WESTERN COURSE FOR THE GREEN FLASH

BEFORE: Walkway along the coaming on the starboard side of the Green Flash was completely gone...
After: eight hours of carpentry later, the same deck looked like this. And yes, there are six hatches over the cabin on this boat.

After almost a year's wait, our project boat has been successfully loaded onto the truck and is on her way to Tucson. The Capt, who thought he'd hang around and watch the loading, ended up settling a dispute between the trucker and the crane operator over how it might be done. They took his advice. And they've been doing this job HOW long?

Last night, he sent me photos of the deck before and after eight hours of carpentry. This is just temporary until she gets to our improvised workyard in the Ranchitos, but it looked like a pretty good job. And, romantic that he is, he also sent a photo of the moon over Miami. I went outside and checked, and yes, there was the same moon.

Moon over Miami
Shine on my love and me
So we can stroll beside the roll
Of the rolling sea

Moon over Miami
Shine on as we begin
A dream or two that may come true
When the tide comes in

Hark to the song of the smiling troubadours
Hark to the throbbing guitars
Hear how the waves offer thunderous applause
After each song to the stars

Moon over Miami
You know we're waiting for
A little love, a little kiss
On Miami shore

Lyrics by Eddy Duchin (MOON OVER MIAMI LYRICS are the property of the respective authors, artists and labels, the lyrics are provided for educational purposes only)

NEW CAT WORMS HER WAY INTO MY HEART

She got me at a vulnerable moment, that's my only excuse. The Capt called me from Ft Lauderdale by mistake at 4am, meaning to contact the trucking company and then the dogs wanted out. My day got quite a kickstart. As I was groggily escorting them out the door, in came a kitten, almost exactly like the one executed last week by the Samoyed Death Squad. She had no fear, this little grey and white tabby, but rubbed my legs, purred and headed straight for the kitchen. As though on automatic pilot, I pulled out the catfood bin (combine hungry cat A, kibble B, foodbowl C to achieve peace). Before I could dish it out, she dived into the bin and started to chow down.

After a cup of coffee and a little thought, I decided she must have been tamed by someone who then had second thoughts and deposited her at our doorstep. If so, this means I'm getting a Cat Lady reputation. Yikes!

She's a sweetheart, made a point of not clawing me when I picked her up to take her back outside and tried to follow us later when I went for my walk with my neighbor.

I should call her Heartworm. No, I should take her to the other Cat Lady.

TIMELY PHONE CALL SAVES BOWSPRIT FROM DECAPITATION

Just slap a little bottom paint on, step the mast and she's ready for voyaging...NOT

The Capt has been in Ft Lauderdale since Thursday, puzzling over to how best to remove the bowsprit from our project boat, "The Green Flash," and feeling pressed for time since it's going to be put on a truck Monday. At some point in the 11-month planning process of moving the boat to Mexico he got the idea that the truckers would require the removal of the bowsprit. But a this device isn't just glued, bolted or tied onto the front of the boat, it's fastened on there really securely, so a person can confidently sashay out to the end and shoot videos of dolphins in the bow wake, dance a sailor's hornpipe, have a solitary snooze or other such shenanigans. And it's six feet long, bringing the total boat length to 49 feet. Since the headsail and roller furler are designed for those extra six feet, we were facing some major refitting.

He had just taken saw in hand, hoping to demolish as little of the bowsprit as possible (having discovered a liking for the looks of it, as had I), when the thought occurred to him that maybe he should confirm with the trucking company whether it was really necessary to lop it off, before undertaking probably a full day's hard labor in pouring rain and blazing sun. So he whipped out his trusty cell phone, reached the right authority and learned that the bowsprit was no problema! Put that saw down now!

A TASTE OF MONSOON

Back in the water with a freshly-painted bottom
Chica, our remaining puppy, who's beginning to look a lot more like Sophie
Sophie, our Spinster Princess
After a week of threatening precipitation which always seemed to go elsewhere, we got the real thing this morning. Thunder rumbled, lightning crackled, a cool, blustery wind whipped the palms and the driving, slanting rain gave everything a thorough soaking. The Capt and I, and our next door neighbors sat by our front doors with our coffee and watched the first serious rainfall we'd had in over a month. Then, to celebrate, we got together for a waffle breakfast. The sun was drying everything out again within an hour. Monsoon in the desert.

The Capt spent most of last week in the boatyard, sanding and painting our boat. Hard work, especially in 100+ degree heat, wearing a paper suit and face mask. He'd come home with gray residue on his skin, exhausted, and I'd steer him into the shower and feed him. He did most of the work himself, having asked two different workers to help him, both of whom were no-shows. At last he appealed to our friend from the Ranchitos, who helped him with the paint. We're using Trinidad, which is much better bottom paint, but its particular properties demand that the hull be back in the water within 12 hours of painting, so they had a deadline to meet. Deadlines in Mexico? Caramba!

We'd also had no-shows among the folks expressing an interest in Chuy, but yesterday the Capt remembered the lady at the water store, who became smitten with Sophie last year and asked if there might be puppies. We regretted having to disappoint her, but yesterday we realized that if she still wanted a Maltese puppy, by golly, we've got one for her. When the Capt. took Chuy to the water store and put him in her arms, she almost cried. She called me later and asked for all sorts of details about feeding, training, habits, and I felt reassured that she would give him a better life than most Mexicans provide their pets. "I'm in love with this dog," she said, "and he's already crazy about me too." I printed out some training tips I googled, in Spanish, and she was pleased to have them.

Without her brother around, Chica was at first depressed and bewildered, but then I began to see her unique personality coming out. Chuy had been so assertive that she was just a little shadow of him. She seems to regard Sophie as a role model, especially outside.

In two days the Capt is going to Ft Lauderdale to bring back the Morgan 43 project boat he bought last year. It'll be hauled to Tucson, where it'll be removed from the truck and placed on another truck operated by Marina San Carlos and brought down through the border. The Ft. Lauderdale trucker was more than ready to bring the boat the whole way, but recently the Mexican government began banning truck drivers who are not Mexican citizens, in retaliation for treatment Mexican drivers have been experiencing at the US border crossing.

Tit for tat, you might say.

SV "ANNE" AND A THOUSAND DAYS

"S.V. "Anne" sails out of New York Harbor at the beginning of her 1000-day adventure.

We want to stay away from all the islands and rocks and live at sea almost like the birds that we watch gliding in the wind, skimming the waves and going on seemingly endlessly.
Reid Stowe

I want to take you on a slow boat to China...
Frank Loesser, and sung by Jimmy Buffet, an old friend of Reid's

Reid Stowe and Soanya Ahmad are on a sailing adventure many of us boaters would admire and few would want to emulate. 1000 Days Non-Stop at Sea is a daily log that reports the course, wind conditions, speed and position of their 70-foot schooner, "Anne," plus blow-by-blow (pun intended) accounts of dealing with heavy winds and rain (would you have guessed it's cold in the Southern Ocean right now?), plus interesting sightings, which are very significant when a boat is far out to sea. Today (day 115) they spotted their first albatross. Each of them contributes to the daily blog, providing a male and female viewpoint of their adventure.

The plan is to not refuel, resupply or pull into any harbor until they return to New York Harbor almost three years from the date they embarked. This means sitting becalmed when there's no wind instead of cranking on the diesel, making provisions last a looooong time and getting one heck of a pair of sealegs. Since one of my favorite things about sailing is coming into a new port, I guess it wouldn't be my cup of tea, but I'm sure it's very frugal to travel that way.
Reid and Soanya in their cabin. The carvings behind them are just a taste of the artistic woodwork Reid has created.

Their plan of staying at sea for 1000 days has captured media attention, maybe not CNN but some of the more offbeat sources. There's a weekly call-in to an internet television broadcast, on a show called The Water Hour (which you can view on Internet Explorer if you're using a PC). The Hayden Planetarium at the American Museum of Natural History gets a monthly call-in report from "Anne."

The blog itself is well worth a visit, if only for the views of the vessel itself, inside and out. Reid is a masterful woodworker and his interior work is breathtaking; not only the fittings but his beautiful low-relief carvings. Reid was sailing long voyages in his teens and built his first boat at 20. "Anne's" hull is constructed of a cement-like material called Fer-A-Lite, a powder mixed with polyester resin.

Don't miss their website, 1000 days at Sea: The Mars Ocean Odyssey, for even more details. The website was the People's Voice Winner of the 2007 Webby Awards this year. If so inclined, find out how to get involved in their mission, buy a T-shirt, a coffee mug or a mousepad!

Apparently they're using a Sat-Phone to post daily and make their call-in reports, receive email and keep in touch. It hasn't all be "Having a great time, wish you were here." Once they almost sailed into a Navy firing range, saved by a warning from a low-flying helicopter. And a 300-foot freighter rammed into their bowsprit one night, destroying both their forestays and roller furling. Reid had to re-cut and install grommets to an old hank-on jib, working on the foredeck while underway, to provide a new headsail and has now been replacing the 20-foot steel bowsprit as they carry on.

HOW TO DO EVERYTHING

"How to be Suave" from Basic Instructions by Scott Meyer

My new favorite cartoon blog is Basic Instructions: Your all-inclusive guide to a life well-lived by Scott Meyer, who presumes to provide step-by-step how-to's on all those annoying little quandaries, like how to open a snack quietly in a movie theater, or how to disguise a yawn, or how to be suave. Ideal for the clueless, like moi. If I lived in Seattle, I could find my Instructions in the local paper, but since I don't, lucky me, I find them on a blog. Isn't the Internet wonderful?

One too many

I'm a little melancholy today because the Capt and I have decided we shouldn't try to have three dogs. Well, we could if we weren't also boat people, if we lived in a bigger house, if Sofia (a 9-year-old spinster princess) wasn't being driven to distraction by the energetic little boy dog, if the Capt were more into cleaning up, feeding and taking them out (he tends to sequester in his studio for hours, which I guess is characteristic of geniuses, so I've learned to live with it.) Anyway, they were my birthday present, bought in a moment of mindless passion, so I have to take responsibility.

There's a local internet bulletin board here where we've put Chuy up for adoption. It was really hard to choose which to give up--he's definitely the brighter dog and will be a great companion for someone with the time to train him. But he bullies his little sister something awful, takes her toys away, pushes her away from the food, slams into her when she's half-awake. He probably needs to be an only dog, or the youngest in the house so he can get over thinking he's the alpha.
I may regret not feeling capable of keeping him, but I'll never regret rescuing him from the Puppy Guy.

The upside is that the Capt has had hours of fun making a slideshow of Chuy in hopes that the right person will see it, fall in love, and call us. He even performed the soundtrack. Spielberg may not have anything to worry about (yet) but we seem to have a budding moviemaker in the house.

PEARLS, LOVE SONGS AND MARTIANS

Yesterday on her blog, my amiga in Guaymas shared a video about Guaymas and San Carlos. It's in Spanish, but the images are worthwhile, even if you can't understand it (I could grasp a lot more after I heard it a few times). Most of the scenes were familiar to me after 18 months here, but there was one bit of new info: right across the bay at Miramar is the first commercial cultured saltwater pearl farm in the American continent. Perlas Del Mar De Cortez specializes in pearls from Rainbow-Lipped oysters (Pteria sterna) and they're not the usual boring, easy to fake white. These are silver gray, gold, bronze, green, purple, rose, blue... and fabulous. I've never been a pearl fan, but these I could get seriously infatuated with.

The high point of my week (so far) was Spanish/music class on Wednesday. My maestra Lolita owns the Hotel Ana across the street and on this particular afternoon her son Chuy, a strapping big fellow who still lives at home, was bringing in supplies...toilet paper and such, with three other men. At one point when Lolita and I were singing they all converged in the living room to listen to us. We don't usually have an audience, but I just told myself to get over myself and concentrate. And when we began singing "Sabor a Mi," they joined in! It must be a fairly popular song, they all seemed to know the words, and nobody sang off-key. It's my favorite of over a dozen songs we're learning, and it was lovely to sing it with a roomful of people.

"Sabor a Mi," roughly translated, means 'the taste of me.' It's about two lovers who have been together so long and with such pleasure that they carry the taste of each other in their mouths.

Que romántica!

Speaking of which, here's what a lovestruck Martian will be up against in 2020 after all the failed space probes we've sent up.

WHAT? PUPPIES AGAIN?

Chica and Chuy cavort and frolic in the grass that sprang up after the rains


All smiles, Carla and Little Miss No-Name start the bonding process

Yesterday we played matchmaker between a three-month-old poodle girlpup from the household of our friend Jesús and a fellow boater named Carla whose dog died last December. Jesús had asked us if we knew anyone who wanted a dog, and we invited him to bring her to the swap meet we had at our house last Friday. Two women fell in love with her, but only one was able to persuade her husband. Yesterday we brought husband, wife and dog together here and they went home looking very happy.

NEWS FLASH

Jinx Schwartz, mystery novelist, whose 34-foot powerboat "Hijinx" resides at Marina Real here in San Carlos, was just interviewed on Mystery Lovers Corner Jinx has penned a hot series of whodunits featuring a seafaring couple in the Sea of Cortez. Titles include Just Add Water (winner of the Eppy 2007 award), Just Add Salt and her newest, Just Add Trouble.

CUBA ON MY MIND

El Tropico's artistic director takes a turn on the stage in a scene from "The Lost City" Photo courtesy Magnolia Pictures

The latest movie on my list of favorites is "The Lost City," Cuban-born actor Andy Garcia's version of the last days of the Batista regime and the coup that brought Fidel Castro to power on New Year's Eve, 1958. The story was written by Cuban novelist Guillermo Cabrera Infante and Garcia produced, directed and starred as the owner of popular Havana nightclub, El Tropico, one of the last holdouts against the US mafia's efforts to convert all the clubs into casinos. Dustin Hoffman plays Meyer Lansky, the mobster who attempts to institute a cardroom at the club, hinting at dire consequences if he's refused. Bill Murray plays Garcia's writer friend who supplies his usual world-weary comic relief in his spiffy suit with Bermuda shorts.

Andy Garcia as Fico Fellove in The Lost City. Is it my imagination, or is he starting to look like a less-dissipated Bogart?

Just about anything Andy Garcia appears in is worth seeing, in my view. I've always thought of him as a sort of thinking woman's Rudolph Valentino. But there's so much more to like about this film, from the electric charge of the Cuban musical soundtrack to the beautiful scenes of Old Havana. Garcia apparently fell in love with his work, which might explain why more of it didn't end up being edited, resulting in a three-hour production. So, I dozed toward the end, but that only makes me want to see it again, so I can catch up on what I missed. Sometime when I've got three hours free...

By serendipitous coincidence, my next-door neighbor just passed on to me a copy of Carlos Eire's "Waiting for Snow in Havana" which won the National Book Award for nonfiction in 2003. It's about an exiled Cuban who was a child when Castro's regime revealed the darker side of 'political correctness'.

Now all I need is to dig out my tape of the Buena Vista Social Club.