They Did a Wedding!

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We have a day of rest today. This is a good thing to have in the middle of a long trip. We need a day when nothing is planned, when we are not in a hurry; a day when we can stay in the flat and drink enough water because we aren’t worried about the location of public facilities. 

So far this Scotland trip has been a resounding success. The first part of our trip was focused on Claire and Dan’s wedding and reception, and with doing ‘tourist’ activities with my sister and her family, Andrew and Jill, and my mom and her husband. We are staying in the Portobello Beach area of Edinburgh, just a quick bus ride down to the old city and its museums, cathedrals, and other sites. It’s a family vacation like no other we’ve ever had before and although many times it seems like getting us all together is a bit like herding recalcitrant cats, it’s all good and seems a fitting way to begin our new life of travel and exploration.

The wedding and reception were stunning and perfect. I had a moment of disbelief at how life’s events unfold as I was sitting in the little taxi with Claire and her best friend, Lesley, on the way to the Lothian Chambers for the ceremony. I had to pause and look around, and just say out loud, “Wow! I am riding in a tiny taxi down cobbled streets of a beautiful ancient city, dressed in wedding finery, with my daughter who is getting married to a Scottish man. How is this my life?”. I tell you I had a moment there.

Claire’s new family of Scots. Dad Andrew, brother Chris and his girlfriend Ciara, Mum Hazel, and there’s new husband Daniel on the end.

As I post this, family celebrations are coming to a close. Claire and Dan are preparing to come back to the states for part of the summer. Sister Amy, mom, and their gang return to Washington on Sunday. Andrew and Jill left yesterday and landed in a flat on Hyde Park in London. They will spend a few days there, then go on to Paris for a few days.

Mike and I are almost on to part two of the Scottish vacation. We will take our rental car on a grand tour and make a big circle going north, then through the Cairngorm montains and across to the west coast. We plan to go across to the Isle of Lewis and then end our trip back at Glasgow where we started. We have no plans, no reservations. We’ll just be doing a road trip the old fashioned way, going wherever the spirit moves us. Will we have to sleep in our car? Who knows? Ok, probably not because we tried setting it up like that and Mercedes does not make their little SUV’s for sleeping. Too bad. 

Right now our boat life seems far away and a little like a completely different life. We might have to go down to a marina to remember who we are.

Dreams Really Do Come True

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To all my Boeing friends and colleagues,

You might think the title of today’s post is just some sentimental drivel as I say farewell to all of you after twenty years of faithful (mostly) service. This would be incorrect. In 2002 I said these exact words to a man who showed up at my hotel room door, dressed only in a towel. This man, in fact:

Michael and Chris enjoying a pic-a-nic on Lake Washington. I’m sure we were also thinking weighty thoughts about how to increase Boeing’s shareholder value at the time.

I’ll leave that to your lurid imaginations. Or, if you you know Chris, ask him to tell you the story. I count it as one of my signature achievements in this life.

But I digress, as usual.  On May 4th I will spend my last day working at Boeing.  After twenty plus years with the company it is a bittersweet goodbye to so many people who have enriched my life.

One of the best teams at Boeing Capital. Bruce , in the lower right hand corner, is the kind of leader Boeing needs more of. Jon , in the fetching salmon shirt, says we can do laundry at his casita in Loreto ($500 a load). Chris , wearing a tie instead of a bath towel for this photo, is now the lead developer at BCC. Murli, in green, is the only one who understood the math behind the code we created.

It is easy, perhaps even commonplace, to bludgeon huge corporations like Boeing.  I’ve certainly done my fair share of bitching and moaning about the petty bureaucracy, misanthropic executives and other forms of corporate pathology at Boeing and any other large business.

Some of the gang from Boeing Capital at the Whistle Stop in Renton.

But I can tell you that in spite of those frustrations, my time at Boeing has generally been spent in the company of many kind, generous, and smart (really smart) people. Without exception, my managers have been understanding of family commitments and have encouraged my education and professional advancement.  My co-workers have become friends and confidants. When you spend half of your waking hours with the same clowns for a few years, they start to grow on you.

Some of the gang in Structures Instrumentation. The guy with the comely ankles hired me into the company. Clearly his fashion sense wasn’t his only blind spot.

So thank you, Boeing, for twenty good years.  When I consider what I and my family have gained, twenty years of my time seems like a pretty good deal. We have put two children through private school and college debt free. Our medical insurance has covered more than one serious accident and illness. And I actually have a pension and retirement plans upon which to launch this next great adventure.

The IT crew from Auburn’s Emergent Manufacturing Facility.

The Auburn gang thoughtfully decorated my bike for my birthday.

Multitasking during a pressure test sometime around 1998.

 

And thank you to all my friends and colleagues, past and present who have made a giant corporation something much more personal.  Together, in ways large and small, we have created products that have transformed our world. Plus, we had a few laughs along the way. I think that’s something we can all be proud of.

When I was a young geek. Like the pocket protector?

I Am Not A Monster!

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I knew we had a problem in the aft cabin. Our bed is crazy comfortable, I gave up on ‘special’ sheets cut to fit the mattresses, and never looked back. We figured out where to put the laundry basket. Both of us have barely enough room for our clothing, And by ‘both of us’ I mean me. Mike has plenty of room because he basically has one pair of shorts that I practically forced him to buy. All of these potential issues had been dealt with and were behind us. But still, a major problem was brewing; a problem I thought I had solved earlier in the day, a problem I believed I had successfully avoided. I was wrong.

One of our new paper charts of the Sea of Cortex.

I was in the head doing my evening ablutions, a routine that has actually grown more complex with moving onto the boat while simultaneouly discovering (because of our Claire)  Korean skin care products.  So many steps to smooth, younger looking skin. Interesting aside, my hair routine has decreased well past what I used to accomplish in grade school. I have no excuse. Anyway, I  finished up the final greasing and stepped into the cabin. Mike was cozy on his side of the bed already.

In the dusky cabin light he looked up at me, love (I thought) in his eyes, and took my hand, pulling me over. I thought to my self, ‘OH, he knows how hard this day was, being my last day of work and all. He’s going to be extra lovey tonight. Such a sweet man. He turned his dear face up to mine, pulled me down, and whispered in my ear,

“You are a terrible, horrible person.”.  Whatt???? Startled I pull back. I was alarmed!  We don’t do that kind of stuff in the bedroom. We’re middle aged, for god’s sake!

Confused, I look around, feeling guilty for absolutely no reason at all! I mean it! I had done nothing!  “What? Why? Why am I a terrible, horrible person? Uh uh… I’m not!”

“Nine pairs!  You have NINE PAIRS OF SHOES!”

UH. OH. I was afraid he’d notice that. This stupid living on the sailboat thing. There is just NO privacy! Whose idea was this, anyway?

“Well, let me explain. Yes, it’s true there are nine pair of SANDALs in my new shoe rack. But technically, those are ‘sandals’, not ‘shoes’. My actual shoes are stored somewhere else.  I’m just getting USED to the idea of getting rid of more of them and I’ve had most of them for a long, long time, and you know how I feel about special shoes, and, well, I’m always worried that my feet will hurt and that I will not have enough arch support. Plus the shoes I’m wearing lately I won’t even be able to take with me because I’ve worn them so much they actually have a HOLE in the toe! A HOLE! In the TOE! I will have to throw out my lovely Coach black calf skin driving moccasins with the grippy soles that I can actually wear comfortably with no socks. ”

No response. He just looked at me, limpid blue steel peering up from the depths of his pillow. I had not reached his cold, closed heart and he was still clutching my hand most willfully. My distraction had fallen on the ice of his resolve. Hateful man. Wicked. Had he no pity left? I tried again.

Sigh. “Yes, I know. Just give me a couple of days to figure out which ones need to be executed. The J-41s with the Jeep Tough soles and the strappy velcro straps? One of the TWO pair of identical Teva sandals that I’ve walked miles in already? They know my feet so well! The slide on Sketchers, which, while not even a brand I particularly like, are comfortable and look decent with a sundress? The Nike flip flops with the cushy sole so soft you don’t even know you’re wearing them? Finally a pair of flip flops that don’t hurt between my toes! You see, I know them all personally and they’ve cared for my feet so well. It’s hard. I’m sure I can find some to kill, I mean, throw into the trash to be compacted and wasted and add to the growing problem with garbage in this country. ”

His eyes narrowed to slits. He gripped my hand painfully.

I knew what the real problem was. It was jealously. You see, I had created these cool little niches in which to stack sandals upright, using the spaces created by the ladder against the bulkhead in the aft cabin. (It’s impossible to use that ladder. It is narrow and goes straight up. You need the adrenaline of an actual emergency to use it. For that purpose, it will continue to serve.) He wanted one of those spaces, and I willingly, out of the generousness of my heart, gave it to him for his shoes.

There were only two problems with this. First, he has only 4 pair of footwear, two of which he will absolutely never, ever wear in Mexico. They are leather, and they are hot. These are Pacific Northwest shoes.

So that leaves one pair of sandals, which I remember I almost forced him to buy by constantly bringing up the fact that he had no sandals and pointing out to him how hot his feet will be. Obviously! And he has one pair of canvas boat shoes. Again, these will not only be hot, I predict they will begin to smell, meaning no way will they see storage in the aft cabin.

 

There’s room for a third pocket below. I may find shoes I love in Mexico. You never know.

I’ve been stockpiling Mexico sandals for years in ANTICIPATION of needing them.  I call that good planning. Other people can use whatever words they want to. Sure people in Mexico wear sandals and I could buy some there. But WHAT KIND? Hmmm? Do they have the kind I like? Yeah! I don’t know! And you don’t know either, mister. There are some things we just don’t leave to chance, and those things are shoes!

Second, Mike’s shoes are too big for the space. They do not fit! Is it my fault that he has long, thin man feet, not short, small little cute feet whose shoes fit perfectly into a small niche created with fabric? I mean, this clears out the shoe cubby under the drawers,  mostly for him. You’d think he’d be grateful!

Would you call your wife a terrible, horrible human being because of shoes? Well, if you would, you guys can just get together and cry into your beer together. I’ll get rid of more shoes when I’m danged ready. I’ll be ready on Sunday. That’s right. I will get rid of more on Sunday if I feel like it. I’ll let you know.