Stanchions? We Don’t Need No Stinkin’ Stanchions

Our departure from St Helena marked several transitions. We left behind a crew member, the remaining crew was far more familiar and comfortable with Wild Rumpus, and the temperature gradually transitioned from chilly to biting-into-a-freshly-microwaved-hot-pocket, noon-on-a-sunny-day-inside-a-roadside-porta-potty HOT.

Oh, and one of the crew decided we had too many damned stanchions.

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“Six Bucks and My Right Nut Says We Ain’t Landing In Chicago”

As shown in the fantastic documentary titled “Planes, Trains and Automobiles,” travel plans can occasionally kick you in your bathing suit parts. When they do, you need to catch your breath, adjust your boxers, and figure out the new plan.

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Time Is Fleeting

Years ago Teresa and I decided to buy a boat. At that time, preparation for picking up the boat, such as making flight arrangements, buying gear, achieving all training goals, seemed like distant activities easily fit into a wide-open calendar. Then time kept marching on . . . . Then COVID . . . .

And now the delivery (fingers crossed) is just 6 months away. The speed with which our “abundance of time” has compressed into “holy crap, we don’t have very much time” is sobering. Suddenly, the need to decide where to buy stuff, what stuff to buy, and getting the stuff to the boat is a hair-on-fire rush.

And the “madness takes its toll.” (Nah, not really, this is just a throwback to the Rocky Horror for you Rocky Horror nerds like me [I’m looking right at you Elaine!!])

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