#tinyboatlife

Hey guys! Long time no see. I'm not going to apologize for not blogging, because it gets old and frankly, I'm not sorry. Things to do, places to go, people to see.

Guess what? I bought a boat! Because that's what homeless, underpaid, landlocked(ish) sailors do.

Here's how that decision went:

Return to Santa Cruz to play with kiddies in the woods. Decide not to take hoboshack because dammit, I'm an adult, and I can get a freaking apartment like a big girl.

Attempt to get an apartment, get bored after a few attempts, realize nobody wants a roommate who will move out in four months.

Aimlessly browse Craigslist, wander onto boats for sale, come up with brilliant plan to buy a boat and occasionally live onboard.

Follow through with plan. Look at a boat, pause to go watch father break his knee skiing in Utah, decide to buy boat, pause to get up to mischief in Belize, buy boat. Live on boat!

This is my boat:

Her name is Dulcinea. I call her Dulcie or Dulce. Apparently she's named after the lady in Don Quixote, but I like to think of her simply as little sweet one. She is sweet. And little. Very, very little. As in- when I stand in the cabin, my head and shoulders protrude from the hatch opening. Finding places to sit upright isn't terribly easy. I mean, she's only twenty-one feet long.

Apparently, I'm not legally allowed to live on her since she's too small for human habitation. Also, she lacks any amenities. Fortunately, I don't actually live on her, since work takes me all over the place, I'm really only on her for a couple of weekends a month. Also fortunately, the harbor provides a bathroom with shower facilities. As long as I don't stay onboard for more than nine days a month, I'm not breaking any laws.

So if the harbormaster is reading this, let it be known that I'm not staying onboard more than nine nights a month. Look at me being an angelic little law-abider.

In the meantime, I've set up a hilarious little galley. It consists of a seven dollar George Foreman grill I found at Goodwill, and a twelve dollar water boiler from Target. Nineteen dollar kitchen! Try to beat that!

And I took her out sailing with Dad. If you've been paying attention (or you are a member of my family), you'll know that his knee is broken, so that was hilarious. Maiden voyage took four hours. Two of those were at the dock, trying to figure out how to put down the motor, sea stowing all the glassware that makes up the predominant portion of my dishes (a former mate of mine said glass had no place on a boat. I should pay attention to wisdom.), and attempting to use a marlinspike and a needle nose pliers to remove a rusty nut (need a toolkit, stat).

Then we got underway. Since Dad couldn't move, he got to be the skipper while I ran around in a bit of a frantic frenzy, attempting to fend off boats when the motor cut out and we drifted into my neighbors, tabernacling the mast to get under the bridge, raising sail, quickly dropping sail while we slid backwards, docking and undocking three times, lowering the keel (aha, should have done that sooner, hey?) and finally, somehow, getting out to sea.

Then we sailed around for a comparatively calm thirty minutes before the crazy return, which was most of that in reverse order, though much faster and only with a bit of panic at the end when the motor cut out and nearly landed us on the rocks and the boats next to my slip.

I think Dad had fun, which is good, since I lost a year or two off my life every time he put any weight on his injured leg. Next time, I'm bringing more able crew, and fewer gimps. (Love you Dad! ;P )