New Neighbor?

Nope... Just a Squatter

I have been gone from the boat for a week or so now and I am suddenly worried about this little squatter sitting on her nest.  It is hard to tell from my bad photography but her nest is actually on the bimini framework on the house boat next to me.  My concern is what happens when the owners come down and decide to take the boat out? (I’ve never seen them and I don’t think they have been down for many months, but summer season is here)  Will her nest and boat disappear while she is out cavorting with nectar filled flowers? Will the little Hummer Squatter follow her eggs/babies?  Will she hang around waiting for the boat to come back with her nest?  Will the owners even see the nest or perhaps, brush it off as dirt (it is tiny) while cleaning their houseboat? A tragedy in the making, I fear.  And why should a small drama such as this one take up so much of my limited worry time?  After all, I could worry about the Roberts court or society’s partisan chasm or the dangerous world my great grandchildren are inheriting. I guess the answer is pretty much delineated by the fact that most of us don’t want to deal with the big issues (and yes I still think an individual can influence big events even if in a small way) and worrying about small things relieves us of any responsibility to change our world for the better.  Or maybe, it’s just me and my well developed sense of denial and procrastination that positions me in this particular cubicle? Our little Ms. Hummer may be a squatter but in reality, are we not all squatters in the greater sense?  We temporarily inhabit this space in time but it IS temporary.  As the mores of society shift beneath our own feet, is this any different that Ms. Hummer’s nest disappearing while she is out collecting nectar? Certainly a great many of us feel alienated (and left behind) on both sides of the red/blue, liberal/conservative divide. I am an optimist however and firmly believe our kids and grandkids are smarter than us and will devise a cure for our current world’s ills. In the meantime, I really hope Ms. Hummer gets her kids out of the nest before it disappears. It is the least I can do… which is all too often my first choice.  I must try harder… .        

Official State Dance of Western Kentucky

I thought I would treat those select few for whom this blog is of some small entertainment value to a tour de force in choreography.  The above sequence from Dancing with the Almost Stars is my version of the Official State Dance of Western Kentucky.  I think they refer to it colloquially as “The Spidey Jerk.”  I don’t think the name refers to me personally but then I am a proponent of positive thinking.  The place is over run with incredibly fast moving small spiders. The little suckers propagate webs between any two vertical surfaces and they do it in an amazingly short time span.  I watched one speedster drop down from the roof to my aft rail, a distance of about 8 feet, in about 3 seconds flat and then make the climb back up spinning a second line in about 5 seconds.  Do the math… lots of webs in mere minutes.  The folks down here, however, are in full confrontation mode having elected to use the nuclear option to combat the proliferation of said webs.  Pictured below is yours truly with just such a devastating Weapon of Mass (web) Destruction. The really good news?  It only took me about a week to find it.  Eat your heart out Dick Cheney, Paul Wolfowitz, Donald Rumsfeld, and the rest of that Unholy Cabal.

Weapon(s) of Mass (web) Destruction

Friday Afternoon - Pier 3 - KDM

Yeah, I'm in the wrong pew down here. I took Oreo out for his afternoon constitutional and Mike and David were just pickin' and plunkin' everything from John Denver to Bobby Goldsboro through a rousing medley of Beatles tunes.  And me with terminal tone deafness. If ever they hear my versions while I'm in the shower, I will be asked to move to another dock for certain. I don't think my lack of musical talent is infectious but who knows? My blossoming musical career came to a screeching halt at about age 10. My music class in grade school was asked to participate in a city system-wide concert with all of the other music classes grouped by age. During the practice sessions in our own little class of twenty warblers, the teacher singled me out and asked that I just mime the words without making any sound. Of course I was absolutely crushed but at least I did get to wear the fancy shirt we all received for our participation. I love music. I love classical, I love pop, I love rock, blue grass, country, jazz, ragtime, you name it.... well, on second thought, I'm not overly fond of Kiss.  I have always blamed the powers that be for cheating me out that stellar career I could have had on stage if only I could carry a tune.  But no, as my Dad would say to me, "You couldn't carry a tune in a paper bag." What he failed to mentioned was that no one in our family could. Genes DO matter. So this afternoon when I walked by these two guys just having a great time, I admit, I was jealous. Not bitter, just a little jealous. My life has led me down many paths that have ended in crushing disappointment (and one or two successes that balance it all out in my opinion) so I have devised a knack for pretty good Plan Bs.  But that first school episode?  Ahhh, that was a toughie.  Never forgot it, but then. after all, how does that old saw go?  "You always remember your first!" 

Mr. Contrite 

This is me unshaven, un-awake, un-caffeinated, and un-repentant but I am slightly contrite. In life, I am not normally a look-in-the-rear-view-mirror kind of person, preferring the view out the front windshield to anything drifting away and fading into the past.  That's not to say I don't use the past to frame my future rants but I rarely go back over things I've written because we change everyday and if you look back you'll want to change something which of course is an idiot's folly.  What one CAN do is adjust future actions. I recently learned this revolutionary concept (for me) is called learning.  It is a little strange to me but most of you may have heard of it. So this morning, one of my new neighbors on the dock mentioned that he had read my blog and enjoyed it but for some unknown reason, I suddenly felt a slight twinge.  Back in my hole at the computer, I perused a bunch of posts (there were far more than I remembered writing) about me and my aversion to change.  I was horrified to note that it could be construed by some that I have been having a bit of fun at the expense of my new surroundings and new friends.  Nothing could be further from the truth. Once again my personal myopia has led me a wee bit astray because everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, has been incredibly welcoming and kind, They have offered help, advice, wine and even laugh at my bad jokes.  These are wonderful folks down here and I will mention that I have traveled a bit in this wide world and nowhere have I found a welcome as gracious as I have received in this little corner of Kentucky.  My intention has always been to have a good laugh at myself for not being a big enough person to recognize my own provincial attitudes. It has never been to make small of regional cultural differences regardless of how weird they may seem to me personally.  As someone who cares a great deal about words and how they are positioned next to one another, I want to apologize if any of you have been offended... oh wait, that's not what I wanted to say... I really don't care if I offend you, so let me re-phrase...  it is NEVER my intention to hurt... but if my chronicling of personal observations is hurtful to a few, perhaps the issue is not my observations.  Strong protestation often brings to mind Willie Shakespeare when he said (not to me personally) "methinks she doth protest too much."  Oh oh... Now I am sure I am going to get a note from my editor and great friend, Nic Allez, who promptly corrected me on my Henry V quote the other day regarding"'once more UNto the breach," not "into the breach," as I so prominently displayed.  In fact he sent me the entire soliloquy so I could grasp the context of the original since I was bastardizing same. Under his breath, I am sure he was muttering, "When is he going to learn?" As I previously mentioned, this whole concept of learning is new to me.

KDM Traffic Jam

A post or two back, I showed a shopping cart loaded with stuff to take down to the boat slip. Apparently I was unaware of standard operating procedures at KDM.  This past Memorial Day weekend was abnormally busy in the marina and I got schooled in how a Southern Gentleman victualizes his yacht.  (or in most cases, his house boat)  Zero car and truck parking (the vast majority of vehicles in this part of the world are pick-up trucks) but most surprising, the plethora of electric golf carts parked on the Holy Church Hill above my pier.  The nearest golf course is about a mile away and I have been curious as to why such a high percentage of boaters also golf locally.  The above pix was taken the day before the holiday weekend and every golf cart space was filled.  By late Friday afternoon, however, this golf cart parking area was nearly empty.  Observing the arriving elderly Southern Gentlemen in their natural habitat, I was shocked to see none were packing golf clubs but nearly all were badly over-loading said golf carts with cases of booze, beer and B-B-Q.  They gingerly climbed into the driver's seat and proceeded to drive the 20 yards from their car to the pier... and continue right down the pier to their boat slip.  Now I understand that cases of alcohol and bags of foodstuffs are heavy but there are a herd of shopping carts available next to the golf cart parking area.  Pushing a shopping cart down the dock however is NOT the Southern Way.  In total I would guess the average saving in yards walked versus yards ridden in a fancy painted Kentucky Wildcat golf cart to be about 40.  The last time I experienced this level of entitlement, I was in Daharan, Saudia Arabia and local university students were driving their Mercedes from one building to another on campus rather than walk half a block. This golf cart migration to the docks and slips was eerily similar in its hilarity.  Fast forward to Tuesday post holiday and the golf cart parking lot was again filled to capacity.  I may have to get me one of those carts. I could paint a Bucky Badger on one door and a Packer "G" on the other.  Then I'd only need an Obama bumper sticker and you could read about me in the New York Times... "YANKEE GOLF CART EXPLODES - DOMESTIC TERRORISM SUSPECTED."       

Red Nek Wine Glasses... no, really!

In this Kentucky dry county, one may not drink visible alcohol in public or be subject to a hefty fine. That means no wine glasses on the aft deck even while in my own slip... UNLESS it is in a red plastic solo cup. So when a few posts ago I whined about wine out of a plastic solo cup, one of the new neighbors took it seriously and gifted Kristine with these beauties. Sorry, Melamine is still plastic.  My good friends Peter and Kathy in Los Angeles would be horrified if I used a plastic cup to drink any of their fine Sonoma or Paso Robles wines. Friday afternoons in Marina del Rey were usually reserved for P&K who would drive down from their mountain aerie in Chatsworth loaded with Trader Joe cheese and snacks AND... a couple of bottles of really, really good red that was so far above my pay grade I didn't recognize the labels. I miss those Friday afternoons, (and often long into the evening) saturated with great wine and punctuated by heated political discussions.  I once considered them best friends until I realized, they DESTROYED my long coveted ability to enjoy cheap wines. And that's not all they have done to ruin my MdR lifestyle. First they go and sell off their exquisite chocolate importing company, cheating me of all those freebie broken slabs of Belgian chocolate that I took off their hands just to help them, of course. Then, adding insult to injury, they hook me, nay, addict me, to good wine every Friday afternoon.  I may never be able to forgive them their trespasses upon my cheap wine sojourns and expensive chocolate binges unless I win the lottery which is unlikely since I am probably the only individual in the US of A who has never bought a lottery ticket of any kind. Some good news... no chocolate freebies, so I am less frightened when I look at the scale. More... the good news... I now drink really good wines, just one sixth as many bottles as I once did. The bad news... I now drink really good wines, just one sixth as many bottles as I once did. I guess having wine aficionados for friends has a downside after all.  Why wasn't I warned about this?

Rain on a Hot Tin Roof

My first Kentucky rainstorm drifted through the marina Sunday morning causing some consternation since rain on a hot tin roof is LOUD.  The drumming patter drowned out not only any normal conversation, but also several requests for a Bloody Mary refill.  I did make a snap judgement at that moment considering the rain as payback for not attending the Sunday Service on the Hill (overlooking my pier and slip as previously alluded to in this bog) but quickly realized it was raining on the Faithful as well and they were not under a tin roof.  Irony?  Or simply testing the faithful?  Not my place to speculate on what their god might consider "coin of the realm" payback but were I that preacher, I would be a bit uneasy about all that amplifier equipment getting drenched while I was holding the microphone attached to the big ass amplifier by a loooong electrical cord.  Therein lies the main pillar of my long held religious belief system. Just as I have no right to convert or proselytize him, I also have no right to interfere with his strong belief protecting him from minor electrocution or a lightning strike illuminating him and his flock. To each according to his need, perhaps, but just as valid, to each according to his level of stupidity.  I believe that to be a direct quote from the Cogent Chronicles of the Church of the Bloody Mary,  But enough preaching on this Sunday because it is supposedly their day of rest.  Did you ever ask yourself, if it is a mandated day of rest, why is it that preachers work on Sunday?  Ahhhh yes, religion, the deep spring from which hypocrisy flows unabated. Oh wait... I was still preaching.... damn it is hard to get out of the habit. However, in the long term, I guess it matters little that the raindrops drumming on the tin roof of my New Kentucky Home drown out my words... after all, I've been drowning y'all in words for nigh on to two dozen posts now. 

Back to Normal... Collecting Treasures

Boats are often thought to be small and confined and crowded.  By the same line of reasoning, a 200 foot mega-yacht should be spacious, but here's the conundrum...  all boats regardless of size are stuffed with items not normally used or needed but they seem to disappear once aboard.  Even big items come on board and vanish into some cleverly thought out lazzarette or storage space, hidden or stowed out of the way. So on a mega-yacht the 5th jet-ski probably doesn't get used much just as the two person kayak on AURORA rarely gets used. The thing is, there are so many places to stuff stuff on a boat that my tendency is to keep stuffing.  The pack rat in me will always find just the right size space to store whatever it is I believe I may need sometime in my future.  The three weeks before I loaded AURORA on the Gooding's truck, I was forced to lighten the load.  Literally I had to remove extraneous weight and was amazed (and shocked) at items retrieved that I had no recollection of acquiring, including a Veg-a-Matic food chopper in its original 1950's box.  The Goodwill pile and the toss-out pile were huge but I worked through separation anxiety and pretty much emptied AURORA of hundreds of items large and small, light and heavy.  As traumatic as it may have been for me, (they were after all, treasures collected each with its own story attached)  there was one soothing thought... empty spaces can be re-filled.   The above pix demonstrates the efficacy of that factoid...  the first load of treasures bound for their new home on my Old Kentucky Home.  

Mint-ed in Kentucky

Last Saturday was the umpteenth running of the Kentucky Derby. Before this past Saturday, I had never been in Kentucky during derby week but I knew AURORA would be there for this 2014 running.  What better way to inaugurate the new slip with AURORA than to sip a few Mint Juleps while watching the Derby on a streaming internet connection. Thus, in giddy preparation, I transported a flagon of Maker's Mark bourbon from MKE because AURORA now resides in a dry county in Western Kentucky.  I believe I have mentioned the unique regulations regarding alcohol in a glass in a dry Kentucky county previously.  My limited experience with the mixology involved, nay, demanded only the bourbon, (brought it) simple syrup, (easy-- equal parts sugar and water) and fresh mint leaves (local supply) to muddle in the bottom of the glass.  I didn't bother to  bring fresh mint because I was going to be in Kentucky for Heaven's sake... it is where Mint Juleps originated! EVERY grocery store would have fresh mint for this legendary weekend. Hmmmm!  You guessed correct... not one of the three grocery stores within 10 miles had any nor did they even carry it.  I could understand having run out on this particular weekend, but not even carrying it?  30 different cuts of ham, 14 kinds of bacon and more ribs than Rocky Marciano ever broke, but NO fresh mint for Mint Juleps?  Really?  I found myself in this alternate universe complaining bitterly to my new dock neighbor (who shall remained un-named for reasons to be revealed presently) and he, taking pity on the newbie, offered to pick some up for me when he went out on a couple of errands.  I told him I could not find any and I am sure he assumed me being a Yankee, I had no clue as to where to go. Fast forward one hour and my new neighbor raps on the starboard window and when I open it he holds up a slew of mint sprigs wrapped in paper towel. "Is this what you need?" he asked while exhibiting a Cheshire Cat grin that extended from ear to ear. "Where in the world did you find it?"  I asked incredulously.  He told me he went to three places and no one had any so he simply improvised.  He stopped off at the garden center at Walmart and snipped a bunch of sprigs from one of their plants sitting on a shelf.  Subsequently, he enjoyed the fruits of his labors with us while all the pretty horses ran around that big white fence looking for the exit. You know all those images in your mind of Southern Belles sitting around in rocking chairs on a big open porch sipping Mint Juleps?  Well the reason they are sitting is because after a couple of those Juleps, they CAN'T stand up!   I should add, my enterprising dock neighbor has a friend for life.  You know who you are and Kristine and I thank you profusely for salvaging AURORA's special inauguration on Derby Day 2014.  

Where in the World is Waldo?

A whole bunch of you  (OK... maybe 1 or 2)  have inquired as to AURORA's whereabouts. Thank you Google Earth for your penchant for invading every place and everybody's privacy so that I could show the above pix with the annotated location of AURORA. Luckily, there is a roof over her and you have been spared the sight of of this beer belly-ed, gray haired old man lounging on the aft deck in only a Speedo. OK, maybe I lied a little bit about the Speedo, but as gross as the Speedo may be, the sight of RK without a shirt rivals your worst nightmares. This damn aging process (in my case) is steady but undeniably sneaky.  i.e. I notice the hair on my head has stopped growing, but so as to not to make me worry about balding, hairs proliferate in my ears like cattails in a swamp. So if you are looking for RK, look for the guy with the bushy sideburns placed just a shade further back than one would normally expect.  Speak loudly... for some reason I don't hear well these days.    

Welcome Home

Standing at the end of Pier Three, Kris and Oreo welcome me and AURORA to Kentucky Dam Marina on a white capped Thursday morning.  She may be dirty but she ran the 5 mile upwind trip in an easy lope at 1850 RPMs.  20 knots of headwind and yet, the biggest wave only ran about 18 inches.  In Santa Monica Bay we'd have been rockin' & rollin' in 4-5 footers.  I guess fetch does have something to do with wave height... who'd have thunk it.....?  

Undercover Roughwater

RK Explores Alternate Entrance

In response to the one or two irate emails inquiring if I had died, this was one of those times when I REALLY did wish you were here.  Cleaning, washing, removing the residue from the yellow gaffer's tape I used to seal the aft end of the cabin top and pilot house made the last few days disappear sans blog posts but not without the intake of an inordinate amount of ibuprofen.  Constant manual labor is not one of my favored traits.  I feel in the interest of full disclosure I must mention I blew the first docking maneuver coming into slip 327.  That strong cross wind pushed me too far down the fairway as I made an early turn to the slip and I had to do a go-around. But I guessed right on the second attempt slipping easily into the slip without hitting either Kris or Oreo waiting on the finger pier.  Nothing like embarrassing one's self with a bad first impression.  Thankfully I saw only one guy across the fairway shake his head, no doubt grateful that I was not on his dock.  Serious re-commissioning now commences.   

On Board 

Wednesday 30 April 2014, 3:54 PM  -  AURORA is no longer a fresh water virgin.  She splashed at Green Turtle Bay Boat Yard on the Cumberland River and Barkley Lake after 29 days of riding on the hard across the western half of the United States.  Damage report... two wine glasses broken and a few pounds of dust and dirt trying to hide inconspicuously in corners of the main salon.  Thank you Dan and Nancy of J. Daniel Marine for taking such good care of her.  Rest assured I will always be grateful and most happy to tout your competence and professionalism to any and all who ever broach the subject of moving big boats.  I know it is selfish of me but I hope you guys never retire.  Thank you thank you thank you.

Finally...

The news is good.  AURORA has arrived and is resting at a dock in Kentucky Lake.  In the  morning I will bring her over the 4 miles to her permanent slip at Kentucky Dam Marina.  At first check-over, it would appear the only damage is one broken wine glass. And if you had read my earlier post you would know a wine glass is not a big loss in this dry county.  I have much manual labor in the next couple of days so I'll keep the posts to a minimum.  But expect to be inundated as soon as I get the situation under control here.  

NO NO Nanette... or anyone else! 

Culture shock sets in.  While visiting the empty slip yesterday we met Mike who lives on his Tayana at the end of our new dock.  Sadly, he was wearing a Chicago Bears sweatshirt.  When we said we were from Wisconsin (Green Bay Packer country) he winced and hesitantly asked if we wore cheeseheads.  Kristine told him she despised those monstrosities and he sighed in relief.  We may have found a new friend however because he mentioned that we needed to know an important fact.  It is illegal in this Kentucky dry county to sport a wine glass in public... even if you are on AURORA's deck in her slip!  (a healthy $140 fine makes that glass of wine pretty darn expensive)  He said however that a red plastic cup is legal regardless of what is in it. The local Dollar General sells them by the hundreds and now, I am set for at least a decade. One needs to embrace newness, but that doesn't mean I must forego my personal hatred of drinking out of a plastic anything.  I sense a visit to a local pottery person who can make me a personal red cup clone out of a nicely glazed non-plastic material. Or I can spend a great deal of time inside the main salon looking outside the windows while the rest of you lounge on AURORA's decks sporting red plastic cups.  Culture shock... it's not for wimps.

SLIP 327  Kentucky Dam Marina... Empty

Oreo and I are standing in front of AURORA's empty new home.  Ever get that empty feeling? Sure you do,,, we all do.  And for a plethora of reasons. Sometimes that empty feeling is caused by friends moving away, sometimes by our progeny going off to college and sometimes by a treasured memory fading. Personally however, I am a bit more pedantic. When I get that empty feeling regardless of its cause, filling up my belly ameliorates the pain.  Sure you might argue that empty feeling I've just described is mental not visceral, but I could easily counter that argument with the disturbing (only slightly) thought that I have always had an empty space between my ears anyway and have never been able to DO anything about that issue.  However, that empty feeling slightly lower down is something I CAN fix.  So today when that familiar empty feeling was particularly painful, I sought out Broadbents in Kuttawa, a small but renowned family operation engaged in the sole task of making assorted pig parts taste really, really good. The morning sun's heat may have been washed away by an itinerant noon time rain cell, but after I filled up that empty lower region space with a selection of porcine delicacies.. bingo... the sun popped back out brighter and warmer than before.  Obviously there is a life lesson in this afternoon's endeavors. Specifically, the sun shines on those who appreciate the taste sensation that is fatty piggy parts. Ergo, in case that empty feeling comes back tomorrow, I have located a 15 year BBQ pitmaster champion's little stand about 30 miles from this empty slip. Philosophically I believe emptiness to be an abomination and all of us should do our part to fill in empty spaces.  So, I believe today un-equivocally proved the value of bacon.  Hear that David?  Bacon, bacon, bacon... there, now I've said it.  A life without bacon is a life that is EMPTY...  as empty as AURORA's new home in Slip 327.        

Waiting For Godot?  No, Waiting for Da Bo

I am staying a few nights here at the Kentucky Lake State Park which is a couple of hundred yards across a small bay from AURORA's new slip.  I am awaiting Dan and Nancy who are threading their way through Arkansas and Missouri with AURORA.  After yesterday's storm once again forced them to get different route clearances because of road closures, we are hoping they will arrive in the next day or two.  As we all know, waiting is one of the more difficult tasks for our instant gratification society and regardless of how fast and powerful those digital processors get, there will always be something or someone we are waiting for...  if we are lucky.  This morning I am off to explore the area a bit and find a breakfast that includes bacon. 

KDM Also Awaiting AURORA

Any Given Sunday... in Arkansas
(Thank you TWC)

And this Sunday as well.  Tornadoes, the spawn of this waaaaay-too-early-in-the-year weather system are popping up across a bunch of Midwestern states.  If only I were a Republican I could blithely dismiss this as unlucky happenstance instead of one more indication of climate change   Nancy Gooding's call this morning was to warn me they were hunkering down for another day until this and a series of cells just like it pass on eastward. It is a huge spring storm system producing hail, thunderstorms and tornadoes all across the middle of the country directly over the very path the Gooding's must take to get AURORA to her new home.  They intend to slide in behind it this storm system and safely ride the tail through Arkansas and across the Mississippi River into Kentucky.  Only a few hundred miles to go now but it sure seems as if AURORA does NOT want to go to Kentucky based on all the detours and severe weather the past two weeks.  I, on the other hand, had a different task yesterday.  I micro-managed the filling of a small flask (ok... maybe not so small) with Makers Mark Bourbon in anticipation of mixing up a few Mint Juleps for celebrating the Kentucky Derby this coming Saturday.  I do not believe I have ever been in Kentucky for Derby Week and so  I hope to sit and sip from the back deck of AURORA as she rests comfortably in her new slip.  Of course there will be photos and a video or two but do not expect all to be in focus.  Given the delays of the past month, the actual location of my Julep imbibing may well be on a finger pier next to an empty slip.  No matter, after a few of my Mint Juleps, I strongly suspect focus issues will inhibit establishing either location or attendees.  But I really hope AURORA will be in attendance.  I miss her...  madly!  

Visiting Small Town America

Preparing to Visit Smaller Town America

As AURORA's re-routes and detours pile up, the roadways become narrower and the overhead wires droop lower.  Hence the "skidders," (the flexible PVC tubing visible under the lights) to prevent snagging wires that may be lower than reported. I have no idea how this delivery compares with others the Gooding's have made over the years but it cannot be one of the easier ones based just on detours alone.  Their website depicts trucking a boat twice as long as AURORA from San Francisco to Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin through the Rockies, Montana and the Great Plains.  Granted it is not as high as AURORA, but over 90 feet?  I believe these folks are magicians.  Everyone of the trucking firms I spoke with during the selection process said the same thing... "We'll take care of the boat as if it were our own."  Nancy, on the other hand, said to me over the phone, "Roger, Dan and I will take care of AURORA as if SHE were our own."   Notice Nancy said "she"?  In my mind, that makes them people who understand the relationship we boat owners have with our boats.  And is further evidenced by taking the time to install those skidders even though the route description says she will slip under the wires of Small Town America detours.  Now I may have to install skidders on my noggin for when I duck through the low bridge door leading out of AURORA's pilot house. After a quarter of a century, I still bang my head occasionally on that damn low bridge.  Just goes to prove you not only can't teach an old dog new tricks, you can't teach him OLD tricks either...  hmmmm!               

Finally... Real Trees, Green Grass!

I spent my formative years amongst the moraines of the Upper Midwest and Wisconsin. Weather that one could sink one's teeth into, trees that filtered down enough shade for our huge family reunions, and green grass yards that produced more knee stains than Tide has ever dreamed possible within one family.  Those years and my youthful days on the small central Wisconsin dairy farm were filled with discovery and wonder that was indelibly imprinted on my psyche but none more lasting than the visage of a dense hardwood forest wearing summer green livery.  In the many succeeding years since, I have spent extended time in the Arctic wilderness, steaming jungles, blistering deserts and barren rockfalls but have always considered towering oaks and grassy meadows my personal home-y comfort zone.  I would wager that many of us feel most comfortable with the topography we experienced as youngsters. Not that we do not acclimate and appreciate where we might be living at the moment, but those formative years leave an imprint that is not easily erased.  AURORA grew up with swaying palm trees, salty sea air and the brown hills of Catalina Island.  I wonder how she feels this morning looking out under that leafy branch at the wide expanse of green grass?  Hey Old Girl, welcome to MY world!     

On the Road Again

As you read this, AURORA has just passed the halfway point on her excruciatingly frustrating tour of the American Southwest's construction detours.  Nancy and Dan were forced to drive the route through Arkansas with the pilot truck alone to confirm the height restrictions before taking AURORA along the selected roadways.  That chore completed, they and AURORA are "on the road again" as Willie Nelson so happily intoned.  I want to credit Nancy for sending along the last few photos since I am waaaay too busy biting my nails here in MKE.  Speaking metaphorically, looking into a rear view mirror is not my favorite pastime, although I do it constantly while driving, of course.  I am convinced that little can be gained by looking backward and feel that looking forward is far more productive. Yes I have often heard the old saw about 'those who don't remember the past are doomed to repeat it' but remembering history and looking backward are not intrinsically the same activity.  Remembering history is a function of acquiring and keeping knowledge.  'Looking backward' far too often infers a reluctance to embrace today's realities.  Few things in life are as important to me as acquiring knowledge, (maybe eating rates pretty high on the list as well) and thus, I try diligently to remember history without the negative aspect of believing it was better than today.  Thinking yesterday was better than today is a slippery slope down which I have slid in the past and I have little inclination to repeat those downer episodes in the future.  Will I always be successful at avoiding them?  No of course not, and that's why I am reluctant to use the rear view mirror of life.  For me, it facilitates negativity and I do NOT need that in my life.  Negativity personifies "looking into a glass darkly" and I prefer my reflections to be bright and smiling.  So as someone who has long ago passed the halfway point of life, let me offer a trite toast to AURORA wherever she rides at the moment... in my experience, the sun shines ever more brightly during the second half of any journey.  May it do so for AURORA and all the rest of you.  (who should be acquiring knowledge instead of reading this rant)  Happy Hump Day.    

Rider of the Purple Sage

By dawn's early light tomorrow, AURORA says goodbye to cactus and sagebrush, leaving no tangible evidence of her passing.  I am always curious about the times of our lives when we choose to leave evidence or conversely, wish our passing through to go un-noticed and un-marked.  A government mentor once gave me a short course (actually not so short) in how to disappear in a crowd. I'm a six foot three inch Caucasian... in Japan, Zambia or Saudi, just like AURORA rolling through cactus country, un-noticed is unreasonable. What to do?  One takes precautions as best one can and takes ownership of the consequences..  plain and simple.  So Dan and Nancy await the current permits, personally inspect the route ahead, shepherd my baby as if it were their own and I am supremely grateful.  I anxiously (but patiently) await their arrival cognizant of the fact that a schedule is merely an expectation, and as I have mentioned before, expectations are not reality.  Hope you all had a restful and fulfilling holiday whose expectations became reality.  It's a nice change.  

Decisions, Decisions

It's a good Good Friday except I have no clue where AURORA is at the moment... hopefully well beyond this point, but I DID tell Dan & Nancy that I was not in a hurry.  A safe arrival vs a quick arrival would be my first choice.  The time in my life when I needed to go fast has gone.  Thus, AURORA's leisurely road trip, unfortunately complicated by the road construction season, appears about as straight line as a lazily meandering stream.  Which is pretty much the way I run my life... every now and again a burst of straight line efficiency and energy punctuated by substantial periods of not so much.  I have often been used as the poster boy for the "jack of all trades, master of none" crowd but that is not fair to my talent reservoir.  I, in fact, am a master of procrastination.  I am so good at it that when a friend asks me to do something, they consider it as merely planting the seed.  They know germination will take place...  it simply is not clear as to when.  Over a long period of years I have trained my publisher to accept the fact that I am lazy.  Yes it does have a direct effect on my income, but then, the dollar has never been my god.  Probably the penny would be more apropos since that would seem to be the going rate for my thoughts.  Like most of us, I also know the true value of my thoughts would have made me richer than Larry Ellison if only I hadn't given them away for that penny.  Life is all about decisions. Now, if I could only make a good one....

In Their Care...Dan & Nancy Gooding 

3:10 to Yuma... and Beyond

This is NOT a paid ad but I wanted to mention the folks whom I have entrusted with the task of introducing the Southwest and our marvelous Interstate system to AURORA.  Dan and Nancy (and Anchor, her out- vehicle riding companion) transport boats for a living.  As most of you know, I do OK (to say the least) in the "make a short story long" department but I cede my crown to Dan.  Unlike most story-tellers, Dan's stories are actually interesting.  On the other hand, Nancy, who rarely speaks, is fascinating in her own right.  She has a doctorate in structural engineering and designed and oversaw the construction of that flatbed trailer carrying AURORA.  That middle section where AURORA sits can be shortened or lengthened to suit the boat they are carrying.  In AURORA's case, height is a serious impediment to moving cross country.  That middle section of the trailer can also be hydraulically raised or lowered all the way to the roadbed allowing an additional foot or so of height when inching beneath a low bridge.  A real plus if I wanted AURORA to arrive with the pilothouse still attached instead of becoming public art on an overhead in Tuscaloosa. AURORA is only half way through this sightseeing road trip and she looks comfortable.  I wish I were...   boats were never intended for road trips.  I'll worry until she once more floats in her natural element.  In the meantime,  Happy Trails to You, AURORA.  

Gone Girl

Marina del Rey,CA, slip D-1611.  Docking lines...gone.  Electrical umbilical... gone.  Freshwater hose... gone.  Twenty-three years of dock box treasures... gone.  Trusty old AURORA... gone.

I may have an inkling of how the butterfly feels after finally leaving the cocoon. This cocoon was home to AURORA for nearly a quarter of a century, even maintaining it while she was on her six month journeys through Mexican waters in the Sea of Cortez.  The mere thought of sending her on a truck, crossing mountains, traversing deserts, navigating cities cross-country was downright scary. LEAVING was scary, but then, is not ALL change scary? Throughout my 70 odd years I have weathered a goodly number of life-altering changes and all were scary. Even those I chose by own volition because the future in reality is not a bright colorful sunrise... it is a black and often forbidding nothingness.  Of course we harbor bright expectations about the future but expectations are imaginary.  The black nothingness of an unknown future is real.  And that reality should be scary for anyone who can think their way out of a paper bag. Thank the Gods my parents taught me to embrace fear.  My father, a man with many medals from WWII and who routinely ran into burning buildings as a big city fireman, admitted to me more than once that of course he was scared.  An aha moment, an epiphany for a skinny, young boy afraid of the dark. For some, fright is the peak of the mountain and for some it is the valley.  Regardless, comparing this new change in my life with actual life-threatening experiences of previous lives seems frivolous and specious. Get a grip, RK.  Or more succinctly, as so many of you have pointed out to me over the years of putting up with my 'Roger's Rants' letters, "Hey you... RK... get a life,"    OK, I'm trying.               .   

Go East Old Girl, Go East

Boats are not designed to back into weather and thus I taped all the aft door/hatch/ports/window seams with a bright yellow duct tape prior to leaving the California marina.  I have no clue as to whether or not this will work but the amount of water in the bilge when she arrives in Kentucky should give me a pretty good indication of the efficacy of using my friend's entire roll of yellow duct tape. 

Sitting at my computer in MKE, I stare jealously at the photo of AURORA immigrating to Arizona while outside my office window, Mother Nature is gently sifting flakes of snow upon the Service Berry Tree in the yard.  Lake Michigan, a mere couple of hundred yards away from where I sit, is boiling over the breakwaters but at least the ice has disappeared.  Maybe if I squint, my bad eyes will erase the snow showers.  I might be feeling nostalgic about Marina del Rey at the moment, so excuse my tear... oh wait... I think that's a snowflake in my eye.  

AURORA legally immigrating to Arizona. . .  temporarily

Just trying to get the procedure down for posting videos on this new blog so have a chuckle on me while I climb the learning curve. 

MVI_1856.MOV from Roger Kay on Vimeo.

OK OK  I'll get to it soon...