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!
It’s a wonderful thing to have a tiny little black box that contains most of the information you need on a regular basis. A database full of names and addresses, a directory full of treasured childhood photos, another one of recent photos, hundreds of recipes, and copies of every letter you’ve typed in the past 15 years. And that’s without even connecting it to the Internet.
But with all that comes a price: Dependency. When the thing doesn’t boot up, you are toast. Without your to-do list in Excel, what do you DO next? Without the address book in Access, how can you call anyone? Without Microsoft Streets and Trips, how can you plan a trip across the country?
Our laptop, known as Fooney, was one hot computer. Too hot. You couldn’t use it in your lap without practically suffering thigh-burns. Eventually, some inner part decided that it didn’t like Fooney’s tropical climate and gave up the ghost.
Even though all the data was backed up before sending it in for repairs, the 7-10 days for the repair are actually going to adversely affect our travel schedule. Hence Fooney’s new name, “Millstone.”
I think it’s time to try some old-fashioned, computer-free camping. Where life is simple and uncomplicated, and the only bugs are the ones in your food.
I can’t believe it. Summer was ending and it was time to hit the road for New Orleans. We had argued and debated and discussed, and we were just about done sorting our personal belongings. And then, out of the blue, I got fever, chills, and SPOTS. For about ten days, I was totally miserable, out of commission, and (uh oh) contagious.
I’m all better now. We finished the arguments and discussions, took an entire truckload to the Goodwill, and brought the rest of the stuff here on Camano Island, where it will be packed into the car or stored.
And then, what should happen, but Barry comes down with fever, chills, and SPOTS! He’s parked in the same recliner where I recuperated from my knee surgery earlier this year. I think our insurance company is going to come take that chair away, because whenever one of us sits there, it costs the insurance company money in doctor’s bills and medicines!
We should only be delayed another week or so, but isn’t it funny how life throws these little curve balls at you when you least expect (or need) them?
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
Way back when, a long long time ago, Meps and I made some plans to quit our jobs and then get ourselves to New Orleans around May 2003 when Cayenne was going to be ready to start charging up the East coast of the US on her first cruise with Brian. Most of you have figured out by now that plans have changed a little since then.
Its now September and yesterday we just finished moving out of our house. We’re now at my parents house on Camano Island, and are still figuring out exactly what of our remaining possesions we want to keep and what we want to travel with. Meps has now recovered from Chicken Pox, and I’m still not sure if I’m going to come down with it or not. If I stay healthy we’ll be leaving soon, probably next week, and otherwise we’ll be here until I recover.
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