Back in Norfolk, oh so long ago, we found ourselves docked not far from a Norwegian tallship named Statsraad Lehmkuhl. A neighbour told us the ship was pulling out at 6pm; as it was already 5:15, we of course hastened over.
Erik couldn't get enough of this boat. He examined it from every available angle, took photos, and pointed out the sights to us. The girls and I were getting hungry and cold. As six came and went, I was wondering when this thing was going to get moving.
Then the crew started climbing the ratlines, then filled the yards on the front mast. Well. This was a curious development. The ship started to pull out... and they began to sing.
I have to tell you, this warmed my Grinch-like heart. It was worth every moment of standing in the cold.
Showing posts with label Virginia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Virginia. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
Question and Answer time
Your faithful correspondent isn't so faithful, I know, but I will try to post more often. We are currently in Oriental, NC, repairing... well, lots of things.
Q: What is worse than having to do the dishes by hand three times a day?
A. Having to do the dishes by hand three times a day with a finger you can't get wet.
It was a sunny morning. We'd gotten the anchor up with minimal annoyance (read: mud), and I was clearing up the deck and feeling rather good about life in general and this trip in particular. I opened the port deck box to put away a hose.
Wham!
The spring holding the lid buckled. Down came the lid onto my right index finger. It hurt so much I didn't make a sound; I just crumpled onto the deck. And just how bad did it look? Well, let me show you. (WARNING: yucky photos follow. Skip along if you don't want to see.)
And that was back when it looked good. The nail is lifting off now, and the tip remains swollen enough a week later that I'm pretty sure I broke it.
Lucky for me, I married A Man of Many Talents. Behold, Erik's excellent bandaging job:
Q: What is worse than having to do the dishes by hand three times a day?
A. Having to do the dishes by hand three times a day with a finger you can't get wet.
It was a sunny morning. We'd gotten the anchor up with minimal annoyance (read: mud), and I was clearing up the deck and feeling rather good about life in general and this trip in particular. I opened the port deck box to put away a hose.
Wham!
The spring holding the lid buckled. Down came the lid onto my right index finger. It hurt so much I didn't make a sound; I just crumpled onto the deck. And just how bad did it look? Well, let me show you. (WARNING: yucky photos follow. Skip along if you don't want to see.)
And that was back when it looked good. The nail is lifting off now, and the tip remains swollen enough a week later that I'm pretty sure I broke it.
Lucky for me, I married A Man of Many Talents. Behold, Erik's excellent bandaging job:
Copper fuel line: it's not just for diesel anymore.
Combining skills learned from instructor Doug at St John Ambulance and helping his dad bandage up declawed cats, Erik made me this lovely splint/bandage ensemble. If the girls would only stop smashing into it, it might actually heal this calendar year.
On an unrelated note, it is internet rumour time. Stylish informs me that Justin Bieber is really Miley Cyrus. Her evidence: a) he sings like a girl, b) if you put Miley in a Bieber wig, they would look identical. I can't argue with her on either point. You heard it here first.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Hallowe'en
We are currently in Norfolk, VA, staying at a marina after a week of anchorges and not leaving the boat. This weekend should be a whirlwind of doing laundry and visiting kid-friendly locales.
There are many thorny questions a sailor must answer. Should I reef the sails? Will that anchor hold? Can I make port before the sun sets? And, most importantly, where should we spend Hallowe’en?
This issue dominated our planning in the week leading up to the 31st. Where could we find a likely town for trick-or-treating? Candidates were turned down for one reason or another. Too small. Too far. Local fish-packing industry too smelly. At last, we settled on Solomons, MD.
And, success! Despite arriving late to find the sun dying and the anchorage full, we found a good place to settle on Mill Creek. The weather was decent, and we spend some enjoyable days taking trips with the dinghy. A particular highlight was the Calvert Marine Museum. There is a big Miocene deposit near Solomons, and the museum had a great interactive display for the kids. Stylish netted a tiger fish tooth, and Indy a dolphin bone. There was a model of a giant shark that reportedly grew up to 52 feet. To help wrap your brain around a shark that large, our boat is 57 feet. (So now when the endless Duplo and puzzles on the floor get to me, I imagine we are living in a giant shark and I feel all badass.) On the contemporary marine side, there were live horseshoe crabs, starfish, turtles, and otters. There was even an old-timey lighthouse for Erik to tour. A hit all around.
Anyway, back to Hallowe’en. Stylish settled on being a Ghost Pegasus Unicorn, and of course, Indy chose the same. Some artfully applied construction paper and yarn later, and kapow!
Quake before the nuclear-grade cuteness! Oh, my eyeballs are melting from the adorability! I mean, spookiness. Ooooh, spooky! Now, I have to tell you, none of the good people of Solomons were able to figure out their costumes. The most common guess was Skeleton Fairy. My favourite was Ghost Narwhal (the horns were listing by that point).
Erik had done a fair bit of recon, and heard from his sources (a cab driver and his barber) that a townhouse complex a couple of miles away would be a winner. We trooped out there, and sure enough, the sun went down and the kids came out.
Indy, at two somewhat new to the Hallowe’en scene, steadfastly refused to let anyone put candy directly into her bag. Little old ladies would bend down to drop in a Snickers, and she would quickly thrust the bag behind her back. She took the candy, eyed it carefully, then dropped it in the bag herself. I didn’t see her refuse anything, but she sure gave the impression that she might. For days afterward, all she would say about Hallowe’en was, “A bear gave me candy.” This appears to be in reference to a werewolf whose costume was so frightening (to everyone else) that Stylish had to help some smaller kids make it to the door.
Stylish, of course, is a pro. Trick-or-treat, thank you, check out the loot, move on. A military operation.
The girls got a good haul. However - and here we see cultural differences at play – they did not receive a single bag of chips. Not one. What is Hallowe’en, I ask you, without those tiny, overpuffed bags that only hold eight chips? Not to mention, those are my favourite things to liberate from the stash. Geez. In place of chips, they got a truckload of banana-flavoured Laffy Taffy, which is just as appalling as is sounds. Not an upgrade at all. Bleeh.
We have a rule around our house, reportedly originating with my dentist uncle. You have three days to eat your Hallowe’en candy. That’s it. Any extra gets thrown out on morning four. The idea is, your teeth have hit sugar saturation during this time, and the damage would actually be much worse if you only had a little each day over a longer period.
I’m pleased to report that, following in my footsteps, all of the candy was gone by sunset on Day Two.
There are many thorny questions a sailor must answer. Should I reef the sails? Will that anchor hold? Can I make port before the sun sets? And, most importantly, where should we spend Hallowe’en?
This issue dominated our planning in the week leading up to the 31st. Where could we find a likely town for trick-or-treating? Candidates were turned down for one reason or another. Too small. Too far. Local fish-packing industry too smelly. At last, we settled on Solomons, MD.
And, success! Despite arriving late to find the sun dying and the anchorage full, we found a good place to settle on Mill Creek. The weather was decent, and we spend some enjoyable days taking trips with the dinghy. A particular highlight was the Calvert Marine Museum. There is a big Miocene deposit near Solomons, and the museum had a great interactive display for the kids. Stylish netted a tiger fish tooth, and Indy a dolphin bone. There was a model of a giant shark that reportedly grew up to 52 feet. To help wrap your brain around a shark that large, our boat is 57 feet. (So now when the endless Duplo and puzzles on the floor get to me, I imagine we are living in a giant shark and I feel all badass.) On the contemporary marine side, there were live horseshoe crabs, starfish, turtles, and otters. There was even an old-timey lighthouse for Erik to tour. A hit all around.
Anyway, back to Hallowe’en. Stylish settled on being a Ghost Pegasus Unicorn, and of course, Indy chose the same. Some artfully applied construction paper and yarn later, and kapow!
Quake before the nuclear-grade cuteness! Oh, my eyeballs are melting from the adorability! I mean, spookiness. Ooooh, spooky! Now, I have to tell you, none of the good people of Solomons were able to figure out their costumes. The most common guess was Skeleton Fairy. My favourite was Ghost Narwhal (the horns were listing by that point).
Erik had done a fair bit of recon, and heard from his sources (a cab driver and his barber) that a townhouse complex a couple of miles away would be a winner. We trooped out there, and sure enough, the sun went down and the kids came out.
Indy, at two somewhat new to the Hallowe’en scene, steadfastly refused to let anyone put candy directly into her bag. Little old ladies would bend down to drop in a Snickers, and she would quickly thrust the bag behind her back. She took the candy, eyed it carefully, then dropped it in the bag herself. I didn’t see her refuse anything, but she sure gave the impression that she might. For days afterward, all she would say about Hallowe’en was, “A bear gave me candy.” This appears to be in reference to a werewolf whose costume was so frightening (to everyone else) that Stylish had to help some smaller kids make it to the door.
Stylish, of course, is a pro. Trick-or-treat, thank you, check out the loot, move on. A military operation.
The girls got a good haul. However - and here we see cultural differences at play – they did not receive a single bag of chips. Not one. What is Hallowe’en, I ask you, without those tiny, overpuffed bags that only hold eight chips? Not to mention, those are my favourite things to liberate from the stash. Geez. In place of chips, they got a truckload of banana-flavoured Laffy Taffy, which is just as appalling as is sounds. Not an upgrade at all. Bleeh.
We have a rule around our house, reportedly originating with my dentist uncle. You have three days to eat your Hallowe’en candy. That’s it. Any extra gets thrown out on morning four. The idea is, your teeth have hit sugar saturation during this time, and the damage would actually be much worse if you only had a little each day over a longer period.
I’m pleased to report that, following in my footsteps, all of the candy was gone by sunset on Day Two.
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