The shore days grow shorter, and our asset sheet drops accordingly. These last few days have been a rush of going away parties and dinners, last minute errands, and major upheavals.
Probably the most dramatic, if not the most traumatic, has been the sale of both of our cars. They went >one< >two< on Thursday and Friday after weeks of preparing them for sale and posting them on Craigslist. We've owned both vehicles since somewhat before the introduction of the VCR, so parting with these machines is akin to selling a family member.
Towards the end, I started referring to the mini-van as She with a friendly - almost sisterly - affection. When She arrived on my door step, I could not have been more unjuiced about any event. A mini-van. A FORD mini-van. Complete with child seats built into the center bench. My god was there any more insulting vehicle for a wild and sassy lady like myself than the absolute prototypical expression of middle class suburban, soccer mom motherhood than that van. Thank you whims of fate that none of my girls ever played soccer. I could never have lived with the shame.
However, She grew on me. She never broke down, carried everything, forgave my children for being filthy heathens, and took care of us through some really crappy situations. Literally crappy, since She made a great hauling vehicle on gardening days. But now she's gone.
So is the Honda. So are all the library books, the kids' WAMU accounts, and the ends of Mera's hair. We also cleaned our teeth at a cost closely approaching a B.O.A.T. unit, remembered to retrieve the solar panels from the garage, and made a last run to the discount fabric store.
We haven't gone on a "stocking" run to the grocery store... we're not going on vacation. We've made plans instead that put us in the neighborhood of an anchorage with a convenient grocery in about a week.
Today is a Dock Day. I have a list of tasks that henceforth we will always do on a Dock Day. These include: filling up the water tank, washing the boat down with fresh water, laundry, showers, topping every rechargeable battery on the boat, and making my children run on shore for an hour. But these tasks are not in preparation for leaving... these are just going to be part of all our Dock Days.
So in some indefinable sense, we left yesterday when the Honda drove off leaving us carless here at the marina. Thus far I'm happy to report it's a great trip! We've not made many miles, but we're doing well for supplies.
And if Dr C stops futzing with the engines this afternoon, maybe tomorrow you'll finally see a new placemark on our Google map.
Editor Note: Thank you to all for the many comments and emails wishing us well! Yes, of course we'll be trying very hard to post regularly as we head out. This should prove no great challenge until we head south of the border in November. You can be assured, I'll write chapter and verse about how to blog from a boat.
Probably the most dramatic, if not the most traumatic, has been the sale of both of our cars. They went >one< >two< on Thursday and Friday after weeks of preparing them for sale and posting them on Craigslist. We've owned both vehicles since somewhat before the introduction of the VCR, so parting with these machines is akin to selling a family member.
Towards the end, I started referring to the mini-van as She with a friendly - almost sisterly - affection. When She arrived on my door step, I could not have been more unjuiced about any event. A mini-van. A FORD mini-van. Complete with child seats built into the center bench. My god was there any more insulting vehicle for a wild and sassy lady like myself than the absolute prototypical expression of middle class suburban, soccer mom motherhood than that van. Thank you whims of fate that none of my girls ever played soccer. I could never have lived with the shame.
However, She grew on me. She never broke down, carried everything, forgave my children for being filthy heathens, and took care of us through some really crappy situations. Literally crappy, since She made a great hauling vehicle on gardening days. But now she's gone.
So is the Honda. So are all the library books, the kids' WAMU accounts, and the ends of Mera's hair. We also cleaned our teeth at a cost closely approaching a B.O.A.T. unit, remembered to retrieve the solar panels from the garage, and made a last run to the discount fabric store.
We haven't gone on a "stocking" run to the grocery store... we're not going on vacation. We've made plans instead that put us in the neighborhood of an anchorage with a convenient grocery in about a week.
Today is a Dock Day. I have a list of tasks that henceforth we will always do on a Dock Day. These include: filling up the water tank, washing the boat down with fresh water, laundry, showers, topping every rechargeable battery on the boat, and making my children run on shore for an hour. But these tasks are not in preparation for leaving... these are just going to be part of all our Dock Days.
So in some indefinable sense, we left yesterday when the Honda drove off leaving us carless here at the marina. Thus far I'm happy to report it's a great trip! We've not made many miles, but we're doing well for supplies.
And if Dr C stops futzing with the engines this afternoon, maybe tomorrow you'll finally see a new placemark on our Google map.
Editor Note: Thank you to all for the many comments and emails wishing us well! Yes, of course we'll be trying very hard to post regularly as we head out. This should prove no great challenge until we head south of the border in November. You can be assured, I'll write chapter and verse about how to blog from a boat.