Author Archives: Melissa

Mission Aborted!

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Because over a week has passed since I posted, I assume it must be winter. By this I mean that basically time passes without my recognizing it, one day blurring into another as the sun barely makes it above the horizon. Yesterday we saw this weird glow behind our neighbor’s house. The trees were glowing and the fence was smoking. We thought something was on fire. It turned out to be the sun, which apparently actually DOES exist, and the wooden fence was steaming because of it.  We were going to try to photograph it, but it was gone before we could find the camera. Such is existence in the Pacific Northwest. It’s a Buddhist state of mind. There is only the now.

On the sailing front we actually got to ride on a boat today. Here’s the back story:

In my last post I waxed politically incorrect about being a girl and being left out of the boy’s sailing trip from Bellingham Bay down to Tacoma. I had done the wife/mother thing of buying plenty of hand and foot warmers, making sure everyone had warm clothing, sleeping bags and pillows, and good, nourishing food for the journey. I had done my worrying. I had lists. I spent money. The car was loaded with supplies collected from various stores and from Moonrise.

Then, making the best of this situation, as is my way when I’m in a good mood, I made my plans for the three days I would have alone at home. I would wrap presents, I would attend a concert with a friend, I would cook Christmas cookies and prepare all the cookie plates I give to people each year. I would have the bed all to myself and sleep sprawled in the middle. I would read with the light on well into the night.  The plans involved never taking my pajamas off for the entire weekend, failing to shower, and possibly playing some video games on the Wii. Who says I don’t know how to relax?

But I was much, much too prepared. I should know better. In my life this kind of organization is never rewarded.  The trip is cancelled.  We drove up to get Andrew in Bellingham today having decided that we would put Danger Kitten in the marina up there for the bad part of winter. Turns out that ever since I got Andrew those spiffy Gill sailing bibs, he’s been spending much time on the Danger Kitten. Who knew? We really want him to use the boat, even in the winter and if he is sailing, it doesn’t make much sense to keep it in Tacoma. And the cost for storing such a small boat is not that much, so it’s worth having it in the marina during the stormy season. I predict Andrew will sleep better when he isn’t worrying about his boat, and we will, too. The bonus is that we get our son at home for an extra three days! I can bake cookies and hang out in my pajamas with him at home.

Andrew borrowed this dinghy to row out and retrieve his own dinghy and bring it ashore, leaving a float to mark the position of his anchor. He and Mike will retrieve the anchor in early January.

Andrew’s was the only boat at the guest dock. Even with the cheap winter rates. Note the sunny sky. It’s not Tacoma.

Andrew had moved his boat to the marina yesterday and put it at the guest dock. We got to ride on the boat all the way to the new slip. Hey, it’s the most we’ve been actually ON the water in over a month. I’ll take what I can get.

There’s a great marine store near this marina and we needed to get a 20 amp adapter for his electrical connection so we went inside. They had one, sure they did, for 70$. Wow! Then we looked at anchor rollers because that’s something he really needs on Danger Kitten. They had a perfect one for about 75$. Suffering a little sticker shock, we tried the awesome second hand marine store, Pacific Marine,  just down the street. It’s the kind of place that invites hours of poking around. We came out with the exact same anchor roller, new with tag, and a 20 amp adaptor for 70$ total. Gotta love those second hand stores! Also gotta love spending the money on such a small boat. Your dollar really does go farther with a small craft. Too bad I’m not even going to consider crossing an ocean on a 25 foot boat. Not a chance.

This is what happens when the wind kicks up to 40 knots and the jib lines are not stowed below. A line gets caught underneath the hatch and pulls the hinge out. This little project will be attended to in January. Watch for it. I heard Mike talking about West Systems…

And so Mike and Andrew will have the father/son time when Andrew goes back up to school. They will do a small repair to the foreword hatch. It was damaged by high winds and a line getting caught under the hatch while the boat was at anchor, and he needs to rework the electrical. The batteries are completely dead because the only way he has to charge them up is to put the boat in the marina. He’s thinking of designing a wind generator to keep them charged.

Mike and Andrew checking the batteries. They were DOA because the charge was allowed to get too low for too long. Lesson learned.

So they’ll go up on a Friday and spend a day or so doing manly boat repairs together and sleeping on the boat. At least they will be in a warm, dry boat with heat, and I’ve already stocked it with food. You can’t beat that.

They were selling this home made wind generator at the second hand store in Bellingham for about 130$.

Oh, and in case you don’t remember it, the weather forecast quoted in my last post was for a significant cold front to move into this area starting today. It was true. The temperature is now a frigid 33 degrees. And, sailors, it’s not much fun at all being in a little boat with no heat in that kind of cold. Not one bit. So it was a wise choice to forego the adventure for right now.

 

Sugar and Spice…. Not So Nice? Oh, the Political Incorrectness!

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Just saying… In the Gender Studies department around here, I am feeling more and more like a ‘girl’. To be fair, sometimes I enjoy being a girl. I liked being pregnant, I like that my husband is all manly and stuff, and has skills any girl would envy. Lately I’ve kind of enjoyed clothes and expensive boots (sorry, Tate). Why, just today I engaged in the time-honored girl activity of retail therapy. Keeping the economy alive, folks, just keeping it alive. We’ve come a long way since the 1960’s when I was a child and fervently wished I had been born a boy so I could have both adventures and upper body strength. Yes, we’ve come far, but not far enough!

I admit it. This is what I like best. It requires nothing of me except to know how to set up the hammock.

What gives? Well, I’ll tell you! Mike and Andrew are going to have an adventure next week. And not just any old ‘father/son’ adventure like throwing a ball, which they never, ever did, by the way. It will be a sailing adventure on Danger Kitten, Andrew’s Ericson 25. They are moving Danger Kitten down from Bellingham Bay to Tacoma for the winter.  And I hate them for it just a little bit. Okay, maybe hate is too strong a word, but I’m having a little gender jealousy moment at the very least and I deserve to have some foot-stomping to go with it. If Andrew had two dads, we’d both be going!

“But Melissa”, you say. “You love sailing! Might one inquire why you aren’t going on this grand adventure that is happening right before Armageddon? Surely this would be the best thing you could do during the end times!”  And to that I would say, “Exactly!”  Except for this: The Universe works in mysterious ways and one of those ways was to create men to be able to stay warm without the application of a constant, uninterrupted outside heat source. I may be generalizing here, which I do on occasion when talking gender roles, but I think I will be forgiven for saying that women complain about being cold more than men do. And it’s bloody cold AND wet out there with worse to come.

Here’s the forecast for the weekend of the 14th of December, when they will be traveling:

“… bitterly cold air mass developing in the Yukon, some ‘surface waves’ will skirt over the top and down along the BC coast for more cold rain. One of these waves may arriving by Fri Dec 14. The weekend of Dec 15 looks to mirror this coming weekend: chilly, showery, snow below the passes.”

This forecast does not focus on wind. So it will either be windy and cold and wet, or calm and cold and wet. You see the trend?

Sailors, there is no glory or enjoyment to be found in sailing a small boat with no dodger and no heat in conditions that are likely to bring on pneumonia. As a mother and a girl, I was dead worried about Andrew making that trip either alone or with some inexperienced friend. We get some high winds in the winter around here, and his boat isn’t exactly set up for that yet. I began to fret.  I began to be sleepless worrying about it. I began buying him things.

Oh, they’ve done this before. This was about 8 years ago, aboard the Saucy Sue, our Catalina 27. Do they look like they are having fun? Am I taking the photo from inside the cabin? You bet I am. It’s a wonder Andrew grew up to enjoy sailing with memories like this.

In a brilliant display that gave me hope, the Universe heard my worry and when I went on Ebay to see if I could find some used sailing bibs for Andrew, I immediately found, at the very top of the page,  a ‘buy it now’ deal on brand new, with tags, Gill sailing bibs just like Mikes, in the right size for ……badaboom… $85. With shipping. Score! Here is a video of Andrew testing them out: (Kids do some interesting things in a college dorm.)

While I was busy worrying and soothing myself by spending money, Mike and Andrew were busy colluding without informing me. I had probably two or three days of girl-worrying without knowing they had decided Mike would be going with Andrew on the trip. You see what happens when a father has a son like this? They talk to each other but not to the girl. Apparently this is some kind of Law of Male Behavior as this pattern is repeated in households and college dorms all over the world. Yes, yes, (insert hand flapping here) of course I’m grateful my son has such a great dad. Move on.

Mike and Andrew being manly men together while I hold the boat on course. Barkley Sound, BC. Damn I want to go back up there.

When I waxed disappointed that I didn’t get to go, too, Mike replied that he could take the cold better than I could. That might be true, but I don’t have to like it and I reserve the right to pout about it. The truth is that because of my girl-metabolism, which, by the way, I’m not seeing the point of since I don’t exactly have to conserve energy to grow children anymore, I would be lowly and miserable on that trip. Cold and rain is a sure recipe for disaster for me. I only hope it won’t be for them.

Don’t let anyone say I don’t at least try to pull my own weight. Also, this was before we invested in decent inflatable life preservers. I can attest to the fact that the big ones are warmer. Yes, I was completely miserable. And yet I did it. Why? Why?

So now all I get to do to participate in this little outing is the usual wife/mother/girl stuff like making sure they have plenty of nourishing food on board and plenty of things to keep them warm, like a box of hand warmers from Costco. It’s not that they are not capable of thinking ahead to what they will need for any contingency….. HAHAHAHAH! Who am I kidding?

Then I wait for 3 or so days at home while they are out having boy fun and bonding time and seeing whales, no doubt. Stupid boys and their stupid boy clubs. Rats. Maybe I will go have a spa day or something. Or buy shoes. I’m sure you’ll get to read all about it when Mike brags blogs about the grand adventure.

Maybe these would make me feel better. Hmmmm?

 

Playing Farmville

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Somewhere on this blog I’m sure I have already confessed to being easily bored. It’s true, I like for life to be just a little interesting with fun things to do and new things to learn. Maybe that’s why I like spending weeks on the boat so much; exploring new places and having new adventures just suits me.

Just now we’re at a point in our lives where things are becoming bland. We are truly living life in the ‘beige’ just now.  One kid is grown, one kid is in college, we’ve both been in the same jobs since the Pleistocene.  We’ve lived in this house for almost 13 years and there aren’t any big projects left, only maintenance projects and everyone knows how BORING maintenance is. How many times can I paint molding before I go insane and start throwing things? How many weeds can I pull in a yard this big before I completely lose my mind, especially in the winter when it’s dark and wet constantly. (Are we SURE that Washington isn’t moving further north, say toward Alaska or, maybe the arctic region, or the cold void of space? Because it sure seems that way.)

Our Fran, who was the most beautiful dog to ever live, and who we still miss every day.

Furthermore, in the last year we’ve reduced the size of our family by 3 pets. We’ve lost one cat, adopted out another because she was lonely, and lost our beloved Australian Shepherd, Franny. We are down to one dog, Skippy the Aussie. I know we’re preparing to go cruising by downsizing, but this is ridiculous. I realized that during this phase of the preparations for a life yet to be lived, life is beginning to feel just a little empty. Since we don’t yet have the cruising boat, we needed a project, something to capture our interest and attention; something to entertain us and rip up all my carefully planned gardens. Something to spend money on.  And my sister had just the solution. Chickens.

Andrew loving on a chicken, age 7

Our son, Andrew has wanted chickens for years and I’ve always said ‘no’ because I didn’t want more animals to care for. When he was 12 I gave in partially by getting him a taxidermy chicken, complete with real feathers, for Christmas. It was more expensive than a real chicken. It had a straw nest. He loved it and it lived in his room until very recently, when I discovered mites eating the feathers and it had to go. Fortunately, Clucky lives on forever and ever at this Facebook page created by some of his friends back in high school. They came. They stole the chicken. They took it places and photographed it.

Clucky, being not amused.

Mike also wanted chickens but saw the wisdom in not bringing in more animals than we could handle. And at this point we certainly don’t want to adopt animals that are going to interfere with our cruising plans. So when my sister, Amy, and her husband found out they were moving down to Oregon for 18 months, it just made good sense that we would become foster parents to their 6 little hens while they were away. Perfect! We get to play with chickens, buy them little chicken clothes, keep their nails filed and painted,  and collect eggs. By the time they come back we should be that much further along with our cunning plan and the chickens can go home.

Let the entertainment begin! My idea was to turn the chickens loose in the garden during the winter while most of my perennials are dormant. Weeds never stop sprouting and growing up here so there is a nice crop just awaiting attention from the chickens’ sharp talons. It would be an excellent plan except for one thing. How, exactly, does one get chickens to go where one wants them? We have a yard that is 3/4 acre. I’ll pause in the writing while you try to imagine it. Go to the garden page of this site to give yourself an appropriate visual sense of what we’re dealing with here.

We have tried herding them with sticks and that resulted in a nice game of ‘here we go round the rhododendron bush’ as they deftly ducked under the branches and scattered in all directions. Anyone who says chickens are not smart has never tried to catch one.

A little red hen, ready to run.

Although I originally thought I would be the one to enjoy the chickens most, it’s Mike who has taken to them like a natural farmer. It’s in his blood since he used to raise calves when he was a boy. I, on the other hand, am more distant from my farming ancestors. The chickens actually like him better, too. They eat from his hand. They run from me, looking askance from a far corner of the coop as I offer them tasty morsels. They are not fooled. They know I want them to work for a living.

Mike has spent most of his spare time lately working on chicken projects: a timed light for their little coop, creating areas for storing their little chicken stuff, making portable fencing so we can keep them safely contained in the areas I want worked, making sure they have fresh straw, checking for eggs several times a day and reading about them in a myriad of books he found at the library. His next project is to build a portable coop, using an old garden wagon I was getting ready to give away on Craigslist. See how we shouldn’t be getting rid of stuff? He loves him some little chickens. It’s so cute. Today I received a text message from him during the work day: “Any eggs? Do you have a photo of the coop you can send me?” . Yes. My husband is talking chickens at work.

This photo was taken in the middle of the day. There still wasn’t enough light to get a good, sharp image. People who think they should move to Washington, please take careful note.

So we will be suburban farmers and collect yummy fresh eggs and watch cute birds tear the hell out of my garden for 18 months. Whatever survives wills stay. And they’ll have to stay in the coop come spring because I’m not going to have holes in my hostas weeds or no weeds. I have SOME standards. Andrew will have chickens to cuddle when he’s home, and Skippy will go ballistic knowing there are other animals in his yard and he’s not allowed to get to them. It’s not that I like chaos. Really! It’s just that life is suddenly a little more interesting just now.

Andrew cuddling a chicken, age 20.