My Thirty Degree, Guaranteed Cranky, Threshold

Barriers. I've talked about them before. These are the things that keep us from doing what we all know we're supposed to do. For some people (me) it's exercise. I know I should. And I want to - I really do. 30 minutes of moderate exercise each day staves off migraines in a big way. So, honest. I'm motivated.

And yet.

Something stands in my way. That's a barrier. The trick is figuring out what that barrier is. For some people, it's as simple as packing a workout bag and setting out exercise clothes so the morning is a no brainer. In my case, It's the cold. Once the outdoor temperatures drop below 30 degrees, I'm done. Guaranteed grump point. No. I will not go out on an interval training walk/run. My toes are already painfully frozen in my sneakers. There aren't enough clothes in the world to make it okay. Going out on a bike ride is out of the question, too. My fingers and toes ache. What I really want to do is go out into the frigid morn and slam my face into the wind chill that riding would entail. Ever frozen the snot in your nose? Trust me. Do not want.

Last night, it struck me that I've filled my life with ways to make life harder. Plenty of people don't have a dishwasher, so I can't complain about that. Much. I *do* when I'm washing my third sink full of dishes for the day. But you know, cooking. Just cooking is more difficult - I'm working with a two burner propane stove with an oven the size of a bread box. Not to mention a tiny refrigerator and no microwave. I can't pull something out of the freezer and put it on the dinner table an hour later. This has done unfortunate things to my culinary skills and to my diet. Heck. Just taking a shower means kitting up and walking the equivalent of a football field, in the freezing dark, so I can plug the marina shower with quarters in exchange for two minutes of hot water. Then there's the walk back. Managing electrical load - I cannot be warm and vacuum the floors at the same time. It will blow the circuit breaker. The heat has to be shut down, then I can tidy up. This is essential, because my other guaranteed grump point is having my floors crunch when I walk on them. I've tried to find a medication to treat that.

99% of my barriers come down to the cold. So many people are bothered by the lack of sunlight at this time of year. Not me. Couldn't care less. In fact, I'd be grateful for the return of the rain. It would be warmer and as a  boater, I have the gear for 40 degrees and rain slanting in sideways. Frost? Not so much. If it snows this year, I may snap, take an ax to the dock lines and aim for the south Pacific. I do still love my boat - even with the challenges and frustrations. And yes. I am well aware that makes me perverse. Hush up and help me find a place in Fiji or Tahiti where I can moor the boat.

Best Laid Plans

I'd promised a post about multihulls. I'd intended to have that for you on Thursday. Then I got a phone call from my husband. "Hi, hon. First, I'm okay. Second, I was in an accident." He'd been driving home. A petroleum tanker truck changed lanes right into him. Fortunately, it was a low speed accident. They were in the city at a spot where the road goes beneath an underpass. DH had no where to go to escape being hit. No damage to either driver. No damage to the tanker truck. The driver's side of our car? Well. Peeled a good bit of that. It's fixable. But the car is twelve years old. It will likely cost more to fix it than the car is worth. So we started the insurance claim process and began shopping for a replacement car.

Saturday morning, during an all too brief sunny patch, DH and I took the cats out on the dock. They wandered and rolled and sniffed the warm air. And then, Erie, our 17 year old, deaf gal fell off the dock into the water. We've had a cat fall in once before. He popped right back up, head above water and swam. Not Eratosthenes. She hit the water and panicked. She began spinning, unable to tell which way was up. She sank fast. DH sprinted to her, threw himself down on the dock and could only barely reach her. He grabbed her by the tail and hauled her up.

I got there in time to gather her up in my arms, and realize she'd inhaled some sea water. Instantly, I switched my hold on her - her butt up near my shoulder and her head hanging down at my waist. Water drained out of her lungs through her nose.

We rushed her inside and wrapped her in towels while we heated fresh water. Puget Sound water temperatures run about 50 degrees. We knew we had to get the cat warmed up, so DH filled the kettle and put it on the stove. It takes very little time to warm water to a comfortable bath temperature. As I was already soaked through with sea water, I took the cat and the kettle into the head for a warming, freshwater rinse down.

Erie wasn't at all impressed with the need to rinse the saltwater out of her fur, never mind that the water was warm. I bundled her up in a fresh towel to begin drying her off, but by this time, she'd recovered enough and had gotten mad enough that she wanted nothing more to do with me. She stomped off, her fur standing out in stiff spikes, and found a secluded location where she could lick herself dry. We tried to help by applying the blowdryer, but that merely offended her further.

For anyone writing about boats, falling into the water is one of the dangers. Most boaters are very good about wearing life jackets while the boat is moving. Few of us wear life jackets just walking around the docks or while working on our boats while at dock. Yet, according to the paramedics who responded when my dad fell in (that's another story for the post specifically about lifejackets) said that 90% of all accidental 'in the water' incidents happen at dock. A number of pet companies make life preservers for dogs. These are jackets with big loop handles on the back, so you can grab hold and lift the animal out. No one seems to make them for cats - assuming you could convince a cat to wear one anyway.

Madam Erie will no longer go out on the dock without a halter and leash. If I could find or make a little kitty-sized life preserver, she'd never go out without that on, either.

Really. Next time. I promise you some info about multihulls.

Almost Time

The boat heater is in and it does an adequate job. The interior of the boat is sparkling clean. The exterior - well - after some drama, a few small, third degree chemical burns and a new pressure washer, the outside of the boat was clean for a brief moment in time. Seagulls target clean boats. It's like a video game to them, I think. But several projects yet remain.

The canvas enclosure is green. It should be white. Once we've been through another round of Better Living Through Chemistry, it will be white and put back up. Then we need a radar reflector. The Inside Passage supports some commercial traffic, not the least of which is the ferry that runs from Bellingham, WA to Whittier, AK. Those larger boats rely on radar to show them what's out there on the water. Fiberglass hulls don't do a very good job of reflecting radar back. Thus, a metal reflector hung in the rigging so the big guys have a shot at seeing us little guys.  The cats have ripped the fabric covered headboard in the master cabin to untidy shreds. I'll recover that with something less attractive to kitty claws. We hope.  Every trip out to the boat now, entails carting a load of stuff down the dock to stow aboard for the voyage. Fifteen cases of catfood. Dishes. Silverware. Pots, pans, clothes, towels...everything we'll need to function as a household. We don't have an exact target date for actually getting out of Dodge, but the week of  April 25th is starting to look promising. Point of fact: we have to be gone by May 1 when our subleasees take possession of the slip.

We keep hoping that Mother Nature will get the memo about spring between now and the time we shove off.