A day later, I went back to finish my goop job; I screwed on the bases of my bow lights, and shoved the wires down the hole before putting the light on and completing the installation.

But when I pushed the wires on the second light through, the stopped early….and came back up with the ends covered in white goo. I obviously was only 50% successful with my wire-string-rope gadgets to clean the goop out of the holes. I wasn’t too surprised because I did pull that one through before I intended to. And then when I tightened the screws holding the teak block all the way down and watched the goop squeeze out all around I suspected that this was happening.

So today I got out a wire probe an forced it though…then forced a string through, then tied another little bit of dead rope to the string, and went below and pulled it through, cleaning out the excess goop. It was quick, and I didn’t leave a path of goo in my bedroom. And only a few minutes later, the second bow light was screwed in.

Before I cleaned out the goo, I went back to my used glove box, and found two pairs I had used lightly while installing the teak blocks. Now that I’m done, I think one will survive for yet another day…but the other two probably have too much goop on them to be usable when it kicks. I’ll find out later.

But when I talk of goop winning a battle, I am not speaking correctly. I am actually directing away from my point. The (up-to-now unstated) follow-on sentence is about me winning the war against the goop, but I just can’t say that. Because I’m not in a war with the goop. The goop is on my side, although it can be a sticky partner. I do look for the humor or entertainment in my struggles with partners like this, but there is no battle here, nor is there a war. And I do occasionally struggle, but I am enjoying the work. If I struggle, I am usually learning more and I like that too.

In truth, I don’t feel like I’m working against any part of Flutterby. Instead, I’m lovingly working on turning her into the boat of my dreams. The one I will sail on. When I’m at sea, I trust that she will take loving care of me when I need protection from the elements. Because somehow, I believe she will be returning to me all that I’m putting into her here on land. Most of what I do is to make sure she is seaworthy and sound. But not all. Some things I do are simply because they make her feel like a more wonderful boat to me. Or perhaps just because I love her.