2/23/25 - Spinning in place

My view as I write this. Stunning.

It’s 8:02 on Sunday morning. I’ve definitely been awake since at least 5AM, likely earlier. Just couldn’t go back to sleep. Last night, Steve and I taped three pieces of paper towel under our hatch to catch the condensation drops that would routinely jolt me awake through the night. Every night, I have about 3-4 drops of water fall teasingly close to various orifices on my face. (10 points to me for using the word “orifice” before 9AM.) By that I mean, a drop of water unexpectedly falls suuuuper close to my nostril, suuuuper close to my eye, suuuuper close to my earhole (earhole? Is that the word?). As if Layla is saying “I could do it if I wanted to, but I don’t want to.” It’s a game she plays with me.

The water is like glass this morning and there is no wind. It’s gorgeous. There is a gentle bubbling sound coming from the heater outlet water of the nearby boats. I’m having a cup of instant coffee, sweetened with brown sugar and a few drops of the leftover heavy whipping cream that I opened quite a few weeks ago. Living dangerously today. :-)

So much has happened and yet nothing has happened. I found out this morning that a friend of mine’s dad passed away. He was a deeply loved, well-respected, kind and caring longtime family friend. Perhaps our longest family friend? Such a loss. I’m thinking of him a lot this morning and what a good-to-the-core man he was. Hard to believe he’s crossed to the other side….

Time is short. Time is precious. How to spend one’s time? Those are the questions that are very much still circulating in our household (or “boathold” as Sid pointed out yesterday). On Friday, Steve and I both realized that we were up at 4AM so we started chatting. He was thinking about the engine. I was thinking finances. This engine issue will cost roughly $3,500. In my normal world, if you gave me that amount of money, how would I spend it? I can think of all sorts of ways, but not like this. Feels like we’re constantly going to the casino and betting a lot of money and losing…but we keep doing it. In what world is this normal??? We had a conversation with some Canadian friends of ours who started their sailing journey three months before we did. We commiserated about how hard it is and how much money you toss at boat life and how it’s not at all like any of us expected it to be. But they both said that they don’t regret it. Gosh, it was good to talk to them…!

Steve and I talked until we got out of bed—about the stress, about the money, about the fact that our kids are living on their phones, etc. We were both leaning towards selling the boat and using that money to travel around Europe and the US. Was it premature? Probably, but when we look at our goals, there’s more than one way to get to those goals. That said, we both very much wanted to hear where the kids were at this point.

We woke the kids up (because Sid has discovered that he loves sleeping/staying in bed!) and walked to a super cute breakfast place called Koa Cafe. We were in our element—hanging out at a new and fun breakfast place, all of us sampling each other’s meals. We walked the kids through our discussion that morning and asked for their thoughts. Again, they had a lot of great insights. By the time we left, no decisions had been made but we all agreed we would be very happy to somehow travel through Europe and the US.

And then I got home and talked to my parents. And they inconveniently and annoyingly brought up all of the things I was trying to ignore. Somehow they did it in a way that I heard them (miracle?), even though I definitely really didn’t want to. This indecision is exhausting. You would always wonder, why don’t you just give it one more try, (Dad: “You’re in the batter’s box, Holl, and you have two strikes. Give it one more…”) etc. etc. Inner thoughts: I know! I know! Ugh! I’m trying to ignore that part of me, Mom and Dad!

I had already set up a meeting with Clint, our now friend and much-beloved boat broker, for later on in the day to explore options….just to see what we would need to fix, where we would need to take her, how much we could sell her for, etc. Just to get more information. Then, and I actually don’t remember how this happened, I also got the number for a one-stop-shop marine services company called Zimmerman (I think I saw their truck in the marina parking lot…?) that Steve said came highly recommended by the marine diesel teachers at the Annapolis boat show. I also called them to explore options. Here’s our menu of things that needs to be fixed—can you have someone come out and give us a quote?

The interesting thing about both of those phone calls is that the course of action is exactly the same. We would need to fix (and not fix) the exact same things if we want to continue or if we want to sell. Also, either way, we go south.

That makes me feel relieved. There is no need to make a decision right now. We just need to stay put and keep doing what we’re doing right now. Okay….we can do that.

The four of us are having very different experiences right now. On one end, Addie was dancing around and belting out “Defying Gravity” from Wicked last night as she made dinner for the entire family ALL BY HERSELF (chili and mac and cheese). She, rightly so, was soooo proud of herself! She is thriving and rolling with the punches better than I could have dreamed.

Sid driving John and Claire’s boat up the ICW yesterday.

On the other end is my amazing husband. That man is tired and stressed. And he does not get stressed. If you don’t know Steve, well, first of all, I’m sorry. He’s one of the most incredible people you’ll ever meet. He’s way out of my league (but don’t tell him that, please—right now, I have him fooled). Secondly, Steve does not get stressed.

Here’s a quick story about Steve: Before we got married, I was in London with my mom and my Aunt Marilyn visiting Steve and his parents. A sort of ambassador, meeting of the families before our kids get married trip. (my dad doesn’t fly so my aunt graciously stepped in—thanks Auntie M!). We were in Harrod’s department store when there was a bomb threat. Alarms were going off, emergency evacuation announcements were being made and everyone was frantically running to get out, including my mom, my aunt and me (FYI - my mom and my aunt are not the running type :-) . But not Steve. In my mind’s eye (and maybe I imagined this…?) Steve was walking—WALKING(!)—with his hands in his pockets and WHISTLING (oh my gosh I get mad just thinking about it) as if he were strolling in the park. To say that I was absolutely livid with him would be an understatement. Did he want to die? Was he trying to kill us??? What the ^%#$!!!! was he doing?!?!?!

We jumped onto a Double Decker bus and got out of there. I couldn’t even speak to him I was so angry. Couldn’t even look at him. We almost died and HE WAS WALKING!! Eventually, after I caught my breath, I…..constructively shared my feelings in a way that left no room for misinterpretation (by him or anyone else in central London :-). He calmly (yes, he was actually calm) explained that back in the 1980’s the IRA would routinely announce that there was a bomb threat in one place, leading everyone to run the other direction and then ultimately plant the bomb where everyone had run.

Oh.

Well.

I see.

*moments to process this new information*

What is that Adam Sandler movie where he says something like “Thank you. This is information that would have been useful to me YESTERDAY!!!!!!!” That’s how I felt.

My point? Steve doesn’t get stressed. But he IS stressed and tired and feeling very burdened right now and it is hard to watch. No me gusta. To top it off, the poor guy was feeling a lot lighter and happier when all of us were on the “lets drive around Europe track” so now that we’re waffling again, he’s picked up the heaviness.

Anyway, Steve is very much on the other side of the spectrum from Addie. Sid and I are in somewhere in the middle, but I’d definitely say we’re more on the good end of things than the bad (he’s gaming with friends at this moment). Yesterday, the kids and I (Steve had to make up some hours for work—Oy!) took a boat ride with our new friends, Claire and John and their adorable dog, Bailey. We had gone out to dinner with them the night before. It has been wonderful to hang out with them. Also, Captain Blaine surprised us and stopped by yesterday. He checked on us earlier in the day and I had mentioned that we were thinking of selling the boat. I think he came by for a morale boost and to remind us that we can call him anytime for help with passage planning, fixing equipment, etc. He’s amazing…

The five of us infront of Blaine’s super cool van. Blaine lives in his van (has bed, kitchen, recording studio, etc.) when he’s not delivering boats. Sid was inspired and is now considering eventual van life.

*deep breath* Too many words. Time to end. What’s the plan for today (and also what do I need to prep tonight for dinner?)? I think Addie and I are going to walk to a nearby church. There’s an Episcopalian church about a mile away. Could use some in-person spiritual fulfillment. Maybe we’ll find some there…? Then, we will collectively work on some boat projects and do some sailing school. Today’s sailing school focus will be on how to use the radio and practicing (without hoisting any sails) with the ropes. Finally, we will have a family conversation around the routines and systems of the household—what’s going well, what should change, how can the kids step up with more chores to free Steve and I up to do other things and how can the three of us do all we can to support Steve/Dad? And there will be a walk. It’s too pretty today to not explore this cute little place we never would have known about had we not gotten stuck.

Onwards.

Oh! And I think (?) I turned on the comments section. Feel free to weigh in with your thoughts! Thanks for the suggestion, Stevie!