle. It washes ideas out into the air from the knooks and crannies of my brain. Maybe if I write them down, it will calm and let me sleep. Let's see -- should I go to Home Depot tomorrow to return the backsplash samples we have decided not to use? Where would we put our kitchen art that's strung around the space over the counter tops, John asked this evening? He's right. Not the right project for us now. Can we fit all the odds and ends from the old office set up into the new drawers? Maybe we can stow the wire mesh storage drawers into the closet and fill it with tools instead of having them strewn about odd bags and tool boxes. Can we find a small table to place the printer on then so the room can come to gether? Should I have a pot luck dinner next month for some senior staff women from work? Should I cook the main course? Should we start at 6PM or 7? Should I nominate one of my managers for a small reward? How might the staff perceive it? Should I try to exercise more? Can I have the discipline after working more ten hour days? Is it time to see an opthamologist to check my eyes? Might he find the beginnings of cataracts? I can't seem to read for a long time -- my esight get fuzzy, especially when I read from paper and not a screen.

Ok. One more crossword puzzle then it's back to bed. I'll turn on the radio and listen to the BBC. That should put me to sleep.

Winter Weekend

The holiday decorations are put away. The thrill of the new year has settled into "here we go again." It's cold and sunny, but there is no snow on the ground. We sit in front of the fire, watching Sunday Morning, reading the papers. John has his New York Times and I read my favorite pundits in the Washington Post. John is planning a lamb roast with root vegetables. The plants are watered and trimmed, the shelves in John's office are organized, the laundry is done and the bills are paid. Sounds ideal? It should be, but I'm at loose ends. I sit just waiting...waiting for the the weather to warm, so we can return to weekends on the water. I know it's silly. There are museums to tour, art to appreciate, restaurants to linger at, live theatre to see, and shopping to enjoy...and we do, but it's not the same as waking to the sun pushing through the companion way as water birds call across the water. It's not the same as coaxing the sails to catch a light breeze as we head home after a night or two on the hook across the Bay.

Christimas Holiday December 2011



Washington Square

We transversed NYC this year in taxis during our annual Christmas visit. John's hip has done in his ability to walk long city blocks without pain, despite the physical therapy, exercises and numerous joint remedies over the past six months. He's ready to get a replacement and will meet with the doc on January 4th. That said, despite his hip, we had a delightful NYC holiday, complete with mild weather, dinner on 98th Street on the west side with friends, visits with families, visit to the 9/11 memorial, several afternoon movies, two museums visits, several fabulous restaurant meals and a meditative mid-night mass at St. Francis of Assisi on 31st street.  All is well with both families.

Happy Holidays everyone!

That 65th birthday

On November 19 my genetic clock rang out. I received tons of cheerful Facebook messages, but, really, how can anyone be so cheery about becoming an official medicare card carrying old person, complete with chin wrinkles. It's just me and Joanie right now, but on December 4, Holly joins us....then the rest of our class of '65 falls in line.

I know I should welcome this next stage of my life, but that warm and fuzzy mantle of grandma just doesn't bring contentment. From what I've witnessed, this next stage of life -- the golden years -- doesn't live up to those sweet annuity advertisements. I want to eat like I want, but can't without adding inches to my waist. I want to run three miles without getting winded and I don't want my shoulders to feel like they are being pulled out of their sockets every time I pull a pillow around my head. But, most of all, I want elders to look up to, but my elders are dead and people without wrinkles ask me for advice. Who are we kidding here?

But hope is not lost. I got an orgasmic thrill when we bought a new vacuum cleaner last Sunday. It's self-propelled.

Season's end

The first two hours were easy. As light dawned, it was clear that there would be no sailing as we planned. We had to stow ourselves inside for the day. The rain beat on the deck and whipped around around the rigging. The heating kept us from freezing. I woke in the predawn light, threw on all the salon lights, brewed up some tea and read the last of the New Yorker and Sail magazines that had been laying about the boat since the beginning of the season.

By 8:00 I was restless. Ate come cereal then turned to do a bit of internet surfing, write a blog, do some email or read my pick up my Kindle to continue reading my book. But alas, I hadn't brought the laptop or the IPAD or the Kindle. The SIRUS radio brought filled the salon with smooth jazz. I was bored, but not crazy yet.

9:40. I dug out some old cross word puzzles and finished them off by the time John rose and tramped to the head with his cell phone in hand. I couldn't read the paper pages anymore. My sight became fuzzy as I stared at the pages. Am I getting cataracts? I put the day old New York Times down and fell into a mid-morning nap right where I sat.

11:40. Woke to 20 knots gusts knocking the boat around the slip. No harm. Our lines held well. I paced. "I can't stand listening to NPR anymore. I can't do our financial planning, pay bills, shop, write a blog or read my book. I'm going up to West Marine for some bilge cleaner." Bundled in winter foul weather gear, I left the warmth of Forte Vento.

1:00. We clean the bilge. Laying face down on the salon floor, I push rags into the bilge to soak up dirty water and oily residue. John shakes his head, but assists.

2:00. We play 500 rummy. John wins twice. The wild mushroom soup I cooked up from dried mushrooms, but my seasoning was off. It was too, too peppery. However, I rescued the mushrooms, sauteed them in butter and made a toasted cheese and mushroom sandwich with a week old bun. All I had to do was pick off the mold.

4:00. John wanted soup. He was not feeling well. Braving the elements, tromped down the dock again to gather some chicken broth just as the snow started. Errie. It clings to the dock. I almost slip off dock as I made my way back to the boat. Birds flocked all over the marina, perching on rigging. It could have been a scene right out Hitchcock's "The Birds".

9:00. We played more cards -- I won this time. It's all boring so we pulled out the Chapman's and the boat specs to review our winterization work for Sunday.

Sunday am. Sun is bright. Sky blue. Saturday never happened. It must have been a bad dream.

My Crew

With our second sailing season coming to a close, I have to admit that I've got one wonderful crew.  He works the lines, checks the engine, and pumps out the holding tank, and maintains his role as chief chef in the galley. What else could a captain ask for. 

Once a timid sailor, he now sits on the low side of the boat during a close reach in a stiff wind and smiles as if he is enjoying it all.  He's almost convinced, that the boat will not tip over in the wind.  Actually, it won't. If I let go of the wheel Forte Vento will round up and come to a dead stop in the wind, noisily letting the wind bat the sails.  It takes a much stronger wind than we would ever have on the Bay to push her mast into the water.  Even if that did happen, she'd pop right up again, albeit a bit drenched and perhaps with a torn sail.

Last Sunday we had a perfect sail -- 10-15 knots  -- with the wind at our backs headed north toward Thomas Point we had Forte Vento wing on wing -- one sail out to the starboard and one to the port.  A difficult point of sail to maintain so I was proud and my crew was amazed. After a couple of hours we turned into the wind to beat home.  A series of tacks (almost too much exercise for my crew) brought us back into Herrington Harbour -- wind burned, sun burned and tired. 

It was a perfect sailing day -- the day before, on Saturday, the wind was too blustery to even get out of the dock.  So we sat in the sunshine and wind to wax the deck to prepare against the ravages of winter hoping Sunday would bring reasonable breezes and it did.  Autumn sailing is the best!

Using the IPAD with a keyboard

I've been issued this great little keyboard that is also a holder for the IPAD when you put it away. It's thrilling. I'm back to touch typing and all the speed it gives me. Instead of a mouse, I touch the screen to put my curser where I need it. It works well. Now, I just have to figure out how to save my list of passwords (an excel spreadsheet) that sits nicely in the file structure on my windows laptop. IPAD has no file system. I'm sure my favorite engineer will have a solution.

Autumn Pesto Making

The basil plant begins to sag a bit and the bottom leaves fade to yellow.  Autumn is here and there is no time to loose in making the last batch of pesto before the previously vibrant plant dies.  There is probably a different pesto recipe for every family in Italy.  No two are exactly alike and it takes some time to find one that suites your tastes buds.  John and I found ours -- it calls for a two to one ratio of basil and parsley, a goodly portion of roasted pine nuts and the garlic cloves of a whole head heated in a cup of olive oil, finished off with a combination of Parmesan and Romano cheeses.  Our 15 year old Cuisinart mixes up a nice consistency, but not quite paste, in the end. 

Sunday was the day -- I made two batches.  Neatly stored each batch in three freezer containers.  We'll never eat it all.  They make tasty gifts for friends and colleagues.

Neither batch was the best I've done.  They were good, but not marvelous. I think it was the olive oil.  It was a bit too light in flavor.  However, as pestos go, I'd give it a B+.  The flavor certainly didn't stop us from slathering it on a piece of crusty white bread for a taste test.  Somebody has to do it, right?

Finishing Sailing the Chesapeake in September

Wednesday:
The weather did not get better this morning. As we left the slip and motored over to the gas dock and pump out station, the rain drissled down on us and clouds hung on the water. Pump out issues ensued. Their pump was most tempermental. It was only through the banking, clanking and nudging of an ol dude that had a beard and belly reminensent of Hemmingway, did we finally clear our holding tank.

An hour's motor up the Patuxent River and into St. Leonard's Creek brought us to an enchanting anchorage. The rain stopped, the clouds parted and we enjoyed a bit of sun as we lounged on deck, ate lunch and watched the wild life on shore.

Thrusday:
Our original plan was to motor back down the Patuxent on Thursday morning to another enticing anchorage at Cukhold Creek half way back to the 140' bridge over the river at Solomon's Island. However, the weather report guaranteed rain all day on Friday and into the weekend. Our eyes met, not in a romantic gaze, but in the frustrated realization that our plans to head north to the Little Choptank River at Fishing Creek for one last overnight stay and then on Saturday back to the dock at Herrington Harbour North had to be abondoned. Before 9AM we took off for home. We were going to get back to the dock today -- Thursday -- no matter how long it might take.

No wind, misting clouds, glassy gray water and out of focus land surrounded us for the first three hours. Only the burnt sienna sandstone sediment of the Calvert Cliffs broke through the grayness. About 12:30 while standing watch, letting the auto pilot control the boats movements, I noticed the wind at our backs was picking up a bit. With a bit of urging, John put up the sails and we were able to spend the rest of the day sailing home on a smooth broad reach and reach requiring only one jibe. No sunshine, but we were sailing!

Friday:
As we slept in dock that night, the rain began to fall and continued into Friday. We packed up and left for home by noon.

Was it a good vacation? Yes, we both let go of our stress over work and enjoyed cooking, doing a bit of sailing and just being together. Was it a good sailing week? Hardly, but there three days of sailing is better than non sailing and the weather did not get cold enough to require the weather proof foul weather gear. We declared the venture a success.

Sailing the Chesapeake in September

Sunday morning:
It was a grey and gloomy ordeal crossing the Bay from Herrington Harbour in Tracy's Landing (20 miles south of Annapolis) to the Little Choptank River.  We went where the wind would let us sail.   And sail we did with 10-15 knots with a few gusts to 20.  It was a single reach and the wind was kind enough to let us sail  round the serious series of green marks that led the way to Fishing Creek. We swore we would not motor on our first day out and we did not. 

We thanked the sea gods that it didn't rain.  It didn't rain because we bought $420 worth of waterproof foul weather gear, complete with bib overalls.  Turned out to be just the insurance we needed.  If the sun had been out, it would have been a grand and glorious sail. 

Monday morning: 

The sun shown through the hatches.  We rose, stretched and I cooked us a farmer's breakfast.  We had decided to take advantage of the bright day and light wind to cross the bay going south to Solomon's Island at the mouth of the Patuxent River. Before we could leave we had to retrieve, so John, in proper crew glory, stepped on the windlass up button.  Nada, nothing.  Just a burping noise of gears rolling but not engaging.  He huffed, puffed and finally pulled the anchor up hand over hand.  Not too bad if the anchor isn't buried too deep or you don't have 15 feet of chain just before the anchor   (all of which is good protection when being at anchor).  He had both.  John thought he was going to have a heart attack when it was all over.  Getting old is a bitch.

Sail was excellent until the wind died half way down the Bay, so I fired up the iron Jenny (aka engine) and motored to Solomon's Island.  We took two nights at dock at a local marina, walked to what there is of a down town, and ate rock fish tacos. 

Tuesday morning:
John found that the windlass motor had disengaged from the gears and had fallen onto the interior panel in the V berth (aka pointy end).  The panel screws were stripped.  After several pictures and discussions with our boat engineer back in Harve d' Grace, we decided it required repair way beyond our skill sets so John will have to haul the anchor by hand for the rest of the trip.  He's resigned to the task.

Today we took advantage of the access to land to visit the Calvert Marine Museum. If you like boats, boat building, crabbing and oystering, and fossil hunting, this is the museum for you.  Full of volunteers always willing to chat about their various projects, we wandered and listened to histories and tales.  We climbed the Drum Point light.  Put John's hip on resuscitator status, but he thought it was well worth it.  He was so excited that he came back to the boat, took two Ibuprofen and a long nap.  Oh, what a life in the slow lane.

IPad Testing Continues - Day 2

This morning was the test for VMware to access my agency protected network.  The sign-in went fine once I typed the password correctly, but when I brought up my email, the font was so small it was difficult to get my fat fingers to touch the screen to place the cursor. (I'd forgotten how to change the font size).  Undaunted, I pulled out my IPhone stylus.  It worked better than my finger so I was able to open and delete messages and edit text. 

Typing was less painful today as I went directly to the two finger method and watched the keys carefully.  This of course was after I remembered how to bring up the keypad in VMware.  I shouted at the screen "Where's the keypad" until my little gray cells told my finger to tap the little black box at the top of the middle of the screen. 

VMware for the IPad is only partially for the IPad.  The ability to scroll by swishing a finger doesn't work.  I had to touch the scroll bar -- which does not touch and pull easily. I turned to stylus again, but still it was a frustrating effort.  Looks like a basic lesson is scroll bars is needed and some practice on my part. 

Quite frankly, I'd rather be sailing!

IPad Testing - Day 1

First, let me warn you.  I am not writing this post using my IPad.  That should give you some idea how my testing is proceeding.  Don't get me wrong.  The IPad is fantastic for reading and entering data into simple forms.  I was able to download the NY Times, Washington Post and Solitaire apps. We can read the latestnews and play games on a sharp and easy to read screen. That is a great feature...but not exactly what you might want to use the IPad for in a work setting.

However, to actually write something is another story.

It all began last night when I decided to write this first report using the IPad.  I was able to log onto the blog, bring up the digital keypad and start the entry.  Then reality hit me.  This keypad is not my mother's typewriter.  I was formally trained eons ago in the touch typing method of the old mechanical typewriter (yes, they did once exist).  To keep your fingers placed on the QWERTY keypad-- a fundamental--causes the IPad to erupt in spurts of characters.  To effectively type, I had to hold my fingers off  the pad.  I couldn't "feel" my keys so I had to look at the keypad when I typed--a sin in the old school where your fingers learned their positions and you looked at your paper, not the typewriter keys. this gave me speed and accuracy over years of practice.  The digital keypad was designed for the the two fingers typing wizards.  I need retraining.

Realizing my limitations, I proceeded with the two (maybe three or four) finger method.  It made me type more slowly -- that turned out to be a good thing as I more carefully measured my words that poured from my head to my fingers and onto the screen.  I was error prone (fat finger prone) and had to edit without the benefit of my loyal and accurate point and click mouse.  First, I had to enlarge the screen.  To move the cursor requires that you touch the screen (duh, it is a touch screen) with just one finger to place the cursor. Not difficult and I succeeded in correcting, adding and deleting single words.

The IPad wants to help you.  That means it is always asking you "Select or Select All".  Select works fine.  The word you are working with is highlighted.  However, to "Select All" is very dangerous.  Once you figure out what and how to Select All, "Cut Copy" buttons display.  I picked "Copy", but it was "Cut" so my finished entry turned into a blank screen and I couldn't find a "Paste" command.  I had to start all over again.  You may ask, "Why didn't you just save the entry along the way?"  I tried that, but it seems that the IPad touch screen and Blogspot are not happy with each other.  It took three tries of pressing and holding the "Save" button.  By that time, I had mistakenly deleted the second article leaving another  empty screen.  "What happened to paste?"  I just don't know.

After two hours, I poured a whiskey, climbed out of the boat and walked the dock regain my sanity.   The IPad requires a few basic lessons for us ol' school folks.

Yes Virginia...there are nice people...just like Santa



Saturday night I opened my Gmail to find an unsolicited message telling me that until a few years ago, Gavin had worked at the U.S. Army's National Training Center and was an avid collector of field artillery memorabilia. He had acquired a yearbook from the U.S. Army's 172d Field Artillery Brigade, from 1941.  The original owner of the book was a Corporal Colin J. Andrews. 

He bought the book and prised it. In recent years, however, he began to feel that the book needed to be returned to the family of Corporal Andrews.  He found me through Face book.  "If  you are not the Corporal's daughter," he wrote, "Please let me know, and I will not contact you again."  If I was, he would send it to me.  He didn't want money .He wanted it to be with the family.   "I noticed on your blog that you have grandchildren," he explained. "They should see that their great-grandfather was a hero."

Refusing to believe this was a ruse, I emailed him and called the number he had given in the email. No one answered, so I left a message saying, "Yes. I would like the yearbook."  Two days ago, Gavin called.  After telling him a bit about Dad and sharing parallel experiences of  our fathers not wanting to talk about the war,  I asked how he found the yearbook.

 "EBay," he said. "Just EBay.  I've been looking for your family for almost 10 years."  I smiled into the phone and thanked him for the effort, saying that I was looking forward to receiving the book.   I will place the yearbook with the handmade french cuff and collar lace and silk handkerchief that the returning Major Colin J. Andrews gave his wife upon his return from Europe in 1946.  Sometimes people come into your life who are just plain nice. Thank you, Gavin.

Life without Television

Humidity was rising.  The temperature was exceeding 95. Storms threatened. Instead of having our 60 foot mast rising above the bay water to capture lightening as it etched the sky, we decided to stay home for the weekend. After a thundering burst of energy to clean the condo, we viewed Chris Martin's "Big Painting" at the Corcoran, then drove to DuPont Circle to a favorite Bistro Du Coin for a late afternoon lunch.

"What if we didn't watch TV for a week or so?" I asked, slipping a perfectly delectable pomme frite into my mouth after dabbing it in a bit mayonnaise.

"Why, I  don't know." John replied, looking at me, knowing I had a new project in mind.  He sighed but continued to smile at me, knowing that resistance was futile.

"I'm thinking that we've lost touch with just plain living," I replied, dipping a piece of crusty french bread into the shallot, garlic and white wine broth of the mussels pot. " I don't seem to find time to write the blog at home any more; the newspapers are left unread, and our weekly New Yorker magazines are piling up without us even browsing through them backwards to read the cartoons."

John sipped the rest of his wine. He said no more. I said no more.  We finished our mussels  and prepared ourselves to leave for the movie--the conclusion to the Harry Potter saga.  It still hadn't rained as promised. 

After the movie, at home, we played cards while we mellowed out to Rod Stewart singing classic standards -- a wise gift from my daughter several years ago. We happily listened to the rain pounding the streets and our balcony.  One thing led to another and by the next morning we realized we hadn't turned on the TV.  Was this a start?

On Sunday morning I exhausted myself aerobically at the gym. At home in the afternoon, we chopped an armful of freash basil from our pot garden and made two huge batches of fresh pesto.  We then splurged on cavatelli smothered in the fresh pesto for dinner.  Again, no TV.  Could it be that it would soon become just tv?

It's Monday night now.  I read the paper while John prepared a light salad with roasted pine nuts and sun drenched fragrant tomatoes from a colleague's garden.  The heat has subsided so we sit on the balcony. A halo moon hangs above us and a plane swoons around the building, making its way to National Airport.  I write. John snoozes. Music plays in the living room, drowned by the traffic still snaking its way up rout 50 headed west to the suburbs. Children play seven floors below us. Their voices echo between the buildings. I think I'll do a crossword puzzle, then head to bed -- or head to bed and do a crossword puzzle. Another night without tv.  Pleasant; but like all change, a bit unsettling.

The test is tomorrow when our favorite programs air -- NCIS and White Collar. We can record them, but can or will we watch them and when?

Birthday Surprise!

I'm notorious for forgetting birthdays of friends and remembering family only after the date arrives.  Don't know what it is about my brain, but those dates slip through my little gray cells as the detective Perot calls them.  I've tried writing the dates on calendars, but I lose the calendars.  I've tried electronic card services, but I end up dropping the service and lose the carefully entered reminders.  I think you get the idea.  I'm a space cadet at times.

Luckily, my daughter's birthday and my husband's are only days apart (July 31 and July 29), so I have a better chance of remembering their celebrations.  It took me several years to remember John's as it was only slightly different from an ex-husband's -- very embarrassing.  After 18 years though, someone should shoot me if I can't remember these dates!  This year I was determined not only to remember but to get perfect presents delivered on time.  After I sent Kathryn's present, I shopped, wrapped and hid John's in the guest bathroom a whole week before the day.  Surely, he had no reason to go in there when he returned from New York after being with his first grandchild.

It was with great joy I woke my guy up at 6:00 AM on July 29th with an off key, but hearty rendition of "Happy Birthday" as he snoozed on the couch (he'd fallen asleep there after an 11PM set of physical therapy exercises to strengthen the muscles around his arthritic left hip). He can't swagger anymore.  His gait is more of a hop, skip and drag on bad days.

"Thanks honey," he smiling weakly while he stretched and rubbed his eyes.
"Do you want to open your birthday present?  I got you something very special"  I chirped.
A smart man, he answered, "Sure.  Just let me get up."  He rose, pulled his hair back into its perpetual ponytail, snapped on the hair band and stood up.
"You'll have to help me carry them in," I declared as he followed me into the bathroom.
"Did you know I hid them here?"
"Yes, honey.  I thought you had gotten me over sized fire extinguishers or boat fenders."
"Well, that's not the case at all."  I sighed, beginning to feel a bit worried about my choice of present.

We took the two boxes wrapped in multi-colored birthday paper and big bows into the living and plopped them on the couch.  One weighed about 4 pounds and the other about eight or nine.  He opened the the smaller one.  The way he tore the paper back and yanked the ribbons indicated some enthusiasm.  The smile returned to my face.

"I never would have guessed," he laughed as he unrolled a thick gel mat, plopped it on the kitchen floor in front of the stove and stood on it.  He became pensive for a moment. Again,  I thought he was disappointed. I remembered the time, years ago when I was a kid, that Dad bought Mom a new set of tires for her birthday.

"Are you disappointed?" I whimpered, ready for the worst.
"No, this is great'" he bellowed. "It feels great on my hip.  I can cook forever with these mats."  He unwrapped the six foot long second mat and placed it in front of the sink and work counter.  He walked back and forth over the mats.  He smiled.  He was pleased, gave me a big hug and poured the coffee.

Lesson learned: You know you're getting old when your husband actually appreciates a practical gift like gel mats.  I'm looking forward to my tires.

Pension Time

On October 5th in 1981, I resigned from AT&T complete with a vested pension.  I couldn't imagine myself getting to 65 to collect all promised $441.93 per month.  However, I've dragged the paperwork around for 30 years just in case.  Well, time has caught up with me.  On November 19th I will turn 65 so last month I hunted down the forms that are now brown around the edges.  Would I be able to hunt down the benefits department?  All the old phone numbers are defunct.  They didn't have my current address and the people who issued my paperwork are most likely retired as well. 

Thirty years is a long time.  In fact, it's so old that the "Application for Distribution on Termination of Service" form has key punch operator instructions for what should be on each of three cards. I found the website for retirees, but none of my information is electronically accessible.  This makes a girl feel really, really old.  However I persevered.  After multiple phone calls and listening patiently through multiple phone instructions, I reached a young man confirmed that my records were not available online but reassured me when he explained, "We tried to send you a retirement package in June, but it was returned." 

"Wow! I'm not lost!" I exclaimed. 
"No, ma'am.  You are not lost.  We have your information."
"Can I still get my pension?"
"Yes, of course.  Give me your current address and we'll send you the new paperwork."

I wait with great expectations for the new paperwork to arrive.  The next challenge is to decide what I might do with my monthly stipend.  Wrinkle cream?  Personal trainer?  Champagne?

John's a grandfather!

Bridget - 7 days old

He called Liz at her office in NYC Friday afternoon, "We're going sailing for the weekend, unless you think I should hang around."

"Oh no, Dad.  Don't worry.  I'm still 8 days away from the due date.  I'm feeling fine. Have a great sail.  I'll talk with you Monday," she chirped into the phone.

So we went to the boat.  The weather was perfect -- like late September...dry, bright and breezy.  My phone buzzed in the middle of the night.  I ignored it, thinking it was John's.  He ignored it, thinking it was mine.  He slept like a baby and I tossed and turned -- between his gurgling and my achy shoulders -- it's a tough sleep sometimes.

At 8:00AM we woke, and by rote, checked the phones. There was a voice mail from Liz. "Water broke at 1AM. Am off to the hospital. Come soon!"  John called Patricia, his oldest daughter, who had called and left multiple excited messages.  She'd left Harper's Ferry at 1:30AM and was now at the house in Queens taking care of the dogs before going to the hospital.  She laughed, "Dad!  What happened?  I drove up without you. I couldn't get you." 

Scurrying like mice, we gathered essentials and headed home.  We had John on a train to NYC by 10:30AM.  Before he arrived, little Bridget was born.  Tonight they are all together.  Liz is tired and sore after 12 hours of labor. And, little Bridget gave everyone a scare.  She started turning blue while Liz was holding her.  Fast action by the nurses resulted in oxygen and inflating one of her little lungs.  She's fine now, but will stay in neo-natal for a few days just to make sure.

After fetching John to the train at Union Station, I drove back to the boat.  I felt at loose ends, alone and unable to take Forte Vento out by myself. I pushed myself out of my doldrums by washing and waxing the boat in the balmy afternoon breeze and sun.  It's a good day -- new life and high hopes for a happy mother and child.

John loves kids.  He has a natural affinity. His heart is tender.  His openness and acceptance of them, no matter what they do or say is just amazing.  Goodnight.

Mid-summer heat

It's a hot summer on the Chesapeake.  Winds are getting lighter.  We consider three hours in 5-8 knot winds a sailing success.  Forte Vento continues to please us. 

We took a short four days on the water over the July 4th weekend.  No jelly fish yet so I went swimming off the back of the boat in Ledenham Creek in Little Owl Cove.  Second night brought us a storm with pounding rain and 25 knot winds.  We twirled on our anchor as the wind whipped us around.  But, the anchor held.  The morning brought sunshine. As we tried to leave the clutch on our windlass (power assist for raising the anchor). John hauled up his wrench and fixed the boy. (he's becoming quite handy mechanically on the boat).  Once out of Broad Creek, we sailed across the Choptank over to the eastern short village of Cambridge, the county seat for Dorchester County.  It's still struggling to rejuvenate itself after the death of the crabbing and oystering waterman industries.  It's a bit to far for commuting to DC or Baltimore.  A few smart restaurants and galleries dot the main street amongst weathered and broken store fronts that remain to be repaired.
Confused by the entry into the Cambridge Municipal Marina, we almost go a aground.  However, we persist to take a slip.  That night, we sit mesmerized by the  fireworks off our starboard side.  A perfect, unobstructed close-up view.

Unexpectedly, we were able to sail across the Choptank in light winds.  John climbed on deck to adjust the leach lines(outer edge of the sails)  on the sails to stop the flapping.  He's becoming quite confident and maneuvers well despite his arthritic hip.  By the time we approached the turn into the Bay, the wind died and we motored home, hot and sweaty, but happy to once again get into our on the water groove.

Forte Vento opens the sailing season

The summer is upon us. John and I took possession of Forte Vento (Strong Wind) on May 21, 2011. This new 39' Hunter is "The Boat" -- the retirement home, the summer home, the place to escape. It's everything we wanted and didn't get in the first boat, the 33' shortie. See some pics from our recent voyages. It's the boat to enterain our fellow sailing friends. It's a place to have some quiet time together.

Why do we sail when some claim we are well past the age of "adventure" some people ask us? The simple answer is that we love sailing and need a place to escape to. It's the cheapest waterfront property we can own. If we don't like where we are, we just move. It's better than camping -- no dirt, always a bit of a breeze and 10 degrees cooler than inland.

The more complex answer is that it's a way to deny aging -- a way to fight the pain of John's arthritic hip and my always aching shoulders. When we are underway, we forget about it all -- pop some Advil or Tylenol and keep going. We watch sunsets and sunrises from the deck. The views of nature are unobstructed. It is the only place where I calm down enough to just sit and take in the world around me.

We will work until the loans are paid off, sailing on summer vacation weeks and on weekends. Our goal is to retire within the next four years and spend a lot more time exploring the bay and hanging out. Will it be enough? Who knows. I'll probably have to get back to writing in some serious way and John will knuckle down to cheffing and keeping "boat" and "house" for us.

The cost? We had to find new homes for the dogs -- both are happy. Both now have big back yards to run and play in. Fred is with an elderly lady who dotes on him and lets him sleep in bed. JoeJoe is with John's daughter in Harper's Ferry with two dog pals. John does miss them on quiet days working in the office.

My work as CIO for the Peace Corps continues to be challenging, yet enjoyable in strange ways. Staff likes the fact that I can make decisions and stick to them, am willing to try new things, and am pushing them to stretch. All around its a great gig! John just returned from Brussels, bringing truffle chocolates. He keeps with it.

To all of you who wondered if I'd ever get back to writing the blog -- I am and will.

Cheers, Dorine

New job stirred with hurricane

It's been two months since I last recorded my life here on Sixties Shorties. I apologise to all four of my fans. It's been busy. August 16th was my first day at my new job -- I'm now the Chief Information Officer for the Peace Corps. It was fate -- in 2006 John and I had, after six months, achieved the "nomination" step -- that's Peace Corps speak for being accepted as a volunteer, but not medically cleared to serve. We were looking at more months to plow our way through the medical review process and then be matched with a specific program assignment in an eastern European country that might be able to use our skills. Before all that could be finished, John received an offer from Fed Ex in Memphis. Weighing a bird-in-the-hand vs. more waiting, we chose Memphis. Now, I'm working on technology and redesigning that very application process. It's come full circle. The Peace Corps is a fabulous organization full of enthusiastic people with great skills. I'm honored to be trusted with the majority of their IT and management information systems.

In the communications job I took to get us out of Memphis and back in DC, I worked in the guts of an organization. It was a great gig where I easily performed minor miracles. However, as I told the guys at my going away party -- "It's a hell of a job to lead from the bottom." Now I'm leading from the top, responsible for the welfare of over 90 people and tasked with performing major miracles. It's time to put my "money where my mouth is" as my dad used to say. I'm loving it, solving a puzzle with many moving parts.

Just as I'm settling into the new job and John is settling into being a committed sailor (he's taken docking lessons and has become the champ at maneuvering the boat in close quarters), we are faced with the threat of hurricane Earl. We're driving to j-bird tomorrow night to clear the decks (take down dodger & Bimini, stow the rolled up dinghy, etc.) and reinforce the docks lines so she doesn't get smashed up against the dock in big winds. For sure the labor day weekend sail won't happen or will be not what we planned.

The kids visit

June 2nd the kids came to visit. Despite light winds, we went for a sail on Friday. Ian, the youngest, enthusiastically embraced sailing once he got over the problem of getting on the boat from the dock. Jeremy, the fifteen year old, ventured on onto the deck without his cell phone--he was separated from it for a full 20 minutes. We weren't sure he would survive.

It was so hot the second day that we all went to the marina pool for the day. We ended the visit we a crab cake dinner at the local Calypso restaurant. A fun time wa had by all.

Fred and JoeJoe at their best

On Sunday, our friend Susan, armed with her killer camera, captured Fred and JoeJoe aboard j-bird as we've never seen them before. Exquisite and perfect is all we can say. What do you think?

Day 16 - one last sail

Sunday brought fair winds (translate 10-15 knots and no more), partially sunny skies and cool air. My former business partner, Susan, joined us for a day sail. She kept JoeJoe from shivering as we headed out across the Bay toward Tilghman Island. It was chilly, but delightful. Not a dog threw-up and the seas were quite bearable. Our j-bird isn't a fast boat (top speed is 4-5 knots), but she's reliable and easy to handle. What more could a sailor ask for?

This ends our two week shakedown cruise. As the sun set over the harbour, a crescent moon and Venus blessed our experience. We've learned a lot and experienced enough to know we work well together and can handle whatever the Bay and j-bird bring us. As John surmised, "This sailing stuff isn't easy, but it's a whole different world that is wonderfully seductive."

We'll be on the water for many years to come. The only question is whether we do with our little 33 feet or go for something more substantial is several years. Who knows? It's what keeps life interesting.

Rough seas

On Saturday morning, John and I were ready once again to test our sailing skills. We left our home dock to venture out into the Bay with 20 knot winds and "small craft warning" seas of 2-3 feet with white caps. I was confident. John was nervous. We reefed to main and put out the jib. We banged against the waves. The dogs threw up. Luckily is was not projectile vomiting.

After an hour, we agreed that it was time to head back to dock. John was less nervous and I was proud that my instincts were still good. By the time we settled into the dock, John and I were too tired to make lunch. We piled the pups into the back seat of the car and made the short trip down the road and over the first bridge into Deale for crab cakes at the "Happy Harbour" cafe, sitting amidst the charter fishing boats. (I think I have John's birthday present in mind!)

In our home slip safe, warm and dry!

John returned to j-bird sans pain and $25 in taxi fare this morning. He didn't see a doctor, but walking around seemed to cure his aches (at least temporarily). At 10:57am we caste off from Bert Jabin's Yacht Yard for the last time. It was chilly, but the rain held off and so did the winds. I put on two pair of socks, double pants and a sweat shirt under my jacket. John seemed fine without all the layers, but JoeJoe and Fred needed covers to keep the shivers away. Luckily, our friend J supplied us with several loaner doggy towels and I dug up an extra pillow sham to wrap around the little guy. Problem was is that he kept getting up when he spied a bird sweep across the water and we had to wrap him up all over again.

With no wind, we were forced to motor south for three hours. It was pleasant enough. We captured a great shot of Thomas Point Light and practiced setting and sailing to waypoints. We lunched on a bit of salad and roasted potatoes (left overs!)

The channel into Herrington Harbour North is very narrow so we carefully navigated it with great success. I backed j-bird stern first into the slip. We then spent over an hour figuring out how to do the dock lines -- the slip is almost twice as wide as j-bird. I walked the dock to see what other boats had done and then we tugged and rearranged the dock lines 3 or 4 times to get them right. We're still not sure they are right, but by Sunday when we leave, we will know more (crossing fingers).

This home slip is the top bar of a T shaped dock so most of the other boats in the marina are behind us. There is a boat on each side of j-bird, but our view is the break water and surrounding shore. It's like being at anchor with no one around. No one is blocking our view of the Herrington Harbour. We've settled in to our new "home".

Days 10-13 Rain, rain and more cold rain

The weather gods have not been kind to us. This second week of the shakedown cruise is pretty much a sailing bust--since Monday its been wet and rainy. There were enough breaks in the rain to deflate the dinghy and put it away at the bow in its tidy bag, but beyond that it's nothing but gray skies. Lucky for us we have a well-functioning heating-air conditioning system, so we are dry and warm below decks.

Our plans were to sail to St. Michaels on the Eastern Shore today (Thursday), then head over to Herrington Habour North on Friday to get settled into our new slip. We shopped for provisions one last time, then yesterday drove the car to Herrington Harbour North (Deal, MD). We were able to set up our dock lines on the slip before the Tidewater shuttle brought us back to Bert Jabins Yacht Yard here in Annapolis so we are now carless.

Last night, John's left leg/hip area ached so much that he spent most of the night groaning. This morning he ordered and taxi and is off in search of an urgent care center to get some inkling as to what is going on with it. He's done more climbing and stretching in the past week than he's done in months. I canceled St. Michaels. Once he gets back, we're heading south to Herrington Harbour North so we'll have our car and beat out tomorrow's weather which is predicted to be rainy, wet and cold with thunderstorms.

Day 9 - Christening j-bird

After a weekend of ferocious winds that kept us at the dock, Monday brought calmer air and the service guy to correct a few "bugs" on the boat. But, most importantly, our dear friend, J, after whom we named our boat, came to officially christen j-bird to ensure the blessing of the sailing spirits. Even though we bought a "scored" bottle of champagne to make the christening easy, it took us five swats (three by J and two by me) of the bottle against the anchor channel before the bottle finally cracked, spilling champagne on her bow. It was all environmentally safe as the glass bits fell into the protective gold mesh bag surrounding the bottle.

It took some courage for J to do the christening. She gets sea sick just looking a boat. She went above and beyond the "call of duty", but, then not everyone has a boat named after them. We love her for it!

Day 7 - Our first all day cruise

My friend, Paige Ireland, a woman of some experience as foredeck crew on race boats, joined John and me for a full day of cruising. She's also a photographer who captured a some sweet moments during the day. We started out about 10am under sail, but before long had to roll'em up and motor south to get around Thomas Point, then head to our luncheon destination -- the South River. The wind god had decided to stay closed for the morning. She's cranky that way sometimes.

We found what we thought was a nice place for lunch then promptly went aground, not a 100 yards off of a duck blind. We easily got ourselves free, anchored (another first for us) and lunched on tomato and cheese sourdough sandwiches. I had planned to prepare a salmon salad, but there was no can opener aboard and had to improvise. We relaxed for a bit then decided to head home as the wind was picking up and the air was cooling.

For the rest of the day, there was a goodly amount of cooperating wind and we were able to sail all the way home into the harbor under sail. Only after we rounded the last green mark did we roll in the jib and mainsail. John and I, thanks to Paige's help feel very comfortable on the boat, working together. We'll be ready to head for our own slip on Thursday or Friday.

During this day, we had a number of firsts. They included:

• John getting on deck to adjust the clew of the jib and get a few trimming tips from Paige
• Going aground and getting off
• Anchoring
• Sailing all points of sail, including a few jibes as we played around the parked tankers
• Sailing into harbor with both sailing up

We've become a grand sailing family.

Day 6 - Dinghy Day

When you are anchored in a creek instead of resting in a slip at the dock, a dinghy is a life line that gets you to land and back; therefore, for any sail boat necessary accessories inlcude a dinghy and outboard motor.

While John worked at the computer attempting to finish a laste minute work assignment (the ump-teenth one), I spent the morning preparing the dinghy for launch--rolling it out on the dock, blowing it up with 12 volt air pump and finishing with the foot pump, applying the registration numbers, and attaching the lines. All John had to do was launch the little floater and take us for a test run. He launched the dinghy with grace and dignity.

With Fred and JoeJoe zipped into their yellow life jackets, we piled into TTJB (tender to j-bird) and Johon started the engine and took us out into Back Creek. I assumed that he knew how to use an outboard motor since he's always talking about how he worked on cars as a youth. He also dropped quips about parts and necessary liquids as if he were some kind of expert. But, it was an OMG experience when,several times, he unexpectedly down throttled and killed the engine as the wind pushed us into the grassy shore. Fred and JoeJoe started barking, I began coaching and John reached for the oars. That was when I learned he only rowed a boat once in his life.

We avoided disaster when he rowed us far enough away from shore to restart the engine without the prop getting stuck in the mud. As we put-tputted around the creek, he told me he'd never been in such a small boat, nor had he ever operated an outboard motor. I laughed and asked if I might take the helm of TTJB. He readily agreed. As I steered us around, the engine lost power. What had happened? We limped back to the dock speculating on possible causes and cures.

Once back at the dock, a passing sailor saw our deliberations and suggested we check the gas tank. I opened the gas tank. It seems that John didn't fill tank quite full enough. It was dry as a bone. We laughed, we sighed. Another learning experience, but a good one.

Day 5 - Pups and perfect sailing weather

Fred and JoeJoe arrived at the dock full of energy, smartly groomed with summer cuts, ready for their first sailing adventure. For safety, we put the boys in doggy life jackets before we left the dock a bit after 3pm for another practice sail. The sky was an azure clear blue, the temperature a mild 75 degrees and the winds a light 10-15 knots. Just enough to fill the sails, but not enough to put you on guard for a "tip you over" gust.

Fred has turned out to be the super water dog -- able to take one look at what is happening and then lie down to enjoy the ride. In the mean time his hyper active brother paced the cockpit to find the perfect spot for "nose into the wind". It was better than any car with an open back window could provide. He split his time with that and hanging his head out the stern to watch water bubble out from under the boat as we sliced through the water. All the sail went out today. John took the helm. I relaxed and all is well with the world.

On our return we gave j-bird her first wash down. It made us both proud to see her in Bristol condition at our own hands. Tomorrow we begin waxing the deck--a labor of love -- at least for this first time.

We were too tired to inflate the dinghy as planned so it goes on tomorrow's list of things to do. Fred and JoeJoe need to get used to getting in and out of the dinghy. Enjoying the "putt-putt" ride in the little craft will be a breeze for them.

It's late, almost 11pm. It's a cool and windy night. The boys are asleep on the settees in the salon while John and I diddle at our computers. Living in fresh air before the heat of the summer is heavenly. It's a lifesyle that just calms me down.

Day 4 - We keep on practicing

Morning brought sunshine and fresh breeze. I took action on several items that only a sailor could appreciate so I won't go into the details. John worked through the morning (as only the Internet and broadband can allow).

Our sail this day was focused on learning how to reef the main (aka learn how to adjust the sails so you can sail more upright in strong winds) and learning how to dock using this really great technique of driving backwards. Both were successful. John was much more comfortable. He even took the helm to motor us home into Back Creek. He's smiling!!! Both of us are happy.

We also installed our outboard engine (aka dinghy engine) holder. Next is inflating the dinghy so we can take the dog boys for a cruise tomorrow night.

Dinner was scallops in butter, shallots and lemon with a bit of Old Bay with steamed garlic and toasted walnut broccoli. Cooking simple does not mean cooking dull! It was fabulous.

Day 3 - Our first sail

The sky was cloudy, but the air was warm and the winds moderate (10-15 knots with gusts to 20). Our boat broker, Bob, walked us through all the on deck systems, then directed us away from the dock and took us out for our maiden voyage.

This picture says it all! I'm enthralled and my husband is trying with all his might to enjoy the ride. John is new to sailing and his one boating experience as a teenager was trying to swim around an anchored power boat with other kids when he couldn't swim and they could. So, we're talking about it. He's working through the panic many people feel when a sail boat heels 10-15 degrees in a burst of wind-- which j-bird did on Monday as we took a beam reach (wind across our middle) out to some tankers parked in the bay, awaiting orders to steam into Baltimore harbor.

j-bird is a swift little 33' wonder. She's stable, well equipped and easy to maneuver. We go out again tomorrow. The sun is supposed to shine!

Day1 and 2 - Systems and Stowing Stuff

We arrived at Bert Jabin's Boat Yard on the backside of Annapolis in Eastport Saturday at 10am sans dogs. They are in camp (aka kennel) until Wednesday as we thought it wise to learn the boat without them scampering and whining about. In two short hours we toured j-bird's innards -- the engine, pumps, water and fuel systems, head and holding tanks and the finish flurish -- a quick overview of electrical systems. I know more about innards of a sailboat then I ever really wanted to know. And, I really don't "know" anything. Only after reading the manuals and trying to change one of the several filters will I actually know something.

today, Sunday, Day 2, was organization day. As the saying goes, we've stowed 10 pounds of stuff in a 5 pound box. Galley (aka kitchen) is now fully stocked and organized. Our clothes are still in duffel bags, but head (aka bathroom) has all the basic health and beauty aids and fully operational. Cockpit and deck stuff is stowed in bins in the cockpit and I'm writing from the cockpit as the rain drizzles all around (it's Monday morning). Luckily we have a great Bimini and dodger (aka porch) to keep us dry.

After our second trip to West Marine (aka hardware store for boats), lunch and grocery store run, we relaxed, sipped wine at the bow (aka pointy end) looked west across Back Creek with its many boats nestled in slips lined around its edges. The setting sun made the creek sparkle on the rivulets made by a light breeze blowing across the water.

John cooked up some steam shrimp. I mixed some cocktail sauce. Our first meal on j-bird in the cockpit under a starless but pleasant sky. We turned off the dockside air conditioning, and opened the hatches to sleep in the open air. As we climbed into the V-birth (aka pointy end master cabin) we discovered we'd forgotten to buy sleeping pillows. Guess it's time for a new shopping list!

The month of anticipation

In one week, we begin our sailing life. J-bird has her name emblazoned on the stern and she's got a lovely marine blue coat of bottom paint. Her hull above the water line has been waxed to a mirror shine. She goes into the water on Monday.

We succeeded in putting a trunk full of equipment and supplies on the boat in March, only to learn from our broker in a moaning and groaning voice that the shipwrights were going to tear the interior apart to install the fans, electronics and anchor wash tubing. Now everything is scattered about, buried among tools, cushions and hoses. However, in the true shopping spirit, we've continued to acquire the essentials -- everything from sunglasses to binoculars, bedding and wax for the deck. Our small trunk is, once again, full to the brim and the dinghy and outboard motor for it are still sitting in the guest room along with charts, a Chesapeake Cruising guide, Chapman's, knot books, and cook books for boaters. My sister generously returned the ones I gave her years ago--she heats more than she cooks.

We can't get all this stuff on the boat until the outfitting is complete and she is sitting in the water. Last weekend, we managed to install our federal id numbers above the door to the aft cabin on the inside. The regulation 3" numbers MD 3922 BX are firmly displayed and painted over with polyurethane. The feds require that the numbers be attached in such a way that if they are removed, it will be obvious.

As we wait for j-bird to be readied, we attended three different courses offered by our marina -- one on safety, one on diesel engines and the last one on navigation. We are ready! We've even carried the boys up the ladder (j-bird sits on sticks right now) so they could walk around her to get acquainted the environs. Fred immediately scooted down the companion way stairs, circled the salon, plopped down on floor and sighed, glad that he was home. This is a good sign. JoeJoe found j-bird to be a curious and strange place. He sniffed and scurried everywhere, never reaxing. Luckily we've got doggy life jackets so he'll float until he calms down and gets the idea of living on the water.

Back at the condo, we are preparing to remove the vertical living room and bedroom blinds that close across sliding glass doors. They'll soon be replaced with graceful draperies that complement the soft gold walls. We're also getting estimates on a built-in bookcase for John's office. He's been working for FedEx for three years (my how time flies) and instead of retiring again, he's staying. He's been promoted and is starting to travel more. Guess he can't say no to such a good thing. I'm still working as an independent communications consultant here in DC. The good news is that I approval to to take Friday's off for the summer and fall. More time to sail. It's been a good month for both of us. Hooray!

Cherry blossoms

I escaped from work at one to join John, my New York buddy, Carol and her daughter Allison who now lives and works in DC, for lunch at a favorite restaurant, Zaytinya's. It's at Gallery Place, on 9th across the street from the National Portrait Gallery. Refreshed and replenished, we made our way downtown to the Mall where crowds milled about walking, trailing after kids, pushing babies carriages, lunching and lounging on blankets, and biking. From the sky, they probably look like a million ants scurrying about. We were the ants with the determined march to the south east and the Tidal Basin.

The weather today could not have been more perfect -- little humidity, high 70's temperature and a light, but fresh breeze. As we closed in on the basin the crowds became throngs and started closing in around us. But we pushed on, taking deep breaths as we scooted around the unending picture taking. We even joined in.

As we continued to make our way around the basin past the boat dock, Carol reminded us about how few people there were when, a few years ago, we came for our walk at 8 in the morning as the sun peaked out above the trees. We heartily agreed that our timing was not the best, although the weather was. Both Allison and I were reaching our "people pushing limit".

We'd been walking an hour when we finally settled on the steps of the Jefferson Memorial to give our legs a rest and discuss our options to avoid some of the crowds. Carol, always at the ready, pulled out her handy visitor map. Allison circled all the metro stops within striking distance and we analyzed each as if the president had ordered the most effective and efficient decision from our little team. There was certainly enough brain power, degrees and analysis experience among us for the job.

And succeed we did -- we stood, adjusted sun glasses, knapsacks and shoulder bags and set off down the granite Jeffersonian steps. We strode around to the backside of the basin to where the path divides -- one fork going to the Roosevelt Memorial at the basin's edge and rimmed with cherry trees and the other fork going to a sidewalk, with fewer cherry trees, along the Potomac. Our decision was confirmed correct as we turned left and found ourselves pleasantly almost alone. Well, at least there were fewer fellow walkers to contend with as we walked north to the Memorial Bridge that butts up again the Lincoln Memorial. We could hear each other talk so we had a find time chatting about the origins of polo which, I believe, is still played in that area occasionally.

By the time we reached the bridge, John declared a rest stop in the shadow of the great bronzed and gleaming lion that guards, with his brother, the entrance to the bridge. John wiped his sweaty brow and cleaned his sun glasses while Allison and I did a few leg stretches and Carol mused about sweets with a grin on her face. In minutes, we were walking again into the setting sun with the Custis home in view, headed toward the Metro stop in front of the Arlington Cemetery.

We're home now. Windows are wide open. Breezes continue to blow freshly as the sun sets leaving a pink sky, a sailor's delight, behind. John sleeps on the couch, recuperating from our venture around the Tidal Basin. Tom Jefferson continues to overlook the visitors taking in the blossoms in the evening air. A petal snow falls lightly now and then. The special time will be over in just a few days.