tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78929772327709983562024-03-05T17:13:51.085-05:00Cruising aboard S/V Blondie-DogCruising aboard S/V Blondie-Dog. A first hand account of sailing throughout the Florida Keys while seeking that elusive, secluded, idyllic, hedonistic dockside bar and never finding it. S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.comBlogger251125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-11079018345486860952015-05-31T15:09:00.000-04:002015-08-06T15:29:06.360-04:00"Subject Moving Down Below"...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NB6q1AQOq9Y/TwJmWBMV2XI/AAAAAAAATqo/x2Lu4aONlBw/s1600/IMG_0881.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NB6q1AQOq9Y/TwJmWBMV2XI/AAAAAAAATqo/x2Lu4aONlBw/s400/IMG_0881.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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Well fellow barstool sailors, this here narrative picks up where a previous posting left off. And yep, dat' be the one when I got intercepted late one evening out in the Key West Channel by the fine men and women of the US Coastguard for not having a decent dinghy light.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://svblondiedog.blogspot.com/2013/01/i-was-doin-jest-fine-dadgummit.html">http://svblondiedog.blogspot.com/2013/01/i-was-doin-jest-fine-dadgummit.html</a><br />
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In any event fast forward but a couple of days later after that little late night incident and I'm somewhat safely tied back up to a mooring ball in the exposed expanses of the Garrison Bight Mooring Field yet again. For ya' see I had gotten tired of fretting about the incessant northerly winds and of the continuously shifting Key West Channel currents.<br />
<br />
So yeah, marina fees be damned and all that noise because I had abruptly come to my wits end worrying about my anchors constantly dragging. And let me tell ya'll dat' it ain't no fun hunkering down in front of a computer all day prepping tax returns for disgruntled clients while incessantly worrying about one's anchors.<br />
<br />
And to that I'll also add the unpleasant experience of when but a day or two earlier a fellow boater in that crowded anchorage off of the Key West Channel, had abruptly motored on over in his dinghy only to proceed and emphatically advise me in not too endearing terms that my boat had been dragging all over that tight anchorage in the days before.<br />
<br />
That fellow then followed up his diatribe by then loudly proclaiming that he didn't have "any respect" for those not taking the necessary precautions to care for their boat before suddenly opening up the throttle and motoring on back to his own boat at anchor.<br />
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And never-mind whether or not his dinky sailboat happened to be all crapped-out along with a cluttered deck to boot because if the truth be told he had indeed long since laid claim to that particular piece of anchorage. For he happened to be a bona fide anchorage homesteader in his own mind and was not to be tangled with in this particular "real estate" matter.<br />
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Nevertheless it must also be said that my first instinct was to want to tell that fellow boater to go efff himself off in a big way but I knew better because he wasn't telling me something that I didn't already know. For ya' see, I had already known that my anchors had indeed been dragging more often than not in the previous days.<br />
<br />
So yeah, that scolding did hurt my feelings but I can't say that I blame that fellow for speaking his mind. Well heck, all I wanted was for tax season to be finally over with and for those incessant northerly winds to finally settle down so that I could set sail on out of Key West once and for all.<br />
<br />
In any event compounding my anxiety level after that very brief, one-sided verbal exchange was that just days earlier, a bad-ass power boat had come roaring up through the channel at a high rate of speed one morning only to abruptly stop on a dime a hundred or so feet away off of my stern.<br />
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And after promptly setting down my mug of coffee along with my Sudoku puzzle book, I popped up to look out the companionway only to see and confirm that my intuition had indeed been spot-on.<br />
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'Cause now idling in place with a full crew of service members, was none other than a US Coastguard motor vessel which moments earlier had obtrusively disrupted the serenity of a fine, bright sunny morning in a big way.<br />
<br />
Yet it was while attempting to discreetly check out what that Coastguard vessel might be up to that I distinctly observed a crew member peering right back at me through his high-powered set of binoculars all the while conversing with his fellow crew members, who by the way were all locked and loaded for combat.<br />
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So that's how it went for me for the next couple of anxious minutes... me down below inside the confines of the cabin, nervously sipping on my mug of coffee and feeling that I had been purposefully singled out for an intensive water-boarding interrogation.<br />
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Yet while awaiting the inevitable boarding, that Coastguard combat vessel suddenly powered up, spun on a dime and roared back on down the channel from where it had come from some ten or fifteen minutes earlier... much to my relief and pleasant surprise and not an anxious moment too soon I might add.<br />
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And just like that, that perplexing little episode was suddenly and seemingly all over with. At least for the moment it seemed one could only hope.<br />
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For ya' see there was now little doubt in my mind that those fine Coast Guard service members were simply confirming that my boat was indeed at anchor offshore of the super-sized Ship Channel Marker affixed on Flemming Key just like I had previously advised them late one night after being intercepted in the channel.<br />
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All of which could only mean one thing and that was that I was now on their law-enforcement's radar screen for some perceived nefarious action on my part and that this little episode wasn't quite over with.<br />
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And I'll also have you fine barstool sailors know that in my mind it was now a virtual certainty that I should be expecting a "friendly" visit from the Department of Homeland Security in the next day or so.<br />
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Which by the way is what precisely happened but a few days later because dat' how it be these days with the militarization of law enforcement all throughout America... multiple federal and state law enforcement agencies, all geared up and tripping over themselves and doing their best to justify their federal funding existence.<br />
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In any event it goes without saying that after that little incident, I felt like a fugitive furtively attempting to flee from the law of sorts and that I was now somehow egregiously in violation of not complying with some obscure maritime federal law or some-such. This all for operating a dingy in the Channel late one night without a decent dingy light.<br />
<br />
So that's how I spent the next day or so... feeling like a hunted fugitive all the while peeping out of a porthole every time a motor vessel would power on by.<br />
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Well fast forward but a couple of days later after the nasty northerly winds had finally settled down and after me pulling up anchors and sailing on back to the Garrison Bight Mooring Field.<br />
<br />
For Blondie now found herself to be securely tied back up to the very same mooring ball that she'd been on for months on end. Only that this time I happened to have a weekend visitor aboard my boat. Not an Osprey atop of the mast mind ya' but rather a bonafide female companion.<br />
<br />
For ya' see, my lady-friend from up on Marco had made the exhausting five hour drive across the alligator infested Tamiami Trail and on down the Keys for a few days of "camping on a boat" as she was apt to call her visits.<br />
<br />
And it goes without saying, that her visits were always most welcomed cause for one thing she'd invariably bring along a large cooler loaded with cold beer, fried chicken, potato salad, cold slaw, pork ribs, sausage & gravy... you name it, and of course it also goes without me having to explain that the ubiquitous "booty-call" was always a part of the deal to but we need not go any further in that regard.<br />
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(See http://svblondiedog.blogspot.com/2011/01/preliminary-listing-of-booty-call.html , Booty-Call, Protocol Tenant #2) <br />
<br />
But it was while quietly seated in the cockpit the following morning that my lady-friend observed a motor vessel from the Department of Homeland Security slowly making its way through the Flemming Key Cut and on towards the mooring field. I in turn happen to be down below in the cabin blissfully unaware of what is transpiring until my lady-friend calls my attention to our new "visitor".<br />
<br />
Together we observe the crew aboard that Homeland Gestapo vessel proceed to board and "interrogate" the captains of two adjacent boats for a good while before departing the mooring field. I in turn breathe a sigh of relief as they slowly motor on out of sight and on back through the same cut from whence they had first appeared.<br />
<br />
And after having slithered on back down into the confines of my cozy cabin, I'm now a-think-in' that my paranoia for the past number of days had been totally unwarranted and that no one was the least bit concerned about my sorry ass.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately my relief is rather short-lived for but a mere fifteen minutes later or so my lady friend is once again calling out to me. Only that this time she's discreetly leaning over and urgently calling out to me down below. "Hey Alex... I think that you better come up here".<br />
<br />
And with that I'm once again springing up from the comfort of a quarter berth to see what it is that I'm being summoned for. A quick glance out of a cabin porthole reveals the very same Homeland Security vessel and crew that we'd observe interrogating fellow boaters earlier that morning.<br />
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Only this time that boat has made a bee-line for Blondie and it's me who has now been deliberately targeted for an interrogation and subsequent boarding.<br />
<br />
Yet it was while I was fumbling around the cabin in search of a pair of shorts to pull on over my boxer-briefs all the while thinking to myself, "let's get this sh*t over with", that an officer aboard that boat could be overheard barking out to his fellow crew mates... "<i><b>Subject Moving Down Below!</b></i>"<br />
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And of course you don't need for me to explain to ya'll that "Subject Moving Down Below" can only be construed to be but a military euphemism for "lock and load and all's clear to shoot his sorry ass if does anything stupid".<br />
<br />
Cause dat' how it be these days when the government gives a crew of twenty-year-olds a badge and a gun. For ya' see, single, male, live-aboard sailors are inherently suspect of engaging in illicit activities and hence fair game for gratuitous boardings and interrogation.<br />
<br />
So indeed that's how it went for the next twenty minutes or so. Evidently they had been thrown off earlier when seeking me out cause' they hadn't expected anyone but myself to be aboard my boat and the young fellow even admitted as much.<br />
<br />
So by now I've taken a seat in the cockpit silently awaiting for the interrogation to commence for I know the drill. Speak when spoken to, be polite, be respectful and be factual.<br />
<br />
And that's how it went for a good while. "Do you have any guns aboard your boat"? No Sir I respond. "Do you have any knives aboard"? (Well of course I do I think to myself while tempted to remind him that I'm aboard a boat and one needs multiple knives for splicing line and such.)<br />
<br />
My lady-friend noting my incredulity of being asked a dumb question saves the moment and interjects, "We've got kitchen knives...does that count?"<br />
<br />
More questions follow, "Where did you sail in from? How long have you been here?" followed by even more intrusive questions like whether or not I had a job. At last I'm asked to furnish some ID, a request which I promptly comply with.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile my lady-friend somehow thinks this whole interrogation thing is a hoot of sorts and can't help interjecting random commentary about the proceedings and chuckling away at her own utterances. "So... Is that a bullet proof vest or a life preserver or both?"... chuckle, chuckle, chuckle... cackle, cackle, cackle.<br />
<br />
Upon which that young crew member succinctly and emphatically responds with a simple "yes" before proceeding with his line of questioning.<br />
<br />
Eventually I'm asked whether I have any objections to him briefly peering into the cabin from the companionway. I respond no as if I had any choice in the matter.<br />
<br />
And while he's peering and simultaneously taking in a deep breath of air, I'm asked, "Do you have any illegal Cubans or bales of weed aboard your boat?" obviously asking the question in jest but then yet again maybe he wasn't.<br />
<br />
But before I can respond, my lady-friend chimes up yet again and says, "Nope, but we do have some ice-cold beer in the cooler. Would you like one?" chuckle, chuckle, chuckle.... cackle, cackle, cackle... (Oh lord, be quiet... I think to myself.)<br />
<br />
Needless to say that question went unheeded and a response was not forthcoming. By now I'm wishing that my lady-friend would simply stop chattering and let that officer do his job so that we can all be on our way.<br />
<br />
But that's when the fellow turns to her and proceeds to ask her for some ID and then subject her to a long list of questions. It is this turn of events that has her immediately sobering up and stopping with the gratuitous chatter.<br />
<br />
She proceeds to explain that she resides on Marco Island and was just visiting for the weekend and that she is a critical care nurse and that she is a solid citizen.<br />
<br />
What she doesn't tell that young man however is that she's what's called "A Second Responder" in her line of work and that she might be the one attempting to save his pale, scrawny ass one day and that she's seen more dead people than one can shake a stick at.<br />
<br />
Well that boarding did indeed finally come to an uneventful conclusion with a Gestapo boot print on my deck as the only evidence that Blondie had been boarded by the Department of Homeland Security that morning.<br />
<br />
In any event my lady friend doesn't begrudge public servants practicing what they train for whether it be the US Coastguard or the Department of Homeland Security or even Fire Department personnel and EMT s chasing after a minor in-town fender-bender. <br />
<br />
And she's often apt to exclaim, "If ya ain't any good when it doesn't count, then how will you know if your're any good when it does?"<br />
<br />
And I'm reminded of a bumper sticker last spotted at a local marina parking lot... "<b>Attitude, the Difference between Ordeal and Adventure."</b><br />
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Yippers... dat' be the Department of Homeland Security monitoring your sorry ass at all times....<br />
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S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-278918652417579572015-02-28T11:49:00.001-05:002015-08-16T11:52:44.434-04:00Michael McCloud Sings the Key West Blues...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/D1VYxmKd6n" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4tutv0CSzZc/Tn3tvzjqQMI/AAAAAAAATKI/KW7N3RbEFuM/s512/IMG_0835.jpg" /></a><br />
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Nettled alongside the waterfront in the Historic Key West Seaport is the Schooner Wharf Bar. It's often described as rustic, charming, laid back, and as the "Last Little Piece of Old Key West".<br />
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In any event I got to thinking about that open-aired popular tourist destination the other day after having loaded some tunes into my CD player.<br />
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For ya' see, I had purposely avoided listening to Jimmy Buffet or anything else that might perhaps even remotely remind me of Key West after having set sail and leaving that place in my wake. Eight months of Key West and of its so-called frivolity can have that kind of an effect on a fellow.<br />
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Nevertheless I did eventually relent and tune in some Michael McCloud, <i>Live As I Can Be</i> into my CD player. This after having sipped on a few cold beverages a weekend or so ago.<br />
<br />
Now Michael McCloud, for the unenlightened, is a fixture at the Schooner Wharf and routinely performs in the early afternoon. This troubadour is what others might describe as your "quintessential musical storyteller" whatever that eight syllable word might mean.<br />
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And while I'm thinking about it, Michael's songs come across as humorous yet at the same time as rather mournful. They all seem to be tinged with insightful melancholy of unfulfilled dreams and of a wasted youth.<br />
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Buffet's songs on the other hand will have ya' believing that Key West is all about frivolity and about sipping on margaritas while chowing down on cheese burgers in paradise every day which ain't the case at all. Unless of course you happen to be a tourist as apart from being a local.<br />
<br />
Here are a few of his more memorable songs and lyrics along with some of my gratuitous commentary. <br />
<b><br />
</b> <b>Conch Republic Song... National Anthem</b><br />
<i>I'd Rather be Here, Just Drinking a Beer, than Freezing My Ass off in the North.. This island is the life I choose. </i><i>She's freezing her butt off while I'm wearing cutoffs...</i><br />
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<b>Peace and Quiet...</b><br />
<i>I ain't bothering nobody who don't want bothered... nobody's bothering me.</i><br />
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<b>Closin' the Bars... </b><br />
<i>Somebody take him home, he won't make it alone out there on his own, somebody please take him home.</i><br />
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<b>Billy's Bayou Barroom and Backyard Barbecue...</b><br />
*delightfully entertaining*<br />
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<b>Today's the Day...</b><br />
*A mournful tale about furtively searching for offshore sunken treasures.*<br />
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<b>She Gotta Butt...</b><br />
*funny as all get out and about a fat waitress with attitude whom nobody liked*<br />
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<b>Waitin' Tables...</b><br />
<i>She's ten years on and ten years gone, lessons of life serving drinks, and waitin' tables.</i><br />
*A decidedly mournful song that epitomizes the working struggles of your typical service industry worker while she serves up beverages to party revelers.* <br />
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<b>Just Came Down For the Weekend Thirty-Five Years Ago...</b><br />
<b>*</b>Key West is indeed the End of the Road where some folks just came down for the weekend and never left. And Michael will also be the first to tell ya' that he was burning at both ends of the candle and then some in the middle.*<br />
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C<b>hasing the Wind... </b>I'd rather be chasing the wind than to do anything on the land.<br />
"Any of you folks have any romantic illusions about living on a boat? Well don't you do it! The average life expectancy of a boat is about forty years. So odds are it's gonna' sink with you in it. So don't you do it. So if someone wants to show you how cool their boat is then go see it. Go sailing, go diving, go snorkeling, go fishing ... but don't you buy no boat!"<br />
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*A funny intro before Michael launches into his song which brings to mind a quote that my lady-friend is fond of reiterating, "If it flies, floats, or f****, then rent it!"<br />
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I suppose that I could go on and mention a few more of his tunes but I've reminisced enough for now. In any event, some life experiences are definitely not to be repeated. Oh well.<br />
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrIkjtLHIoo<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vYaDjuL8lQ4/T28UXP-dlrI/AAAAAAAAT6c/z4PHSCI5seY/s1600/IMG_3272_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vYaDjuL8lQ4/T28UXP-dlrI/AAAAAAAAT6c/z4PHSCI5seY/s1600/IMG_3272_2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-76580734215690575492015-01-06T14:57:00.000-05:002015-07-25T12:26:55.880-04:00An Indelible Memory Of An Aborted Plane Landing...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The recent spate of airline mishaps has me for whatever reason reflecting back on an impressionable moment while apprehensively observing a commercial jet airliner make its final approach into Key West.<br />
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For you see it was while Blondie-Dog was tied off to a mooring ball in the Garrison Bight Mooring Field that a previously forecasted front would be slamming the Keys later that lazy afternoon. The bright, sunny weather earlier that day would soon be a thing of the past. Inclement weather along with its howling, gusting winds was forecasted to be hanging around for days on end.<br />
<br />
And so it was after having piddled the better part of the day while ashore and while doing a whole lot of nothing, that I finally acquiesced to doing the prudent thing for a change and loaded myself into my dinghy and motored my butt on back to my boat before the bad weather was to set in.<br />
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In any event it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes or so after securing the dinghy and settling in for the evening that Blondie's halyards suddenly started rattling and making a whole lot of racket. Gusting winds had indeed made their forecasted arrival. And with that, Blondie had suddenly pivoted to the other side of the mooring ball all the while straining to remain in place.<br />
<br />
And it goes without saying that I swiftly put down the paperback that I had only moments earlier started reading to step up into the companionway and marvel at the weather event as it roared on in.<br />
<br />
Yet it was at that very moment when off in the not too far distance that I could see a Boeing 737 jet airliner gently swing around from the south end of the island as it made its final approach for landing. But that's when the plane appeared to be laboring to maintain altitude while way short of the runway. It seemed as if a micro-burst might have perhaps happened upon the scene. And I can distinctly recall thinking to myself, "This doesn't look good".<br />
<br />
But that's when the plane could suddenly be seen banking hard to left with its powerful engines now exerting maximum thrust. In but a few moments that plane would be flying directly overhead after having aborted its landing. That plane couldn't have been more than but a couple hundred feet above the mooring field while screaming on past.<br />
<br />
And all the while I'm pumping my fist and thinking to myself, "Way to go pilot!... well done!"<br />
<br />
I watched that plane for the next ten minutes or so as it gained altitude far off in the distance towards the Everglades. That plane did indeed eventually swing around to make a safe and uneventful landing.<br />
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And insofar as those passengers are concerned, I've got to believe that they were in a most celebratory mood and I don't doubt for a moment that they were all imbibing copious amounts of alcoholic beverages along Duval Street later that evening. I'm pretty sure that's what I would have been doing had I been aboard that flight.<br />
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<br />S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-76701159511843138612013-08-25T02:47:00.002-04:002013-08-28T00:26:44.587-04:00A Feeble Attempt at Windsurfing...Cabarete, D.R.<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/DmkkDAQMrw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-4KSWeRHd1YU/Ugfa60yVw9I/AAAAAAAAXDc/XSxrbeU-KHM/s512/IMG_1888.JPG" /></a><br />
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Well 'feller barstool sailors, contrary to prevailing perceptions I can and do gets' an occasional urge to do a little sailin' once in a whiles not 'dat I 'specs any of you fine folks to neccessarily give a rat's ass one ways or another.<br />
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And whiles my infrequent sailin' urges do be sumwhats akin to a "typin'-wit'-one-hand" kind of urge, it still be but an infrequent urge that one mights perhaps randomly indulge in jest' to proves 'dat one still cans.<br />
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So yep, 'dat was me out on the water one lovely morning while vacationing in La Republica Dominicana, and doing my darndest to do a little windsurfing 'jest to prove 'dat I could. <br />
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Unfortunately I be the first to admit 'dat I didn't do too good at my one and only attempt on the board. I'll also has ya'll know 'dat windsurfing ain't easy either. In fact, I'd say it was darn right hard keeping meself' upright on 'dat board.<br />
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No sooner would I'd get up on 'dat board when I'd suddenly lose my balance and plunge back on into the water. In hindsight my feeble attempt at windsurfing kinda-sorta reminds me of the time when I took Salsa Dance lessons a whiles back. And I also be da' first to admit 'dat 'dem Salsa Dance lessons was an ill advised whim resulting in unequivocal failure.<br />
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Nope, some things jest' ain't meant to be and windsurfing along wit' Salsa Dancing 'jest ain't be in da' works fer' me.<br />
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And I'll also has ya' knows 'dat I now be pushing sixty here shortly and ain't a kid no mo'. Yippers... I be a barstool sailor and it a suit me jest' fine. In any event I should probly' feel good about da' fact dat' I can raise my "mast" wit' hardly any effort whatsoevers which be a mighty fine thing now 'dat I comes to think of it!<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/YtfM6uei99" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-9aOajKZPhjc/UgfbDU_0ccI/AAAAAAAAXDk/1mE1qv4iUes/s512/IMG_1889.JPG" /></a><br />
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Casa Mami's. Excellent local fare at a reasonable price. Cabarete, D.R.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/NdDvrS3azf" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-cEmk94PuGmo/UgfkdtG-anI/AAAAAAAAXHo/ODayy8mS8iU/s512/IMG_1918.JPG" /></a><br />
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Sosua, D.R.<br />
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Cabarete, D.R.<br />
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S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-82344633229838381492013-03-24T03:57:00.001-04:002013-04-27T17:05:06.114-04:00Me Thinkin' Better of Swipin' a Paddle Boat...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/x4bBKRGF6d" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-0Ysut0mnP7k/UPLAMukXLCI/AAAAAAAAVFg/Dm3zr9WdWA8/s512/IMG_1286.JPG" /></a><br />
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Well feller' sailers'... I'll have ya'll know dat' I now be a workin' 'fer a livin' and 'dat I ain'ts had either 'da time or inclination to do any sailing here lately.<br />
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Nevertheless I did done recently founds me a fine paddle boat a lying abouts unclaimed beneath sum' old house in 'da backwoods of Everglades City 'jest da' other day.<br />
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And I'll also have ya'll knows 'dat I was most tempted to swipe dat' dern boat when nobody be a lookin' too but I done changed my mind after learnin' 'dat it had once belonged to a local tribe of Seminole Injuns' from back in 'da day.<br />
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For ya' see, I chickened out after learning 'dat these same Injuns' had assaulted and later brutally kilt' sum' mean feller who's name I already done forgots', after strongly suspecting him of having murdered a number of their own whom he had previously hired in the days immediately preceding their demise.<br />
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Evidently 'dat mean son-of-a-gun would <em>off</em> his hired help and later conveniently dispose of 'dem poor souls amongst the alligator infested mangroves when payday would roll around. And since 'dem Injuns' weren't no dummies, they soon figured him out and gave him some of his own medicine.<br />
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So yeah... I do believe 'dat I done did 'da right thing to change my mind 'bout swipin' 'dat paddle boat 'cause fer' sure I didn't want to then possibly incur the wrath of any Injun' spirits still a lurkin' about that isolated community.<br />
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By the way.... why anybody would wanna' refer to this fishin' village as a city is well beyond my high level of edukashion 'cause if da' truth be known, 'dis here dot-on-a-map ain't even gots' itself so much as a Starbucks or even a McDonald's 'fer 'dat matter.<br />
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<br />S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-53774135112235376742013-03-15T00:29:00.000-04:002013-08-03T09:42:43.342-04:00Poo-Pooing Beaches 'Cause I Now Feel That Way...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/e4CSj3lM3V" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-skVQVt8BXQ0/TrLXTTWWoxI/AAAAAAAATgE/8r74mwPG1p8/s512/IMG_0840.jpg" /></a><br />
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It occurred to me the other day that I happen to be presently residing within but a mile or two of a pristine, sandy beach and yet for whatever compelling reason can't seem to get all worked up about it.<br />
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Yep, ya'll heard me right. I live nearby a beach that happens to be highly coveted by tourists from all over the world and I for one couldn't care any less.<br />
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In fact, I'm hard pressed at this very moment to tell you when I last aimlessly strolled along the Marco Island Beach shown above.<br />
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For you see, pristine beaches along with its deep blue oceans have for whatever reason, ceased to enthrall me for some time now. Nope, I'd rather go hike the Appalachian Trail if the truth be known. At least it would be a new life experience to say the least.<br />
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In any event I have nevertheless been fortunate to have visited and enjoyed a number of beaches over the years. But like I just done said, they 'jest ain't tugging at my heart strings no more.<br />
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Seven Seas Beach, Las Croabas Puerto Rico with El Yunque and National Rain Forest in the background. And if per chance you ever happen to be doing the tourist thing in Puerto Rico, then be sure to take some time out and trek on up the trails to the peak for a majestic view of the coastline and Saint Thomas for that matter.<br />
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And if per chance you've already trekked on up the peak then consider trekking on down from the parking facilities midway up the park on down to the base of the mountain. The foliage gets exponentially denser and the trail more precarious leaving one feeling as if one were actually in a scene from the movie Romancing The Stone from awhile back.<br />
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Seven Seas Beach, Las Croabas Puerto Rico. A most delightful secluded beach on the north east end of the island.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/8okW8vFmhB" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-M3AeBs-xHUM/TgTFIbs2DQI/AAAAAAAASUY/lz7k1P5htFI/s512/IMG_0645.jpg" /></a><br />
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Bill Baggs Beach, Key Biscayne<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/Jo81CgaMmH" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-jHF8iMX0OV0/TgTF8XqERQI/AAAAAAAASUY/RymQdkeR3F4/s512/IMG_0642.jpg" /></a><br />
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Bill Baggs Key Biscayne.<br />
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<em>Bill Baggs Cape Florida State Park occupies approximately the southern third of the island of Key Biscayne, at coordinates WikiMiniAtlas</em><br />
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<em>25°40′25″N 80°09′34″W / 25.67361°N 80.15944°W / 25.67361; -80.15944. The park includes the Cape Florida Light, the oldest standing structure in Greater Miami. In 2005 the park was ranked as having the 8th best beach in the country.</em><br />
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<em>The park is named in honor of Bill Baggs, editor of The Miami News from 1957 until his death in 1969. He worked to protect the land from development, to preserve some of the key in its natural state, and was also a civil rights activist.</em><em><br /></em><br />
<em><br /></em><em>In 2004 a large historical marker was erected at the site to mark it as part of the National Underground Railroad Network to Freedom Trail, as hundreds of Black Seminoles, many fugitive slaves, escaped from here to freedom in the Bahamas, settling mostly on Andros Island. In the early 1820s, some 300 American slaves reached the Bahamas, aboard 27 sloops and many canoes.[3] The US National Park Service is working with the Bahamas, particularly the African Bahamanian Museum and Research Center (ABAC) in Nassau, to develop interpretive programs at Red Bays, Andros.</em><br />
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(Preceding Wikipedia narrative brazenly copied & pasted without any permission whatsoever.)<br />
By the way... I can't help but recall being gifted three large sewing needles by the "Sewing Lady" in Nichols Town, Andros Island. This was after sailing there back '89 while aboard S/V BratCat.<br />
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Her shop happened to be located next door to the "Campbell's Food Store. She politely yet resolutely refused payment for her needles. I still silently thank her for gesture whenever I come across hearing about Andros Island.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/KNp4ZUJDjf" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-u3nuZD16Heg/SzQJ_rRHBQI/AAAAAAAAE0o/n7TYmIpNqsE/s512/12-24-2009%25252005%25253B02%25253B04PM.jpg" /></a><br />
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Padre Island, South Texas. Not a pleasant beach to say the least.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/GlGHExFl3k" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-XnMzVm2E0LI/SzkdwD1DuSI/AAAAAAAAFyo/WAgbHmYL0fQ/s512/12-28-2009%25252002_24_26PM.jpg" /></a><br />
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Isla Verde, Puerto Rico. Incidentally my favorite.<br />
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Cancun, Mexico, then yet again this may have been Isla Verde, Puerto Rico. I just don't recall.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/rfyRKvaWKs" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikPLRRUhcvTrI06du0zjkTaZ4GbZfEzgq5GNhPA0aTab-hoUSlp3fgYxj-tHwpJJ0y-XDYnBi5NCnNmYxOeHRWZe34WVyf-vxnJ3JhJG3ZlV-KTM5-2XIjIFGnbDQ9g0XD6MwV9nhYKE4/s512/IMG_0441.jpg" /></a><br />
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Miami Beach<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/8Mi2sl397S" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-oNJooTaQId0/TrLXWHQa7YI/AAAAAAAATgE/i1ZLmvrD-tg/s512/IMG_0841.jpg" /></a><br />
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Marco Island Beach<br />
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The first time I sailed on in to Marco Island, I had assumed the the condominiums along the shoreline had all been obliterated by a hurricane and had yet to be rebuilt because of a stagnant economy. I was later informed that that wasn't the case and that the "winter snowbird" condo owners had simply shuttered up the windows for hurricane season.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/FvSv4Mm2lj" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-aqnzts1rhYI/UAwKoDXixCI/AAAAAAAAUbs/-fn6V6Qg2ks/s512/IMG_1056.jpg" /></a><br />
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Marco Island Beach, fourth<br />
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View from atop of El Yunque National Rain Forest. Puerto Rico<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/Sxp8dckpyV" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-qhP9d2lRPTc/S2p5h85AVII/AAAAAAAAI90/k0-IgGeMQ-o/s512/02-01-2010%25252004%25253B44%25253B06PM.jpg" /></a><br />
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Destin, Florida. 2002.<br />
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Yes, that's me wearing the red swim trunks and the same safari hat that I still own and wear when sailing.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/3AijrAzIUb" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-d2bIzNztbXI/S6H-d_3-0LI/AAAAAAAANLs/PlxvyRM5s24/s512/playa%252520seven%252520seas.jpg" /></a><br />
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Seven Seas Beach, National Park Reserve, Las Croabas, Puerto Rico<br />
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A most delightful secluded beach to stroll along.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/Zp7FtQa83u" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-p1sDH5bw34Y/S6LDEvGVlJI/AAAAAAAANRU/qGVU2B7Clm4/s512/Playa%25252520de%25252520Luquillo.jpg" /></a><br />
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Luquillo Beach. Puerto Rico<br />
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And while Fort Myers Beach is indeed a very attractive beach insofar beaches are concerned, to me it's but another overcrowded beach catering to tourists.<br />
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While sipping on a few cold beverages with my lady-friend from atop a business establishment, a large speedboat could be seen precariously racing close to shore amongst some bathers.<br />
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My lady-friend was quick to nonchalantly point out that "the bigger and louder the boat, then the smaller the d***"... I'll take her word for it.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/LhF4YOmBJq" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-DnP0WyN9v0s/S9ct7VBIWSI/AAAAAAAAPbg/B9TWJYbpjfk/s512/103.jpg" /></a><br />
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Tortuero, Costa Rica... and yes, sea turtles make it a point to lay their eggs on this beach and poachers beware... you will be shot on sight, no questions asked.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/OPdNrsBG2f" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-13Y5cwJwYcY/Ubiz5d6sBRI/AAAAAAAAVwg/PZ8Ez8SlnSU/s512/Costa%252520Rica%252520114.jpg" /></a><br />
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Playa Del Carmen, Costa Rica.<br />
I've seen nicer beaches. A surfer's paradise nonetheless. S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-2585323446493552132013-03-10T12:18:00.000-04:002013-04-09T20:46:47.057-04:00Blondie Gets a Wardrobe Makeover...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
Well folks... I'll have ya'll know that the radio dial in my fully depreciated car is more often than not set to Gator Country not that I expected any of you fine folks to give a rat's ass one way or another.<br />
<br />
And yes... I did indeed say Gator Country, as in country music on your FM dial broadcasting all throughout Southwest Florida. And not 'fer nuttin' do they call it Gator Country, 'cause if 'da truth be known, Southwest Florida has been run amok by menacing alligators for some time now.<br />
<br />
In fact, my lady-friend tells me of the time when she mindlessly stepped outside early one morning to retrieve the newspaper only to then inadvertently step upon a gator's tail who happened to be casually snoozing on her front porch. It also goes without saying that this little incident did indeed scare the crap out of her. Or so she claims anyways...<br />
<br />
Nevertheless I do suppose that it could have been a far worse experience for her that morning 'cause it just as easily could have been a Jehova's Witness knocking on her door while eagerly awaiting to pounce upon her with a load of religious crap before she'd even had her first cup of coffee. But I suppose that you already done knew that.<br />
<br />
In any event there are indeed lurking alligators all throughout Southwest Florida stealthily lying in wait to make a meal out of sum' unsuspecting poochie-dog or even a distracted fellow for that matter. So yeah, gators can be routinely spotted all throughout this part of Florida.<br />
<br />
In fact, I'd even say that the only thing out numbering all 'dem mofo gators are all the ol' farts from up north shufflin' along from one food buffet line to another.<br />
<br />
Yippers... it's that time of the year and it's what's called "High Season" here in Southwest Florida. And I can assure you all that it is an annual event somewhat akin to having an infestation of locusts suddenly descend from out of the sky not that I've ever had the misfortune to experience such an event.<br />
<br />
And trust me on this one feller sailers'... 'der ain't nuttin' more aggravating than to get behind the wheel of 'sum ol' geezer pokin' along the highway in an over sized, fuddie-duddie Town Car... especially one still sportin' a Romney-Ryan bumper sticker.<br />
<br />
Nevertheless having said all that, I do kindly ask 'dat ya'll don't go a-tellin' anyone 'dat I do indeed tune in for a little country music from time to time while driving 'cause country music 'jest ain't all 'dat cool with the many young and not so young, hot latina ladies residing throughout Florida.<br />
<br />
Oh... I almost forgots' to tell ya'll.... Blondie-Dog now gots' herself a brandy-new sacrificial on her jib and a new mainsail cover to boot. Yippers... Blondie now looks like she belongs amongst all 'dem other fine lookin' boats here at the Calusa Island Marina.S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-73579747311768606882013-02-03T12:44:00.000-05:002015-02-11T13:39:55.145-05:00Yippers! I Now Be a Highly Acclaimed Poet thanks to Dr. Seuss!<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/AM8H50DgDH" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ZirCVubI9zw/UQvfMHMPzBI/AAAAAAAAVKQ/jj3haJzQGBU/s512/Dr__Seuss.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Well feller sailers', I'll have ya'll knows 'dat I is now a bona fide poet and 'dat I done wrotes' me a fine poem 'dat even da' likes of Robert Frost and Emily Dickinson would have been a mighty proud to have claimed as 'der own.<br />
<br />
Yippers... my lofty little poem 'dat I done already submitted to Cruisers Forum, now be universally acclaimed to be amongst 'da finest evers' written 'bout enduring brutal, nasty weather whiles' a clingin' onto a marina mooring ball.<br />
<br />
And folks, I gotta' tells ya 'dat 'dis here poem gots' plenty of nautical insight and beer induced perspectives as to what it's really like to be a liveabord sailer' at anchor fer' days on end if I do say so's myself.<br />
<br />
So wit' out any further-a-do, here be my highly acclaimed poem!<br />
<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">Can You Sail in a Gale?</span></strong><br />
<br />
Can you sail, in a gale?<br />
And did you wail while under sail?<br />
<br />
I did indeed sail in a gale.<br />
And I later even peed off the rail!<br />
<br />
Have you ever tied a knot?<br />
Or was it a mistake and all for naught?<br />
<br />
Of course I've tied a knot, yet done did it without any thought.<br />
And it’s still there ‘cause I already done forgot!<br />
<br />
Can you splice a line?<br />
And did you drink up all that wine?<br />
<br />
Sure I can splice a line and without the usual whine.<br />
And gulp, that was some mighty fine red wine!<br />
<br />
Can you set an anchor, without too much rancor?<br />
Or was that you a-hollering late one night and spewing out some anger?<br />
<br />
Yes I can set an anchor without hardly any rancor.<br />
But it was my own noisy halyard that set off my feller' neighbor's banter!<br />
<br />
And might you have a putty-cat to snuggle with at nights?<br />
Or is it jest’ you in that v-berth without any delight?<br />
<br />
Why yes I found a pussy-cat to snuggle with at nights.<br />
And together we take turns, turning down the lights, for a little delight!<br />
<br />
And did you read some books while a-living aboard your boat?<br />
Or did you piddle your time away takin' one too many tokes?<br />
<br />
Well heck no did I do any tokes, nor did I fish for the square grouper you silly bloke.<br />
But I did happen to read Dr. Seuss’s classics I’ll have you note!<br />
<br />
<br />
<em>Acknowledgments:</em><br />
<br />
I wish to thank and extol the creative genius of Dr. Seuss from way back in the day.<br />
<br />
I'll also haves' ya'll know 'dat it be a dog-gone shame that many of us had to endure the mind-numbin' Dick and Jane books that were forced upon us while being held in first grade captivity.<br />
<br />
And if per chance I was to come across Spot, 'den I'd 'fer sure give 'dat stupid mutt a swift kick in the hind quarters when nobody be a-looking. 'Dats whut' I gots to say dadgommit!<br />
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<br />
This is what the Square Grouper looks like in case ya' might have been a-wonderin'.<br />
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Yippers! I now be a highly acclaimed poet!S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-90991413092281391332013-01-30T10:19:00.000-05:002013-02-04T08:03:15.819-05:00Spoiler Alert! The Streets of Old San Juan are Paved in Ballast!...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/upNkecpPSM" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-hchVgFN8mcg/S6H-alkGM0I/AAAAAAAANLY/PRjWhCFXt6o/s512/adoquines.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Greetings feller' sailers'!<br />
<br />
Not 'dat ya'll already didn't knows' 'dis, but jest' in case I'll have ya'll know 'dat the streets of Old San Juan are paved with ballast of all things.<br />
<br />
Not gold mind ya' for if 'dat had been the case, 'den fer' sure somebody would have swiped it all by now. (present company excluded of course...)<br />
<br />
Nope, all 'dem blue cobble-stones a lying about the streets of Old San Juan was simply the ballast of choice back in the days when Spanish Galleons would sail across the Atlantic wit' da' expressed intent of retrieving whatever fortunes had already been plundered in 'da New World.<br />
<br />
And of course it goes wid'out sayin' 'dat gold was the ballast of choice for the return trip back home.<br />
<br />
But what ya'll prob'ly don't knows is 'dat on the east coast of the island is a mighty fine marina 'wit all the amenities 'dat a feller' sailer' could possibly want with the possible exception of Heineken beer.<br />
<br />
For ya see, I seem to vaguely remember drinkin' up all 'dem Heinekens while at the marina bar one night before being unceremoniously booted out of the place and told 'dat they done run out of Heinekens. But 'den yet agin', 'dat bar manager might have been a tellin' me a fib' 'fer all I knows.<br />
<br />
In any event, 'dat fine upscale marina was designed and constructed in conformity with the King of Spain's edict back in the day. An edit 'dat stated 'dat all Spanish ports were to have a pier wide enough to accommodate his horse carriage should he personally elect to visit the new world.<br />
<br />
Hence the name of 'dat fine marina. "Marina Puerto del Rey".<br />
<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/DmtmK0UuVu" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-nN1p-Z2MawA/Tq0dMmGJVwI/AAAAAAAATSk/9XFMZnv1658/s512/Marina%252520Puerto%252520del%252520Rey.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Marina Puerto del Rey, Bahia Demajagua, Puerto Rico<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/SlAiVm2LIl" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1SF70ZCEMgI/S3da9Lop0nI/AAAAAAAAKmw/0h_mdRrvqAk/s512/02-12-2010%25252011%25253B53%25253B45AM.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Yep... 'dat be me 'wit my young 'un a standing alongside a Spanish Galleon after furtively searching in vain fer' a bit of "ballast". Barcelona, Spain. 1991.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/k3PfVitRmd" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-zuFmD2Tz76I/TqbmJvwNn6I/AAAAAAAATQ4/3xWt681n_Ko/s512/Nuestra%252520Senora%252520de%252520la%252520Antocha.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Dang! 'dat be 'sum mighty fine ballast if anybodys where to ask me.<br />
<br />
And by da' way feller' sailers'... if per chance ya' mights happen to come across a certain barstool sailer' a claiming 'dat milk be bad fer' ya' and dat' ya' shouldn't be a drinkin' it, den' rest assured dat' he only be a tellin' ya' dis' 'cause he wants ya' to purchase a case or two of his gawd-awful soy milk dat' he gots' stored in his bilge.<br />
<br />
Yippers, rest assured 'dat that soy milk he be a carting around as ballast ever since he done got booted out of Cuba is so gawd-awful 'dat not even the local Cuban populace wanted any part of it. So consider yor'selves forewarned folks 'cause 'dat barstool feller' be F.O.S. is what I says.S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-88218097421747711912013-01-11T13:52:00.001-05:002013-07-07T13:01:03.193-04:00I Was Doin' Jest' Fine, Dadgummit!<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/mMycaly7ej" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-0SEshqip9VE/TwJmYfZdFJI/AAAAAAAATqs/ODTPcjnacB4/s512/IMG_0885.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Well 'feller sailors, I'll have y'all know that I was doing jest' fine getting on with my new landlubber life but that was only up until I just so happened to stumble upon a new TV program on The Weather Channel.<br />
<br />
And I'll also have y'all know that after stumbling upon that new program, I unexpectedly found myself dwelling upon a few impressionable moments that in retrospect have been a source of lingering consternation.<br />
<br />
For ya' see, my somewhat recent "vagrant-on-a-boat" cruising experience had only just started to subside in earnest now that I've been off the boat for the past few months.<br />
<br />
But that all changed in but an instant upon me recognizing a familiar face on a new program featuring the US Coast Guard in South Florida of all things.<br />
<br />
'Cause featured in that one particular episode was none other than a young Coast Guard rescuer cheerfully explaining how he and the rest of his helicopter crew mates rescued two scuba divers who had somehow separated from their dive boat and were now lost out at sea somewhere off of Key West.<br />
<br />
Yep... that Coast Guard corpsman, all geared up and being lowered by cable from a helicopter into open waters to rescue two wayward divers was none other than the same fellow whom I'd previously prepared a free, promotional, Federal Tax return for this past tax season.<br />
<br />
I'll also have y'll know that it wasn't his name or even so much as his face that first drew my attention to him but rather the sound of his southern, melodious, Virginia drawl not that any of this matters one way or another.<br />
<br />
Just hearing and watching that fellow on the TV immediately set me to recalling a bit of unwelcomed interaction I had encountered after being engaged by a US Coast Guard vessel in the Key West Channel late one evening. It was an engagement that I am convinced precipitated a subsequent "visit" by a vessel from the Department of Homeland Security but a few days later.<br />
<br />
And I'll certainly have y'll know that it was late one evening towards the end of tax season last April, when after putting in a number of hours preparing tax returns for disgruntled clients, and after later indulging in a few cold ones at one of the many dockside bars, (okay, maybe more than just a few brews... but who's counting?) that I eventually resigned myself to calling it an evening and reluctantly head on back to my boat.<br />
<br />
I'll also be the first to admit that I had indeed procrastinated the inevitable wet dinghy ride on back to my boat that evening after furtively hoping in vain that one of the many boisterous, attractive, come-hither, ladies at that bar might perhaps take more that just a casual interest in me and graciously invite me on over to her place for a little "cuddling".<br />
<br />
'Cause like I said, I really wasn't keen on dinghying on out to my boat in crappy weather at that late hour of the evening.<br />
<br />
And when I say cuddling, I do very much mean it in a guy sort of way 'cause ya' certainly don't need for me to repeat what Dr. Phil already done explained to y'all and 'dat be that women perceive cuddling to be jest' dat' as apart from guys who correctly comprehend that cuddling is but a euphemism of tantalizing things to come.<br />
<br />
Whats' can I say other than I be jest' keepin' it real 'cause y'all know dat' I do speak from da' bottom of my heart and elsewhere fer' that matter.<br />
<br />
But alas, it wasn't to be that evening in spite of all my beseeching assurances to the ladies that I was quite skilled at cooking up a scrumptious breakfast omelet and of brewing an even better pot of coffee in the morning.<br />
<br />
Nope, my gracious offer found no takers and unfortunately for me there wasn't to be any late night cuddlin' going on in a real bed that evening... at least not for me there weren't any.<br />
<br />
'Cause like I saids before, among the last things that I wanted to do that evening was dinghy on out about a mile or so in open six foot swells and in gail force gusting winds. (Okay, perhaps less den' dat' but y'll knows what I mean. Besides, I jest' can't quites help but "stretch da' truth" once in a whiles to quote 'sum feller by the name of Mark Twain.)<br />
<br />
In any event, after trekking on over to the dinghy docks and after zipping my windbreaker all the way up, and after discretely taking a leak into the water, I ever so cautiously lowered myself into my dinghy and proceeded to give my two-stroke outboard starter-cord a good yank. And with the motor sputtering out of a sound sleep, I uncleated the painter and gave that dock a good shove.<br />
<br />
In but a moment I've pulled away from what is usually a cluster-f*ck of dinghys all haphazardly strewn about at the Turtle Krawls dinghy dock. But only this time it just so happens to be late in the evening with but a handful of dinghys to be seen at that late hour of the night.<br />
<br />
Soon afterwards I'm underway and motoring on out to my boat which now happens to be out on a hook somewhere off of the west end of Flemming Key. She is no longer tied off to a mooring ball as she had been just days earlier in the Garrison Bight Mooring Field.<br />
<br />
For ya see, I had relocated my boat in anticipation of tax season soon becoming but a thing of the past and that I'd be free to set sail on out of Key West. And just as importantly I simply didn't want to incur the cost of leasing a mooring ball for another full month 'cause unfortunately for me, paying a pro-rated fee wasn't a permissible option per marina policy.<br />
<br />
But it was while I was diligently motoring on out to my boat when crap gradually started to happen. No sooner had I motored on past the adjacent US Coast Guard station, when a moored vessel at that station flickered its spot light on and off in my direction.<br />
<br />
And without so much as an afterthought, I readily convinced myself that that spotlight emanating from that moored CG vessel, simply didn't have a damned thing to do with me. Surely they had better things to do than to come pay me a visit on a crappy night. And rescuing a distressed sailor out at sea or sumptin' of the like was the first thing that happened to cross to my mind.<br />
<br />
And when I say crappy, I mean crappy in every which way... crappy as in lousy weather but even more distressingly for me, crappy as in there wasn't to be any "cuddling" for me that evening after I'd furtively run up yet another bar tab.<br />
<br />
In any event it couldn't have been but a minute or so later when my dinghy was suddenly and most unexpectedly engulfed in a flood of bright light. And there for a brief moment it felt as if I were somehow in Guantanamo, Cuba undergoing an intensive interrogation with none other than former Vice-President Dick Cheney towering over me and solemnly contemplating whether or not I should be subjected to a bit of water-boarding.<br />
<br />
Fortunately for me however, I snapped out of it rather quickly and collected my thoughts all the while thinking to myself, "I ain't done nothing wrong... not lately anyways... So why in the heck are you harassing me for on this late, crappy, no-pootie-for-me hour?"<br />
<br />
And yep, the source of that bright light was coming from none other than the same US Coast Guard vessel that I'd only dismissed but a few minutes earlier. Only this time that vessel had somehow managed to stealthily sneak up on my ass without me ever having suspected a thing.<br />
<br />
And just as suddenly I could hear orders being barked out at me. I'm emphatically told to stop my dinghy while they come alongsides. I'm also instructed to furnish some personal identification along with my proof of boater registration.<br />
<br />
"Hey captain... this is the US Coast Guard... vessel number such and such out of sector Key West, we're coming alongsides. I need to see some identification and your boat registration please.<br />
<br />
Only that I ain't certain whether or not there had indeed been a "please" inserted somewhere in those instructions 'cause in hindsight those barked instructions sounded more like a "do as you're told, you P.O.S. vagrant-on-a-boat", and not as a polite, gentle request.<br />
<br />
And after purposely fishing out and forking over both my Texas Driver's License and Boat Registration to that CG officer, I'm told to sit tight and wait a minute.(yeah right, as if I had any choice in the matter...)<br />
<br />
The officer then proceeds to key in my personal data into his laptop computer presumably checking in with government authorities up in Quantico, Virginia to see whether or not there might be a file on my sorry ass.<br />
<br />
Yet for all I know, he could have just as well been checking in with any number of CIA operatives operating out of Guantanamo, Cuba.<br />
<br />
A number of awkward minutes pass by while the rest of the crew members silently scrutinize every movement I make. My dinghy is still brightly lit up with a spotlight and I'm now wondering whether or not that young recruit holding up a bright spotlight on my ass is someone whom I might have prepared a free, promotional Federal Tax Return for just days earlier in the week.<br />
<br />
But that's when the officer in charge returns to address me. He emphatically proceeds to ask, "Have you ever been arrested before?" and just as suddenly I'm feeling as if I'd been just slammed on the side of the head by an errant boom, except that I ain't under sail or anything of the like when he emphatically barks out his inquiry.<br />
<br />
And trust me on this one, feller sailers', getting slammed on the side of the head by an errant boom while under sail do indeed hurts. And I's also got's to tell 'ya 'dat gettin' struck on the noggin' can indeed make fer' the brain to occasionally malfunction as evidenced by all the foolishness 'dat I done in da past and not 'cause I happen to have a bit of Puertorican heritage in me as 'sum folks, including my lady-friend are somehow inclined to believe.<br />
<br />
Any ways, with my eyes now wide open and with my eye-lids a blinking away, I respond with what must have sounded like a beseeching "NOooOOoo...", as if pleading, don't start now, as in huh? as in, you got's to be kiddin' me... as in, me arrested???, No Way Jose!... as in, C'mon Man!!, what you be talkin' 'bout!!?? ... as in, oh no!... not the water-boarding!<br />
<br />
The officer in charge then proceeds to inform me that I am in violation of operating a dinghy at night without a light where upon I in turn, against my better judgement, hold up my dimly lit bicycle light that I'd brought along with me to double up and serve as a dinghy light.<br />
<br />
His no nonsense response was succinct and to the point, "That's not gonna' cut it, you're gonna need a lot more candle light power than that" before endlessly carrying on about the late night collisions that do occasionally occur out in the Key West Channel and with all invariably having dire consequences.<br />
<br />
I briefly consider interrupting that officer's diatribe to explain that it wasn't all my fault for having to dinghy on out to my boat at that late hour of the night without a decent dinghy light.<br />
<br />
I'm tempted to explain that if any one of those boisterous, attractive, come-hither ladies that I'd been furtively hittin' on earlier that evening, had taken me up on my offer of a sumptuous breakfast omelet, then surely I wouldn't have been in the predicament that I now found myself to be in.<br />
<br />
I nevertheless do think better of it and prudently elect not to explain my no-pootie-for-me misfortunes after somehow sensing that he couldn't have cared any less one way or another.<br />
<br />
That officer then proceeds to emphatically growl at me and announce that the dinghy I'm operating isn't registered in my name and that it happens to be registered to some deceased fellows' estate up in Ft. Myers.<br />
<br />
And with my throat suddenly tightening, I feebly respond that I had indeed previously attempted to secure clear title on multiple occasions but without any success. (okay, perhaps one half-ass, feeble attempt if y'll insist dat' I don't "stretch da' truth" any.)<br />
<br />
I further explain that dealing with the Department of Florida Licensing is an epic ordeal and that I'd originally purchased my dinghy from some fellow off of Craig's List who in turn had previously purchased a sailing vessel along with the dinghy from the estate in question without knowing that in the State of Florida, one needs to secure separate titles for each of the two vessels.<br />
<br />
I nervously continue rambling on that the dinghy only later became available for sale after the fellow's sailing vessel had burned all the way down to the water line while under sail one day and that it all happened but a split second after him lighting up a cigarette while at the helm.<br />
<br />
I'm tempted to further explain that the poor fellow didn't get a chance to finish smoking his cigarette and that the ensuing billowing smoke and fire could be seen from miles away and that within minutes, a US Coast Guard vessel along with a rescue helicopter were on the scene to save his sorry ass.<br />
<br />
Nevertheless I once again prudently elect not to tell him the full story upon sensing that he had already heard enough out of my sorry ass.<br />
<br />
Besides that, I certainly didn't want that officer to suddenly start suspecting that I might have perhaps indulged in more than just a few brewskies earlier that evening while furtively seeking out an attractive young lady to cuddle up with for the night and then some.<br />
<br />
So yeah, I did the prudent thing and stopped my yapping and didn't start a whining 'bout not scoring any pootie earlier that evening. 'Cause like I saids before, I don't think for a moment dat' that officer would have cared any.<br />
<br />
Besides that, it goes without saying 'dat any Puerto Rican having but a smidgen of "la mancha de platano', will tell ya' dat' "en boca cerrada, no entran moscas"...<br />
<br />
And just as suddenly that officer proceeded to ask, "What kind of work do you do?", while making it sound as if I didn't have a day job to speak of and that in all likelihood I happened to earn my living by fishing for the square grouper in crappy, foul weather and without a proper dinghy light to boot.<br />
<br />
Yet upon responding that I worked for a Tax Preparation franchise preparing Federal Tax Returns for Individuals, he kind-sorta softened up a tad while explaining yet again that I needed proper lights on the dinghy and that I needed to get my registration taken care of if I intended to operate it with a motor mounted on the transom.<br />
<br />
And just like that I was let off the proverbial hook with but a warning and allowed to continue on my merry way out to my boat at anchor. And I'll also have y'll know dat' it be a good thing that I'd left my anchor light on all day for otherwise I jest' might not have found the dang thing at that late hour of the night.<br />
<br />
It later occurred to me that just maybe, that officer had reasonably concluded that I had been diligently preparing tax returns all day after squinting at a computer screen for hours on end and thus had a very logical explanation for my bloodshot, blurry eyes at that late hour of the evening.<br />
<br />
It was either that or he had yet to file his own tax return while perhaps thinking that he just might need my services to save his ass from the Tax Man.<br />
<br />
In any event, I did indeed eventually motor on out to my boat that evening without further incident. Yet somehow I knew in the back of my mind that I was now on some one's radar screen and that my comings and goings in that channel would now be monitored. Not closely monitored mind ya' but monitored none the less.<br />
<br />
Intuition furthermore told me that I shouldn't be surprised in the least if the US Coast Guard were to then advise some other maritime law enforcement agency to seek me out for a subsequent visit once the weather laid down.<br />
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Prophetic words for sure for that is what indeed happened but a few days later...<br />
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And I'll also have y'll know yet again dat' I was doing jest' fine gettin' on with my new landlubber life and all up until the other day when I just so happened to pause the TV clicker on the Weather Channel.<br />
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All of which kinda-sorta brings to mind a story dat' my lady-friend done told me awhiles' back after she and a medical doctor had successfully resuscitated a patient who had flat-lined while in the hospital emergency room.<br />
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She further goes on to say and that the dude, who for all intents and purposes, had been deader than a door nail, suddenly regains consciousness along with a heartbeat, and then proceeds to berate her and the doctor while belligerently hollering, "Gawd Dammit!!, I was doing just fine!! Why in the hell did you bring me back for!!??"<br />
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Yippers.... like I done already tolds' ya'.... I was doin' jest' fine dadgummit!<br />
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<br />S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-65305659590861853452012-11-25T09:25:00.000-05:002013-02-04T08:10:11.293-05:00S/V Blondie-Dog Settles Into Her New Diggs...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/v0ule8uhDr" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-qPEFl-hs6x8/ULIUT9qqPwI/AAAAAAAAVBo/iHnTPNmAZyw/s512/IMG_1220.JPG" /></a><br />
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Yippers! Dat indeedy be S/V Blondie-Dog now tied up in her new diggs. And I's also gots to tells ya dat she now be a most happy camper cause she now no longer be out at anchor all day by her lonesums' and dat she also now be most content to be among da likes of her own kind.<br />
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In facts, I is quites sure dat if all dem 'udder boats tied up at dat same marina were to somehows be poochie-dogs, 'den fer sure 'deyed all be a 'gettin' down right acquainted wit' one another and a studiously sniffin' one anothers' rear-ends by now.<br />
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'Cause dat what poochie-dogs do whens 'dey wants to git' to knows one another not dat ya needed my sorry ass to enlighten ya 'bouts sumptin' dat ya already done knows.<br />
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Anywho's dis here boat dock be at a fine, upscale marina located out among da mangroves wheres gators have been known to lurk beneath da docks in hopes of making a meal out of some unsuspectin', incautious, snockerd' sailor.<br />
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And I also be glads to tells ya 'dat it be a good thing 'dat I no longers be but a vagrant-on-a-boat and a drinkin' me-self silly every night and sumhows' be a riskin' dat I becomes but a big pile of gator poop come morning time.<br />
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Yep, dis here marina be located in da fine respectable community of Goodland... and it be a fine drinkin' community wit' but a small fishing problem and wheres' but a measly can-opener is all ya needs to breaks into yor neighbors' trailer park home.<br />
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Yippers... Blondie-Dog be a happy camper now!<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/pYhwFxljfb" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-FifZGd5gqzA/ULIUMXx9HvI/AAAAAAAAVBo/RwgAH8h4Fx4/s512/IMG_1216.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/ejXLxpaMrk" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-KGd5vPDN8fI/ULIULFoJA3I/AAAAAAAAVBo/A0hwkE4JR9I/s512/IMG_1215.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/2k4LfpP8o0" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-sR6Ti7AT8CM/ULIT5jRhVDI/AAAAAAAAVBo/Haxlj6_uEhU/s512/IMG_1204.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/vx6YEQrCXn" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-jS00UXIwbJ8/ULIUPeQ3rWI/AAAAAAAAVBo/3K69hptPMdo/s512/IMG_1218.JPG" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/ix7RxPKyPa" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/--hzKzsG-1YU/UMleEjVdfaI/AAAAAAAAVDM/ILegTkloOIw/s512/imagejpeg_2.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/wy7uRa8Cya" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-eehxhEXe6II/SwuOwxNV5pI/AAAAAAAABhU/JZPm3PPYFD4/s512/Blondie-Dog%252520at%252520The%252520Ball%252520Park%252520in%252520Arlington.jpg" /></a><br />
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Blondie-Dog... woof! sniff, sniff, sniff.<br />
<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/114299048093372841960/Pets#5407572746082576018"></a><br />
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<br />S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-79906552287845605952012-11-21T16:16:00.001-05:002013-02-04T08:11:00.485-05:00Gringo Mountain, Puerto Rico... An Unlikely Retirement Destination.<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/4Oeal5187Y" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-jIUPq5GCboI/SyKFJnybzFI/AAAAAAAADQI/rLmXi0KtwN8/s512/12-11-2009%25252010%25253B48%25253B14AM.jpg" /></a><br />
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Nestled somewhere along the the foothills of the El Yunque National Rain Forest in Puerto Rico is Gringo Mountain... at least that was the case some twenty or so years ago when I last resided on that island.<br />
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And I'll also have you know that "Gringo Mountain" wasn't by any means a real mountain per se but rather the name given to a mystical community of sorts that happened to be situated on the outskirts of both the town of Ceiba and the now closed Roosevelt Roads Naval Base.<br />
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For you see, "Gringo Mountain" also happened to be the place where a noticeable number of retired US Navy personnel independently elected to retire to after putting in a full career with the Navy.<br />
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This was all invariably after having made a port-of-call as a swabbie early on in their careers and later silently promising themselves that this would be the place that they'd eventually reside once their stint in the Navy was complete.<br />
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And residing in humble dwellings, all invariably topped with corrugated tin roofs and all precariously perched on precipitous landscape were a number of old, grizzled, bearded retired Navy servicemen.<br />
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Hence the name of the so-called community, "Gringo Mountain"...<br />
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And if perhaps you ever find yourself doing the tourist thing while exploring this region of the island, don't let it be surprise to you if you too fall victim to the allure of its surrounding hills and topography.<br />
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And lastly don't let it be a surprise to you if you happen to come across any of these retired Navy personnel hanging out all day at your local marina. For you see, it is these same disgruntled old farts that could regularly be seen sipping cheap, draft beer at the marinas day after day while bellied up to a bar.<br />
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As for myself, I'm inclined to believe that topography, no matter how alluring one might believe it to be, is still in its final analysis but a variation of geography and that geography ain't got much to do with contentment unlike being among friends and family.<br />
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How else does one explain why some folks still elect to reside in the hinterlands of North Dakota if not for the fact that home is where the heart is.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/o8Nqt1nU1I" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-kKpRwXAGGBs/S3dakDVKBHI/AAAAAAAAKkU/uQyToyKz46U/s512/02-12-2010%25252011%25253B06%25253B52AM.jpg" /></a><br />
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View of El Yunque National Rainforest in the background.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/I8DdFl5gOG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-_Da8SHsI_4M/S6H-w8CI_UI/AAAAAAAANLw/1Xr3YxRdl7s/s512/Puerto%25252520del%25252520Rey%25252520aerea%252525201.jpg" /></a><br />
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Marina Puerto Del Rey, Bahia Demajagua, Puerto Rico<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/HULY7UY69K" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-y34Rp-ez2WU/Tv9WTpRpPiI/AAAAAAAATmA/e4Il2otFCHg/s512/Where-the-Heart-is-Letts-Billie-9780446672214.jpg" /></a><br />
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Where the Heart Is... a delightfully good read.<br />
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<br />S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-91819473321473708772012-11-07T11:48:00.001-05:002013-02-04T08:12:32.361-05:00A Not So Nostalgic Day Trip to Fort Myers Beach and the Fort Myers City Marina...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Fort Myers is but a mere fifty or so miles on up the road from Marco Island not that I expected you to give a rat's ass one way or another. Nevertheless it also happens to be the place where I purchased S/V Blondie-Dog a while back on somewhat of an impulse.<br />
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For you see, I happened to be "wandering" about Florida at about that time essentially camping out of my car while driving from one marina to another and checking out boats that I'd found listed on Craigslist.<br />
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In hindsight I suppose that it was a pretex for doing something "constructive" while attempting to collect my thoughts and figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life after an abrupt end to a marriage of twenty-five years.<br />
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So after inspecting a number of crapped-out, over-priced project boats along the east coast of Florida in addition to passing through a few gawd forsaken communities such as Indiantown, a remote dot on the map where alligators far out number residents, I finally came across a boat that satisfied my criteria insofar as cost and seaworthiness.<br />
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Sure there'd be a few issues to deal with such as ground tackle, a topping lift, electrical wiring clanging inside the mast, the head, and finally a compass but other than that she pretty much satisfied my criteria of being fully functional and ready to sail.<br />
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And with the boat already having been heavily discounted insofar as price was concerned it was decision time as to whether or not I'd buy the boat.<br />
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So there I sat inside my car with a Starbucks coffee in hand overlooking the Calloosahachie River contemplating whether I really wanted to re-live the past and be a live-aboard cruiser again and if not, then where would I go.<br />
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An hour had already elapsed past the time that I had committed to call the seller while I sipped the last of my coffee but that's when my phone rang. It was the owner calling me and cheerfully inquiring whether I'd purchase the boat if he dropped the price another thou.<br />
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And with me kinda-sorta already having decided not to purchase the boat I proceeded to unilaterally start listing the few things that needed to be done on the boat to make it cruiser-ready. Yet somehow I inadvertently and inexplicably talked myself into buying the boat even though the asking price had never been an issue with me.<br />
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If anything, I could re-sell the boat at the same heavily discounted price that I had paid if I were to later to decide that living aboard no longer suited me.<br />
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Living aboard would at least give me some time to figure out what exactly it was that I wanted to do with the rest of my life if anything.<br />
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Yet the irony of it all, inspite of having had plenty of time to figure out just what it is that I want to do going forward, I'll confess to still being at a loss as to what exactly comes next while tending to an aching heart. <br />
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And I'm reminded of the lyrics to an old U2 song... "But I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For"...<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/gGBece5wT7" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-1A-5-of3Dww/UB6pIwpsdGI/AAAAAAAAUhA/zbXLYwytIxo/s512/IMG_1080.jpg" /></a><br />
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Fort Myers Beach<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/QwX4pYxbEs" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-wRHF_By28ZA/UB6pKPM6pLI/AAAAAAAAUhs/wU24J5KaLWM/s512/IMG_1081.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/mdbbGYL1ND" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Z0wdtIs6jt4/UB6pTtaKkpI/AAAAAAAAUho/-94jZBM3PgI/s512/IMG_1089.jpg" /></a><br />
City of Fort Myers Marina<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/o62LBLnhLT" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-zNOyDtF8Nno/UB6pR7kurkI/AAAAAAAAUhk/HCCtR8YJpNY/s512/IMG_1088.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/TwBUIaGqAp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-bEWOjgjjTQY/UB6pQpNiYtI/AAAAAAAAUhg/q7Ia_WQ1vTo/s512/IMG_1087.jpg" /></a><br />
Lounge area inside the Fort Myers City Marina.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/8Uj5JDLOJs" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-wzfpWeEctw0/UB6pP7dEOwI/AAAAAAAAUhc/NrnKCJiZWXw/s512/IMG_1086.jpg" /></a><br />
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Yacht Basin<br />
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<br />S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-91440409419767982802012-10-07T11:30:00.001-04:002013-08-07T06:51:22.727-04:00Visiting the Kennedy Space Center...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/VhGOGxb1Il" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Nh_lLRFHmXM/UF-LJu69XQI/AAAAAAAAUvI/lg8dImvDLtM/s512/IMG_1102.jpg" /></a><br />
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My Lady-friend happened to celebrate a birthday the other day yet with her insisting that I not purchase a gift of any sort for her, I was left in somewhat of a quandry wondering just what to get her for her birthday.<br />
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Especially since this particular birthday happened to include a number with absolutely no value attached at the end of it thus making it memorable if for no other reason.<br />
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But that's when it dawned me that I need not scurry off to a mall to puchase an un-wanted, superfluous, overpriced gift.<br />
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Instead I happened to recall the advise of a surfing instructor as related by a radio personality while on vacation in Costa Rica.<br />
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That advise was simple yet succint. When on vacation, don't purchase trinkets and such but rather experiences.<br />
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For you see, one is soon sure to discard that trinket after but a short while but an experience, whether it be about hiking, sailing, or even taking surfing lessons is sure to last a lifetime.<br />
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And with the Kennedy Space Center being but a tank of gas away, tag... that was it, especially since neither of the two of us had ever visited the Center before.<br />
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Now I'll be the first to admit that there ain't a damned thing romantic about the Space Center but it was nevertheless as good of an excuse as any for a weekend roadtrip and a brief change of scenery.<br />
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And yes, that excursion on out to the Space Coast was indeed rather memorable and we were both glad to have paid homage to all those who dedicated their careers and lives in the pursuit of space exploration.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/jyO2L8APQn" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-wGXpSLE1Oak/UF-LMifsciI/AAAAAAAAUvY/Crp7g2Ji-yk/s512/IMG_1104.jpg" /></a><br />
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The Rocket Garden<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/DkYKUpGBew" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-iGsdc2jm5Xk/UF-LPdDTBnI/AAAAAAAAUvo/QZyouU_zULs/s512/IMG_1106.jpg" /></a><br />
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Gemini Space Capsule<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/PwEqMlS0zZ" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S4wYprV5x78/UF-LaHpT-nI/AAAAAAAAUwQ/YeXqcA9-B2w/s512/IMG_1111.jpg" /></a><br />
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Saturn Five Rocket<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/gCYsAMnXHb" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-fhMtOgIpvnw/UF-LesAi0FI/AAAAAAAAUwg/9pjld7nkzwo/s512/IMG_1113.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/hRqoASTEro" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-NvdVwJGVW3k/UF-LgpMHPqI/AAAAAAAAUwo/nHU9cWmoYEg/s512/IMG_1114.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/EfFqKHKdCz" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-cDwqHjqM3Vw/UGfAjQDbywI/AAAAAAAAU08/LPPn3DJiy9s/s512/imagejpeg_2.jpg" /></a><br />
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And yep... dat indeed be me sticky fingers unsuccessfully attemptin' to swipe a moon rock dat be on display.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/dVvoYyTJ3W" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DUASI0UugY8/UF-LlLc7hgI/AAAAAAAAUw4/rH-1PVliDdo/s512/IMG_1116.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/Kb827Hxs19" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-z4mS09hxK1A/UF-LpjZQQeI/AAAAAAAAUxI/yLdvll3eFCE/s512/IMG_1118.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/InQjE7NE5L" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-T3FFJo1Hg3s/UF-Ls8Yz_gI/AAAAAAAAUxg/8kKczgYQKEA/s512/IMG_1121.jpg" /></a><br />
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Readily visible from a viewing tower are channel markers on a nearby waterway.<br />
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It was subsequently explained to me that the Shuttle's solid rocket boosters were transported on barges to the Kennedy Space Center from the state of Alabama and hence the purpose of having channel markers in what are non-navigable waters to the ordinary sailor..<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/AFuHxHzM6A" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4zvM3SrcMfs/UF-LwnynrKI/AAAAAAAAUx4/r3aFiRrmVL4/s512/IMG_1124.jpg" /></a><br />
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This nine-ton biosphere resting on a pool of water can be readily moved around with but one hand.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/9XOnmQ0FNB" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-V7abBBBkdt0/UF-L6OM2ITI/AAAAAAAAUyw/L8Iz5zze6hc/s512/IMG_1131.jpg" /></a><br />
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This scaled down version of the Shuttle was used for training purposes only. The real thing is even larger in size.<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/MEsGuusU0Y" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-qG7YvLTbhcc/UF-LLfn1ETI/AAAAAAAAUvQ/dJnKEpSxaTc/s512/IMG_1103.jpg" /></a><br />
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S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-61080422209777299112012-09-18T23:49:00.000-04:002013-07-07T11:04:58.966-04:00An Unsettling, Nagging Question in the Back of My Mind...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/W5ixabn7Mi" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-zrz5tbKfehY/T7bFC7agMPI/AAAAAAAAUPU/8jlbRj6V68U/s512/21.jpg" /></a><br />
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For some compelling reason I've had a nagging, unsettling question a-lingering in the back of my mind that has been a-bugging me for a while now.<br />
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For you see, while most recently approaching the Seven Mile Bridge one late afternoon, a fellow in a fishing skiff happened to slowly motor on over astern of Blondie-Dog as she labored against a strong tidal current flowing out from underneath that bridge.<br />
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And with my hands fully occupied at that very moment hooking up the fuel tank and cranking up the outboard, I simply wasn't too keen to engage that fellow in conversation while approaching that bridge at a slow crawl. Because the last thing that I needed was have that swift current take a hold of Blondie and push her sideways into one of the many concrete bridge supports while I mindlessly be chattering a way.<br />
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So my first inclination was to want to tell that fellow, "Dude... I ain't got time for your sorry ass so save whatever it is that you've got to say, 'cause for one, I'm busy and two, I don't give a rat's ass about any unsolicited commentary that you might feel obligated to send my way.<br />
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'Cause the simple truth of the matter is that very seldom if ever does one have a power-boater motor on over while one is under sail unless they want to gripe about something or fling some gratuitous crappy commentary in one's direction.<br />
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Yet to my disarming surprise, that fellow with longish, curly sun-bleached locks along with a set of deep dimples in his cheeks and a genuine smile on his face to go along with a deep southern drawl, hadn't come to gripe about anything or even so much as utter an unsolicited suggestion my way.<br />
<br />
Instead he had simply called out with words to the effect of, "Don't mind me, I'm just admiring your boat" followed by, "Is that an Intrepid 28?"... and later, "I kinda thought so, they're good boats"...<br />
<br />
And after briefly exchanging a pleasantry or two, that easy-going fellow just as quickly waved goodbye, throttled up and pulled away leaving me struggling with the nagging thought that we had some how and some where previously met only that I couldn't exactly pinpoint the when and where.<br />
<br />
But it was while sailing underneath the Seven Mile Bridge that it dawned on me that the fellow had to be none other than Gary. The very same gregarious Gary that I'd previously met while aboard S/V BratCat in Key West way back in '88.<br />
<br />
Yep... it had to be the same Gary whose trawler was aptly named "Magician" who would entertain one and all with his endless assortment of magic tricks. And it had to be the very same fellow that I'd previously described in a prior blog posting.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://svblondiedog.blogspot.com/2012/02/taking-stroll-down-memory-lane.html">http://svblondiedog.blogspot.com/2012/02/taking-stroll-down-memory-lane.html</a><br />
<br />
Hey Gary? That was really you wasn't it?S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-7456831074090599822012-09-08T06:50:00.003-04:002013-02-04T08:15:54.795-05:00Retrieving an Errant Anchor After Hurricane Issac Skirts on by Marco Island...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/dSJgsdN2yp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-2OIMZFIZbi4/UDxPCjmfm4I/AAAAAAAAUkw/Bo_seDsdXt0/s512/isaac_color_satellite_082712_620x350.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Tropical Storm Issac may indeed be but an afterthought by now insofar Southwest Florida and the Florida Keys are concerned, but I somehow gotta believe that a good many of us in its path somehow managed to inadvertently dodge an errant bullet of sorts.<br />
<br />
Not a real bullet mind you but just a figuratively speaking bullet unlike the ones inflicted upon the dumbass mofo who against his better judgment, managed to somehow piss-off former Vice President Dick Cheney while bird hunting in Texas one weekend awhile back.<br />
<br />
Yet I also gotta say that it was quite fortuitive for Marco Island and the rest of Southwest Florida that Tropical Storm Issac elected to scoot further on out into the gulf and not come ashore after crossing over the Florida Keys.<br />
<br />
For with me no longer being but a vagrant-on-a-boat and with me now gainfully employed and all, the last thing that I wanted to do was to have to take time off from work and have to deal with securing my boat out at anchor.<br />
<br />
But that 'feller sailors is just what I did. I set about purchasing yet another anchor at the last moment 'cause we all know that one simply can't have too many anchors when dealing with hurricanes.<br />
<br />
And although S/V Blondie-Dog did happen to have two anchors holding her down in place, I had to believe that a third anchor was imperative because in the not so memorable words of Jimmy Buffet, "You Just Can't Reason With Hurricane Season".<br />
<br />
And after fortuitively finding an affordable anchor for sale off of Craig's List, I arranged to buy the darned thing that very same Friday afternoon. I'd worry about getting my ground tackle squared away the following morning. Unfortunately for me however that was when the stress of dealing with an approaching hurricane evidently started to take its toll on me.<br />
<br />
For ya see, my heart just hasn't been into sailing for awhile now and I would have much preferred to be doing anything but screwing around with my boat come first thing on a Saturday morning.<br />
<br />
So after getting my ground tackle all squared away, I loaded it all up into the dinghy along with my newly purchased anchor and proceeded to "set" the thing after heading on out to the boat.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately for me however, that was when I discovered to my sudden dismay that I had failed to cleat off the bitter end of my anchor rode while dinghing out away from Blondie-Dog. My anchor along with twenty feet of chain and one hundred and fifty feet of rode was now silently resting at the bottom in about seven feet of muddy, murky water much to my consternation.<br />
<br />
That anchor and stretched out chain and rode might as well have been lying in a good hundred feet of water 'cause the reality of it all is that murky is murky and one simply can't see much beyond one's eye-lids while in murky water.<br />
<br />
And never mind whether or not I had invested some four hundred dollars or so procuring that anchor and ground tackle and that a hurricane now happened to be on its way. And never mind whether or not that I for one had previously guffawed and scoffed at other sailors who had in the past failed to cleat off their anchor prior dropping the thing into the water for I had now inadvertently joined an unenviable club.<br />
<br />
Yet the most incredulous part of it all is that but a minute or two earlier I had indeed realized that I hadn't cleated off the darned thing to begin with and somehow in my haste I had rationalized, "Oh screw it, I've got plenty of rode up on deck, I ain't got to worry about it." "I'll cleat it off when I get back."<br />
<br />
And with that ignominious blunder I then motored on back to my boat to retrieve my mask and fins along with a dinghy anchor in but a feeble attempt to locate and retrieve my anchor.<br />
<br />
Only this time I emphatically made it a point to diligently tie off my rusty dinghy anchor to the transom before dropping it overboard. 'Cause the last thing that I needed to see happen at that very moment was have Issac blow my dinghy clear across the river while I still be in the water furtively searching for my anchor.<br />
<br />
Needless to say, locating that errant anchor was like attempting to find the proverbial needle in a hay stack. There wasn't a chance in hell that I'd ever find it. Visibility couldn't have been more than a foot at most in that shallow muddy water. And with Issac scheduled to swing on by sometime later in another day or two, there was little to do but resign myself to the inevitable and call it a day.<br />
<br />
Well so much for diligent hurricane preparations... Unfortunately for me however I ain't got no one else to blame for my incautious mistake... and yep, that stupid mistake was all on me and nobody else.<br />
<br />
I suppose that's what happens when one is aggravated in the first place for whatever reason. I simply didn't want to be dealing with the task at hand at that particular moment and in my haste made a stupid yet completely avoidable mistake. Oh well... it wouldn't be the first time that I made an impulsive f***-up.<br />
<br />
It also goes without saying that I did unleash a few choice words in Issac's direction.... all in Spanish of course so that that mofo might fully understand just what it was that I had to say to his sorry ass... "PuNieTa!!, CaRaJo!!, CoNiO!! were a but a few choice words that readily come to mind at this particular moment not that anybody else could hear me when hurling those unpleasantries into the twenty knot winds.<br />
<br />
So that's how spent the next two days or so... pissin' and moanin' about my f***-up all the while contemplating just how I was going to go about retrieving my errant anchor once the weather had finally decided to settled down.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/XetYu2Gscw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-wguFNDB2hI8/UEREvhrfskI/AAAAAAAAUrQ/p-j6-06BkJg/s512/imagejpeg_b.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Yep!, 'dat indeed be me decidedly pleased with myself a week later after retrieving my errant anchor with my modified boat-hook contraption.<br />
<br />
Well heck, I may even look into patenting the dang thing. And I also gotta believe that it's a good thing that I'd occasionally peruse a random "Popular Mechanics" magazine or two back in the day. 'Cause for sure I wouldn't have come up with my brilliant idea had I not ever put down the Playboy magazine that I'd invariably be holding in one hand back in my youth.<br />
<br />
I do nevertheless suppose that my contraption will need a catchy name of sorts to make it some what marketable. Well heck... perhaps West Marine might possibly be interested in displaying my contraption on their shelves. I suppose that I just might call it a "Snag an Errant Anchor Rode Modified Boat Hook". Yep, 'dats a catchy name that ought to work. <br />
<br />
Assembly Parts:<br />
<br />
one boat hook<br />
fifty feet of clothes line<br />
three garage hooks<br />
two hose clamps<br />
one spring loaded shackle<br />
one set of tool wrenches, (for weighing down the boat hook)<br />
and a good measure of patience<br />
<br />
Well after twenty minutes or so of trolling for my anchor rode I hit pay dirt and snagged that mofo. It was a darned good feeling when my dinghy lurched to an abrupt stop upon snagging that anchor rode. In but an instant I was cautiously pulling that snagged anchor rode on up to the surface after putting my outboard in neutral.<br />
<br />
And I'll also have you know that I ain't ever before seen or smelled such slick, nasty, smelly crud a-clinging to the rode and anchor not that you will hear me complaining.<br />
<br />
And to tell ya the truth, it kinda, sorta reminded me of something akin to the slick, nasty, smelly crud that might perhaps be a-clinging to one's business after hooking up with some random, scanky chic at a bar only to later engage in an impulsive, after-hours poke & go if ya knows what I means. (wink, wink, chuckle, chuckle, chuckle...)<br />
<br />
Yippers... there was simply no way in hell that I wasn't going to retrieve that errant anchor dammit... that is unless of course my small portable cooler were to first run out of cold beer that I happened to be sippin' while trolling for that anchor. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/LWEZO4kz9e" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-DtalaAqp12E/UEREt3H42PI/AAAAAAAAUrI/CI9INDXNjpw/s512/imagejpeg_a.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Yeah man... 'dat be my errant anchor and rode.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/8sRsDQJKPM" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-acV58z9hStw/UEREj7c-oWI/AAAAAAAAUqg/3qTqiLYTbu4/s512/imagejpeg_g.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
And 'dat be me totally pleased with myself before heading back ashore for a celebratory cold brewski at Jack's Lookout, a dockside bar alongside of the Rose Marco River Marina.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/sjPa1twCoH" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-VGF5og7uU-k/UEREl6_LarI/AAAAAAAAUqo/QBHANwMPrx0/s512/imagejpeg_d.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
And in the fine memorable words of former President Dubya Bush, "Mission Accomplished"...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/HfmdnddodN" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ZMKDswr5O-0/Txb0J8OerII/AAAAAAAATto/IyMCxoNc_f4/s512/386455264517.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
And 'dat there be my freebie dinghy anchor that I claimed as mine after its previous owner had discarded it and set it alongside of the trash dumpster at the Key West, Garrison Bight Dinghy Dock parking lot.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/WyzVw7tmww" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-b66vpD62_P4/UAwKz6WBezI/AAAAAAAAUco/1tAKfv72epk/s512/IMG_1063.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
S/V Blondie-Dog. Marco Island.S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-69368436974954257472012-09-02T03:32:00.001-04:002013-02-04T08:17:49.683-05:00A Milestone of Sorts...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/HrSsdlDCrW" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-KvmOXeCDQa0/UDxNLlJjffI/AAAAAAAAUkk/-L0sdbpdGKc/s512/imagejpeg_2.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Well, well, well... whadaya know... my fully depreciated yet still serviceable car happened to hit a milestone of sorts 'de other day.<br />
<br />
And nope... dat odometer ain't been tinkered wit whatsoevers and indeed dat odometer be reading a grand total of 250,000 miles!<br />
<br />
And for those of you who ain't all dat smartz, I'll have ya know dat 250,000 miles be da same as a quarter of a million miles! And if ya don't believes me, den ya 'shor ain'ts smarter than a fifth-grader and I would advise ya to go back to skool and learns sumptin'.<br />
<br />
In any event, my fully depreciated yet still serviceable '99 Chevrolet Lumina is still a puttin' out a mighty fine if ya mights know what I mean. And though she ain't evers been a chick magnet and mights best be described as a "slump buster" not dat I 'spects ya to know what I means... and though she do gots herself a scrape or two, she still runs a purty good and gits me off to wherevers I wants to go.<br />
<br />
And now dat I be back on da grid and no longer livin' aboard a boat, I ain't gots no reason to use my car as a locker no more whiles I be ashore. For ya see, living aboard a boat can be a hassle of sorts when yor' boat be a good ways away from shore and ya needs 'sum place to store yor clothes and sh*t whedders or not they be in dire need of 'sum detergent.<br />
<br />
But besides my car serving as a convenient locker, it also made fer a cozy spot to jest turns on 'da radio and chill awhiles and evens takes me a nap in da middle of da day after feeding my face a can of Hormel Chile from straight out of 'da can.<br />
<br />
And I'll also fess up dat on at least a couple of occasions after a night on 'da town whiles at anchor in Key West and afters indulging in a pitcher or two of inexpensive beer, dat I'd elect to lay out in da car and sleep for what was left of da night rather than attempt to dinghy on out to 'da boat in gale force winds and cold, choppy waters. <br />
<br />
(C'mon man... evens I gots better sense 'dan dat.)<br />
<br />
Yet havin' said all dat, my Lumina is still gonna have to keeps puttin' out fer a whiles longer 'cause it jest ain'ts in my budget to go on out and buys me a new set of wheels.<br />
<br />
But I'll also have ya'll know dat my car now gots' herself a set of four new tires, a front-end alignment, a brandy-new windshield, and new set of brake pads along wit new Florida plates.<br />
<br />
I is evens bonafide now and now also gots me sum liability insurance to boot too.<br />
<br />
Yep... I do now thinks dat my car jest might be good 'fer another 250,000 miles.S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-74967333771894982152012-08-27T00:41:00.001-04:002013-04-05T09:25:57.820-04:00Don't Get Yourself Caught Fishing for the Square Grouper...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/aPCg7I8W4G" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--S5DKs2uq-g/Tq94_hJVLnI/AAAAAAAATdg/nimkYSkFsJU/s512/Nassau%25252520grouper%25252520AGGRA%25252520for%25252520web.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
My lady-friend for whatever compelling reason is somewhat fond of uttering random quotes when one least expects her to. And while some of these quotes do come across as rather sensible, others have the effect of leaving me scratching my head and wondering just what was so uproariously funny that made her suddenly burst out in uncontrolled laughter.<br />
<br />
For instance, if the topic of hurricane season were to come about in conversation, then she'd most assuredly be the first to quote the lyrics to an 'ol Jimmy Buffet song and tell you that, "You just can't reason with hurricane season".<br />
<br />
And I in turn would certainly be the first to chuckle if ever so slightly and tell you that what she had just quoted did indeed make perfect sense.<br />
<br />
And if per chance one might perhaps be watching The Weather Channel as an errant hurricane ominously made its way towards landfall, then she'd also most certainly be the first to tell you that she'd rather be anywhere other than where Jim Cantore might happen to be.<br />
<br />
All of which makes perfect sense to me yet again for if Jim Cantore is there, it is then a sure thing that he is in the mist of a weather related calamity while Mother Nature unleashes her pent up hostilities and furry.<br />
<br />
Yet not all of my lady-friend's quotes happen to be weather related. For instance, if per chance she were to be quietly sipping on a glass of Chardonnay while seated in a quiet lounge only to then have some old f*rt gratuitously start hittin' on her, then she'll be quick to tell you that her response to that old geezer would be swift and to the point...<br />
<br />
"I've got but just two questions for you... "How big are you, and how long are you good for"? All of which invariably leaves her laughing her scrawny booty off but yet again while I in turn quietly hope that I someday don't ever become yet another 'ol f*rt hoping to score a little pooty.<br />
<br />
Nevertheless my lady-friend did have a good laugh at my expense the other day after quoting for the umpteenth time the headlines of a local newspaper in nearby Everglades City.<br />
<br />
That particular newspaper story she quoted from described that "Every fisherman in Everglades City was now a guest of the county jail for fishing the square grouper" and that there wasn't "An abled-bodied man to be found in town" following the mass arrests.<br />
<br />
Well I had indeed heard this story all before and not just on a few occasions either. Nor had I ever quite comprehended what it was that made this silly anecdote so darned amusing to her.<br />
<br />
Yet it was only after my lady-friend quoted the story but yet again that I finally asked what it was that made this particular grouper so darned special that would warrant the arrest of every fisherman in town.<br />
<br />
For you see, all along I had simply assumed that the so-called "Square Grouper" was on some endangered species list and was now zealously protected by Fish & Wildlife law enforcement officials.<br />
<br />
My lady-friend did in any event proceed to enlighten me when describing the so-called "Square Grouper" but not before having a good laugh at my expense.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/nseO5VEB2r" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/--Wxg8nDa57g/UDof3fg5rXI/AAAAAAAAUkE/rGqZpFQEW3w/s512/IMG_9358_wa.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Yep feller sailors, dat indeed be the "Square Grouper"... a grouper species enthusiastically celebrated throughout the good 'ol USofA come April 20th and every afternoon at 4:20 PM...<br />
<br />
Just don't get yourself caught fishing for the Square Grouper for if you do then you're sure to run afoul of any and all law enforcement officials throughout Southwest Florida and you just might then find yourself incarcerated in some remote and forsaken county jail.S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-55782238863095955002012-08-19T11:30:00.000-04:002013-08-07T06:52:40.569-04:00Finding Time for a Little Boat Maintenance...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/i3UUVnNXtC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-SVlT12NerW4/T5v-9dhz26I/AAAAAAAAUFc/kCzAXt91sUk/s512/IMG_1014.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Me do thinks dat 'der are plenty of wanna-be sailor fellers outs 'der dat do needs to be enlightened sumwhats 'bout livin' aboard a boat and how it ain't all frivolous fun n' games all da time either.<br />
<br />
For ya see, 'der be mundane boat chores and maintenance to be done all da times whedder's one wants to do 'dem or not. And doin' chores jest ain't sumptin' I particularly likes doing, especially if I mights has had indulged in a few pitchers of cold beer da prior evening.<br />
<br />
But dat feller sailors is another story all togethers and one dat I'd jest as soon rather not talks about at dis very moment if ya knows what I means.<br />
<br />
First of all ders always dat small matter of dirty dishes in da galley in dire need of a good wash. Den der always da hassel of remembering to buy more gasoline fer the dinghy. Den ones needs to remember to make sure dat ya mix da gasoline and motor oil in da right proportion for dat two stroke outboard motor for otherwise ya jest might burn it out.<br />
<br />
And of course one always gots to remember to refill ones water cans whenever goin' ashore and dat too can be a hassle as well 'cause sumtimes ya gots to go a sneakin' around and a borrowin' somebody's water hose when dey ain't be a looking... especially if ya be at anchor up somewheres up in Key Largo.<br />
<br />
Den ders dat small matter of havin' to remember to top off da marine battery wit sum distilled water of all things before da dang thing up and croaks on ya.<br />
<br />
Yet nevertheless amongst' da least tolerable chores as far as I'd be concerned was a havin' to scrape barnacles and smutz off da hull of de boat.<br />
<br />
Don't knows why, but jest da thought of gettin' in da water to scrape off barnacles seemed all too laborious of a chore fer me and was always a chore best left fer another day.<br />
<br />
Anywho, I'd eventually come around to scrapin' Blondie's hull whedders' I wanted to or not. I'd slip on my mask and fins but not before a spittin' in my mask and swirlin' da spit around so dat my mask wouldn't fog up on me once in da water.<br />
<br />
Presumably spit does has sum' magnetic properties or sumsuch dat keeps da mask from a foggin' up. What can I say other thans' it worked fer me everytime.<br />
<br />
And I'd also be sure to wear some thick work gloves while diving on da hull and while zealously scraping away all dem frickin' little critters a clinging to da bottom of da boat wit an ordinary metal paint scraper.<br />
<br />
'Cause if ya don'ts wears any gloves, den yor sure to wind up wit sum scraped up, bloody knuckles and dat ain't necessarily a good thing considering dat it be sumptin' dat could of been avoided in da first place. Jest trust me on dis one feller sailor, cause I do speaks from prior experience in dis matter.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/qr7niy1izM" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-_H1o_ZcZ6N4/T5v--jCjxkI/AAAAAAAAUFk/5FyX6eAfmlk/s512/IMG_1015.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/oWubGYWlnR" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-DES9Q0thC_E/T7UPwQJBkII/AAAAAAAAUHc/nEWMU4gVfpw/s512/12.jpg" /></a> <br />
<br />
And nope feller sailors... dat ain't a drop cloth wrapped around Blondie's boom with white paint spilled all overs it in case ya might has been a-wonderin'.... but rather insteads it be a sail cover wit bird poop splattered all overs it.<br />
<br />
I did eventually attempt to clean dat bird poop off the sail cover. I followed some advise dat I'd previously come across somewheres and tied dat thing off of Blondie's transom.<br />
<br />
One would have only thunk dat submerging dat sail cover in the water would have done da trick but it didn't. Dat bird poop steadfastly refused to dislodge itself until I took it ashore and put a pressure hose to it alongs wit a stiff brush and a good amount of elbow grease.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/mzJIcqkwrl" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-YLGTPiP_cC0/UAwK3LX5OaI/AAAAAAAAUdA/IHQuu60T2yo/s512/IMG_1066.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Oh... I's almost forgots to mention dat occasionally cleaning da bilge is also a part of da deal insofar as boat maintenance be concerned. And do remember dis feller sailor.... bleach is a good thing... the more 'da better... jest don't lets any marina nazis see ya using da stuff 'cause den ya will be sure to get an earful of some unsolicited environmental commentary.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/nDvPpWiBrl" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M57YycKFpFs/UAwK01uTzoI/AAAAAAAAUcw/1CKe_ntmGaY/s512/IMG_1064.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/N5xbT3XN2W" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-zjbX4MXYPJY/UDDkMJ31tXI/AAAAAAAAUio/Ja6cyM_szqo/s512/IMG_1091.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Unfortunately howevers, evens though I now be off da boat, I stills ain't been able to completely avoids havin' to do sum occasional mundane chores around da house.<br />
<br />
Yep, dat be me a scrubbing smutz off da sides of my lady-friends pool. So much for the so-called concept of "friends wit benefits" dang it. Der jest simply ain't no gettin' away from a havin' to do maintenance of one sort or another whedder' one be on a boat or otherwise.<br />
<br />
Howevers I jest can'ts complains too much cause my lady-friend do has a Haitian feller come on over to da house every other week to mow da grass and dat certainly be a good thing as far as I be concerned.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/zlIniorSCq" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Gj0emhvLMxk/T7bFndykiXI/AAAAAAAAUa0/wRi3R-NoXs4/s512/IMG_1024.jpg" /></a><br />
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Yep, when I ain'ts a workin' at da office, I be a cleanin' da pool. Well heck... I got's to earn my keep sumhows'.S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-81055263808101773102012-08-04T09:55:00.000-04:002013-02-04T08:24:50.060-05:00Saying Hello to a Screeching Parrot in Salinas, Puerto Rico...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/O6rjdJ8q3k" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Yp3bxtbXmrI/S6UtE2Xaf1I/AAAAAAAANr0/OyKISSDfhLs/s512/02-18-2010%25252005%25253B41%25253B48PM.jpg" /></a><br />
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While casually strolling along a random boat dock some twenty years ago in Salinas, Puerto Rico, my daughter and I were unexpectedly greeted by a screeching parrot. And since it would have been most impolite to ignore that colorful bird's early morning greeting, we did the only sensible thing and that was but to pause a moment and say hello as well.<br />
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Well no sooner had we reciprocated that bird's greeting when a voice could be heard bellowing out from inside that boat's cabin while exclaiming, "I ought to charge a fee every time somebody stops by to talk to my bird" or words to that effect.<br />
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And with that unpleasant utterance, a hint was taken and we resumed our stroll.<br />
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Well fast forward some three years later or so and this very same screeching parrot can once again be heard but only this time from the comfort of my house in Las Croabas, Puerto Rico.<br />
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It turns out that this very same vessel along with the very same bird was now up on the hard in the boatyard located behind my house. Presumably the boat was getting its bottom repainted only that I didn't happen to see any work getting done not that it really mattered to me one way or the other.<br />
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In any event, the wife and I had some boater friends on over to the house one Saturday afternoon for some grilled burgers and a few cold ones when it occurred to me to extend an invitation to that fellow sailor with the parrot.<br />
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And later after knocking on the hull of that fellow's boat and after pointing out where my house was located, he eagerly accepted my invitation.<br />
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It later transpired that this same fellow had sailed in from Salinas where he had been tied off to a dock for an extended period of time. Unfortunately for him however, he had contracted Dengue Fever after arriving at the boatyard and had been ghastly ill the prior week having had very little to eat in the interim.<br />
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Well that fellow didn't have a lot to say while visiting yet was obviously content just taking in the scene while scarfing down a burger or two. And I also happen to recall that fellow emphatically declining any thought of imbibing a cold beer all of which tells me that he had indeed been quite ill.<br />
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Think about it... when is the last time you happened to come across a liveaboard sailor declining a cold beer?<br />
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Yet even more importantly it seemed to me, was that the poor fellow appeared to be most delighted to be back among the living. And I should know the feeling for I too was once stricken with Dengue Fever while residing in Puerto Rico.<br />
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That Dengue Fever experience was most gawd-awful and had me thinking at one point that I just might not last through the night to see another day. That was the night when a certain accepting calmness had overcome me while I shivered uncontrollably all through the night.<br />
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Incidentally I never did tell that fellow that I had previously "met" his acquaintance years earlier while strolling along a boat dock in the coastal town of Salinas.<br />
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View of the boatyard from my house with Isla de Vieques visible on the distant horizon.<br />
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Image of house prior to purchase.<br />
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Postcard image of Bahia de los Pescadores. A boat lift can be seen somewhere in there.S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-30546347523161891662012-07-28T10:43:00.001-04:002013-07-08T11:12:26.563-04:00Celebrating the Fourth on Marco Island Beach...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/FvSv4Mm2lj" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-aqnzts1rhYI/UAwKoDXixCI/AAAAAAAAUbs/-fn6V6Qg2ks/s512/IMG_1056.jpg" /></a><br />
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Well folks, not that you need my sorry ass to tell you otherwise, but this year's Fourth of July festivities now seem but a distant faded memory.<br />
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At least for me it does anyways.<br />
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And I suppose that is something to be expected when a highly anticipated summer holiday just so happens to land right smack in the middle of a work week. Not a weekend mind you, but rather a work week.<br />
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Work week as in I've since rejoined the masses of working stiffs and now have a day job to scurry off to come Monday mornings and that I also no longer be but a vagrant-on-a-boat... all of which is a good thing as far as I am concerned.<br />
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In any event celebrating the Fourth among friends on a pristine sandy beach while sipping on a few ice cold Budweisers ain't all bad. Okay... maybe more than just a few but who's counting?<br />
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Nevertheless it did occur to me while sipping on those cold brewskies as I'd occasionally gaze out across the open blue water, that I've had the good fortune to have been to a number of beaches over the years with Marco Island Beach being but the latest.<br />
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Yet somehow I'd also like to tell ya'll how gazing out upon that ocean blue water had me yearning to hoist Blondie's sails and set sail off over the horizon yet again but I won't for I'd be lying if I did 'cause it just wasn't so.<br />
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Nope, there was no yearning to set sail for the open seas for the simple truth of the matter is that I am now most delighted to be back on the hard and off the boat. Not only that but I also happened to be at that particular moment quite content discreetly gawking at the many scantily clad babes strutting along the shoreline.<br />
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Yep... all 'dem good looking ladies with their enticing boobs flopping all about had indeed disconcerted me to no end. And though I now may be an 'ol fart, I did nevertheless feel a compelling need to reach for a towel to cover up an inadvertent flag pole if you know what I mean. And of course it also didn't hurt to imbibe more than just a few cold brewskies to help cool me down somewhat as well.<br />
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Incidentally, I don't know about my fellow Americans but I for one always take a moment to thank the French whenever the Fourth of July festivities roll around.<br />
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For if it hadn't been for Major-General Lafayette and of his service to General Washington during the American Revolutionary War, we'd all still be singing "God Save the Queen" and that would have been a bad thing... at least as far as I am concerned.<br />
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S/V Blondie-Dog on a leash. Marco Island.S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-44195991705754665572012-07-15T00:35:00.001-04:002013-02-04T08:25:55.622-05:00Observing Osprey From Afar in Key West...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/YCwcXoC6IO" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-xp-5Q9H-JCM/UAF6t-PjZHI/AAAAAAAAUac/WTRQHKPkJyk/s512/neiger-osprey-cid_image005_jpg01cce0d5.jpg" /></a><br />
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Among the last things that I personally would associate with Key West are Osprey. Not the military aircraft version of the Osprey mind ya but of the real predatory bird.<br />
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For you see, it wasn't at all that uncommon to occasionally hear an Osprey's high pitched tones early in the morning while tied off to a mooring ball in the Garrison Bight Mooring Field in Key West. <br />
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And sure enough, I'd look across the way and there would invariably be an Osprey perched high atop the mast of an adjacent boat.<br />
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And if per chance I happened to be sufficiently awake at that early hour of the morning, as in not too indisposed if you know what I mean, I might then see that predatory bird swoop down from atop of its perch and gently glide along the surface of the water before suddenly reaching into the water and grasping an unsuspecting fish with its sharp talons.<br />
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That Osprey would invariably then fly back to atop of the same mast that it had been perched upon just moments earlier and then proceed to rip the flesh off that unfortunate fish with its powerful beak while still clutching its meal with one talon.<br />
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Nevertheless it also wasn't unusual to see the skipper of that boat climb out into the cockpit and give his backstay a few tugs in every direction whenever an osprey would start screeching from atop of his mast.<br />
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And just like that, and with the mast suddenly vibrating and all, that osprey would suddenly take flight and fly on off elsewhere.<br />
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Incidentally, not that it matters one way or another, but never once did I observe the skipper of that boat to ever bother and look up atop of his mast before twanging the heck out of his backstay. He'd twang that backstay a few times as if it were a guitar string and immediately turn around and head on back down below without so much as a casual glance upwards.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/JR3FWo1G81" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-InY91YR-HIU/T3c6ld2eXuI/AAAAAAAAUAc/8-zTxSZp8_M/s512/IMG_0952.jpg" /></a><br />
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An Osprey nest can readily be seen in the above photograph atop of a power-line tower standing alongside of the Garrison Bight Cut.<br />
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On one occasion while dinghying ashore one morning, I happened to observe an Osprey circle around its nest and then land upon it.<br />
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And no sooner had that Osprey landed when its mate unexpectedly stood up and stretched its long wings before majestically taking flight. It was indeed a pretty cool sight... not quite on par with checking out some partially nude hot babe aboard a passing powerboat but a cool sight nonetheless.<br />
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In any event I'd certainly be most remiss if I were to fail to mention that it was this same nest that had a dark purple t-shirt dangling from it for weeks on end.<br />
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And for all I know it might have belonged to a fellow sailor who was last reportedly seen wearing a dark purple t-shirt. Hey what can I say other than every possible lead into that fellow sailor's disappearance should be thoroughly investigated.<br />
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Bird Poop on my sail cover... but I doubt whether an osprey was the culprit.<br />
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This fellow may indeed have been the culprit.<br />
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Nevertheless I haven't definitively ruled out this young fellow as a possible suspect.<br />
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Garrison Bight Mooring Field, Key West.S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-50287445345502721302012-07-10T22:12:00.001-04:002013-02-26T16:01:03.037-05:00Off da Boat and Happy to be Eatin' Sum Real Food fer a Change...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/FQ1vzmjP6D" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1M7udGy5_-8/T3c7L2feY0I/AAAAAAAAUaQ/o-tbrEeqYb8/s512/IMG_0973.jpg" /></a><br />
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Yep... It do indeed make me most happy to finally be off da boat and eatin' me sum real food fer a change.<br />
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And I ain't lying whats-so-evers when I tells ya'll dat I do hopes to never agin have ta eats anymore crap out of a tin can dat mights have been a rollin' about inside my tote box fer months on end.<br />
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Dang right folks... Ya'll heards me right... I ain'ts ever a wanting to eats me another tin of Vienna Sausages, or Spam Ham, or Dinty Moore Stew, or even any more Hormel Chile wit Beans. And I's also ain't evers a wantin' to eat any more macarroni and cheese dat I'd routinely buy me at da Dollar Store.<br />
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Nope... from here on out I be scarfin' down sum mighty fine Prime Rib and corn-on-da-cob right off a hot grill courtesy of my Marco Island Lady-Friend. And I also don'ts care one bit whethers or not my lady-friend objects to any of my table manners 'cause I eats like I feels like it whether I be but a vagrant on a boat or not.<br />
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And one last thing feller sailors... I ain't evers gonna drink me any more warm beer either... dat is of course if I don'ts run outs of any cold ones inside da 'fridge.<br />
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Yeah man! I now be a mighty fine cook and be cooking me sum mighty fine Creole cuisine in a real kitchen wit decent pots and pans.<br />
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And dude, if ya do know how to read, den jest do what de recipe tell ya to do. Otherwise do like I do and watch Chef John explain how it be done on one of his many instructive videos.<br />
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<a href="http://foodwishes.blogspot.com/2012/02/creole-crab-corn-chowder-let-good.html">http://foodwishes.blogspot.com/2012/02/creole-crab-corn-chowder-let-good.html</a><br />
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And nope, ya won't ever see me cookin' up this concoction evers agin'...<br />
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Yep... and also made me a fine upside down pineapple cake too jest 'cause I felts like it. I did neverthess use up a tin of Dole pineapple chunks rather than cuttin' up a real pineapple. But nobody better be a squealin' on me and a tellin' Chef John daggomit.<br />
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<a href="http://foodwishes.blogspot.com/2012/03/pineapple-upside-down-cake-now-and-then.html">http://foodwishes.blogspot.com/2012/03/pineapple-upside-down-cake-now-and-then.html</a><br />
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<br />S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-47944510671238502472012-06-24T18:13:00.002-04:002013-09-19T13:53:01.681-04:00Back On The Grid Again and Workin' Fer a Livin'...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/mRRyrZCO81" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mjUg52z7IJg/T_Qf2MHSNSI/AAAAAAAAUYE/z5qTHLuJ2L8/s512/IMG_1048.jpg" /></a> <br />
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It do indeed feel a mighty good to be back on the grid agin' and no longer livin' aboard my dern boat. And although Blondie be a mighty fine little sailboat, she still be but a boat when it all be said 'n done.<br />
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And to that I'll add dat it also feel a mighty good to be gainfully employed fer a change and earning me sum real mula once agin'.<br />
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For ya see, it do a person's esteem a mighty good to have a reason to git up in da morning and goes off somewheres to earn an honest days wages 'cause livin' aboard a boat jest ain'ts a worthwhile endeavor unless you be periodically sailing offs somewheres or ya at least haves a day job to avoids becoming but jest another vagrant-on-a-boat.<br />
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And don't any of ya'll feller sailers' evens' thinks fer even a single Puerto Rican-New Yorker minute bouts' lendin' yor ear to sum' idle barstool sailor a claiming dat he be "livin' da dream" while he be but perpetually at anchor in sum' isolated harbor among a bunch of overgrown mangroves.<br />
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'Cause dat be the same feller hidin' out and wit a sh*t streak of problems goin's all de ways back to Cuba and doin' his darndest to connive yet another unsuspectin' feller sailor out of his hard earned mula only's to den' git his'self in troubles wit da marina boss all overs agin'.<br />
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And ya certainly den' don't wanna unexpectedly find yorself a-slippin' and a-slidin' in dat feller's sh*t streak. So do yorself a favor and avoid gettin' involved in dat feller's marina squabbles at all cost cause if ya don'ts you den' run da risk of being guilty by association.<br />
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So yep, I do indeed now be most happy to be but another working stiff gittin' up early ev'ry mornin' and headin' off fer work but nots' befores I takes me a fine hot shower and shaves all of me whiskers off.<br />
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And I'lls also haves ya'll knows dat I also nows never forgits' to brush all my teeth wit toothpaste every mornin' jest in case ya might a been a wonderin'.<br />
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And of course it also feel a mighty good to put on a starched long-sleeve shirt along wit a fine nice pair of slacks and dress shoes to match. And nope, I ain't a missing wearing any of my ol' boater clothes one bit either 'cause all my cargo shorts either had a broke zipper or a hole in 'em sum'wheres or evens both.<br />
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Besides dat, I also gots tired of wearing nuttin' but Teva sandals every day along wit' da same 'ol black smelly t-shirts wit bleach stains on dem.<br />
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And lastly I be happy to tells ya'll dat I now be wearing sum' brandy-new boxer-brief undy-pants dat I boughts me de' other day at a Wal-Mart store and dat I also now done thrown away all my old undy-pants dat had multiple holes in dem.<br />
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And of course ya' should all knows wid'out me a havin' to tell ya'll dat all dem holes in me under-pants resulted from me periodically releasing a gas pressure buildup after feedin' my face a fully loaded jalapeno bean burrito.<br />
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Yep, dem bean burritos dat I'd often buy at da local Circle K while in Key West were good!<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/zlIniorSCq" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Gj0emhvLMxk/T7bFndykiXI/AAAAAAAAUa0/wRi3R-NoXs4/s512/IMG_1024.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/w033feoCFx" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-DFAjpzVerlw/T-T4EX09L0I/AAAAAAAAUWk/1An9E6pIgyw/s512/IMG_0975.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/YOg3BSNXMN" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8jm-r4NN0w0/TvzG6xmjBpI/AAAAAAAATmw/yeJD9oSp9lM/s512/me%25252525201.jpg" /></a>S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7892977232770998356.post-62775134691539557512012-06-10T21:51:00.001-04:002013-07-24T10:09:27.739-04:00Laptop Etiquette While Sharing a Table...<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/kyDrif8fZU" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-T9vOlIV9sPU/TXZdCRZVepI/AAAAAAAARt8/4rl0Pr5o0eo/s512/me%252520at%252520Starbucks.jpg" /></a> <br />
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Hey all ya'll feller sailors!!<br />
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I do knows dat ya'll might has perhaps thunck dat ya done heards de lasts of my random, irrelevant commentarys but ya'll is completelys wrongs 'bout dat I tells ya!!<br />
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For ya see... I gots me a bee of all things buzzin' around insides my bonnet and der be sumptin' dat be bugging me now fer awhiles dat I do needs to gits off my chest.<br />
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Dat be right feller sailors... I do be feelin' a compelling need ta enlightens ya'll 'bouts a mostest impo'tant topic and dat be proper laptop etiquet' whiles ya be sharing a table wit other feller sailors in yor local marina lounge area.<br />
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And of course ya should all knows by now dat I is purty smartz 'bout proper etiquet' no matter what de social setting mights be... fer instance, it do be quite okey-dokey ta pick yor nose outs in public so long as nobodys sees ya '... cause if nobody done see ya pick yer nose, den it simply didn't happen and it den don't counts and dat it den be quite okay to casually flick that annoying bugger away.<br />
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Now I'd be de first ta admit dat ya'll probably alreadys knew dis but I needed to tells ya anyways just in case ya mights have been laying awake at night in de v-berth and a wondering.<br />
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Anywho I do needs to enlighten one and all 'bout proper laptop etiquet' and so widout any further ado here goes my suggestions in no perticular order.<br />
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#1<br />
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First on dis here list of suggestions be dat ya show a tad bit of courtesy when taking a seat at an already occupied table. Don't just shows up and den dump yor oversized arse into dat chair widout so much as mumblin' a "'morning" or a "mind if I join yor table" or sumsuch whedders or nots ya really means it 'cause it just ain'ts good karma when der den be a bit of tension hovering arounds de table.<br />
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And listen up all you young and not so young ladies... ya need not gits yorself all uppity and into a snitch and somehows be anticipatin' dat the dude across da table is a gonna 'mediatly start hitting on ya as soon as ya take a seat at dat table.<br />
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Ya gotta understands dat sum of us fellers do has at least a smidgen of decorum and do knows better to at least waits a little whiles 'til ya gets all settled in wid yor laptop up and a running befores we den start a hittin' on ya.<br />
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#2<br />
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Next on my enlightening list of marina laptop table etiquet' is dat ya don't hog all de plugs in de 'lectrical outlet.<br />
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C'mon dude... and you as well ol' geezer... we all do knows dat you were der first but dat don't entitle ya to hog all de plugs for we alls knows dat ya ain't paying fer dat 'lectric bill when it come due and dat ya should know better and graciously unplugs sumptin' before being acsked. So don'ts acts all put outs and such when ya do be acsked to share a plug.<br />
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#3<br />
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Number 3... Dude, don't clatter! You knows what I be talkin' 'bout... der simply ain't no need for ya to be making yorself an unwelcumed disruption. So quit banging all yor computer crap on dat table whiles ya be hooking it up to yor computer. Ain't nobody a wantin' to hear all dat noise you be a makin'.<br />
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And whiles we all knows dat de marina lounge ain'ts by no means a library, do kindly show a little courtesy to yor feller sailors while ya be gitten all yor sh*t squared aways.<br />
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#4<br />
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Etiquet' number four is purty impo'tant so be sure to pay up sum close attention sailor feller.<br />
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Yo lardass! You knows who you be! Der ain't nobody a wantin' to see yor big gut spilling out overs de top of yor shorts whiles ya be peckin' aways at de keyboard in dat der marina lounge. <br />
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Dude... you should knows better den dat... all dat blubber ya be showin' alongs wit dat gawd awful hairy back of yors be quites a repulsive sight if I mights say so meself!<br />
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And jest because you be a livin' on a boat don't by any means make it okay fer you to be showin' off dat fat gut of yors. So dude... keep yor dang shirt on and don'ts fergit to leaves yor nose alones.<br />
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#5<br />
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Suggestion number five be impo'tant too.<br />
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Dude... I knows dat you be a hungry boy and ain'ts eaten anything in a whiles and dat you be now salivating to scarf down dat crappy McDonald's take-out order dat sum 'udder feller sailor fetched fer ya, but do shows a little restraint and do goes feed yor face on elsewheres.<br />
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Ain't nobody at dat computer table a wantin' to see ya make a pig out of yorself whiles ya be checkin' out yor facebook page.<br />
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And another thing dude... don't fergit to dispose of dat crumbled up burger wrapper along wit de rest of yor mess. It be bad enuf havin' ta see ya stuffin' yor pie-hole whiles ya be at de computer table let alone havin's to look at de pile of trash dat ya be leavin' behind fer sumone else to pick up.<br />
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Jest remember feller sailor, nexts time ya forgits to clean up yor mess, sumone will be sure to flick a bugger at yor fat ass as ya be leaving. So consider yorself forewarned feller.<br />
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#6<br />
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Nope, I ain'ts quite finished wit me suggestions quites jest yet.<br />
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Dude... yeah you wit de know-it-all attitude along wit yor incessant, unsolicited commentaries. Ain't nobody give a rat's ass 'bout yor random, irrelevant suggestions nor 'bout dat latest electronic gadgetry dat ya found online and now be claiming to be ordering fer yor boat.<br />
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'Cause de truth of de matter is dat ya know dang well dat nobody know what ya be talkin' 'bout or evens cares abouts. All ya be doing is but engagin' in sum "score-boarding" and attemptin' ta make yer feller sailers look ignorants and unprepareds.<br />
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Ya ain't a fooling me loquacious dude... all dat cute gadgetry dat ya claim to got aboard yor boat still don't mean dat ya know how to sail.<br />
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So dude... don't start a makin' noises and a such whiles surfin' de web and den saying "hhmmm, that looks interesting" and den be doing yor best to distract others at dat table from what dey be doing 'cause like I says befores, ain't nobody cares whats ya got to say.<br />
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#7<br />
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I be almost finished wit my commentaries folks...<br />
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Yo girlfriend... do take dat phone call of yors aways from de table. Ain't nobody a wanting ta hear yor silly drama. C'mon girl, you knows better dan to be a runnin' yor mouth off whiles at dat table and a makin' yorself a distraction.<br />
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And another thing silly girfriend... ya do needs ta sit ups straight whiles at dat table 'cause it ain'ts polite posture and 'cause der ain't nobody der a caring to peek at yor profile dat ya gots posted on match dot com. Ya simply ain'ts dat dang impo'tant.<br />
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And whiles I be thinkin' 'bout it, always be sure to plug in dem earphones of yors fer dat what dey be for. Ain't nobody else at dat table a wantin' to hear dat rapper a hollerin' vulgar obsenities and such.<br />
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#8<br />
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Now I be finished wit my laptop table etiquet' commentarys...<br />
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Dude... do be considerate and don't assume dat it be okay fer yor feller sailors to babysit yor estupido computer whiles ya git up to go fer a forty minute smoke.<br />
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Take cares of yor own sh*t. Four or five minutes be fine but forty minutes fer a smoke break be another matter altogithers.<br />
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So dares ya has it feller sailors! My enlightenin' commentary on laptop etiquet' whiles ya be sharing a table at yor marina lounge! And it didn'ts costs ya a dime.<br />
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Incidentally my lady-friend suggested to me da other day dat I be nuttier than an out-house on a peanut farm... and I is still a trying to figures dat one out while she still be a laughin' and a gigglin'.<br />
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<a href="http://goo.gl/photos/lHSuhkde8n" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-a-VRDJxgJVY/TnN8_aiFAzI/AAAAAAAATIg/kB8o3S2zWa8/s512/Me%252520and%252520Marilyn.jpg" /></a>S/V Blondie-Doghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07268709289021314706noreply@blogger.com0