"in sails"

Boat show scenes. Some of these shots are on the Facebook album, some are "outtakes" that didn't make it to the final album. (And one, the table with all the Elvis photos - is not from the boat show at all, but is from when I was in Halifax and I went out to eat with some friends.) I'm not going to describe them, actually, because (a) I'm pressed for time and (b) who wants to scroll up and back, up and back, to read the descriptions and look at the photos? Not me, anyway.

And since the boat show, I've been to PEI on a short road trip/long weekend, and now am back in the thick of things at work, busy and happy.

Since the last two weeks have been so busy and so filled with travel and new experiences, it's gotten me to thinking about how there IS no way to capture it ALL. I want to, certainly. I think we all do, to some degree - we yearn to take all the pictures we possibly can, to really touch and really see all the new things we're seeing, when we travel. Or just in general, when not travelling, too: to write down all the great quotes we hear that really mean something to us, or remember perfectly all the hugs and glances and smiles we receive and give in a day. In other words, to soak up like a sponge all that life gives us - and it really gives us a lot! Especially when you try and actively see ALL of life - all the little things, too - as a gift. The sun on the floor at 2:30 pm. The way the edge of the bulletin board makes such a nice angle. The way people show each other love in simple things like laughing at each others' jokes.

But there is no way to do that. That's what I struggle with - and sometimes, just accept.

road trippin

I'm back from the Boat Show, and I had a complete and utter BLAST.

I intend to write about it more, but I'm about to head off to PEI for a long weekend with a girlfriend from college, who I haven't seen in four and a half years.

So, you can check out the photos on the marina's Facebook page. (For those of you who aren't on Facebook, you don't actually have to be a member to view these photos. It works just like any other website.) And when I get back, I'll be writing about all I saw at the boat show - and what it was like.

Also, I got the best line from a friend I saw while in Halifax. So simple, I can't believe I didn't think of it sooner. She said, when someone asks me what I do at the marina, I can say,

"I'm in sails."

Hitting the road! Hoping you're having a wonderful Valentine's Day week.

a change is gonna come

At least, according to this barometer.

Sometimes I look around myself at the marina and can't quite believe that this is my life now. Not that it's crazy different or anything. Well, actually, it kind of is. I'm well-ensconced now, I'm so used to the terms and to what we talk about each day that it takes eating two and a half big macaroons full of sugar to put me on a sugar high and sort of see things differently. (Do you know what I mean or am I talking crazy-talk?)

What I mean is, I did eat two big macaroons and felt a sugar buzz. And it wasn't entirely dissimilar to that sense of unreality that you get when you've been drinking. Sort of like - what is this place and how did I get here? Why am I talking about P-O numbers and what discount the marina gets at which dealers and this invoice and that shipment? All like it's normal?

I guess because - it IS normal now. That's what is so odd - how something that at first was so new has switched to being normal.

This is the picture post I promised. It's the first of a few that will come in the next few weeks because God help me, even if that camera fails now, I've got a number of pictures all saved up in the computer. Shots of the gardens at home, shots of the NEW and AWESOME Baddeck Community Market (and I'm really full right now from eating some yellow tomatoes and sticky buns that I bought there just today). And other random shots of things that are going on right now. I so missed being able to do that, to document day-to-day life.

And I'm hoping, fingers crossed, that the trick to my camera is just simply not putting dead or dying batteries in it. Then it doesn't tend to go crazy and act up. Amazing.

These cards were made by a lady in town. I don't know if you'll remember this or not, but a few months back I talked about a gal named Simone who does amazing baking. She had brought some buns to us at the library and I was going on about how the buns she had made smell like love itself.

Anyway, Simone is multi-talented and makes cards out of scraps of paper she collects. This shot above us of two of her cards, that we're selling at the marina.

We are a Mercury service dealer, which means we fix Mercury engines. We also carry a lot of Mercury stock, including lubricants - oils, et cetera. There is a big display of them near my desk and I look at them a lot. This is - big surprise! - a bottle of gear lube.

We carry Harken sailing gear- like these blocks. I really don't know much about them, except that they help in hauling the lines on a sailboat. Beyond that - like what kind is best for what situation - I usually refer to Stu.

This is an oil filter. It is made by Racor. Again, beyond that - I don't know much. I know there are different sizes and that they're measured by microns, like a 2-micron filter or a 10-micron filter. I know how to order them. I know roughly how much they cost. I know they look kinda pretty, at least when they're clean and new.

These are ropes. Also known as lines or sheets. This is part of our rope stock. The clip attached to the rope has information about that item. That's my handwriting!

These are either cotter pins or clevis pins. I CAN NEVER REMEMBER. (They're clevis pins, I checked.)

Stainless-steel screws. According to its tag it is a 1 and 1/2 inch long, #8 flathead. #8 refers to its diameter. It will also cost you 18 cents to buy one. Plus tax.

This is what I see all day, every day. The MMS screen. It is our Point of Sale program, through which we control our inventory both here and in Dundee, our sales, our work orders, our clients and our accounts. And it also happens to LOOK like it belongs to 1995. What the eff, MMS.

Barometer-head! Also known as me.

The island I live on, divided up into charts.

Being as I love typography, of course I couldn't resist this beautiful calendar's type. That lower-case g just kills me. And the numerals! Ooh!

For the sharp-eyed - see if you can spot this calender in the picture above of me at the desk.

This photo is for Haya, devoted reader and (I think) employee for Transport Canada. These are the guides to boating safety that I give out to people.

This is my cat. One of three. This is the one who sleeps on my bed and runs down the stairs to my bedroom any time I go there myself and she's around. I've got her trained! The book is one that Grandmaman sent (another shout-out to a reader!) last month with the family that visited. It is called "The Kingdom of the Cat". My cat is allowing it to co-exist with her in HER kingdom.

This is a Monkey's Fist. I made it! We're featuring knots in the newsletters and I was testing the one for the Fall newsletter. It kind of looks like a volleyball.

Again with my kitty. This is one of two matching chairs that I bought at auction. I quickly realized I should abandon any more furniture purchases until (ahem) I have a house to put it in. Or at least an apartment. Mum's not too pleased with me bringin extra furniture home when we're already trying to scale down our existing possessions.

Those drums are my brothers' hand drums.

So that's it for now! I'm writing in my little break between the marina and the library. But - even though it will be another month at least and perhaps two before I'm actually done at the library - just knowing that it's on its way out means I don't mind so much the long days.

Oh and one more thing: I signed up for the Cabot Trail Writers' Festival, for some workshops! It will be the first time taking part in this event for me, as well as the first time I've done a workshop with a teacher, on writing. (As far as my memory serves, anyway. That actually means - it's entirely possibly it HAS happened before.) Anyway, it looks pretty cool - Michael Crummery, Marq de Villiers and Sheree Fitch are all doing workshops.

I'm doing my best to remain rested and inspired, amidst all the work and craziness. I realized the other day that - I'm pretty hard on myself, in general. It's amazing how lessons cycle back around, again and again, isn't it? I thought I'd learned the one about hearing the critical voices in your own head, and sending them lovingly on their way. Combatting those voices you have that are constantly telling you you're not good enough, et cetera. So how come it feels like I'm learning it for the first time, all over again? Complete with what feel like mini-breakdowns, crying and feeling upset. It doesn't help that I'm coming down off a busy summer, and my body takes time off and decides it's not going to be able to do much of anything.

That's all part of being human, I guess. One day at a time. Rest and take care of yourself, face the fears, ride through it.

my heart is my compass

I had a dream a few weeks ago - which could also have been two days ago, the way time is going around here - that I looked at myself in the mirror and I was naked. Between my breasts, over my heart, was a tattoo of a compass.

(I also had long hair in the dream, which happens often. I'll dream that I still have my long, long hair, which I don't at all right now - it's quite short. Then I'm awake and I wish I could just press a button and have my long hair back! But alas - it takes a good two years to really get it long, and involves all those awkward in-between stages. Sigh.)

Anyway. The idea of my heart being my compass has been like a talisman for me lately. It's really hard to learn how to trust yourself - really trust yourself, know that you've got your own back. That you'll catch yourself if you fall. And to trust that your own heart, and all your own feelings and emotions, is the compass, is the only thing you really need as you're sailing around, living, being.

This photo is of a compass from the 30's. It was on a boat that visited Baddeck last month, a boat called the Daegmar Aaen, from Germany. (Originally from another Scandinavian country which I forget. Finland, perhaps? Sweden?) I was able to go aboard and visit with the sailors, who had been to the marina to use our showers and laundry room. The vessel is all made of wood, it was really something else. Beautiful, solid. They make trips to the Arctic for science, and they use this cool old compass to navigate. (As well as all kinds of new-fangled devices.)

This week has been full on NUTS. It's Regatta Week in Baddeck, and we decided to host a radio remote broadcast during it. Meaning, 94.9 The Cape came up from Sydney and from 10 am to 2 pm yesterday broadcast from our marina! I was on air and everything, doing little chats with the DJ. "Yes, Don, we've got lots of specials on for Regatta Week..." That sort of thing. It was actually really fun - I like being on air, and I think I've got a good voice for it. But it was also nerve-wracking, as at the same time the store was full of people and I had to keep my eye on that.

And so I realized last night that I've reached my limit - of things on my plate - and recognizing this is always hard. It always involves getting FRUSTRATED and sad and angry, and crying a bit. (Once I get home - so far I haven't cried at work, at least not in front of people.) It's a hard emotional "storm" to go through, but then once you do, and you go out the other side, you've learned a little more how to use that compass. So I suppose - it's worth it.

My heart is my compass. I shall not want?

4 four-letter words

"Baddeck Marine, good morning?" "Baddeck Marine, hello, how can I help you?" "Baddeck Marine, hi!"

This is the front desk, behind which you can usually find me. (Photos taken with my colleague's camera. My own camera is still broken. Which makes sense considering I haven't had any time to take it to the camera store an hour's drive away. Yeesh!)

This is one of the views from our docks. I come out here to get a breath of fresh air and this view. The black-hulled boat mid-background is the Amoeba on her dock - John Bryson and his crew take people out on tours on this beautiful vessel. Quite a treat!

We're open for business!

AND check this out: the webcam is up and running!

http://dbmarina.com/cam.htm

You can see in live action the dock out front and Kidston Island behind it. Pretty sweet! Especially with Regatta Week coming up next week - you can even see the Sail Past through this webcam! Sunday, August 1, in the afternoon.

...

4 four-letter words: I came up with this idea over my porridge this morning. It's a quick and dirty way to fill you in on how I am this week. The words are: rock, wish, love, read. (They could be any four-letter words. There are lots of candidates. But these are the ones I've quickly chosen tonight.)

• I rock: the front desk. The phone. The computer and ordering parts (most of the time). My socks off when I'm driving home or to the beach - Fat Freddy's Drop, all summer long. (No, seriously - I'm too lazy to change the tape in the tape deck, and it just somehow seems to fit pretty much every mood I have. It's chilled out, it's amped up, it's happy, it's sad, it's soulful. Mmm hmm.)
• I wish: I had more sleep. I had more time off. Summer was longer. I could see some of my dear girlfriends who don't live here. I wish that the world wasn't such a frigging crazy place sometimes. I wish that I could eat all the ice cream I wanted and not gain any weight, because I really, really, REALLY love ice cream (and I've been eating a lot of it. I don't actually think I've gained any weight, though, not yet anyway.) I wish that I didn't care whether I gained weight or not (I'm working on that). I wish I had my own little house on a big plot of land in the country, but I suppose that will come someday. I wish I had all the money I wanted - although I probably have all the money that I need.
• I love: this place, oh my goodness do I ever. Even with the tourists stopping in the middle of the road to point at things and hold up traffic, it's a pretty fabulous place. The lake, the ocean, the sky full of marvellous clouds, the woods and rivers, the old farms. I'm head over heels.
• I read: Hamlet - which I've never read and figured it was high-time I did. (Actually, I'm still in the middle of it. Consider the word "read" as a present-tense word.) I also read part numbers, dozens upon dozens of them. 3576474F6, 331-22, 934D-223. And many more like them. Each part has a number, for whatever company makes it. Then it has a number within our system. Every engine has a serial number, a number of horsepower, a model number. I read these off over the phone to people in Parts Departments across the country for Mercury, Volvo, Stright-McKay, and others. I look at the part numbers on orders and invoices and match them to part numbers on the actual parts.

What do you rock, wish, love, read?

....

haiku days and ice cream decisions

Well - here we go! The blog post I really didn't think I'd have time for this week.

I worked from 8 am until 8 pm yesterday, staying later than that, not getting home until 9:30. And then this morning I have to work at 8 am again. (When I wake up I'm not entirely sure who I am, much less that it's a good idea to get up. I get up anyway.)

This is not so much a complaint - after all, I'm getting through it, I'll be paid for my extra work, and summer's not that long - as just an acknowledgment of the fact that my schedule currently is quite blocked off, to the point that extra time is rare, and worth its weight in gold.

So even though I've been thinking about this week's blog post, well, all week, and keeping ideas for it on the back burner of my brain, I kept thinking - "OK, if it comes down to sleeping or blogging, I'm sorry, but I'm going to choose sleep."

Anyway. Here I am. I've cooked the breakfast porridge, and it is sitting, gelling. I've yet to take my morning shower, which is more for taming my porcupine-quill hair than for getting clean. The house is quiet, although the others are waking and doing their morning routine too. Between six and seven am we are all zombies.

Haiku days: At work we use a point-of-sale computer system for our transactions and inventory. It's set up on my computer, down at the front desk, and also on the computer upstairs that our office manager uses. (She's also a good friend of mine.) The computer system has its faults, one of which is that when you want to type messages between users, it's very MS-DOS looking, and you can only use the arrows on the keyboard, you can't use the mouse and highlight or anything. The lines don't wrap - when you get to the end of a line, if you keep typing, the words won't appear. You have to press "Enter" to go to the next line. It's kind of like an old-fashioned typewriter pretending it is a computer - frustrating.

This interface has made my messages feel spare and limited, so I've been inspired to write the odd haiku to my office manager-friend-lady. She'll write me back one too, sometimes. Usually they're about work and how frustrated I am by morons who come in. They're not necessarily poetic, but I do follow the 5-7-5 format. It's kind of fun to try and fit a sentiment into this poetic corset.

(Sometimes I'll skip the haiku form altogether and just write things like "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK...." to which she'll write back "That's a lot of U's" or "HAHAHAHHA gotcha kiddo!" She's good like that.)

Here's one for this morning:

cooking breakfast oats
touch my skin and realize
i am here, right now

Ice cream decisions: It's been a CRAZY week. (And oh, it's only going to get crazier, when Regatta Week comes around, August 1-7.) Just balls to the wall at work, as they say. (Good lord, I love that saying. Balls to the wall. It's profane, it's immediate, it works.) The phone rings pretty much every sixty seconds, there are boats coming in over the VHF looking for moorings (and we're pretty much full), there are people coming in with all kinds of engine problems that they want fixed right away - which I totally get, because the summer is short and you want to be able to enjoy it, be out on the water.

So my days off last week were like a walled garden - and I was the only one with a key to get inside. Sunday and Monday - I needed them to be kept separate from the rest of the week, to be a little playing area for my tired brain. What better for that than - a beach on the other side of the island?

I filled my car with delightful things like - a jug full of water and lemon, my Morey boogie board, a big blanket, a sun hat, food, extra clothes. I put on my black bikini - because for God's sake, I'm 26, I'm not getting any younger, and so I'm not going to let a little bit of belly hair and belly pudge stop me from wearing a bikini. (Besides, four years ago, at twenty-two, the last summer that I wore this swimsuit as my main swimsuit, and looking much the same as I do now, a gorgeous Irishman passing through the area, that I briefly dated, told me in his delightful brogue, "Ah, you're a fine cut of a woman." Which has definitely taken top honors in the "Best Compliments I've Received On My Body" category. So take that, insecurities.)

I slathered myself with sunscreen. I put on a cute red dress. I headed off.

On the way, clouds gathered, there was thunder and some lightning, but I kept on driving. And on the other side of the storm, the sky was clear and it was sunny and hot again.

I lay all day on the beach. I swam, swam, swam. My sunscreen came off and I didn't reapply - oops, apparently that's the key - and got a sunburn. I read, and somehow the sound of waves in the background added more texture and meaning to the words I was reading. Each one was juicy.

I ran into some friends and their little kids, aged three and five. We played in the sand and talked. I love talking to kids - it is both nonsense and completely, utterly clear and sensible. Logan, three, handed me a stick. "Dis is for your DOD, " he said, intensely. "Well, I don't have a dog," I said. "Den - BUY ONE!" He said, his little face furrowed up, as if to say, duh!

On the way home we all stopped for ice cream. I was driving my own car there and meeting up with them. As I drove between the beach and the store, about ten minutes, I was singing along with the tape I was playing - Fat Freddy's Drop, dub sounds that have been on my stereo pretty much the entire summer, and I can't see that changing - and putting my mind to what ice cream I was going to have. "Peanut butter fudge crunch was pretty good, or do I want vanilla? Do I want a different flavor on each scoop? I definitely want to get three scoops, I mean summer is only so short. Should I get chocolate, vanilla and strawberry? No, that's too boring. Hmm, maybe mint chocolate chip and... what else..."

Sometimes you need time where the only decisions you make are ice cream decisions.

*

give a little bit of my love to you

After a long day at work, I'm sitting on my bed tapping away on the laptop. This is a serious feeling of AHHHH.... I'm in my own room, with my own music on. (It's Old Man Luedecke's new album, "My Hands Are On Fire And Other Love Songs", which I highly recommend. Artsy, indie and beautifully lyrical bluegrass. So, so SO good.) My cat is sitting on the bed next to me, purring to herself. Content to be here next to me, although she can't quite figure out why I'm paying attention to this weird black machine thing and not her.

It's raining out, although I can't actually hear the rain, being in a half-basement. However, it rained all evening, and while I was at work (until eight PM) I could hear the rain outside the open door, falling off the eaves of the marina roof. Any time I had to go outside I had to move quickly, because we practically have a long skinny waterfall coming off the eaves when it rains hard.

Thank you all for your comments on last week's post! After I wrote that post, I went back to sailing and sailed a little pram. It was pretty much fine. No meltdowns, no freak-outs. Sometimes I couldn't really get going, which was frustrating. I'd open up my sail, let out the sheet and push the darn boom outward with my hand so maybe the sail could get some air, but - nothing. One or the other of the teachers would come by in her motor boat and tell me to do this or that, and sometimes it would work and sometimes it wouldn't.

Oh, well. I go back tomorrow night, and then one night after that. I don't LOVE it the way I LOVE yoga, but then again the learning curve is a bit steeper. And, it's not something you can just do whenever you please, you need certain equipment (like a boat!) and then time and commitment, which don't always come together with the expensive equipment.

Anyway - I'm glad that I'm taking these sailing lessons. I don't know if I'd take more lessons or not. I'm feeling a bit fatigued of it, but that might be a few things other than the sport itself. (My knees complaining about how much they hurt from kneeling in the pram, for one.) I find that my favorite sports are ones that:

• you can FEEL afterward how you used your body (feel like you really worked out)
• aren't mentally frustrating (lots of confusing rules, etc)
• you can focus on it and lose yourself in it - so something where you're by yourself or if you're with people, you're each focussed on yourself (like with yoga)
  

These days, I think about my upcoming post for pretty much the whole week. This is because I don't have a lot of extra time, so I want to be able to sit down and write something pertinent when I actually get the time to sit down. So I kind of let words and ideas roll around in my head during the week, and then when it's time to write the blog post, I pull them out and see what they have to tell me.

I've been thinking about GIVING. I've been reading the book "29 Gifts" by Cami Walker. In order to get beyond her frustrating and debilitating MS diagnosis, the writer goes on a "giving cycle" - give one gift a day for 29 days. It's a really neat little idea. At first, though, I resisted the idea of the book. I'm always so afraid I'm going to give myself away - give too much of myself. I thought, "This is going to be some mamby-pamby thing about how to acheive sainthood by being selfless - so not the lesson I need!" But I started reading anyway, and it turns out it's not as mamby-pamby as I thought. Walker even talks about how she resisted the giving at first, and about the things that she really didn't want to give. (She says that the things that are hardest for you to give are the things that feel the most scarce in your life. Money, emotional energy, or whatever - if it feels like you really don't want to give it away, it's because you feel like YOU don't have enough of it.)

Although I'm not doing a deliberate 29-day cycle like the author, this little book has definitely made me more aware of any gifts I give - or receive. How giving something as simple as a smile or something small, as long as you do it deliberately, can have quite an impact on you. And, how giving and receiving need each other, how you can't have one without the other. Like Walker says, giving and receiving is "an exchange of energy - a universal transaction that each one of us takes part in over and over, moment to moment."

I'm also GIVING myself permission - to GIVE UP on something. And that something is an expectation of who I need to be with, who I need to find for myself. I'm single these days, and have had a few beginnings and then baby ends of relationships since I broke up with Chris three months ago. And as a real go-getter of a person, I can really start believing the feeling that if I want a relationship, I just have to make it happen! It's a false assumption - that work equals success - and it becomes overpowering. Then I either come on too strong to the next cute fella who walks across my path, or I get disappointed in myself for "not having a boyfriend, already."

But having a relationship and finding someone to have it with are not the same animal as, say, ditch-digging. With a ditch, you know where you stand. You've got a shovel, you dig, you make a ditch. But with a relationship, there are so many factors involved that it's amazing we think we have any control over it at all!

So as a gift to myself - I'm giving myself the permission, the right, the chance, to let go, GIVE UP, the big ol' WANT I carry around with me most of the time. Which is of: A future, a fantasy of a great relationship. "Wouldn't it be SO NICE," I think while driving around a neat place I've never been to before, "To be here with a man? To be with MY MAN, the one who hasn't yet walked into my life?" I spiral off into future-fantasy-thoughts.

What I have to do: bring it back to this moment, to right here, to me, being. I'm good enough as I am, on my own, just like this.

Reminding myself of that, and being gentle with myself as I do it, is actually a gift I that I can give myself. And that myself feels really relieved to receive.

(f)rig it!

So it turns out, sailing is HARD.

OK, let me amend that. Sailing a 420 Laser when you've only ever had one sailing lesson, you're tired from a LONG day at work, and you're not sure what the heck you're doing, is HARD.

Last week I went to my sailing class, after a long, hot day at work. I finished up, went over to the yacht club, ate a peanut butter and honey sandwich, and then helped Linda rig our boat. (To rig a boat is to put the sails on and tie the sheets properly. Sheets are ropes that are used to move the sails. And they need to be tied into shackles and pulleys and things, so they can move the sails with a minimum of work by the sailor.)

The first time I sailed, a few weeks ago, I sailed a pram, which is a simple boat with one sail, one sheet. One person. For some reason which I can't recall now - although it may have had something to do with wanting to try something new, and my boss Stuart who is a sailing genius had said, the 420's were way better to teach you sailing - I decided to up the game a bit and try a 420.

Now, in comparison to a pram, a 420 has two sails (a main and a jib, which is in front of the main), two people (one to be "skipper" and steer and work the mainsail, one to be "crew" and work the jib), and a number of sheets. Like, six or seven or a hundred. I don't know, but more than a pram. Anyway, I foolhardily climbed into the 420 and the instructor pushed Linda and I away from shore. A little too late I realized I didn't know what the heck I was doing.

"Use the tiller!" said Linda, and I did. However, the instructor, getting smaller every second as we drifted away from shore, yelled after us, "Your rudder is only halfway in! Push it down!" But how? Because meanwhile, we're moving into the path of other boats, I'm trying to steer us and I still have no idea how to work the mainsail. There is a rope that looks like it might be the right one, but it's hooked into all kinds of pulleys, so where do I pull it from? Meanwhile my "crew" is no help, because she's working the jib sail and telling me what to do with the tiller, which is still no real use to me because it's not pushed down all the way and I still have no idea how to do that and -

OH EFF the boom just cracked me in the head

Do I have a concussion? Oh shit, isn't THIS perfect - OK, no concussion, but this EFFING HURTS - fuckity fuck fuck fuck - OK steer -

I hate sailing!

I want to go home!

Oh shit the tiller, right, OK - breathe!

Meanwhile the instructors, two women in their early twenties, are going around the eleven of us in their motor boats, going, "You're doing great!" No, I'm really not great here. Every time I think I have it figured out, something else frigs up and I'm left freaking out a little more. We make it around a few marks - miraculously I've figured out how to control my mainsail, no thanks to any of the instructors, who just followed us around going "You're doing great!" and then suddenly -

We're tipping! The boat is going over on one side dangerously close to the water - how the EFF did this happen? Linda's going "What are you DOING LEAH!?!?" and I'm pulling on things and letting things out but none of it is helping as slowly but surely we go degree by degree closer to tipping this whole frigging boat, sails and all, into the water, oh lord what a mess that will be! And then suddenly -

We right again. BREATHE. The other women in their boats clap for us and I give them a grin but inside I'm going WHAT THE HECK JUST HAPPENED?!?! I can't actually remember the few seconds between the boat nearly tipping and righting again. No idea what happened or what I did.

The next time the instructor comes around I tell her - "I don't think I do this." She tries to convince me that "I'm doing great" but I just keep saying I'm not doing well, so she ties up her boat to a buoy, puts Linda in it, and climbs into the 420 with me. I climb into crew position, at the front of the boat with just the jib to deal with. She knows what she's doing and she brings us around a few marks. All I have to do is pull on the jib sheet to match the main sail, and duck my head a little when the boom swings sides. I can feel the tears building behind my eyes - relief, so now it's time for the dam to spill over. I try to keep it back. She says,

"So then we'll switch, and I'll crew and you skipper."

"No, I don't think that's a good idea." Of course I'd love to be able to - would love to give my teacher what she wants, would love to be a great student. But I know myself better than that, by now. I know that I'm melting down. So we return to Linda in the rescue boat, and this time I get in it. Linda and the teacher go for a few turns. I sit in the moored boat and just

float

there for a few minutes. It's heaven. It's soothing. I don't want to cry because I'm afraid I'll lose my contact lenses so I just sit and breathe. Look out at the other women moving their prams around. Every now and then one of them goes by me and asks what I'm doing in the boat, and I laugh and say, "It's a long story!"

By the time Linda and the instructor get back it's time to go back in to the wharf. I crew this time. Linda skippers. I can tell that she sees how hard it is, now that she's the one doing it. We make it back in. We bring our boat up onto the dolly and wheel it onto the dock. Then we de-rig it. Mona's husband Jim is there and he gives me a big hug and tells me I did great. (He's a former windsurfing pro and loves to sail. He and Mona are among my favorite people.) I'm cursing all over the place, "Fuck that was hard!" Then I apologize for it. "I'm sorry guys, I curse when I'm stressed."

"That's OK," says Lois, "I curse when I'm NOT stressed!"

The sails get folded up, put away. Everyone else leaves and it's just me and Mona sitting there on the steps. The instructors have locked the doors and gone home. We sit there and watch the lake, and talk. We talk about sailing - and how it's actually harder than it looks. How there is quite a lot on the line - despite the cheery view of sailing as the All American sport, rosy-cheeked, white-pants-wearing, robust and healthy men and women pulling on ropes and raising sails and saying "Ahoy there," it's actually life and death out there. Let's face it - if you get water in your lungs, you die. If you get tangled in the ropes and your boat tips and you can't get out of there, you die. And when you're sailing, you can't just pull over to the side of the road. You're out on the water and you somehow have to get back. And the conditions are constantly changing, and you have absolutely no control over them - the wind could be coming from one direction when you start, and then switch around. Who knows what will come up when you're out on the water?

I tell Mona that sitting out in the moored rescue boat, having my private freak-out, I doubted myself for one of the first times since starting work at the marina. See, all day long at work I'm on land, I'm talking the talk but not walking the walk. I talk about halyards and moorings and charts and all of it, and I'm around boats that are on land or are moored to the dock. So it's fairly easy to feel confident in that environment (even when you feel like there's so much to learn and you know so little). But to actually go out in a boat, go out into the water and learn how to control the boat's movements - that's a whole other game. And that day, I seriously wondered - "Do I belong here? Was this a smart move?"

I came back in again and cursed with the other women and realized, remembered, was reminded - that learning takes time. That we can't expect ourselves to master something on our second bloody lesson. That sometimes when you push your limits it's too much. Pull yourself back in again.

Hoo boy.

So here we are - another week has slipped away and become the past. Tomorrow night is sailing night again. This time, I'm preparing. I'm getting off work an hour early. I'm going to go somewhere quiet and rest. Then I'm going to show up at the Yacht Club, and rig a pram. Start again with the smallest boat. Go out by myself, one sail, one sheet, one person.

I bet you've got something great to say. Leave a comment, I'd love to hear from you. I love it when I check my email and I get one saying that someone has left a comment. It makes my day! Tell me about your meltdowns, your sailing experience, your doubts about changes you've made in your life.

and then I got a couch.

And stored it in the staffroom of the marina.

It's something like a hundred years old. It's made of solid wood. It might have once belonged to a hotel in Sydney. Friends who bought an old inn here in town and are turning it into a home gave it to me - just gave it away! I saw it and went, YES. Even though I don't have a place of my own right now, and even though I have to store it in the staffroom with a blanket over it to keep the dust off, this baby is MINE.

We brought it the kilometer or so to the marina in Monty's old truck, which is 1984 Ford Ranger, diesel, probably the loudest and most beat up old truck you can get away with driving. With this fabulous couch in the back. I felt like wearing a ball gown and sitting on it as we drove through the streets of Baddeck, waving at the passersby.

I want to dress up in a variety of cool outfits and take pictures of myself and friends sitting on it.

Isn't it just the best?

Other news: if I thought I was busy now, things are about to get even busier. July 1st is tomorrow and from then on, the marina is open from 8 until 8, all summer. That means some evening shifts for me, and more foot traffic through the store. But it's only for two months so BRING IT ON summer, let's make some money!

I'm still reading "The Time Traveler's Wife", which I'm mostly still in love with. I just wish I had more time to lie around and read.

I eat a lot of food out of my car. But, mostly it's home-made stuff. A lot of quinoa and salad-y type things. A lot of chocolate chips and fruit bars (that is actually a really good combination - and it's become my morning addiction).

I miss my camera. I took the shots of the couch with a camera that lives at work. Oh, well. Too much else to do and fuss with to bother about it.

I sailed a pram last week! The first time EVER. I got in a little boat that had only a mainsail and one sheet (rope) , and sailed it around and around the little harbour. Thinking, am I really doing this? Holy crap, I am doing this!

I saw Buffy Ste Marie LIVE! What a frigging rig she is. She's sassy and energetic and her voice makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. She sang "Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee" and "Windigo" and a lot of other songs. I bought an orangey-red tee shirt with her name and picture on it. Thirty bucks but I'd like to think it was worth it. The concert itself was free so there you go. It was part of the Membertou 400 celebrations - the 400th anniversary of Chief Membertou's baptism.

The Baddeck Writers' Group had a meeting this week where we did writing exercises. It was SUCH a treat. So much fun. Pick a prompt randomly, then write for ten minutes. After the time is up, each person reads aloud what they wrote. You would not believe how cool and different each person's writing was, all based on the same thing. Wow. So cool, too, to just frigging DO IT ALREADY - write. Not talk about it, but do it. And holy cow, just like that, we were all WRITERS.

And now - time to eat some supper. And then take a walk by myself, so I can swat at flies and clear my head a little. Work is busy but I keep being surprised by how much I LOVE IT. I mean, by rights I shouldn't, right? But I do. It's kind of amazing. The people I work with are a good seventy-five percent of the equation, because they're all awesome. We have a lot of fun.

Still, I have to be careful not to give over too much of myself, of my time. I'm making sure I have two consecutive days off all summer, and that on those days, I do not plan to do anything. I do not make dates with anyone, except maybe my car and some beach somewhere. (An actual beach, not the racehorse.)

PS Thank you for your comments, if you commented last post. It was really great to be able to share photos with you all! To show little snapshots of what my life is like these days. To answer Laura's Q: I like the new Sade album somewhat. I really like some of the songs, and some of the others just haven't grabbed me yet. But then I haven't really been able to sit and give it my full attention. I figure at some point in the future, I will, and then it's going to open right up and let me in. At least, I hope so.

go! stop, go, stop, go, stop, GO

OK, so here we are. The first picture I took with my camera after getting it back last week. It's a phenomenal shot of... the battery charger. And lo! the camera still works!

Orchids in bloom in our living room. Mum does virtually nothing to encourage their growth. None of this hothouse pampering BS. She waters them and that's it. And they grow, and bloom, every year. Just goes to show you. Not sure what it shows you, but it shows you something.

Oh, yeah... ice, ice BABY. Sometimes I even listen to this, on my way to work. (My car only has a tape player. I got this "vintage" cassette tape at Value Village for one dollar. It's almost worth that much.) (Actually, the amount of laughs Mat and I have gotten from it driving to work in the mornings is priceless. As is Mr. Ice's haircut and clothing.)

Blue sky. Oh my my.

Plus there's something about power lines I really like.

Lupins. These flowers bloom this time of year, and the banks and ditches of the roads bristle with their purple plump sweetness. Have you ever heard of the kids' book "The Lupin Lady"? If not, you should look for it.

Good Lord, I love my job. I think this all the time, as I'm running from place to place in the marina. I love my job, wow do I ever love my job. (This above is the view from the bench where I take my breaks. That is my car parked with those two boats.) (And the yellow house behind is a Bed and Breakfast run by a really sweet lady.)

This is looking the other way from the break area.

I love my job, I love my job.

And this is taken from out on the docks, looking back towards the building. That red building is where I spend most of my time these days!

I was looking up a phone number the other day (to figure out what time Buffy Ste-Marie is playing this weekend) and I just love that there is a Bingo hotline. Seriously! I kind of want to call it, just to see what happens.

I tried making coconut sorbet, from a recipe I got from Haya. (Her blog is in my link list to the right. I'm too lazy to make a link here.) This is the coconut milk waiting to be added to the sugar/water syrup. Then you end up freezing it. It was good - so rich and sweet!


My feet and my Mum's feet.

The pool that saved my sanity in the winter.

I kind of want to make a pun, something like "Don't go off the deep end, come jump off our deep end!"

Eh?


In Cape Breton, when there are three signs saying there's a bump ahead, you better slow the heck down or else you might lose your muffler or your oilpan!

And this is where my camera stopped working, again. (A friend's place down in Tarbot. Isn't this kind of the most idyllic summertime photo? A hammock, a tidy garden beyond, and sunlight on meadow grass.)

So yeah - the camera is having a hissy fit. The battery door, newly replaced, works fine. But now when I turn the camera on, it doesn't actually turn on. The lens moves outward but nothing shows on the screen. I press the button again to close it but it doesn't close, it just moves inward all of 1/16th of an inch. Each time I press the on/off button it moves either in or out, depending on its own whim. Well, that's what I'm going with, that or it might be possessed by the devil, because I can't figure out what's causing it to behave this way!

And so I'm now in the position of trying to decide if I want to bother getting it figured out and fixed, or if I want to buy a new camera, or if I just want to sit and wait for a little bit longer.

Good thing I have things like a great book ("The Time Traveller's Wife," OMG), great music (acquired recently: new albums by Sade, Gorillaz, Royal Wood, Imogen Heap, David Gray), and lots of work and extracurriculars to keep me distracted from camera frustrations. And I'm even writing creatively on a regular basis! The trick: form a small group with other people who similarly need to be forced to write, then give yourselves creative prompts and deadlines. Mercilessly tease anyone who doesn't make the deadline. Make time in your schedule to prepare and to write. (And in making that time, I realized that it's unbelievable how important some things can seem, and how unimportant they really are, in the end. Just - little errands and things I felt I really HAD to be doing, but then you don't do them, and - the world doesn't end. Fancy that!)

Anyway. Enough of my blathering for now. Hurray that I could take pictures for four days! And share them here! Poo on camera busting again! But that's OK because life's busy enough as it is. And not having a camera is honing other sides to my eyes. To the way I experience a moment. To the way I think - Hey, I'm actually here, right now. This moment. Won't ever be again. I think I'll pay attention.