Here in Beaufort-by-the-Sea, life is not all about seafood. Pictures and stories from the “first annual” Backstreet Pub “Meatloaf-Off” will be coming soon, along with tips from the winners on how to make great meatloaf.

The best meatloaves arrived on a mission,
Hoping some folks might fail by attrition,
For their fine chefs, you see,
Were all hoping to be
Named the “First” in the first competition.

The chances of finding a favorite Seattle friend living in Morehead City were so miniscule, we thought that Hell would freeze over first. We caught up with Kevin in December — he’d been living here for 3 years, and Flutterby’s been here for 2 years. On February 13th, when he came out to see the boat for the first time, Hell froze over, as evidenced by the photo below.

From Seattle, friend Kevin is witty,
But we’d got out of touch, what a pity.
But then Hell did freeze over,
For this fine Irish Rover,
Has been living in wee Morehead City.

Left: Meps and Kevin, Right: There was no snow when Kevin arrived at the boat. After dinner, here he is (on the far side) cleaning off his truck.

Betcha can’t tell from the photos below. Happy Birthday to my favorite young woman in the whole world — you look awesome in that sweater!

I’ve a beautiful sis, Julie S.
And she’s older than me, I confess.
But my friends, they all say,
“She’s not fifty, NO WAY!”
It’s her wonderful life — free of stress.

Here are a couple of oldie-but-goodie photos of Julie from 1960. One is with Mom and one’s with her big sister, Daisy.

The boat was so cold that we shut
The door to the forward end. But
We still had a bed,
And a galley and head,
In our maritime eight-by-twelve hut.

Below is a photo of me in our dinette bed during the cold, when the boat interior was about 45 degrees for a week. I’m wearing a wool top under my jammies, a fleece hood, and have two teddy bears to help keep me warm. Although we couldn’t drag ourselves out from under the blankets before noon, we were able to make coffee without getting out of bed!

My two pirate friends, Goofy and Funny,
Have sailed off to the south, where it’s sunny.
They have left this fine village,
To seek plunder and pillage,
They’re not dumb — but they’re plumb outa money.

Maybe you can look at the photos below and tell me, which one is Goofy and which one is Funny? (that’s Dick on the top and Larry and me on the bottom)

Our friend Alex was feeling quite blue,
For a flock of demonic birds flew,
Over each perfect mast,
And he watched them, aghast,
As the paint job was ruined by doo.

So he came out to paint them anew
And the finish was ruined by dew,
Now he frets at the weather,
And fears every feather,
And says, “Will I ever be through?”

Barry and I hired Alex Baker to give our carbon fiber masts a beautiful professional paint job. Unfortunately, Alex has been unable to control the outdoor conditions where he’s working! After the doo and dew, Alex was thwarted by heavy wind, rain, and cold. We all hope the third time’s the charm.

The photos below show the working conditions out in the “sand pit” before the masts were painted. Alex, Barry, Kenny, and Dick had walked out to look at our innovative mast-suspension system. A portion of Dick’s broken mast (right side, top photo) was used as a derrick to suspend both masts.

Three eateries here went away,
As I crossed the entire U.S.A.
If I’d bought just one meal,
From Ralwiggie’s, I feel,
They might still be in business today.

In that great spot across from the park,
I found Taylor’s all shuttered and stark.
So I walked down to Cru,
Just to purchase some brew,
So that they will not also go dark.

But I found, on that sad recent drive,
Though the good food in town can’t survive,
If the service is cursed,
And the food is the worst –
All the baaaaad Chinese places still thrive.

So this flock of wild turkeys went out,
For a party along Amtrak’s route.
“We will derail this train!”
Thought one bird’s tiny brain,
But they failed — just delayed it, no doubt.

In an unconfirmed rumor, I heard that an Amtrak train in Florida was delayed for hours yesterday when it ran — literally — into a flock of wild turkeys. Given Amtrak’s reputation, it’s hardly a surprise that a bunch of bird brains could cause a major delay on the day before Thanksgiving.

While I was away, the boatyard had a potluck so memorable, people were still talking about it 5 weeks later:

Now, Miss Manners would never say, “Eww,”
So Miss Audrey knew just what to do.
With a smile so polite,
She spoke out with no spite,
“Oh, how nice! Ken brought turkey that’s blue.”

Someone tried to give the turkey to the cats, but they wouldn’t touch it. Barry says it’s probably still on the bottom of Core Creek. Eww.

Up ahead was a big yellow truck
That had come to a stop for a duck,
So I stopped my car, too,
And then out of the blue
Came a WHACK! Duck hit me, just my luck.

The web-footed goof flew right into my front towbar. There was a loud thud, and the car shook with the impact. But when I backed up a few feet, expecting to see a duck carcass, he picked himself up and wobbled away. He was quacking, and I was quaking.

Ooh! A butterfly just fluttered by!
But I’m homesick — the sight makes me cry.
I will spend one more week,
For it’s words that I seek.
They’ll emerge, if a writer am I.

I’m in the perfect little writer’s retreat, a cottage on Chincoteague Island. Of all times, why does writer’s block have to hit me now?

She’s petite, and she’s small, and she’s frail,
But her fish seems quite huge in the pail,
“No, this fish that you see,
“It’s not big, not to me,
“There’s no distance between head and tail.”

At our motel in Ontario, I wandered over to watch our hostess, a Taiwanese woman, cleaning a fish from Lake Saint Clair in a bucket. It seemed big to me, almost a meter long (hey, this is Canada). But she laughed, and said in broken English, “This not big fish — some fish big as I tall!”

I was feeling quite lost and alone,
“I can’t talk to my people,” I moan,
But then to my surprise,
When I look with my eyes,
I discover a free telephone.

I was sitting on the north side of the Coffee Cup, a busy truck stop along I-29 and US 12. For $1.47, I could drink coffee and use the internet for a couple of hours. But I needed to make plans with my brother, and I missed hearing Barry’s voice.

The next day, I went back to the Coffee Cup and asked if they knew what was wrong with the pay phone. An employee said I’d have to ask the manager. She led me around to the manager’s office on the south side, and there was a whole row of booths with free telephones. Woo hoo!

When I came, all alone, to this town,
I was challenged by Jessica’s frown.
“I will stay for a week,
Just to see if you’ll speak,”
And the gauntlet was bravely thrown down.

This explains how I ended up with a 1-bedroom apartment in Summit, South Dakota. The population was 267, but I’m making it 268 for the next week.

I am certain this meeting was fated,
But could never be anticipated,
When he strode ‘cross the grass,
I said, “You cannot pass,
I am certain that we are related.”

My mother taught me, don’t ever pass a rest area, even if you don’t have to go. So when I saw a rest area in the middle of nowhere off a 2-lane road in Montana, I stopped. I was the only human for miles. But when I came out of the potty, there was another car, and a man was walking up to the potty. At 10:30 am, my potty stop managed to coincide with that of Barry’s only uncle, Johnny, and his wife, Sooky, who I had not seen in 12 years. Johnny said, of the meeting, “I should go out and buy a lottery ticket right now.”

It’s been eighteen whole years since that day,
When we stepped to the bar just to say,
“Yep, I do,” “I do, too,”
“Here’s a ring just for you,”
And our friends raised their drinks and said, “Yay!”

The day before our 18th wedding anniversary, we stopped to investigate a place on Highway 20 called the Beer Shrine and Wedding Chapel. It reminded me of the fact that when we were married aboard the Flying Cloud, the wedding was actually performed under a palm frond arch in front of the bar.

Barry and I learned many things during our visit to the Beer Shrine and Wedding Chapel. We found out that lots of people like the pizza there. We heard from the owner that she is licensed to perform marriages and does about 30 per year, right there in the bar. We confirmed that Barry likes homemade root beer. We confirmed that Margaret does not like beer. Most importantly, we discovered that Barry does not like beer-flavored kisses — so root beer is the only way to go!

There once was a lady named Clam,
And she said, “To the public, I am
Such a nice quiet pet,
One who likes to just set.
Omigosh! I just laid an egg, Ma’am!”

If this makes no sense to you, go to the Adventures page and read “Cock-a-doodle Who?” You’ll find a photo of Clam there.

On receiving a call from Iceland in the midst of record-breaking heat:

It’s one hundred and five here, you know,
So your calling and saying “Hello,”
From the Land of the Ice,
Felt quite pleasant and nice,
Although next time, could you please send snow?

Our friend Leilani has been in the hospital so long, with such a cheerful attitude, she inspired the doctors on the staff to write her a haiku:

Germy Pacemaker
Last few days of ABX*
Feels okay today

*Their abbreviation for antibiotics

After seeing the attention lavished on her, I was inspired to write a limerick:

All the nurses and docs in the ward
Had ennui — they were terribly bored.
But then much to their joy,
Came Leilani McCoy,
Leaving all other patients ignored.

When we first walked in, I thought we’d mistaken her room number for the gift shop. There were that many cards, plants, flowers, and gifts!

Now there once was a pirate of yore,
Who I met as I strolled on the shore.
“You’re a rake, sir!” I cried,
I was held at his side,
And he tickled me ’til I was sore.

I don’t make this stuff up! At the Seafair Pirate Landing on Saturday, I met a good-looking pirate (at least he had no blood on his teeth) who was smooching passing wenches. When I queued up for my fair share, I was captured and tickled, as you can see from the following photos.

Two kittens have lived worry-free,
In our boat at the edge of the sea,
But they snoozed and they dozed,
With their four eyes all closed,
So they never knew Grandma was me.

We found a foster home for our rescue cat and kittens through PAWS, two days before we left for Seattle. The kittens took so long to open their eyes, though, I thought they never would! We finally saw their eyes on July 4th, two and a half weeks after they were born.

Charlie’s sleeping alone in his bed,
When a cat climbs up onto his head,
Charlie says, “That’s not neat,”
“Please move down to my feet,”
And so that’s where she gave birth, instead.

You can see pictures of Charlie, the cat, and the newborn kittens over at “A Buckeye with a cat on his head.”

The portlights are in, this is true,
Installed with some goop and a screw.
But now Barry’s addiction,
Is causing some friction.
He cannot stop thinking of “Goo.”

Barry rewarded himself for getting the last two portlights installed by buying a new computer game, World of Goo. Myself, I think he should focus on World of Boat, or at least, World of Goop.

Here’s a big, buzzy carpenter bee,
And a husband with sting-allergy.
Now each trip on the ladder,
To relieve his bladder,
Is a peril, so it’s up to me.

Right here is a new, bee-free ladder,
90 pounds, though, and that is the matter,
For the lift goes awry,
It just falls from the sky,
And it makes Larry’s barbecue flatter.

Now I wish that my friend, Mrs. Bee,
Had drilled out her nest in a tree,
Then she’d still be alive,
And her children would thrive,
And my ladder would be bee-hole free.

In a funny coincidence, we bought a CD on Friday called “A Buzz, A Buzz.” We had discovered a great new alternative band out of Durham called Bombadil. Seattle friends, go see Bombadil at the Tractor Tavern on July 26th!

I had an amazing birthday this year, and two very special homemade presents. One was a birthday card hand-painted by my Dad (I had thought Dad was the writer and Mom was the artist!), and the other was this limerick by my sister, Julie.

Meps travels both hinder and yon
Now that beautiful hair’s almost GONE!*
Still, she’s awesome and nifty,
Though half way to fifty
Her new moniker? Captain Ron!

Julie also provided the perfect ending to my birthday. She was doing a radio show on KLCC, in Eugene, Oregon, and I managed to pull it in over the Internet. Then I called the request line and asked for a song from 1964. She asked, “Which song?” “Any song will do!” I sang out, and only then did she recognize her little sister’s voice, all the way from North Carolina.

She played Sam Cooke’s “That’s Where It’s At” for me. Beaufort, North Carolina: That’s where it’s at!

*Explanatory photos to come…