Day Eleven and I'm doing just fine thank you very much...

 

Well whadda-ya-know... it's day eleven and I'm doing just fine thank you very much. It's day eleven as in the number of days since I last imbibed an alcoholic beverage. It feels good to wake up in the mornings feeling completely rested for a change.

It's not like I wouldn't like a cold beer now and then, its just that I have to come to terms with the reality that if I have even one beer then I'll want to follow that up with a couple of pitchers and a few tall ones out of a can. Not only that but it occurs to me that the one compelling reason why one drinks is not to forget but rather because one is simply bored out of their mind.

In any event this marina is full of numerous examples of why one should not drink in excess not that I should be talking.

For starters, there is the "tree of knowledge". Underneath that shade tree can be found an assortment of lawn chairs and ice coolers all loaded up with cold beer. The same usual suspects can be seen swapping stories of the goings-on here in the harbor while sipping on a few cold ones first thing every morning... and that scene goes on all day.

But heck, who am I to judge... I suppose I'm no different. I've simply done my drinking in the comfort of an air-conditioned tavern while watching sporting events on a flat-screen. Yet had I done my drinking under the "tree of knowledge", I then would have known some time ago about a fellow boater whose nude body was found floating in the harbor one morning.

One thing that I've discovered while living aboard my boat while tied up to a mooring here in the harbor is that there is very little actual discussion about sailing. It seems as if the concept of sailing is but an afterthought. Being tied up to a ball here in the harbor has a trailer park feel to it with the only difference being that one is on the water.

In other news, the crud that I had contracted on Thanksgiving Day is now a thing of the past. That crud along with its lingering effects lasted a good nine days. It feels good to be finally over the incessant fevers and to make matters even better the cold snap that found its way down to the Keys has finally relented.

In any event, I got stir-crazy yesterday and got out and did something that I'd been wanting to do for some time now. I drove on over to the north end of the Seven Mile Bridge, parked the car, and hiked the old Flagler Railway Bridge to Pigeon Key and back.

This old bridge was once part of a railway that ran all the way down to Key West and the bridge has since been made pedestrian friendly. I hiked a total of 4.4 miles in some eighty minutes with a number of stops along the way. I kept hoping to spot a spiny-tail lobster down in the shallow waters but I didn't see any.

It felt good to get out and breath in some fresh air while gazing out upon the open blue waters.

An Indefinite Moratorium on Drinking Alcoholic Beverages...

I'm now on day seven of a self-imposed indefinite moratorium on drinking... as in drinking alcoholic beverages. The moratorium was brought on in part because I'd been ill for the better part of last week. Against my better judgement, I had more than just a few cold beverages the previous week and then caught the crud.

More precisely it was on Wednesday evening... as in the night before Thanksgiving when the women are traditionally in the kitchen slaving away preparing the next days feast and the guys are out cavorting about in the local taverns.

Incidentally... how great is that?

Yeah... I got sick with the crud... as in I don't quite know what else to call it. It was a complete body ache including achy eyeballs. It was one fever after another each followed by a drenching sweat. I didn't experience any nausea, or intestinal issues nor did I have any sinus or lung congestion... not even a random cough so that I'd have something that might elicit a bit of empathy.

My ailment felt like a mild version of Dengue fever with emphasis on the word "mild". I know what full-blown Dengue fever is all about having contracted that demonic ailment some thirty-three years ago while living in Puerto Rico.

Trust me, it was as close to death as I'd ever been. You want to avoid that fever at all costs. Jungle fever on the other hand is a good kind of fever and you certainly don't want to pass any of that up if it were to come along your way.

Oh goodness. I may have aged myself with that last reference... oh well.

In any event, I've loaded up on fruit juices having elected to forego on the consumption of alcoholic beverages for the foreseeable future. I hesitate to use the word quit because I've often previously uttered that word on more than just one occasion after a night on the town and quit didn't quite seem to mean quit... as in never again... as in "no mas" as Roberto "Mano de Piedra" Duran once declared while in the ring with Sugar Ray Leonard.

So it's an indefinite moratorium on the consumption of alcohol for me. In the past week I've gulped down tomato juice, grape juice and apple juice with more of those on the way. Heck I've even rediscovered cold chocolate milk by the pint. I'll even throw in an occasional Coke for the heck of it.

So far so good. I haven't gone postal on anyone or anything like that and my wallet doesn't have that light feeling that it would often get after settling up a bar tab. Besides, if my Dad could one day just up and quit smoking without so much as a random comment about it to anybody, then perhaps I just might be able to forego drinking.

Sobriety... what an interesting concept.