There once was a fellow named Tim,
Who decided to stop on a whim,
And he started our van,
With some stuff from a can,
So we’re now on our way, thanks to him.

Tim refused payment for his roadside assistance, so we sent him along with one of the inflatable space aliens, Lou Wheeze, for his kids. Ros Well and A. Leeann and Gert Rude don’t seem to be suffering separation anxiety yet.

We had thought that we had a fine plan,
To go West in our big Burning van,
But we now comprehend,
Upon reaching the end,
That the reason was family, not Man.

When we scheduled our Burning Man trip, we thought we’d see a few family members along the way. Instead, we saw almost all of them! When we reached our journey’s apogee, we counted the family members we’d rendezvoused with:
All three parents, all three sisters, all three nephews, our one-and-only niece, two brothers, two aunts, and one brother-in-law. Plus one huge, welcoming family at Burning Man. We love you all!

Who would have thought?
Cabela’s in Nebraska.
Two Burning Vans meet.

This is a rare haiku from Barry (My second poem and I still haven’t written a limerick)!

We just passed a small town: Osino
On 80, which goes straight through Reno.
Does it seem strange to you
That Nevada has two
Of these places, that rhyme with casino?

So Parker says he wants a boat,
A place in the sunshine, afloat.
But Roxana’s not sure,
Whether sailing’s for her,
And hers is the critical vote.

I was on the way to the shower when I met a couple from Atlanta who were looking at boats on their 25th wedding anniversary. We hit it off and ended up chatting for quite a while, despite the fact that I was really, really, really grubby. I tried to stay downwind of them as we talked. I was that grubby.

Instead of singing in the shower, I write limericks. These five lines popped into my head during the shower that followed.

I was thinking today, “Gee, we’re hosed,”
“It is Saturday, Bock’s shop is closed.”
When up came a roar,
From o’er near the store,
And out the ol’ Travelift nosed.

There were Randy and Kenny and Dale,
But the best part to tell of this tale,
Is how Nancy, Ms. Bock,
Had a tube of Life-Caulk,
That we found on the store shelf, for sale.

An advantage to having internet on the boat is that I can now pen limericks about events right when they happen. A disadvantage is that I can now pen these limericks about events that are critically exciting to us and distressingly boring to you, my gentle reader.

(Barry points out another disadvantage — that I can be wasting time writing these limericks instead of installing the hatch.)

The lady, at age something-nine,
Is feeling quite youthful and fine,
But next year, the blow
Will come. Big uh-oh!
And then she’ll have reason to whine.

Happy Birthday to Julie and Sharon…39 and holding, both of you!

There once was a fellow named Dan,
Who lived on a boat on jackstands.
“She leaks like a sieve,
But it’s no way to live,
I would much rather float, if I can.”

Our neighbor, Dan, has been launched twice and subsequently pulled out. Somehow, he keeps a cheerful attitude, despite the delays. His blog is at www.danzplan.com.

“Like a sieve” is my poetic license; his boat is really nice. But if it worked perfectly, we wouldn’t have met him in the boatyard!

There once was a fellow named Larry,
Who, when asked if he’s happy, says, “Very!”
After many a year,
His old high school dear,
Has accepted his offer to marry.

==
Larry is one of my favorite guys here at Bock Marine, and he’s just returned from his honeymoon. Congratulations to the new couple!

I have offered the white bunny suit,
A bite of some nice, tasty fruit,
But in order to grind,
His whole mouth is behind,
Plexiglass, so the question is moot.

===
Says Barry, “I love my 3M 6800 respirator!”

We’re stuck in the library here,
The problem is liquid, I fear.
It’s raining like cats
And dogs. We’ve no hats,
So we’ll just have to read ’til it’s clear.

“They tell me,” said good Doctor Freud,
“You’re becoming a bit paranoid,”
“You worry and weep,
“You wail in your sleep,
“That you’ve left a huge fiberglass void.”

It’s true, I’ve become obsessed. I lay awake at night, wondering if the layup I’ve just done will be acceptable to Barry, the Grinding Man. If it’s not, he grinds it out and I try again. Working in a space that’s only a couple of feet wide and a couple of feet high, trying to get the stuff to adhere to surfaces above my head, wearing a respirator and full Tyvek bunny suit, with temperatures over 90, is like working in hell. I must be crazy, but I think it’s worth it.

I am wishing this heat wave would end,
But my far-flung friends don’t comprehend.
Candy says, “Chile’s chilly!”
Nita says, “Fifties, really!”
So I’ll just attach heat and click SEND.

We had to flee the melting heat, so we ducked into an air-conditioned library. While there, two emails came in, one from South America and one from Seattle. Both were complaining about how cold it is, and despite glares from the librarians, we couldn’t stop laughing.

While buying some liquor and ice,
They check his ID once — no, twice.
It says forty-one
Years under the sun,
But he looks ten years younger: How nice!

It took four strong men and a crane
To lift out our mizzen and main,
While the girl with red hair
Sat in a green chair,
And worried her poor self insane.

Our new composting head’s a light blue,
And has litter, not water, it’s true.
There’s no need to make haste,
As I bury my waste,
I now say “meee-ow” when I poo.

For more info, visit the Nature’s head website. The litter is actually peat moss, which sure looks like dirt to me.

Here’s a guest submission from my brilliant friend Tara:

To Arkansas went Henry’s daughter,
So she could swim nude in hot water.
But if there is a crowd
Then it won’t be allowed
‘Cause they’ll see things that they shouldn’t oughter!

Oh, there once was a fellow named Bill,
And he thought being Prez was a thrill.
So he saved every note,
That his staff ever wrote,
Which now poses a problem for Hill.

I am ten feet away from my stew,
‘Cause a wasp just came out of the blue.
He climbed into my stove,
And he stayed there, by Jove!
Now I’m wondering, what should I do?

Eventually, he climbed out of my little propane stove and flew away, but it was a nervous few minutes. This was at Red Rock Canyon State Park, where the ranger says, “It’s gonna be a baaaad season for wasps…they usually don’t even show up until May.”

At a shop that is on Sixty-Six,
They once sold guitar strings and picks,
Now they entertain gaily,
The crowds that come daily,
To hear them and get some good “kicks!”

You can get your kicks, too, at the Sandhills Curiosity Shop on old Route 66 in Erick, Oklahoma. Or, if you can’t get there, take a look at some of the videos.

Says Bonnie, “My Iggie won’t bite.”
But I’m still afraid that he might–
She says he’s in heat.
(Will he nip my feet,
Because my red toenails excite?)

Iggie is a 4-1/2 foot long iguana. He’s currently in heat and attracted to women of any species.

The room filled with much merry sound,
Three sisters who mooned as they clowned,
The game was revamped,
We laughed and we stamped,
As ping-pong was played in the round.

We discovered a fun way to play ping-pong at Highlands pub in Eugene. Four people play round-robin, each one hitting the ball once and then rushing around the table to the other side. The results were a few collisions and some hilarious video footage. Do not try this in a pub with dartboards!

Squid are creatures that live in the deep,
Not a sound as they swim and they creep.
I was shocked to the core,
When I heard my squid roar,
‘Twas a miracle, wrought by my Peep.

Barry, who I sometimes call “Peep,” wrote about this event in his usual understated fashion in his recent blog entry.

When the big female candidate cried,
People said, “The ex-president’s bride
Is not really tough,
And campaigning is rough.”
But it brought voters o’er to her side.

If only we’d gone out of town,
And cut a fresh Christmas tree down.
This grocery store tree,
Once looked fine to me.
But now, tell me, why is it brown?