April is ended, May is half gone
Time for the crew of Cayenne to move on
We have been overwhelmed by your hospitality
Because being with Dad is the best place to be
You have driven us places we wanted to go
Celebrated (and treated!) at Cinco de Mayo
Fixed a nice comfy bed with a big fluffy pillow
And a view of your “neighbors,” the ducks, through the window
When our boat had a boo-boo, you gave us the keys
And we drove up to Charleston with AC and ease
We ate special Dad dishes, like pasta with pesto
We wolfed down shrimp salad and crab with great gusto
There was homemade sangria with sweet Triple Sec
Which we sipped with contentment on Janet’s front deck
Turning forty was easy, with Dad standing by
Armed with mountains of presents and coconut pie
In addition to all of the fabulous grub
There were nice long hot showers and a soak in the tub!
Then you packed up your seabag and jumped on the boat
For two sun-filled days of adventure, afloat
And we talked and we chatted and looked at the scenery
Took pix of each other and wildlife and greenery
Yes, being with Dad is the best place to be
Whether I am with him, or he is with me
And I’m not sure which role is the one I love best:
Being his host, or being his guest!

We’re tanned and our feet are like leather
We’ve seen lots of glorious weather
After 2000 miles
We’ve run out of smiles
We can sail, but we can’t live together.

So Margaret and Barry are blue
And Brian is looking for crew
When we reach our next port
Its time to abort
And figure out what else to do.

The cleanup is kind of a chore
Our kitty has barfed on the floor
Her seasickness is chronic
But it’s kind of ironic:
Her hairballs, at least, are no more!

There once was a place like no other
Much loved by my dear deceased mother
With beaches of white sand
It’s called Harbor Island
We went there with Dad and big brother

(in honor of our 2004 visit with Dad and Stevie, at Janet Hubbell’s place on the beach)

My father just happened to know
Some miracle workers in Vero
They made magic repairs
To both of our chairs
We owe HUGE thanks to Anna and Joe*!

*Of Miracle Upholstery, Vero Beach, Florida

From Roy, of Naples, Florida, in honor of Meps’ birthday celebration with her Dad:

So the boat is afloat in the IC moat
The birthday coming and you can dote
On the daughter dear who has no fear
Of waters wild or the Skipper’s beer.
So hoist one for us and sow the wild oat!

From Tom, of Olympia, Washington, in honor of our first passage:
The crew of Cayenne did compete
To complete a passage quite fleet
Downwind they flew
On a course straight and true
Arriving on time in St. Pete

Another one from Tom, about the ICW:
Tis true water shallow and murky
Makes a sailor feel just like a turkey
When the keel way down
Contacts the ground
And progress becomes really jerky

Tuesday afternoon, 3 pm:
The boat up ahead is bright yellow
And the driver is cool, calm and mellow
To our right is Key West
But our skipper is stressed
Being towed in by a Sea Tow fellow

Thursday morning, 2 am:
On a sailboat that’s lovely and red
A lady, asleep in her bed
Awoke to a thunk,
Leaped out of her bunk,
And cried, “That guy just hit us! Call Fred*!”

* Brian’s attorney and “charge d’affaires”

Out in the cockpit I laze
And nothing but blue meets my gaze
I’m wondering why
The Tortugas are dry
And will find out, in just a few days

So Barry did it first today
And Brian did too, I must say
This running aground
Is normal, we’ve found
For the Intracoastal Waterway

We drove and we drove and we drove
On towards Seattle we strove
We visited friends
With our cat, made amends
Then flew back to Cayenne’s cozy cove

There once was a Volkswagen van
That drove down to Louisian’
Now it’s going back home
Via old Oklahom’
‘Cause we can’t fit it onto Cayenne!

I’m standing in Dave’s cozy kitchen
Surrounded by chatter and bitchin’
We’re all kindred souls
Who have come from both poles
‘Cause his red beans and rice are bewitchin’!

At Simon’s birthday party uptown
The people hung upside down
We ate more than we oughta
And watched a pinata
Dashed mercilessly upon the ground

There once was a guy with a fear
That he’d never again have cold beer
The fridge went away
But it’s back now, okay
And the process took just half a year

Hal, who’s good at carpentry
Has rebuilt our uncomfortable settee
So give Brian a beer
And he’ll sit on his rear
And his glutemus maximus will be happy!

Come now, let’s not dawdle
Astronomy needs a new model
So Brianstein, in a trance
Creates the “theory of irrelevance”
Which you get when thinking out of the bottle!

Our limerick lady’s gone mute
With nary a rhyme from her snoot
So absent’s her muse
That she ought to recuse
And give this lame poem the boot!

Our next overnight destination
Was the subject of much rumination
When we asked where to go
Folks said, “Gee, we don’t know”
We don’t cruise here when we’re on vacation!

Inspiration is striking me fast and furious…SIX new limericks in two days!

To pull out the wires from the main
We hired “Mr. Stiffy,” the crane
But the wires all went SNAP!
And the crew all went, “CRAP!”
These unsteppable masts are a pain

When it was time to bring Barry back down
Margaret tried, then announced with a frown
“This thing’s gone amuck!
The halyard is stuck!”
Now we know why the wires are bound!

So we hauled down with all of our might
To bring Barry down from that height
Brian grunted and groaned
Margaret worried and moaned
Barry wondered if he’d be there all night!

There’s a reason we call him, “The Man”
If anyone can do it, Brian can
So now Barry’s on deck
Though Margaret’s a nervous wreck
And all three have a brew in their hands

I am keeping an eye on this guy
Who is perched about 60 feet high
It’s my job to make sure
He is safe and secure
And he doesn’t fall out of the sky

But you’d think he would show some more tact
In appreciation of my kind, selfless act
With a Newtonian splat
Detritus falls on my hat
With a resounding “OOPSIE!” on impact

The Tchefuncte river is pretty and fair
Its worth many a risk to sail over there
But the clams are morose
‘Cause our keel was so close
We sailed over the bar with inches to spare

On a beautiful day, not a hint of rain
We raised the mizzen and then the main
Sailed out on the lake
In order to take
Our maiden voyage on Pontchartrain

Santa Claus came yesterday
And made Brian happy and gay
For the best of all gifts
Is a transmission that shifts
And will send Cayenne sailing away!

Led by Neil and his partying friends
The Christmas parade boats do wend
With our genset to light the way
(And our dink as a sleigh)
At the fabulous N.O. West End*

* Author’s note: New Orleanean cardinal designations make little sense to us out-of-towners. The West Bank seems to be south of town, and the West End is miles away from it, on either the south side of the lake or the north side of town. Given how confused they are about “west,” I wonder where they think Seattle is???

Late at night when airtime is free
we download all our email, you see
but the second time we tried,
the battery almost died
getting the three meg picture of your Christmas tree.

(Names removed to protect both the innocent and the guilty)

Quoth the Raven, “enough already”

We had hoped to be, upon the sea,
Not on the rocks but not on blocks.
But there we are and much too far,
From a flush toilet, with our eyes set
on a shower, our eyes red, our bodies sour

In and out, up and down, the further we must go,
The boat won’t sink and we won’t drown, we’re still on blocks, although
We be at sea (or up the creek). Avast, thar she blows, no pirates, no leak,
No transmission, no go, we’re up on blocks, you know.

We’ll sail round the world, but it will take longer.
While we’re on the blocks, and the odor stronger.
But at least, I think, though we may stink, we won’t sink
We’er still on blocks, with rocks in our head, and we’re fed
Up with the sailing, and failing to go but not on rocks still on blocks

And quoth the rabbit, “cut the crap!”

Well that transmission still doesn’t run
But the crew of Cayenne’s having fun
Now we’re all of good cheer
Cause the skipper bought beer
And he’s having his tenth “‘nuther one!”

The folks at the West Marine store
Were offering discounts galore
So we did our part
And loaded a cart
And blew out the budget, and more!

The folks of the SSCA*
Held a meeting in old Floriday
And so leaving Cayenne
We piled into the van
And embarked on a short holiday

* Seven Seas Cruising Association

For Monday…the Big Event:

With nary a ripple to note
We launched Brian’s beautiful boat
The transmission is pretty
But powerless, what a pity!
She can’t move, but at least she can float

…and a non-original one for Fri/Sat/Sun’s activities:

They bored a hole within the hull
To let the water out
But more and more, to our dismay
The water IN did spout!

Along came the Travelift man
Who lifted us off of our stands
Now we�re doing our thing
Hanging from a sling
Like a trio of orangutans

When a barnacle comes Cayenne’s way
He’ll turn in disgust and dismay
Though he’ll try really hard
With our great Cop-r-gard
He cannot attach, come what may!

The hull was so smooth and so fair
We said, “Let’s put some copper on there!”
Though he really was keen
Now poor Brian is GREEN
From the tips of his toes to his hair

I have a cool sister named Margaret
Who never bought clothes at a Target
To the Thrift store she’d go,
In the rain, sleet or snow.
Now she’s devoid of a house or a closet!

Roses are red
Viruses suck
A Dell laptop
Makes a good hockeypuck.

Upon trying to lift out the mast
Discovered that it was held fast
By some glue on the floor
Now to free it, for sure,
Would require a nuclear blast!

In a murky canal like a moat
A pair of green eyes seem to float
Now he’s fixing the skeg
‘Fraid of losing a leg
To a gator six feet from the boat

While taking a drink in the shade
Dear Brian enjoys Gatorade
But taking a swig
Found a live roach THIS BIG
Now he’s mixing his cocktails with Raid!

The magical seventy-four
Would shake the boat down to its core
But Bill’s only sixty
So it may be tricky
But it’s not a hurricane’s roar

A momentous task faces Brian and Barry
A task that is considered exciting and scary
On the nineteenth of June
‘neath a not-quite-full moon
They’ll attempt to install the auxiliary

The crew of Cayenne’s sorely needed
But she’s gimpy from something her knee did
On a boat named Freebooter
Now she sails the computer
While waiting for it to get treated

Last week there were mosquitoes to smash
This week there are termites to bash
But the worst of the matter
Was the fall off the ladder
And the very hard landing in the trash

There once was a sailor named Brian
Fell in love with a vessel named Cayenne
From his home way up north
He boldly went forth
Now he’s bitchin’ and moanin’ and cryin’!