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.

In a previous post I promised I would do a series about the delightful personal minefield hell that is menopause and how it affects the sailing experience. I’m making good on that promise starting now. Let’s talk a bit about how The Menopause sneaks into your room in the night, waves its hands of dark magic over your supine body, and steals your spoken language skills.

So far it’s left my writing skills alone. It’s the quality of the spoken word that The Menopause has stolen from me and from so many other innocent women; quality that can make the difference between a coherent conversation where both parties understand the topic at hand and a one-sided jabber fest that leaves a companion confused, and sometimes, laughing. And not in a nice way. In a knee-slapping, ‘Oh MY GOD I can’t believe you just said that’ way.

Language center of brain under attack.

You see The Menopause strikes at the language capacity of its victims from a number of directions: First, it strikes at the heart of the woman’s freedom of choice: Word Choice. When the woman opens herself to speaking, an entire phalanx of words is waiting to rush her brain and scatter, causing no end of confusion. It’s as though the overstuffed cabinet of words in the mind has suddenly burst open. Words tumble into the brain in what amounts to language chaos. This battle is destined to be lost. Sometimes keeping the mouth closed is the better part of valor.

If the woman wants to be able to say ‘Please hand me the orange next to the sink.’ , those words will all rush at her at once. If lucky, she will be able to say, ‘Please hand .. ornsk…’ at which point her children will laugh hysterically at her while she points frantically at the orange, unable to vocalize any further. This generally leads to running from the room, hot tears of shame falling to the hardwood floors.

Imagine how you would feel if these were words waiting to rush into your brain.

Another gambit The Menopause uses is to cause entire phrases to get tangled up with each other and do a bit of verbal ‘wife’ swapping inside the head. When this happens new and inventive phrases with little to no meaning are introduced into the English language. It’s a little known fact that in menopause an organ known as the Verbam confusionum  develops deep in the recesses of the brains of unsuspecting women. It is thought by some government scientists that this organ is actually planted in the human brain by alien beings. I tried to interview a few top notch researchers about this alleged discovery, but they all said if they told me about it, they’d have to kill me so I chose to discontinue the interviews. The research is carefully guarded in underground vaults in Washington D.C.

The effects of this type of attack are devastating because there is no way to stop the words from coming out of the mouth. One knows even before one says it that the phrase is completely ridiculous, but it cannot be helped. The phrase will be said because the Verbam confusionum disconnects the mouth’s control mechanisms. They’ve thought of everything!

For example: What happens when the unfortunate female is faced with choosing between the phrases ‘cat on a hot tin roof’ and ‘hot potato’?  Round and round and round they go… DON’T SAY IT DON’T SAY IT DON’T SAY IT!……”cat on a potato”! ARRGGH! Another family joke is created in that very moment, never to be forgotten. Not ever. All I can say is they will get theirs some day and I hope I’m around to see it. Boy howdy, will I laugh!

You cannot predict the direction of attack.  Either the words are all jumbled up in a tangled heap, spidery letters mangled together into unrecognizable forms, or there are simply no words at all. Where the words should be there is an endless, gaping void. I call these times ‘Estrogen Moments’. Here’s how that works: Say someone (a woman) wants to say, ‘Honey, please adjust the traveller.’  (Note this is a simple, everyday sailing request using language as common as dirt.) This is going to come out, ‘Honey, please move the…….the………the…….shi*!  Whatever the f*** that thing is, move it over!’, accompanied by lots of hand waving, gesturing, and the occasional snarl.

What the hell is that thing, anyhow?

But a smart woman doesn’t take this kind of crap laying down!  There are defenses, oh yes! The wise woman will be on guard for moments like this and lie in wait for them. Then she can take a circuitous route through the old synapses and take The Menopause by surprise. It works like this: When The Menopause throws the Estrogen Moment her way, she quickly responds by visualizing the item, then neatly and efficiently naming the picture. Pretty smooth, huh? That’s called a COPING SKILL. When practiced regularly, there is only a slight pause in conversation and it is not noticeable to the novice.

Memorize this:  Estrogen Moment -> Visualize the object or action -> Name the thing in your head -> Battle Won!!

Another defensive technique is what I call ‘Ignore It and It Will Go Away’.  That’s my personal favorite technique when walking through the garden. Loyal readers will know that we have rather extensive gardens at the Little Cunning Plan house. I have literally thousands of plants, all with complicated Latin names. And I used to know all of them. They would simply roll off my tongue as I guided visitors through the gardens pointing out Hydrangea serrata ‘Ye No Amacha’ or Clerodendrum bungeii.

Nowadays when I take people through the garden and they ask me to name a plant for them, I will either make something up (all those Latin names sound alike anyhow) or tell them I need to wait for it to emerge from my “internal filing system”. That is code for ‘I’m going to completely ignore that question’. The word ‘ignore’ here means to clear the mind of anything related to the question. ‘Looking’ at the word by thinking about it or trying to remember it will end in complete failure. When you ignore it, The Menopause will give up and go away to bother someone else for awhile, just like a playground bully or an irritating sibling.

Two hours later I will be doing something completely different and I will suddenly shout, ‘bungeii’! It’s a satisfying feeling, regardless of what others think or their little attempts at finding humor in an otherwise perfectly acceptable word.

It’s easy to see how The Menopause would interfere with a wonderful day on the water. Imagine this scenario: We’re sailing on a lovely day, just looking for wildlife and suddenly I spot something in the water. It could be a seal, or a porpoise, or it could be a whale. The words rush into the brain at once and tumble around together as the Verbam confusionum kicks in. Round and round and round they go….Pointing excitedly I say, “Look, Mike! It’s a spale!”  Another family joke is spawned. And they will never forget it. Not ever.

The elusive and mysterious Spale, coming soon to waters near you. Note to self: learn to draw before trying this again.

The engine control panel on Moonrise had definitely seen better days. After 37 years of  sun, rain and the occasional kick, the plastic was cracked in several places. The location of the panel, behind the helmsman’s legs has always been inconvenient for reading gauges. It was always a little embarrassing when we were showing the boat and I started the engine.

After 37 years, this is what the engine control panel looks like. What kind of owner would let such horror continue?

What had me stumped was finding a replacement for the panel itself. After our vacation I got serious about finding this part. Sailing Specialties Inc. (http://ssicustomplastics.com/) turned out to have a panel that had dimensions close to the original. The part was about sixty dollars with shipping.

Some assembly required.

Reading the gauges had always been difficult since they were low and behind the driver. I bought new gauges and installed them in a small project box just inside the companionway.  I chose not to install the ammeter thinking that I would buy a digital battery monitor at some point. This freed up a spot for the fuel gauge which used to be tucked in a corner of the quarter berth. This location at the companionway makes it much easier to check the engine’s vital signs but of course it would be nice if they were more visible while steering the boat.

Locating the Instrumentation just inside the companion way makes it easier to keep an eye on the engine.

So, with a minor adjustment to the old engine panel opening, I installed the new panel. To update the boat, I replaced the old engine power switch with a keyed switch. That makes Moonrise more secure as well. Since the instruments are tucked away inside, the panel now just houses the engine start controls. If at some point I want to add a gauge, I can always do so. For now, I think I’ll just enjoy the clean, uncluttered look of the new panel.

It can’t get much simpler than this. From left to right; Turn on Power, Heat Glow Plugs, Start Engine.

This weekend, our traditional rainy weather arrived. I buttoned up this project just as it began to rain in earnest. Now I won’t have to worry about water finding its way onto the electrical system, causing corrosion or worse.