That beer at dinner, on top of all the sun and fresh air and snow shoveling with my cutting board, nixed the blog last night. I took a nap on the saloon settee around 8:15 PM, got up to go to bed around 9:00 PM. Nearly 10 hours sleep minus the couple times up for "pee & feed" - I, to pee and Amelia for feed. I appreciate the fact that Amelia is willing to wait for my nature calls timing rather than demand I get up according to her needs, unlike our Maine land-based routine.
It was warmer yesterday though not enough to be totally comfortable. David went over the engine thoroughly with his socket wrenches, making sure all bolts were tight. He found a hose leaning on something that would get hot and adjusted that. I shoveled snow from the deck and the dinghy. The dinghy is a sad, deflated dinghy. Hoping the warmer temps today bring it a new sense of purpose.
I'd left a note on the Breezeway Cafe' table a day or so ago - "We need to borrow a battery tester. Anybody?" There was a knock on our hull yesterday morning and neighbor John said someone had left a tester for us. Later John told me he was surprised that my technique worked. This reminded me to say a specific THANK YOU to the universe energy for making that happen. Of course, I called the battery tester owner, who we've never seen, to thank him. Batteries are all strong and powerful.
My childhood friend, Suzi, turned me onto an e-newsletter, Brain Pickings, and I got my first Sunday morning copy yesterday. "A Gentle Corrective for the Epidemic of Identity Politics..." is the title of this Sunday's musings. My summary of the really thoughtful writing is that we've chosen, allowed ourselves to be "known" (by ourselves and by others) by the narrowest, narrowest aspects of who we are or may become. Our efforts to belong and not think (maybe feel) have squeezed out all the wonder and curiosity and risk of living fully. Busted! I need to do more thinking about this, and in light of H is for Hawk in which the protagonist is struggling with her identity during her grief over her dad's death. Hmmmmm.
A great catch-up chat with my Atlanta friend, Kristen, who married my other great Atlanta friend, Greg. "Oh did I tell you," she said, "that Greg and I got married." "NO, you didn't." I'm delighted for them. Smiling as I write. Shoveling snow with my cutting board, the hard plastic kind that you chop and shovel veggies on. Perfect. Our own personal icicles.
We put the engine box back around the engine - insulates us from the sound. Ran the engine for an hour "under load" aka in gear but going nowhere. Watched the big steel boat leave the dock and come back in, out for a drive around the neighborhood. Walked across the parking lot for dinner of really good seafood, out. Slept for 10 hours.
The most recent stress of engine and the cold and the altered plans is fading.
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