Sunday, August 22, 2010

Back To The Real World

Where did this weekend go??? I was sure that I'd have allll of Saturday to mow de lawn and organize my notes from Friday's interviews. Well, I didn't get home until after noon on Saturday, visited with Durwood, unpacked, ate supper, packed my scuba gear, and poof! the day was over. Today I loaded gear and got our "dish to pass" organized, then we drove up to Ellison Bay, met our dive-y friends and got wet. After the dive we all packed up and went back up the road to a little park where we ate too much fire roasted corn on the cob (sooo good) dipped in melted butter, grilled Italian sausage, and all kinds of salads, veggies, and fruit. Amazingly nobody brought dessert! Can you believe it? Not one tray of brownies with their frosting melting in the sun, no chocolate chip cookies picked up at the grocery on the way out of town, nothing. Watch, next year there'll be three or four trays of gooey treats and one lonely carrot stick. 'S okay with me.

One thing that took up a bunch of time was dealing with the MOUSE NEST I found in the dive bags piled on the floor. Oook. It wasn't a live mouse house, the inhabitant had expired a while ago because the tiny furry corpse was totally dessicated, the bitty skull and spine fell onto the cement when I picked up one of the mesh bags. They/it had used dryer lint for bedding and chewed into one of the bags. It was totally disgusting. I packed my gear and washed a bunch of stuff, but my gear bags still smelled mousey so I washed more tonight. And I am going to go through the milk crates of old gloves, boots, and hoods on Tuesday and ditch any that don't fit anyone or have a whiff of mouse about them. Creeps me right out, but I was glad last night that I'm not too squeamishly girly. I didn't spaz out--much, I just came up, got a trash bag and the dustpan and brush, and cleaned it up.

Sorry I slacked off posting. I slacked off writing too while I was up at The Clearing. Don't know why, but I got right back at it last night, so here goes.

August 21--Jost van Dyke, BVI. Yachties is sort of a rude term, kind of like Trekkies, implying a level of fandom on the extreme side. Yachties are thought of as young people without ambition who crew for rich boat owners too lady to learn how to handle their own crafts. Yachties are known to drink too much and indulge in profligate and casual sex. Great Harbor on Jost van Dyke in the British Virgin Islands is a kind of Mecca for yachties. It's a gorgeous, big harbor that attracts all sorts of yachts from all over the world. The bars and restaurants overflow the bartenders and waitstaff eager to down tools and run off to sea at the slightest hint on an offer. Gemma and Lance were a package deal, she could cook like a dream and was a serviceable steward, he could navigate like Sir Walter Raleigh and fix anything that broke. They came to Jost on the Innisfree out of Charleston and had thought they wanted to stay on land for a while but after six weeks as a beach bar chef for Gemma and a marina mechanic for Lance they were itching to get back out of sight of land.


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