On Writing, Time and What's Up: A Rambling Recap of the Last Few Weeks

So much to say, but the wind won't write my words!

It's hard to find time to blog these days. Which is frustrating to me since writing is something I need to do. Just as some people need to run or make music or sing, so must I write. Scott will vouch for the fact that if I've gone too long without it, I get all wonky and - in general - pretty unpleasant. "Go write," he'll say in exasperation. "I'll take the kids. But for God's sake, just write something." It is my life's greatest passion; the hobby that keeps my brain sharp, my thoughts clear and yields the most fulfillment. I love it. My mind is a dizzy flurry of thoughts, stories and ideas I want to flush out and I often have the urge to break open my computer in the wee hours of night (or morning, rather) to jot down a reflection so I can bring it to life later. What can I say? Like many writers, I have the compulsion to share...what I lack, however, is time.

Which brings me to the point of this post.

I haven't been able to share much on the blog these days, or at least not as much as I would like. Luckily, our social media accounts - like Instagram and Facebook - make sharing in snippets pretty effortless. I post very regularly over there because it's simple, quick and easy. As much as I enjoy chronicling our life in images and short captions (because I really look at it all as a chronicle), it doesn't quite scratch the creative itch for me and it certainly only shows 1/100th of the picture. It offers a precisely filtered highlight reel and doesn't cut to the nitty gritty like I sometimes like to do. But it'll do for now. High season is behind us (maybe?) and Scott should (in theory) be able to help out with the girls a little bit more, affording me a few hours here and there to work and write. So more to come, I promise.

***

So, what's been going on the past few weeks?

Well, a lot. My parents and my amazing sister came to visit (separately), and spending time with them and showing them our new "island expat" lifestyle was so much fun. Our business continues to flourish which is wonderful but means that Scott is burning the midnight oil every. single. night. If you think running a day charter business in the tropics is all fun in the sun, you'd be wrong. It's a hell of a lot of work, and because I am on mommy duty all day, every day...the business end of things falls on Scott's shoulders.  I must say he is doing an incredible job, and seeing him take the bull by the horns and assume the roll of business owner with such ability and ease is impressive. It's a pretty insane work load though, and while we are taking steps to streamline certain procedures so that the work/life balance is better for him - these things take time. Not the worst problem to have but no one can work 12-18 hour days forever. That's a one way ticket to crazy town right there.

Other news? Oh! We got a second car (a white Hyundai Veracruz, baby!) The girls and I are now mobile and while we absolutely love Nanny Cay and our extended family of workers, neighbors and friends that are here with us - it's been nice to change things up a little with the freedom to go to other places, parks and beaches without paying an arm and a leg in taxi fare (there is no public transportation here). The girls are ob-sessed with the car and car rides. Obsessed. Every night after I tuck the twins in (and after I do the little routine they've developed of doing kisses, hugs and - get this - fist and elbow bumps) they say, "Car?" and I say, "Yes. We will go in the car tomorrow" to which they reply, "Okay!" So, yeah. The car is a big hit all around. Granted, finding car seats was a treat. Tracking down one on this island is like finding a needle in a haystack, locating three proved pretty much impossible. So we drove around (very carefully) without them for a while which was utterly TERRIFYING. The twins figured out how to unbuckle the seat belts approximately .02 seconds after I secured them the first time which meant driving around, for them, was like being in some sort of moving jungle gym and for me was...it was...let's just say I could've used a Xanax. We eventually found one booster style seat and rotated the kids around in that for a week or so, but one carseat for three kids is no good not to mention it created an existential dilemma a la "Sophie's Choice" every time I got them in the car. Who gets to ride in the car seat today? After realizing decent carseats weren't going to magically appear in my car or on this island for that matter, I ordered some on Amazon (this car seat can fit three in one row! Take note moms of multiples!) and my dad shipped them down to us. Now we are safe and my kids aren't hanging out the windows like dogs anymore. Whoo hoo!

We've also decided that we'll soon be putting the girls in a pre-school/play group here two days a week for a half-day to give me a little break and allow me to stay on top of things like a) my business responsibilities (I am technically the marketing manager of Aristocat Charters), b) "house" chores (like organizing cupboards, tidying lockers, purging excess and cleaning the fridge; things that need to happen regularly around here but don't) c) my personal hygiene (there are really nice *warm* shower facilities here. I use them maybe twice a week and cold-water bathe on the aft deck with the girls 90% of the time) and d) my writing (see first paragraph.) This change, I think, will also be great for them socially as they love other kids and while we play with other children on a daily basis, I think a little regular playtime with kids their own ages will be helpful. Did I mention that I think this will be great for my sanity? Because...that too.

***

Despite the fact that I haven't been writing much, we've had several things written about us and a couple new interviews went "live" recently, so if you'd like to read those they are here:

• This Adventurous Couple are Raising Three Kids on a Boat in the Caribbean - an article that got compiled on the world wide web and has been shared a bunch. It's pretty accurate and uses a bunch of our pictures except we left in 2010, not 2012. We had nothing to do with this piece, and were not contacted for it. But I'm grateful for the publicity and the shares that have come from it.
• Goodie Goodie Gumdrops: Inside a Traveler's Walls - A great interview series about people who live and travel in unique situations. Jessica's blog is pretty awesome too! This piece is specifically about our boat, what we love about it, what we don't, how we have altered it to make it work for us, and why we chose it for our home.
• Women and Cruising: 12 Questions for the Asante Family - Part of a great series of interviews with families who sail with children. I answer twelve questions about life aboard with kids, the good, bad and poopy.

In related news, I have also been updating the pages of this blog, the "ABOUT" page got a refresher as did our "PRESS" page. Feel free to poke around there, and people interested in boating with babies, please check out our Baby on Board page where I've consolidated most of our posts on sailing, traveling and living tiny with tots.

What else? (Yes, I realize I am rambling)...That's about it. We have our good days and bad. The girls are growing in leaps and bounds and with that come new revelations, freedoms and challenges. Spending so much time with them and watching them grow, learn, and become who they are is pure magic, it really is. But with yin, there comes yang and darkness follows light. There have been some pretty significant and very personal extended family struggles that I have kept to myself which have been devastating and life-altering. We ride up and down the unpredictable wave of life just like anyone else and sometimes we are at the crest and can see what's coming our way, sometimes we are in the trough and have no idea what hit us. That's how it goes, we have all been there. But despite that, I call myself lucky and I am thankful beyond words. It's a wonderful, beautiful life and there is no place - literally no place - I would rather be than right here, right now. My heart is so full of love, gratitude and happiness for the life we have created, for our children and what we are accomplishing.

My time, whether or not I am writing, is well spent.

And that is (the very cliff-noted version of) where we are at right now...

Thanks, as always, for reading and following along on our journey. It's truly an honor.

Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes: Re-Entry

"You must really miss the Caribbean right now" is something I am hearing a lot these days from people.  Because it's cold here.  Really cold.  Frigid cold, in fact.  Isla and I walked to the local Walgreens the other day to mail some Christmas cards and get some fresh air and the poor thing would gasp with every blast of biting wind and nuzzle her face in my shoulder exclaiming "cooooold!"  With temperatures in the teens in our neck of the woods, we're not getting out as much as we used to, that is for sure.

But the strange thing is this:  I actually do not miss the Caribbean.

Okay, that is not entirely true, of course I miss the warm weather, not having to put on so many layers of clothes every morning, and the fact that - on the boat - my daytime clothes easily double as pajamas.  I miss the water and beaches and the boat and I am really missing my tan right about now (how quickly they fade!).  But I'm not missing these things as much as I thought I would, which is kind of interesting.

Maybe it's just self preservation.  A mentality shift that is forcing/allowing me to just be present and embrace where I am right now, instead of longing to be elsewhere.  Maybe it was time for a break to re-charge and re-calibrate after all?  The fact that we spent the last couple weeks on the boat sedentary and in a marina definitely made this transition easier because living on a cruising boat that is dock locked is significantly less-fun than actually cruising.  There is a huge difference between the two.  Whatever the reason, this "re-entry" isn't as hard as I imagined... Spending the vast majority of the past three years living on a boat on the water in tropical climates has certainly primed me for appreciating the finer things that land life offers: washer/dryers, unlimited running water, private showers, fantastic grocery stores, big beds with down comforters, super fast/reliable internet, ability to make phone calls to my hearts content (though I am not much of a phone person to be honest) and pretty much every other convenience that can be imagined from the abundance of space to the profusion of choices that face every new day.

I have a huge appreciation for these things and am happily reveling in all of them.  But the best part of being back ashore, without question, is being near friends and family.  I am sure this comes as no shock to anyone who has ever spent significant time away from "home".  Missing loved ones is the single most consistent grievance among cruising sailors.  The fact that I have been coming and going from mine for a nice chunk of my adult life means it's nice and kind of refreshing to be slowly settling into some pattern of consistency.  I can get an invite for a party in a month and know that I can go because I will be here.  I can contemplate signing up little Isla for a swimming lessons or a dance class because we're sticking around for more than a few weeks.   I don't feel the need to rush like crazy to see people because we have time on our sides for a change.  Isla can bond with and learn from a plethora of local playmates - from my best friends kiddos to her cousin who is only four months younger.  The islands will always be there.  We will undoubtably go back to cruising, back to our boat...  But these special moments in time with family and friends?  These are things that do not lie in wait.  Kids get older, people move away, families expand and milestones are reached.  We need to catch the moments while we can, embrace them and savor them, and being right, here right now is allowing us to do that.

Living on a boat and traveling is an amazing life (to us, at least), but there is definitely something to be said for staying put for a little while.  The other day I got a library card.  I've invested in a winter wardrobe that consists of fleece lined leggings, boots, leg warmers, hats and gloves.  My friends and I are scheduling regular play dates with our kids to ward off cabin fever.  While I could definitely do with a few more degrees and a bit more sunshine right now, I think we are in the right place - for me, for our unborn babies, for Isla, for our family.  It's definitely different and there is still a lot of change on the horizon that will take some major adjusting to, but with a change in latitude comes a change in attitude.  I say "bring it".

For Each Day To Have a New and Different Sun...

"So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservation, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man's living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun".

- Into the Wild

I posted this quote on our Facebook page the other day as I am wont to do from time to time...  It spoke volumes to me (I have been rather introspective and pensive as of late) and, judging by the number of "shares" it got, it spoke to many others as well.  Of course a few folks pointed out that the man who scribed this quote in his journal died not long after it was written, which I guess for some justifies living a "safe" life.  But in pointing out this man's folly and demise, they are forgetting the fact that this man died doing something he loved and felt passionate about, and dismissing his very poignant message:  we're only here once, so why not live the heck out of life because the more we experience, the richer in soul and spirit we become.  People can keep their hearts beating for many years and fail to ever truly live (we all know at least a few of these folks) so the fact that this man died - tragic as it was - doing something he felt very passionate about and loved, for him, was probably better than the alternative.  While I do not begrudge anyone for living a "normal" life and know that many do this happily and willingly (I have done it before and will do it again as we find ourselves between adventures), I do find it interesting that so many people fail to see just how many of the people around them are actually living a life someone else wants them to live (be it a parent, a spouse, society...etc.) and are, in fact, dying slow and rather agonizing deaths in their very "safe and responsible" existences.  Obesity, heart disease, alcoholism, self-medication with prescription and/or illicit drugs and depression (among other things) are huge problems in the United States today...so perhaps working for "the man" to attain the white picket fence, the dog and the Rolex aren't exactly fulfilling people like we have been bamboozled into believing?  

Along the same vein, I came across this very interesting article about the Top 5 Regrets of the Dying which has been floating around the interwebz for a while.  They are pretty eye-opening and very much in line with what I am waxing poetic about here:  Live the life YOU want, laugh more, follow your dreams and work less.  (I warned you I have been introspective lately...)

And just to finish off this random post with some more randomness, I leave you with the trailer of what is sure to be an inspiring documentary about an incredible individual who's legacy loudly reiterates the sentiments above:  

I don't think we all need to live on sailboats, become extreme skiers or shed all of our worldly belongings and head off into the wilderness in order to live our lives fully and without regret - but to find something that excites you, challenges you, makes you grow as a person and fills your heart with passion and joy is probably a good start.  To create your own horizon and find your new sun in each and every day.  Thoughts?  

Beach Combing in Saint Pierre

Isla and I love beach combing for "treasures".  It's a little ritual we have that each time we land on a new beach, her and I slowly walk the shoreline picking up shells, rocks and anything else that catches our eye.  Isla is a very patient, thoughtful and inquisitive child and this little hobby of ours suits her perfectly.  We'll stroll along, sometimes hand in hand, sometimes with her trailing me - and each time she finds something of interest she exclaims, "OoooOOOooo!! Mama wook!" and she holds up her stone, shell or - her personal favorite - beach glass (this has subsequently lead to her now excitedly picking up shards of glass in the streets, unfortunately.  We're working on differentiating).  When our travels took us up to the Northern end of Martinique to the quaint town of Saint Pierre, we were treated with the very best beach combing yet.

This little seaside town, which upon first glance looks a bit ramshackle and run-down, has great historical significance.  While it was once considered the cultural capital of this beautiful island and had a well-earned reputation of being the "Paris of the Caribbean", sadly it's fame was solidified in 1902 when the eruption of Mt. Pelee completely destroyed this place, killing over 30,000 people and leveling everything in it's path.  The town still bears the scars of this tragedy and is full of historical ruins giving it a slightly Roman feel.  Many of the ruins have either been incorporated into the modern architecture or left to be slowly reclaimed by nature amongst the living.  It's a very cool place to explore.

When we swam to the beach from our boat, we didn't even think about the fact that the blast which completely decimated this town might have washed some of the remnants of the buildings and homes into the sea.  On our simple stroll along the beach we found weathered bits of terra-cotta tiles, sand-polished bits of plates, tiny pieces of once intricate porcelain tiles and other remnants of yesteryear.  And - wow - if you are a person who loves beach glass, look no further!  There is every size, color, and shape of glass imaginable and we could have easily filled a wine bottle with pieces that we saw just at our feet while walking.  We collected a few bits to bring back to the boat to add to our collection and now we not only have little tiny pieces of history with us, but fond memories of our time here in Martinique.

Monsoon on the Pontoon

Before...

The pontoon boat doesn't have the most, how shall I say, 'esteemed' reputation amongst it's fellow water-dwelling vessels.  They resemble tin cans, travel at a snail's pace and require almost zero skill to operate.  They are synonymous with lakeside indulgence, red necks and beer bellies but no matter what, an afternoon on a pontoon boat is sure to bring you some brat slinging, beer swilling, music thumping fun in the sun.  Enjoyable as they are, they are by no means considered "seaworthy" and never in a million years would I have guessed that I would experience my worst squall to date on one.  But that is exactly what happened this past weekend in Northern Michigan.  Guess there's a first for everything...

The day began with threats of storms and rain, but we decided to risk it and head out on the lake anyway.  The sun was starting to peek through the clouds, the air was warm and we all wanted to have fun together since it's not often we get to spend time with Scott's bro and sis and their respective families.  We decided on a little 'river tour' through the various lakes and rivers up here and off we went at a respectable five miles per hour.  We put-putted along; listening to music, entertaining the kiddos, snacking on junk food and, in general, just enjoying the peaceful scenery and good company around us.

Around 5pm the sky was looking pretty ominous.  So much so that Scott and his brother decided to check the radar of the area and see what was in store.  Apparently, there was a big red blob around our whole county with several thunderstorm warnings thrown in for good measure.  We decided to make our way home.  As we more or less drifted along the river, the sky grew darker still and lightning began striking around us, but despite this we all felt pretty confident that we could out run the worst of it (note: have Scott and I learned NOTHING?!?).  Just to be on the safe side we decided to prepare for a downpour, so Scott - being the experienced 'captain' among us - took the helm while the rest of us frantically started packing things away, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.  I believe we deserve a few points for our (vain) attempts to be prudent...

About 5:30 pm we were cruising along when all of a sudden Scott yelled, "Here it comes!!" and just as we looked up, a literal wall of white approached us.  I am talking a WALL OF WATER, people.  The likes of which I have only ever seen in a Caribbean squall and even then, only once.  Lots of screaming and scrambling ensued - there were four kids aboard that needed cover - and before we knew it: WHAM!  It hit us.  And it wasn't just water, but wind.  Lots of it (reports clocked the gusts in our area at 60 mph - the highest wind we have ever seen sailing is 39 knots, fyi).  Instantly we were drenched.  The rain was so dense and strong it looked like someone was taking a machine gun to the water around us.  Suddenly, a humongous gust raced down the river and broke our bimini (the only thing that offered a *little* protection from the elements) suddenly exposing all of us to the cold, driving rain which left us shaking like leaves.

I yelled to Scott (since yelling was the only way you could communicate over the ruckus) to make sure he was okay, he had his arm over his eyes and was struggling to keep the boat moving forward against the wind and rain, and confirmed he was fine.  Peering through the soaked towel that Isla and I were hiding under, I saw our life ring take air and fly away, then a pair of sandals, then a bucket.  The scene around us was utter mayhem, which was kind of hilarious because - again - we were in a pontoon boat.  Scott, realizing that forward momentum was both unsafe and futile, docked the boat along a riverside dock and we hunkered down to wait for the worst to pass.  I kept chucking to myself at how insane the whole scenario was.  I can't wait to sit around some yacht club somewhere with a bunch of sailors spinning yarns and recall "...that one time I went pontoon boating in Northern Michigan..." Good grief.

Eventually, it subsided.  The boat was FULL of water.  All of us - as well as our belongings - needed a complete ringing out.  We were all chattering cold, covered in goosebumps and looked like drowned rats.  This, of course, left only one thing to do which was to laugh.  REALLY hard.  Scott put the boat back in gear and we limped back home, in belly-holding hysterics the entire time.  We even got some cheers from shore-side folks who'd enjoyed the mayhem from their homes but really, only the other pontoon boaters will ever know what it was like out there.  Solidarity, people (tongue is in cheek here).

The lesson here:  don't ever try to outrun a monsoon on a pontoon, because it ain't gonna work.

...after.  It does the wrath no justice!

Grocery Shopping, Cruiser Style

It looks absolutely NOTHING like this.

You might call me a "glutton for punishment".   Much like the time I schlepped 60 gallons of water to our boat manually, it is not unusual for me to take on semi-overwhelming tasks just for the sake of giving it a go.   It is also not surprising that, most often, these undertakings occur while Scott's away and I am in single-mom mode.  It's like I want to prove to myself that I can get by just fine on my own so I create these ridiculous challenges that make most people question my sanity.  Like strapping my twenty-something pound baby on my front, heaving a sixty pound backpack of groceries on my back and jamming myself into a local bus, whose internal temperature is approximately 110°.  

Grocery shopping, while always something of a 'chore', is significantly more of a chore to the live-aboard cruiser.  First of all, none of us have cars and if there is one thing that make grocery shopping convenient (other than Peapod, of course) - it's four wheels and a trunk. Not having a car leaves us a few options: 1) walk to grocery store (anywhere between one and five miles, typically) and cart groceries in a collapsible wagon or cart or 2) Take public transportation and lug around groceries the old fashioned way: in bags.  Because I have a toddler in tow and therefore prefer to do things as quickly and efficiently as possible, I opt for number two.

I have written before about the public transportation system here in Grenada.  It's good.  It's privately run, therefore efficient, and super cheap.  Can't beat that.  So I strapped Isla into the ERGO carrier, grabbed my giant Gil waterproof grocery backpack and headed for the bus.  The busses (which are actually converted mini-vans) zoom up and down the streets, honking like mad with the "conductor" hanging out the window whistling and yelling to try and lure more passengers.   They pack 'em in like sardines because - just like the busses I have experienced in every developing country I have ever been - there is always room for one more.  Combine the sweating bodies of ten to fifteen people in a vinyl seated bus during the midday sun and the only word to describe the smell would be "ripe".  At least on this particular bus, on this particular day it was...

As much as I love the bus system here, of course there is a catch.  And here in Grenada, it's the music.  It's horrible.  Awful.  Aggressive.  Loud.  It's called "soca" and it is the music of the islands.  Try as I might, I just cannot bring myself to enjoy or appreciate this noise (and just like that, I officially sound "old").  Every bus blasts it louder than necessary and it actually huts my ears.  I would kill to hear some nice, gentle reggae - heck, I'd take Kenny G. over soca - but this is a futile battle.  So I grit my teeth, plaster on a smile and bounce my knee to the awful beat, because if you can't beat them, join them.  But I digress...

So Isla and I are packed into the bus like pickles, heads pounding withe soca music,  and when our stop comes, I knock on the bus wall to signal it to stop.  It does so almost immediately and after I wiggle my way out between the fellow passengers, I drop my coins in the conductor's hand and Isla and I are back in the fresh air and start the short trek to the Spiceland Mall, where the IGA is.  We chit-chat the whole way about how nice it will be to get in the air conditioning.

The store here is an IGA, a Canadian chain, which means it carries food from the motherland which is why we sometimes make the extra effort to shop here as opposed to the local grocery chain, Food Land, across the street from the marina.  I put Isla into the shopping cart (another activity she thoroughly enjoys), bust out my shopping list and hop to it.  When we finish twenty minutes later, I have a semi-full cart and the creeping thought that maybe this wasn't the best idea overall.  But we're here and this is happening.

"Are you sure you can carry all that and the baby?" the nice checkout lady asks me incredulously as she eyeballs the gargantuan backpack.  The awesome bagging boy has managed to cram all our goodies into the one bag and for that I am grateful.  It easily weighs sixty pounds.  "I'll manage" I reply with an unconvincing smile.  I put Isla back into the carrier on my front, bag boy helps me heave the giant pack on my back and out the doors I walk with the legitimate thought "I'll bet I shrink a quarter of an inch today".

Of course on this day, I don't see a bus right away which means I am forced to walk until one passes.  Sure, I could stand around and wait for one to pass by me but I am, by nature, an incredibly impatient person and if I'm not making any forward momentum to wherever it is I am going, then I get all antsy and agitated.  Best to keep moving.  Because the pack is giant and overburdened, it bangs the back of my legs as I walk so Isla and I limp, Quasimodo style, down the road in the scalding hot sun until for about a quarter of a mile before I hear the welcome "beep, beep" of the #1 bus.  We hop in, both of us sweaty messes, and for the rest of the ride home I play the "who or where IS that stench coming from?" game.  (No, it was not me).

Our stop arrives.  The conductor lobs the pack back onto my back and Isla and I walk the short distance back to the boat, where I get both her and the giant bag on board.  The time that has passed is two hours exactly.  I have just enough energy left to unpack before Isla and I both go down for a much needed nap.

So while I might be a glutton for punishment, I would not be above a service like "Peapod for Cruisers" should one surface.  Just saying.

Haircuttin’ on the High Seas

“Want to do something really fun?” Scott yelled eagerly from the cockpit.  Being someone who loves herself some fun, I perked up and got excited.  Was he planning a cool hike?  Did he book us his and her massages at the resort hotel down the street?  Was the local beach bar having two for one specials?  My interest was piqued.

“Yeah!” I replied, “What are you thinking?” 

Scott’s face emerged in the companionway with an I-love-you-honey-and-I-need-you-to-do something-for-me grin.  He raised a pair of clippers in the air and said excitedly: “Cut my hair!”

Skeeeert. 

Not exactly the definition of "fun" in my book.

Considering I am not a stylist and the last time I sashayed into hair cutting was in 1983 when I butchered my little brother's bangs (the result was not unlike Jim Carrey’s coif a la “Dumb and Dumber”) this was a brave request. 

But I rarely shy away from a challenge and, if nothing else, I figured I could have a good laugh if I completely butchered his ‘do.  After all, he did ask me – a complete and utter novice – to use clippers on his head.  If the results were disastrous, he’d have no one to blame but himself.

Luckily for Scott, he a) has a ton of hair  (it’s insane how thick his mane is) b) he was very good at giving me  instructions (he talked me through the process much like a surgeon would guide a resident through an open-heart procedure) and c) he’s so dang good looking that no matter what I did to his head people would still stop him on the street to let him know he’s a dead ringer for Ben Affleck (it’s true).

All in all, I think it went pretty well.  Aside from the little snafu in the back of his head and the fact that I did cut the front a bit *too* short (what can I say, I loved Dumb and Dumber) – I do not laugh out loud every time I see him and that says something.  Regardless, I’ll not be signing up for beauty school anytime soon and I’ll refrain from asking Scott to return the favor.

Desperate Measures

Scott and I were big skiers in our land-based life.  Unfortunately, it's a passion that doesn't fit in too well with cruising because - in this part of the world - the seasons are the same.  But that doesn't mean I can't don my ski goggles from time to time.  Turns out, they are excellent at preventing the weepy eyes that result in onion-chopping.  Man do I hate chopping onions...

We just knew these would come in handy.

When Pigs Fly...

While we didn’t find any evidence that pigs can fly yet, we did witness that they have the potential to be pretty decent swimmers.  At least the pigs here at Big Majors Spot in Staniel Cay are...

Placed here some years ago by local residents, these “wild” pigs have managed to adapt pretty effortlessly to life on a small island by making themselves a mammalian freak-show in return for food.  Our guidebook suggested we feed these mysterious swimming pigs lettuce and/or bread (no meat), so off we went with a wilting head of romaine to lure the pigs from the beach in the hopes of witnessing their aquatic prowess.  While we were able to entice them to swim out to our dinghy, they completely snubbed our offerings.  Upon seeing that all they were getting was some lettuce, they promptly turned around and swam right back to shore, leaving our romaine floating pathetically behind them.  It seems their palettes have evolved alongside their swimming skills.  

Regardless of their distaste for salad, it’s pretty wild to see a pig swimming out to your boat, snout in the air like a snorkel, grunting away with every stroke.  So there you have it; pigs do indeed swim.  But you won't catch me swimming with them, until, of course, they fly.

Nautical Flea Market

I'd always wondered what a flea market was all about, so when we got wind that there was one that was "nautical" themed this weekend, we figured it was worth a trip to check out.

Beacause our days are still full of boat work, we only caught the last hour of the Nautical Flea Market in Pompano Beach, but despite the time crunch, we managed to find a few treasures.  There are lots of good deals to be had and if you have the patience to hunt for them.  We walked away with a package of bungee chords for $4 (because you can never have too many bungee chords!), a new LED bulb for $18, a pair of sporty Sperry deck shoes for $30 and a bunch of other small fasteners and what not.  It was a fun little family outing.

Back in Lauderdale-Land...for now

Isla and I managed to get out yesterday before the big snow storm hit and enjoyed a pretty uneventful trip.  Little missy had a couple minor meltdowns for a few minutes here and there (both her naps were screwed with, mind you), but over all - she was her sweet, squirmy, adorable little self and made friends with all the people around us by popping her head up over the seat, grabbing the hair of the person in front of us, making eyes at the guy next to us and being 100% cute in general.  This marks the second flight where random people have whipped out their smart phones and taken her photo in a "Oh, she is so cute!" fashion.  We landed here in Florida and were immediately greeted by a blast of warm air and sunshine, glorious sunshine!

While it wasn't my first time traveling with her alone, it was my very first time travelling with her outside of the newborn sleeps-like-a-zombie stage.  I have mentioned before that she is a SUPER active (almost) nine month old and non-stop energy in motion.  She is so curious and just loves to use her little legs, arms and fingers to explore everything around her.  Being that there is not much to explore from a coach plane seat I was a little nervous about this trip.  Luckily, she was plenty entertained by (eating) the pages of Sky Mall Magazine and my arsenal of baby snacks.  My secondary fear of managing all our luggage (a car seat, a large duffle, diaper bag, purse and baby) was for naught as well.  The Ergo baby carrier coupled with my general consensus that people are good and helpful proved to be the secret.  Strangers assisted us every step of the way from ushering us right through security to helping with my bags, entertaining Isla with smiles and coos or just a lending a hand so I could get a cup of coffee.  Those small kindnesses make a world of difference to a mama travelling alone.  As if that wasn't enough, my sweet-as-pie friend, Melody, went above and beyond by not only picking us up at the airport, but helping me schlepp all of our stuff onto the boat.  As a "thank you" I bought dinner and Melody and I celebrated the coming apocalypse over pizza, wine and great conversation in the cockpit.

Buuuut...the apocalypse was a no show, which I for one am happy about.  Turns out the Mayans just ran out of paper...or rocks, or wall space or whatever it was they were making their calendar on.  And you know what that means?  There's still a lot more sailing and travelling in our future, and for that I am VERY thankful.

Tomorrow, we drive across the state to meet up with my family who's spending Christmas in the Sarasota area.  We're travelling fools...just not "wind" travellin'.  But soon enough...This boat and it's crew are itching to get moving again!

The Power of Positive People

This little person has effected my life in so many positive and profound ways!

We've all heard about the power of positive thinking:  the theory that your thoughts can shape your life, the idea that whatever the mind expects, it gets.  I subscribe wholly to this mindset and credit positive thinking and visualization for many of the successes in my life (along with hard work and dedication, of course). Also known as the law of attraction it's the belief that like attracts like, and by putting good energy out there into the world, more often than not, good energy will come back to you.  Sure it's a little new-agey and hippy-dippy, but what can I say?  It's worked for me.  But there is more... What about the power of the people around you?  Can they effect you?  Do they have the potential to influence your thoughts?  Steal your energy?  Zap your joy?  You betcha!

We hear from a lot of people who share our dream of cutting ties from a "normal" life and living on their own terms.  More often than not they mention how people in their lives don't support their dreams and aspirations.  I'm not suggesting cutting ties with well-meaning friends and family who simply don't understand your choices, but perhaps it's time to take stock of the people who surround you.  Are they positive people?  Happy?  Do they enjoy life? Are they fellow dreamers who do exciting things?  They say that married couples should spend time with other happily married couples.  That, somehow, spending time with people in healhty and successful marriages will effect your marriage in a positive way.  So it follows suit that if you are a dreamer, perhaps you should spend time with other people who dream?  Or better yet, other dreamers who do...

There are so many people in this world doing incredible things, large and small, and living their dreams in their own ways.  They need not have climbed mountains or circumnavigated the globe to be an inspiration; maybe they started their own small business, trekked the Inca trail, or transformed themselves from a couch potato into a marathon runner - in one way or another, no matter how big or small, these people took a risk and accomplished a goal.  These are the types of people who you want to spend time with - the kinds of people who believe that "where there is a will, there is a way".  There plenty of people in this world who have nothing but positive energy for those around them; they invigorate you, excite you...they inspire dreams and awaken possibilities within. These are the kinds of people who, when you tell them your dreams, they listen excitedly and nod YES.

Of course, you will inevitably meet people that will steal your joy and zap your energy.  They will try to make you insecure, make you doubt your plans and question your motivations.  Some are very obvious, while others are wolves in sheep's clothing.  Beware of these people.  They are fake, disingenuous, insincere and despite what they might think, they are pretty easy to spot.  When you spend time with these folks they don't lift your spirit, they make you feel badly about yourself and they leave you a little heavier than before.  They're passive aggressive and often manipulative.  They're usually some combination of bitter, jealous, angry and/or scared.  I have a few acquaintances of this sort in my life (we all do), and several more read this blog and some make nasty comments from time to time.  I limit the time and energy I spend on/with these folks.  I simply hit "delete" and move on.

There's this popular belief called the "Average of Five" which states that you are the average of your five closest friends.  It's an interesting concept that says the five people closest to you have a tremendous impact on you mentally, spiritually, physically and emotionally.  Of course it goes without saying that we all have our bad days.  No one is perfect and can burp sunshine and fart rainbows all the time, but I'm speaking generally here.... Who are your closest five? Are they making your life better or dragging you down? Are they positive Polly's or negative Nancy's?  An even better question is who are YOU?  Do you enrich the lives of others? Are your motivations positive?  Do you allow the people around you to dream?

Home is where the Sleep Is

Not much to report over here.  Isla and I have been enjoying time home with family and the slowed pace has been incredible for me.  I have been catching up on lost zzzz's by sleeping in past 6am and, metaphorically speaking, we've gone from a crazy Kenyan five minute mile to a more manageable "weekend jogger" ten.  I actually hopped on the scale yesterday out of curiosity and, much to my surprise, I have lost ten pounds since moving to Florida.  Ten pounds!  I now weigh less than I did before I had Isla which is crazy.  I don't write that to pat myself on the back, make enemies of my fellow women or brag about ten pounds lost, but to reiterate just how crazy busy we have been down there in the sunshine state.  Lugging around a seventeen pound baby while running at a mile a minute does a body good, I guess.

This little break up North has been so nice, like a big, fat SIGH... but it is only that, a break.  The frenetic pace will return in January when Scott returns and we begin to prep the boat to leave the USA... for good.  It's going to be hectic, for sure, but it will all be worth it when I am posting bloggy blogs from the beauty of the Exuma Islands again!

So yeah, it's nice to be home.  Despite the fact that it's the holidays and historically a pretty hectic time of year, it's smooth sailin' over here and the calm before for the (awesome Bahamian tropical sunshine) storm for us!

In Chicago

Isla is not impressed with her new winter wardrobe

Isla and I made it to Chicago.  She was a little gem on the plane, which I am pretty certain had everything to do with the fact that we were sitting next to this guy and she was looking to impress.  I'm happy to announce she has good taste in men!  You would never in a million years have guessed that this guy is a professional UFC fighter who beats the crap out of people for a living.  He was so gentle and sweet, so thoughtful and polite.  When I first got to my seat and saw I would be sitting next to a Ryan Gossling/Ryan Reynolds look-alike, I was worried he would't be very tolerant of a lone mamma flying with her baby, but not so.  I could not have asked for a better seat mate.  He was reading "The Power of Now" and we had some great conversations during the course of our three hour flight about life, following dreams, and the law of attraction.  Despite how vastly different our lives are (he a professional athlete in Vegas, me a mama blogger on a boat) we have so much in common, almost to the point we could finish the other's thoughts.  It's a nice reminder that you truly never can judge a book by it's cover...or a person by their profession, for that matter.  It was a pleasure to meet him, and no, not just because he looks like a Calvin Klein model.

Isla and UFC fighter Chris Spang

Isla and I will are here until the 20th and then we head back to the boat for a couple days before driving over to the other side of Florida for Christmas with family.  We're keeping busy so that this time without daddy flies by!

Winding down...The Twelve Days of Refit!

We have exactly twelve days before Scott leaves for Grenada to Captain s/v Diamant.  That is has inspired a twelve days of christmas style song...because frankly, Isla woke up at 5am this morning and I don't have much more in me at the moment.  Here goes nothing...

On the first day of refit, my true love gave to me: a Y valve in our aft head!
On the second day of refit, my true love gave to me: two pumping bilge pumps!
On the third day day of refit, my true love gave to me: three working faucets!
On the fourth day of refit, my true love gave to me: four new DC outlets!
On the fifth day of refit, my true love gave to me: five fuses fusin'!
On the sixth day of refit, my true love gave to me: six fans a blowin'!
On the seventh day of refit, my true love gave to me: seven brand new hoses!
On the eighth day of refit, my true love gave to me: eight icky roaches!
On the ninth day of refit, my true love gave to me: nine pieces varnished!
On the tenth day of refit, my true love gave to me: ten electronics wired!
On the eleventh day of refit, my true love gave to me: eleven bins to stow things!
On the twelfth day of refit, my true love gave to me: twelve ordered spares!

...and so much more.  This boat is a completely different boat than it was two months ago.

While this list has obviously been manipulated to fit into a zippy Christmas tune, Scott has been nothing short of amazing and with a little help from our friends, he has seriously kicked our project list's ass.  It's incredible how proficient in everything "boat" he has become.  It looks like we'll be good to go come January 21st.  Most of our big projects are complete or well on their way to completion, and all we have left are piddly little projects that can be done underway if need be.  It feels so good to see the light at the end of the tunnel and I am SO proud of my handy hubs.

As for Isla, it looks like she might have inherited her parents athleticism.  At seven months old, she is not only crawling around like mad, but standing up and balancing on her own!  She even creeps and inches along furniture to get from point A to point B.  She is so clever and funny, so inquisitive and deliciously cute but boy oh boy do I hope she holds off on walking for another few months!

Morning Stroll

This morning I completely forgot about daylight savings so when Isla woke up at her usual 6:30am (this is the only down side of a baby with a 6pm bedtime as far as we're concerned), I checked my watch and thought nothing of it.  Scott and I usually trade off who is on "morning duty" and today was my day so I put her in her stroller for a morning walk.  It was eerily quiet out in the 'hood.  I mean, I know it was 6:30am on a Sunday and all but usually there are at least a few joggers and cars about.  This morning there wasn't a soul.  Isla and I owned Las Olas Boulevard.  I just chalked it up to a rowdier than normal Saturday night and continued on our walk to the beach to watch the sun rise.  Imagine my suprise when I came home an hour later to Scott, still in bed, rubbing his eyes asking, "Did you just take Isla for a walk at 5:30am?!?" Whoops.  Oh well, it was a gorgeous morning!

The evolution of the sunrise on Las Olas Blvd.

The canals of Las Olas.  We live on one such canal.  

A fellow walker snapped this pic of Isla and I on the beach.

It was Halloween?!

Halloween sort of came and went with very little fanfare around here.  Not only did I not remember that it was Halloween, but I didn't get Isla a Halloween costume.  Mom of the year over here.  I thought about it once about two months ago when I saw a cute little plush flower suit at a children's clothing store, but I skipped it when I saw the price tag was $40.  That just seemed ridiculous when, lets face it, she was only going to wear it for maybe 10 minutes while I snapped a few photos of her in it.

Aside from the fact that I totally forgot it was Halloween, there are other reasons we let it go by the wayside as well:  Scott has been working on a mega yacht the past four days and we're a house full of sickies at the moment.  Scott (who never gets sick) has had a chest cold for about two weeks and Isla just picked up a nasty baby cold (her first). It's been a coughy, sneezy, snotty mess around here.  I am unsuccessfully trying my damnedest to avoid falling victim to the germs, armed with Emergen-C and a neti pot.  So yeah, celebrating Halloween wasn't high on our list of priorities.

That said, I did start feeling a teensy bit guilty that "Baby's First Halloween" was going to be a complete non-event, so I decided to dress Isla up in a little sailor dress that she was gifted and take some pictures of her in it to commemorate this 'milestone'.  So there it is.  Isla was a sailor baby for her 1st Halloween.  It's cliche, it's official and it's on the web.  She also turned seven months yesterday which completely blows my mind.  You guys were right, time really does fly.  Sheesh. 

Scott finishes work on the mega-yacht today which means it's back to full-blown work mode on our boat.  The new furling baby stay has arrived and we're going to begin installation tomorrow.  Can't wait for that.

Dockwalk Party

If I would have known at, say, 20 years old that there was a whole industry where you could travel the world by boat on someone else's dime while making money and partying with some of the best looking folks in some of the most exotic places on the on the globe, well, my life might have turned out differently...

I'm talking about the yachting industry, where (mostly) young (mostly good-looking) folks take a couple of courses in order to qualify to work on mega-yachts as "stews" (stewards, stewardesses), bosuns, deck hands, engineers, mates, chefs and a slew of other positions catering to the rich and famous.  While we've definitely crossed paths with many mega-yachts in our travels, typically the "yachtie" set and cruiser set don't mix...not because of any sort of acrimony, but because we cruisers are (usually) cheap and the yachties tend to have a) more money to play with and b) are working.  There are negatives to this seemingly awesome job, of course (it is a job, after all): sometimes the owners of the yachts are jerks, you typically share a bunk room the size of a closet with one or two other people, and drama can ensue (as it does when you coop up young, hormonal people)... For the most part, however, it seems like a pretty sweet gig for a twenty-something; you have almost no expenses, travel the world, and make a decent salary doing it.

One of the "industry" publications that Scott and I have been reading since we started traveling is Dockwalk.  While it caters to the yacthie set more than the cruiser, it's a pretty interesting read and we usually have a copy or two lying around our boat at any given time.  As you can imagine, Ft. Lauderdale (being one of the yachting industry capitals) is full of yachties and because we are a week away from the Ft. Lauderdale International Boat Show, Dockwalk decided to throw a little mixer for the industry folk.  Our friend Travis, a mega-yacht captain, invited us along and because grandma is here, Scott and I enjoyed a night out sans baby.  It was fun.  The place was packed and looked like an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog exploded.  No shortage of eye candy, but I think Emily and I had the best of the bunch and we owned that dance floor (wink).

Our Ft. Lauderdale friends, Captain Travis and his wife Emily.

If you're looking to travel the world by boat but can't seem to figure out how to do it on your own boat, perhaps you should try to work on someone else's?