Rudderless, and Loving It.

Highlights

2012-01-29T08:54:00.002-05:00

Playing
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

This week?

I am finally, fully, back to school. On a task force researching Veterans Issues, learning a ton about neurotransmitters, and PTSD. Last semester was one of reflection. This one seems to be more about action.

Sophie's class held a "Teddy-Bear picnic." She took John's 44-year-old teddy bear, Pooh, who is literally falling apart with all the years and love. The hit? She told the class he'd been on a submarine (which is true!) They were very impressed.

In pool news: Rosy is swimming underwater! Sophie has mastered the art of the mask and snorkel and is thrilled with her new trick. We all got in to celebrate with them yesterday. Family swim! In hot tub temps. This marina certainly rocks for the family set.

Our neighbor asked me for our corn chowder recipe last week. It was a highlight of the menu this week, so I finally remembered to write it down. Enjoy! Happy Sunday-

Corn Chowder (adapted from Citymama)

Whenever you add something to the pot, remember to add a little salt, too. I use a big cast-iron pot. Any big soup pot would work.

Cook 4-5 strips chopped bacon over medium heat until cooked though nearly crispy. Then add a small diced onion, 2-3 stalks of diced celery, and a green pepper (if you wish) and let them cook down.

Chop 4-5 red or yellow potatoes (never Russets) into bite-size pieces.
Carefully scrape the kernels from the 4-5 ears of fresh corn using a paring knife.

Add the potatoes to the pot and add just enough water to cover them. Bring to a boil and then turn down to a simmer. Cook under the potatoes are nice and tender.
Spend a few minutes skimming foam off the surface of the soup. It's nasty and clouds up your broth.

When potatoes are done, toss in the corn kernels, along with a cup or so of milk or half-and-half. Let it just heat through (don't boil it again), turn off the heat and let it cool for a bit- season with salt and lots of fresh ground pepper.

So yummy, especially with rolls to soak up the broth. Some people cook their corn with the potatoes, but we are fans of the really fresh flavor of the barely-cooked stuff.

Let it Snow

2012-01-22T20:45:00.001-05:00

My creation
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

Yesterday was the first measurable snow of the year. The girls had a blast. For the first time the pants and boots fit right, the gloves didn't leak. The sled was a blast. It was a great time. Tomorrow the rain will wash it all away and we can start again the next go-round. Just the way we like it.

Brrrr

2012-01-17T20:33:00.002-05:00

Brr
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

This weekend was COLD. Single digit cold. On these nights the inner basin of the marina will freeze over with skim ice, which then creaks along the side of the hull as the boat moves. Rosy loves nothing more than plunging sticks into the ice "to help our boat." We remind her that our steel beast could break all the ice in the marina, unscathed. Her best asset, though? Two inches of insulation between the overhead and the hull. On cold nights, even when we chose not to run the big diesel stove, she has been warm.

After so much outdoor goodness this summer, I was dreading the winter. Just having four bodies inside every day can be so hard in such a small space. Somehow it's been better than expected. School helps, immensely- having somewhere to be everyday, and having tired bodies returned to us instead of rambunctious beasts (most of the time). We have been swimming- they spend hours at a time playing in the pool. Part of it is arriving at a good stage developmentally, too. They can look at a book together, they both love to draw, paint, and make stuff with Legos and Playmobil. Rosy is heavy into dramatic play, which is exhausting but normal. Her cast of characters in heavy rotation: pony, Dumbo the baby elephant, a muffin (yep), alien, and a trapped baby kitty (yep, again). "Don't you want to hold this trapped baby kitty?"

Meanwhile, after nearly a decade of living aboard, we made some improvements to the galley. John built a lovely counter into the corner of the boat opposite the sink. It now houses a toaster and a microwave, both of which get daily use. Heating leftovers without starting the stove and dragging out a pot and a bowl, and then washing all of that stuff with freezing cold water? Truly the difference between living and camping.

Thank you, weather, for holding off long enough that the cold and inch or two of snow we got last night seem novel and fun.
Maybe we're adapting, maybe we're getting better at it, maybe it's just getting easier- whatever the difference is, I'll take it.

Earth Goes Round the Sun

2012-01-11T21:25:00.002-05:00

Six years since that morning when I woke up from the exhausted haze of childbirth to find an actual child next to me. MY child. Forever. What a terrifying and exhilirating feeling. I remember taking off her clothes for the first time, seeing her littleness revealed, all pink and awesome. And fragile. I remember her hiccuping, how they alarmed both of us. "Should she do that?" I remember leaning over to feed her, as awkward as awkward gets. She was so patient.

But most of all I remember how small the world felt for those two days, holed up in the hospital jail. As much as we resented being there, it was also so special. No one to bother the beginnings of us knowing her, and loving her. Life was simple, special, sweet. I wish I could get a bit of that back sometimes. But I also know that it will never feel the same. It was all about that particular moment, with her, just as she was then.

Today we have a very different Sophie. No less awesome. Still so thoughtful and open, honest and beautiful. We share her with many more people, all of whom love her. Her world -our world- is a much bigger room. For that I am grateful. Happy birthday my sweet girl.

Earth Goes Round the Sun a video by ellenjohnrubicon on Flickr.

Six times.

Atop

2012-01-08T20:42:00.002-05:00

Atop
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

In this unseasonably warm winter, I've been trying to get us out and into some muddy, stick-strewn, natural environment at least once a week. It's easy to fall victim to the lure of the laundry and the pool and errands. But when we make the effort to don the snowboots and pack the snacks, it's always well worth it. The girls moods improve the muddier they get. The freedom and the quiet are simply good for us.

Audubon Sanctuaries are always a good bet, with easy trails and warm restrooms. I also discovered the joy in returning to a spot a few different times, to see the changes, week to week. The vernal pool we skated on two weeks ago was a fun crunchy ice mess last week. Rosy left with wet feet.

Winter on a small sailboat can be hard and occasionally awful, but reminding myself that it is my job to find happiness in the season- or to help them find happiness, keeps me seeking adventures like these.
It paid off last week. When subzero temps froze the water around us, Rosy spent most of an afternoon breaking it up with a stick, "to help the ducks get past it." Fun on a frozen day. That's what it's all about.

Year's End

2012-01-03T21:14:00.004-05:00

Tree Girl
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

2011-

Last winter, we spent many hours in the foam pit at gymnastic class.

We were often sick.

I made a great friend, thanks to her son's great enthusiasm for the MBTA. Thank you, Henry!

There was more snow that I ever could have imagined. This fall we had an ominous pre-Halloween snow, and then nothing since. Huh?

We bought snow tires for the car and put them on in November. Maybe that's the secret.

We learned about maple sugaring, which made us feel warm and happy about being back in New England.

We went to Maine and nearly bought a house. Patience is a difficult virtue to maintain, but we are trying our best . . .

Our weekly visits to the CSA Farm this summer were such a highlight of the year. I'd been longing to join a farm and to find one as affordable and awesome as Watham Fields was the ultimate gift. I am counting down to tomato harvest 2012 (as John's eyes roll!).

When I decided to go back to school, homeschooling became less of a possibility and we scrambled to find spots for both girls at good schools. Somehow, miraculously, it worked. Maybe that's the secret to a low-stress way of navigating the independent school application process. Do it in the summer.

The pool was our everything this summer. I will not soon forget our evenings grilling on the deck, the girls swimming. The temps hit 100 degrees for two days, and the rest of the summer was near-perfect weather. The ultimate welcome-back gift.

We were invited to the beach with my parents and had an amazing time. Sophie discovered the ocean. Rosy made seagull food in the sand ("Tony's!"). A dear friend found us there and made the trip that much more amazing. Thanks, Mom, Dad, Su, Juniper and Meg.

Sophie drove a Duck! My dad and I rode aboard the USS Constitution. It was quite a summer.

Sophie had her first off-on-her-own experience at Drumlin Farm Day Camp, which proved so awesome that we did it again, and signed both girls up for this coming summer.

Sophie started school with the best teacher I could have imagined for her. Mad love. It has been amazing, and hard, and amazing all over again. But she loves it, and that's what matters. She not only has great friends, but she IS a great friend, which is what we're most proud of.

My sister got married! My favorite memory? Her and my Dad, laughing on the way down the aisle. I'm sure he said something perfect. Their wedding was such a reflection of Susan- beautiful, whimsical, thoughtful. Cheers to Mr. and Mrs. Long!

We celebrated Thanksgiving and the Solstice with cozy holiday feasts. Those quasi-elaborate meals, prepared in our tiny galley, are the things I will remember most fondly about living on the boat. Proof that no matter what the constraints of space may be, there is power in tradition and comfort. We make it happen.

This fall has seen Rosy grown into a full-blown person. She's just so lovely confident, FUNNY. She writes books at school most mornings. Favorite titles of 2011: "Hockey Stick Princess," and "Spooky Mitten." They are so much about process, that I'd give anything to have a tape of her thoughts while she was "writing" them. The other night she and Sophie played, "Guinea Pig DON'T," all her invention. This girls does not lack for ideas. I hope (and know) she never will.

Her preschool experience has been wonderful. She bounds into her days, confident and connected to her teachers and to her best friend, Tatum. She is drawing faces, bodies, learning letters and sounds, nearly swimming, fascinated with bodies and storms, of all things.

We returned from another great reunion with my folks and family last week. The older they get, the more they truly appreciate each other's company. They hammered with JoePop, made Magic Bars with Goonie, read Pippi with Su and Corey. It was a great way to celebrate the holidays, and the end of 2011.

For now, we resolve to:

-Climb as many trees and feed as many birds as possible. Now that Rosy can walk a good ways, we have been enjoying our rambles in the Audubon sanctuaries.

-Get to Maine for a week this summer and bushwhack our way onto our land.

-Make memorable food, stay healthy, find time for ourselves, as a family and as a couple.

-Have adventures aplenty, as Sophie says.

Happy New Year everyone!

Solstice Day

2011-12-22T21:25:00.002-05:00

My creation
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

For the past three or four years we've shifted the focus of our holiday celebrating to the Winter Solstice. Despite our non-religious beliefs, we want the girls to know the fun, the magic, and the anticipation that builds with the holiday season. In these days of far too little sunlight, we all need something to celebrate and look forward to. As the girls get bigger, it gets more authentic- more us. It's less like we're putting on a show, and more like we have participants in our party.

I've noticed that many folks celebrate the longest night of the year- Solstice Eve, with a candlelit dinner. We do it on the Solstice itself, though next year I could see the symbolism in that last darkest night- maybe we'll change it up. But there is also fun in celebrating the fact that there is more sun, that we've turned the corner toward spring. We had just finished eating tonight when our friend Bill came by with a huge box of clementines- sun fruits! Perfection, I must say.

The girls have been counting down since early December. The excitement truly started to build last week, once the dental hijinks and my final papers were behind us. We made lanterns at a local Audubon Sanctuary and took a magical walk through the woods, hooting like owls, catching glimpses of the other groups lanterns across a field- no people, just lights. The stars were perfect. It takes little more than darkness and quiet woods to make you feel centered in the universe- small as we are and big as it is.

The girls believe in Santa, and have been nursing an obsession with Rudolph recently, so we left carrots and cookies in the cockpit last night. I picked out two super special animals and the headlamps my Mom sent up. Sophie had seen someone using a headlamp the night before and said how much she wanted one. Santa left two things for each of them. That was all they needed to feel cared for. That and the gnawed-on carrots. They will remain oblivious to the disparities in Santa's gift-giving until they attend a liberal university, but keeping it sweet and simple worked this year.

The rest of the goodies were from me, John, my family, and the beneficent neighbors. Wow. The hits? The stuffed animals, as always. Sophie wore her new stopwatch all day long and timed herself doing everything- everything. Rosy was over the moon with half a dozen painting and stamping devices. Clothes- they LOVE clothes. The headlamps were awesome (thanks Mom!). Rosy's "Hurricanes and Tornadoes" book (have I mentioned that obsession?). Tiny hedgehogs. They worked hard on John's gifts- restoring his childhood teddy bear, new screwdrivers, a personalized wrench. When John asked what they should get me, Sophie relied, "A break." Ahem.

We ate Roast Beast, which John turned religiously (no pun intended) all day long. It was so so good. The sun was beaming awesome, so the boat got an air-out and the oven was our only heat source. We rode bikes, played in the dirt, walked with our lanterns, talked to friends and family, and collapsed into a satisfied heap.

Happy Solstice to all and to all a Good Night!

Another Adventure

2011-12-17T22:17:00.001-05:00

Pjs!
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

Both girls have had a couple weeks defined by dental adventures. Sophie had her first cavity filled, which had all of us on edge. She does not cope well with needles or frightening situations of any kind. Thankfully, we have one of those great dentists who spun a tale about unclipped fingernails and puppy dogs (seriously, she had NO idea that she received a shot of Novacaine). She was brave and calm and we are all grateful for a good outcome.

Meanwhile, Rosy had a baby tooth that was busy submerging itself back into her gum. The risk was that the teeth around it were threatening to eat up the remaining space. After two appointments and every dental attending at Children's Hospital weighing in, we decided to have it pulled. The hardest part was stomaching the idea of an operating room- any in-office sedation was out of the picture for such a little person. As it turned out, it was absolutely the right choice. The tooth came out easily and the dentai team was able to complete the placement of a space maintainer and treat a small cavity while she was "sleeping." She was an absolute dream the entire time. I do not take her trust for granted, nor her bravery. John and I said it was perhaps our wildest dream a few years ago that I'd ever be praising Rosy for her "deep sense of calm." It helps to be the cutest patient in the Day Surgery unit. She had a bear and a balloon before she even went to sleep. When I met her in recovery she was snoring and surrounded by more presents- her unicorn toy had its own hospital band and balloon and her tooth was in a little cup, for the tooth fairy.

We are so lucky to have good people on our side. Boston is truly a great incubator for good medicine. We are so lucky to have kids who, despite our fears, prove themselves centered and resilient. Next week- we celebrate.

Countdown

2011-12-09T18:37:00.003-05:00

Countdown calendar
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

We are counting down to the Solstice, our big holiday celebration in these parts. The calendar, inspired by Liv's, was our first step towards the big day. We have been busy folding rainbow stars, making candles, hanging lights, cutting snowflakes, preparing in our own way.

Tonight is one of the first truly chilly nights we've had in this beautiful fall. We ran around all day- I think I set foot on 8 different subway trains and 2 buses, between the schools, the dentist, school, the playground, the ice cream store, the library, and home. The girls swam in the super warm pool and then we crawled under the blankets while the boat warmed up, happy for our new Friday ritual of pizza and a movie. A perfect end to the week.

Happy almost-Solstice. 13 days to go!

Thankful, belatedly.

2011-12-02T21:00:00.003-05:00

Spontaneous Thanks-giving hug
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

Thankful for a delicious meal prepared in a boat oven and on a two burner-stove. I took a few shortcuts, for sure, but wow, it was tasty. And we repeated it all the next day.

Thankful for the changes in our little world, and how well we've managed to weather them. Two happy kids doing so very very well in their respective classrooms. Good feedback on my work . . . so far.

Thankful for a warm, beautiful fall. Seriously beautiful.

Thankful for our recent addictions: burritos and The Wire.

Thankful for pools and gyms and libraries on these days when the sun sets at 4:00.

Thankful for the solstice fast approaching, with the promise of more light. How will I accomplish the list of to-dos and gift-making, along with two final papers? I will be thankful when I start checking things off and delivering the goodies. I am thankful for Amazon Prime.

Thankful for a weekend of adventures with my favorite beasts.

Thankful for where we've come from, and where we're headed. Every day in some small way, we make progress.

Thankful for not needing much beyond what we have right now.

This week's art

2011-11-12T20:42:00.001-05:00

This week in art
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

Art is the girl's world of late- the few toys we have on the boat almost never come out. Instead, they draw- constantly. Occasionally we paint. Rosy loves to glue, twist, cut, fold, invent. We color with pastels on wood scraps leftover from the shrinkwrap frame. We color the frame itself.

Rosy leaves school with a half dozen letters and books and paintings every day. Sophie has a backpack stuffed with "recess doodles," her journal drawings, and the occasional masterpiece sent home from art class. The unit they did on facial anatomy rocked her world. She's also drawing and painting landscapes for the first time.

Drawing is so fundamental- it was nearly the entirety of our homeschool curriculum last year. Drawing as we read stories. Drawing the alphabet. Drawing is writing, writing is drawing. It has been so much fun to see Rosy's expressive vocabulary explode over the past few months. From scribbles and coloring, to faces and now bodies, in just a few weeks. Unlike Sophie, who would be more than content to doodle with a black pen for the rest of her life, Rosy works in a frenzy of colors- rainbow people, rainbow monsters, rainbow paintings. I have to take pictures of it all, and pass it on to friends and family, as saving it on the boat is just impossible.

Things we love: Lyra Ferby colored pencils (they never break and are impossibly rich), watercolors in tubes (we have a lifetime supply thanks to Meg and Bill), tempera cakes, Cray-Pas big fat oil pastels, metallic crayons, quality watercolor paper, tracing paper, sketchbooks, Jan Brett coloring pages . . . the list goes on.

Here's to cheap, endless entertainment. In our 32-foot world, it goes a long way.

Betty and her Rig

2011-11-10T21:46:00.001-05:00

Betty and her Rig
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

We've come a long, long way.

I was organizing pics for a book I'm making for the girls and came across this one. It's hard to believe that's the boat we live on today. Five short years later.

Fall Eats

2011-11-09T20:49:00.001-05:00

Fall
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

A boat friend and I were talking about dinner yesterday and it occurred to me how happy I am to have fall back. Not to be driven out by the heat of cooking. I like to grill, but not every night. A slow braise is more my thing. In that vain, this has become our favorite fall meal:

Beef Stew, Rubicon Style-
Saute a pound or so of well-salted stew meat in a large, heavy pot, something that can go in the oven. When it's mostly caramelized, add chicken stock and perhaps a glug or two of beer or wine for flavor, just enough to cover all the beef. I add a bay leaf, some dried thyme and oregano. Place in the oven at 250-300 degrees for an hour or so. You can also simmer it at low heat on the stove.

When the meat is super-tender, pull it out of the oven and add in whatever veggies you desire- we usually do carrots, potatoes, parsnips, onions. Add more stock/water to just cover the veggies and bring to a boil. Cook for 20 mins, or so, until everything is tender.

Spoon out with its broth. We always, always eat this with bread. Our new favorite thing is to get pizza dough from the store (it seems every grocery has the pizza-making section recently), slice it into 6 balls and bake it at 400 degrees while the veggies are cooking. There is nothing better and easier. The girls love to dip the rolls in the broth. Stupid easy and so delicious, any night of the week.

Thank you fall. I am already day-dreaming about the fall feast of feasts. One of my favorite meals of the year- two weeks from tomorrow.

Shrunk

2011-11-05T20:52:00.002-05:00

Shrunk
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

Winter is imminent. But fall persists for now. Perfect weather, as far as I'm concerned. We finished the shrink-wrap today, which is a bit better than 12/21, when we hit the finish line last year. This time last year we were holed up in Sandwich harbor, waiting out a Nor'Easter, stepping through a putrid, crunchy mess of seagull poop and crab shells every time we got off the boat. This year we're more likely to encounter a scene like this:

The wrapping was not without drama this year, thanks to some unpredicted wind. But we managed to get it tight and not terribly ungainly. Someone down the dock hit the nail right on the head today, sarcastically examining a friend's framing job: "Awww, you got it all wrong. That thing's going to collapse next week. You have no idea what you're doing."

We all do it different ways. Some work together, some prefer to work alone. Some like wood, some like pipe. Some do clear, others wrap in white. And yet with all these different sets of ideas, we entertain ourselves with criticism. This way is the right way, the only way. Across the board, in every boat situation I've been in, there is this need to be right. Conversations on the cruiser's nets could devolve into hour-long marathons of debate over battery monitors, terminals and zincs. The live-aboard list here in Boston almost imploded last year over shrink-wrap issues and heating costs. We pride ourselves on living differently, but we expect everyone to live like us. To think like us. To do it the very same way.

We can't leave it all behind, I suppose. I try to keep my eyes on the kids- all unique, all amazing, all moving in different directions. But happy to have each other around. That's enough for them.

Happy Falling Back. The Constitution cannon will fire before 5:00 tomorrow. Wow. May the hibernating begin!

How's School?

2011-10-24T19:51:00.002-05:00

Sun
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

The question I get asked frequently, second only to "How do the girls like school?" is "How's school for you?" Unable to provide an adequate explanation about why studying the inherent social injustices in our society, and the Puritanical roots of the social welfare system might make for a good time, I usually give a "going well" thumbs-up kind of answer. In truth, it's great. I loved school, and college. Calculus was oddly fun. I'd forgotten that bit- the stretching of your mind around theory, even the exercise of applying it and connecting the dots- those things are fulfilling and I am happy to be back in the game.

I found myself in a rut last winter and spring- some itch I couldn't shake, just edgy and a bit sad. And not to complain- I consider it a privilege to have as much time at home with my girls as I do. I am a good cook, a good mom, a good partner. I was beginning to find my way in the homeschool routines, but something just wasn't right. That's not to say I've found some divine answer to all that was irking me, but to have a plan for myself, and honestly, to be able to relinquish some small degree of the responsibility for my kid's everyday education and entertainment- that has been liberating.

This "foundation year" of my program seems to have a degree of military bootcamp, in the sense that it points out any and all perceptions you may have of yourself and your power, class, or place in society. There is a peeling back of layers, a careful examination of what ideas you bring to the table, in preparation for your role as advocate. In many ways, we're asked to draw the ultimate self-portrait, in order to be able to piece together other people and their lives. Change begins with that process. It's fun.

I am also running for the first time in ten years. That half hour of my day is like a drug. I feel myself getting better every time I get out there. So yes, the little and big things are making a difference. Great teachers for my kids, people who love them and take great care of them. Coffee that costs one dollar, in my refillable mug, and a library that lets me bring it in while I study (we couldn't get away with that in college!). Simple stuff like driving, alone, with the windows down and music on. My music. Having time to sit in the sun with Rose, not feeling obligated to do anything but just that. Enjoying just that.

I'd say it's good. Real good. Thanks to everyone, and especially John, for helping me get here.

Cedric the Gnome

2011-10-16T21:21:00.000-05:00

We had a tiny visitor this weekend. Cedric the Gnome usually travels with kindergarteners on vacations, but we got to host him just for fun. I suppose our lifestyle is a bit of a departure for even the gnome-set. He was tons of fun, without uttering a word. Sophie took at least three dozen pictures of him, and here are some of the best- our first kindergarten homework assignment.

Aboard

2011-10-13T20:47:00.002-05:00

DSCN2392
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

The USS Constitution has managed to become an important part of our lives this past year. We hear from her cannon twice a day- at 8AM and at sunset. Yesterday the cannon went off while we were with friends on the marina's deck. As if on cue, we all looked at our watches and remarked on the earlier sunset. She is our constant reminder, our timepiece, as winter closes in.

The girls have become big fans as well. We finally got onto the deck last Monday and Sophie asked for her picture with every piece of rigging, every hatch, every plaque. It was all so shiny! She loves the story of children collecting pennies to save her in the early 1900s. Much of their attachment to the boat comes from the story of Guerriere the Terrier, the real rat-catching dog that lived aboard the ship during the War of 1812. He was named for the British frigate the Constitution proudly defeated on 8/19/1812- the same battle where she earned her famous nickname, "Old Ironsides." We visited the Constitution Museum on Guerriere Day (8/19), where they learned a great sea chanty about the dog. They sing it almost daily.

They know that their dad and their great-grandfather served in the Navy. They love to remark that my dad, JoePop, "really loves this boat." They know that I have quite a bit of Naval geek in me. But the story of the little dog is what makes it theirs.

Here's Rosy today, doing her best "Huzzah!"

Thank you, old Beauty. We love having you as our neighbor.

If you don't like the weather . . .

2011-10-09T19:46:00.002-05:00

Spaceship
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

wait a minute.

Truly the old New England parable could not have been more appropriate this week. Torrential rain on Tuesday. Overnight frost warnings the rest of the week. Then 80 degrees and sunny all weekend. We had a marina party tonight that was far warmer than the one we had three weeks ago. Ironically, the last one had a tropical theme and this one? Turkey roast.

This weekend has been an extended fall celebration. We "did" the Topsfield Fair yesterday, and the girls first amusement park rides. This morning we headed off to the Children's Museum to celebrate Diwali, the Hindu/Jaine/Sikh harvest festival. The girls were over the moon watching the young dancers in their beautiful traditional dress. The colors and textures of India are absolutely alluring, I must say. We stopped in to visit Gandhi and the other non-violent protestors at Occupy Boston. It felt like a celebration, with hula hoops, bubbles, drumming. I hope it grows. I want it to grow!

Tonight, the turkey roast. Tomorrow we will stay closer to home and visit the Constitution, an old favorite on Columbus Day. We have a visiting frigate in the Navy Yard we're also keen to check out. Cramming it all in before those frost warnings decide to stick around. For good.

Two weekends, two weddings

2011-10-02T20:28:00.001-05:00

Loves
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

I managed to go to my sister's wedding and forget my camera, so I have none of the unusual pics of fanciness I should have. I hope the photographer captured all of the wedding goodness. There were few things cuter in the world at that moment, 5:10 PM on October 1, than my mom slowly shepherding the two of them down the aisle, dropping petals with "precision and conviction" (you can guess who was who) along the way. The whole affair was a lovely expression of my sister's vision- unique, refined, FUN. Sophie will not soon forget the "crazy dancing" and the fact that she got the first piece of cake. Rosy ditched her snazzy shoes and big dress quicker than a hot knife cuts butter. But she sure got the job down, and that's what counts. We left with two tired kids, grits, whiskey, and a new family member. Congratulations Corey and Susan, we sure love you both!!

Flashback to the week before, when our friend Tim was married on the beach here in the harbor. Both girls left wet and plastered with sand. At one point, Rosy was doing sand angels. The hotel tub was black with the evidence of a great time. Two crazy parties, memorable in every way.

Last week, Sophie received a glowing review at our first parent-teacher conference. Kimberley remarked that whatever we did, or didn't do for that matter, has resulted in this totally happy, enthusiastic, confident kindergartener. She came well-prepared and ready to go, academically and socially. Seeing her make the rounds at Susan's wedding and rehearsal, engaging with so many different people, thrilled and confident- nothing could make us more proud. If I feel this way about a five-year-old, it's hard to imagine the pride my parents felt seeing all of us celebrating Susan, proud and confident, the person at the heart of the party, connected to all 130 of us! the way. What a day, in so many ways. Love and thanks to everyone. Family (and friends) truly mean everything.

Second Week Impressions

2011-09-17T21:06:00.002-05:00

So far, school has been going swimmingly. We have been out the door/hatch on time. The commute has been better than I expected (um, 15-20 minutes each day- not bad!). Sophie has a spring in her step, all the time. Happiness is the best indicator, I think! Rosy is making friends and amusing her teachers, which is to be expected. We discovered a Clover Food Truck tucked behind MIT, on our usual route home (tangential, but dangerous!). My first parent meeting at kindergarten included wine. I love sitting in the library in the morning with my coffee (a library that allows coffee, clearly I am meant to be here). And as much as I thought I'd hate it, I enjoy the routine. I love the time to work, the time to play, the time to enjoy the, thoroughly. Not feeling like it's this indefinite clump of time I have to burn our way through. With more to do, somehow I am able to enjoy them more. Hmm.

Some second week impressions:

I adore Montessori. The order, the sense of purpose and importance each kid has. She doesn't feel singled out if she's ahead or behind in any piece of the curriculum. She just finds her way. It's been a perfect transition for Sophie.

Sophie had to do Ronan’s classroom job a few times this week- walking notes and attendance down to the assistant head of school. She was so proud. Her job this month is to count the days they’ve been at school- by ones, fives, tens. We’re up to 7. She’ll have a different job each month.

Her favorite Montessori materials have been hammering tees and stringing rubber bands, but I was proud to see that she challenged herself to try some math, reading, puzzle tracing (geography?) and science as well this week.

I’m still working on lunch. “Every day you put something I don’t want in it!”

The first report from her teacher, the incredible Kimberley Klibansky: “Sophie is AWESOME! She is so happy and confident in kindergarten!” Ms. K is that wonderful mix of clear and firm, but warm and motherly all at once. She loves kindergarten, and it shows in her classroom.

They are reading Ramona the Pest. My all-time favorite, most-memorable childhood chapter book series (by Beverly Cleary). Sophie LOVES it and wants to be Ramona for Halloween. Could I adore Ms. K. any more? She also has a thing for Chicken Soup with Rice (by M. Sendak), which was a huge part of my childhood. Our elementary school librarian, Ms. Oxford, would read the month’s poem each week we visited her. Our good friend, Bill, gave a copy of the book to the kids recently, it’s a joke they share, that that’s all he eats- so funny that she’s encountered it again in kindergarten.

John and I happened to drive by the Commonwealth Ave Mall (a park) on Thursday and saw Sophie's class having recess, with jump ropes. She and Nikki and Nilou play “snake,” where one of them makes the rope twist on the ground and tries to touch the others, who jump over it.

Meanwhile, down the street at preschool . . .

Rosy and a couple of other little girls have instituted some type of doggy game in the courtyard playground. They use old milk crates for “houses.” She also has an admirer, William, who likes to pull on her dress.

She comes home with drawings she’s made, and others someone has made for her.

She lives in the art center, or wearing the pink dress in the pretend house. She talks about Sammy most days (Samantha, with the “big pigtails). Sammy apparently enjoys playing doggy house.

Her favorite thing, if you ask, “Playing with the pink play-dough.”

The best part of my morning is arriving a few moments early for pick-up and peeking in the glass window to see them in circle, singing, always with hand motions. Gallop Old Joe, Hickory Dickory Dock. So little, and so so big. With real friends and great teachers. It’s all we hoped for and more.

Ten Years

2011-09-11T20:53:00.002-05:00

Sillies
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

I was doing the dishes this morning when the USS Constitution started firing cannons, at 8:46 AM. Periodically I would hear another, and another, four in all. In the midst of my morning chores, it was a sobering reminder of what day it was.

With that in mind, we headed off to embrace it. Not to mourn, not to mention a word about it, but to live it to its fullest. To stay as happy as humanly possible.

We rode ponies, bought pumpkins, rolled down hills, played in the hay, visited a favorite place, covered ourselves in pink berry juice, and mud.

It was our kind of day, just like any other. For at least a little while longer, I hope that's what it will be for them.

It's simply an impossible story. It reminds me of discovering the truth about the Holocaust. My total amazement at what I was reading- that humans were capable of such evil. I still have a hard time believing it. I remember seeing the second plane hit on television, from my friend's apartment in Chicago. I drove to New York a few days later, to see my sister. From the George Washington Bridge, you could see the plume of smoke and ash downtown. A week or so later I was in the city and walked down as far as I could, just smelling it. Everyone had their stories, of where they were. My friend on an elevated train in Brooklyn, the windows being plastered with paperwork from Ground Zero. A friend who narrowly missed being on time to work. She was buying a birthday card. People walking for hours, wandering.

Today stands in marked contrast. Not so much on the inside. There is so much economic and political news that makes me want to scream. Wars, religion, the "homeland," all of it. So little has changed, in so many ways. And yet in my life, in my every day, so very much has changed.

I am so thankful to have this story to tell, ten years later. Thankful for them, and thankful that they don't need to know a single thing. At least not now.

And just like that . . .

2011-09-08T09:51:00.002-05:00

Circle Time!
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

summer is over. Monday was beautiful, sunny, warm enough for a last swim in the pool with friends. It was a muggy 85 degrees. We had a grilled chicken feast. It was the perfect summer send-off.

Tuesday was Rosy's first day at preschool. We left in the rain, 60 degrees of fall chill in the air. She did really well- Sophie and I stayed for the first hour and played. We slipped off for coffee when circle time commenced and came back to a happy, busy Roo. Her teachers are fabulous ladies who took the time last week to visit us here at the marina. That short meeting made such a huge difference in our connection. I feel like we already have friends and advocates at preschool- people who know and love Rosy as we do.

Sophie, meanwhile, is off and running as a kindergartener. Her big moment came yesterday when she and John attended the Welcome Meeting at the Montessori school she's attending. Montessori places a high value on independence and in typical fashion, her group was called to come up to the classroom, sans mom and dad. She gave John's arm a tight squeeze and a kiss, then climbed the stairs all by herself, overflowing with all sorts of emotions, I'm sure. But she did it, with no coercion, no tears. She was, in that moment, exactly who we hope she'll always be. Connected, but willing to head off on a new adventure, all her own. She didn't want to leave when the morning came to an end, and today, she practically ran through the downpours (still raining) to get to Ms. K's class. I can't wait to hear about it this afternoon.

John and I are enjoying our quietest morning in years. Not pushing ourselves to work. Just reveling in the peace of it all, fulfilled that the week has gone so well, and waiting for the rain to stop.

Our Galley

2011-09-05T07:19:00.002-05:00

DSCN2121
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

Yesterday morning we processed the CSA stash for the week. The refrigerator (by fridge I mean the equivalent of two of the "deli" drawers in my parents' fridge) was packed to the brim and I still had veggies all over the counters. Sometimes I am forced to simply roll the dice and hope that a night in the coolish cockpit won't hurt the cucumbers or wilt the chard too much. Needless to say, by 11AM, we had made a batch of half-sour pickles, processed 5 pounds of tomatoes into two freezer jars of sauce, made chard chips, and finally used our gigantic zucchini in a massive batch of muffins (which were nearly gone by noon!). We stripped the celery of its leaves and stashed it in the fridge. The chicken started marinating in some kind of fabulous yogurt-garlic-herb paste. It was chaos in my two foot-by three-foot space.

Thank goodness I had a helper.

My favorite trick of the season has been pickling without vinegar. We made vinegar pickles early in the summer, with cukes and radishes (which I loved). But unless you use mild or high-quality vinegar, the taste can be a bit harsh for the girls. Last month I tried fermenting my cucumbers. John was thrilled- "Really, Ellen? On a boat?" But seriously, a bag of quartered pickling cucumbers, a brine that is simply 1 tbsp. salt to 2 cups water, some crushed garlic and some dill. Leave all night at room temp. In the morning, they are SO GOOD. Sophie eats them with abandon, and frankly, that's exactly what it's all about.

Fresh, organic, homemade food my kids will eat. Grown twenty minutes from our boat, by people we care about. It makes the crazy galley antics worth it.

Happy preserving to you!

Summer's End

2011-09-01T20:10:00.001-05:00

Bethany's Pool
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

We're still here! It's been a whirlwind of a few weeks, with traveling, then home to a hurricane (or tropical storm in our case), and starting school (me, not the girls yet). Walking down to the boat tonight, it was decidedly chilly. In the fifties by morning. Fall is in the air.

In the meantime we're feeling thankful for

- a wonderful few days spent on trikes and bikes in JoePop's newly repaved (smooth as can be, perfect for rising) driveway. The company was great, too.

-a well-prepared boat and marina last Sunday when Irene came barreling in (and out, with a glorious week of weather to follow!). She paled in comparison to the stress of Florida's hurricanes- 4 of them in 2005. But we learned never to take them lightly.

-a great five days of Goonie helping to ease my transition to grad student-meets-mom. You made the adjustment memorable and special, not stressful, as it could have been. We are so lucky to have you, Mom.

-two fabulous girls on the cusp of a big adventure. I do love that Sophie's kindergarten list includes none of the usual suspects- no pencils, crayons, tissues. Rather, a cozy pillow, a pair of slippers, a picture of her family. This bodes well.

I'm off to finish my homework and the cookies. Cheers to a new year. At least that's what it feels like in these parts.

Grandaddy

2011-08-20T07:37:00.003-05:00

Grandaddy
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

My grandfather would have been 94 years old today. Like a birthday present to both of us, I found another small tape full of dictated memories of his childhood. I transcribed the first one last month and catch myself thinking about it all the time. He was born in a tiny town in eastern Alabama, but moved to Jackson, Mississippi after the family's house burned down when he was four or five years old.
As he said,

"The loss of our home by fire, followed my our removal to Jackson to live, was a life-changing event for our little family. You can imagine the hours of talk that must have preceded the decision on staying in Camp Hill or leaving. I can't help but muse occasionally on how different my own life would have been had we not made the move. I might have gone to Auburn University! "

It is easy to muse about how absolutely different all of our lives would be had they stayed in Alabama. How different our lives would be had so many decisions, large and small, been made differently. I do not think my grandfather would have attributed his history to fate or some other guiding principle. He was rather pleased and surprised by the role chance played in our lives. Beneficent chance, to a large degree. He survived a typhoon on a small ship off Okinawa. Many others were lost in the storm. How is it that his little boat made it back? I believe that haunted him to his last days, in an almost wonderful way.

Life is about the present. Chances are, it will look quite different next year.

Happy birthday, Grandaddy. I miss you dearly.

(at his 90th birthday celebration, with a wee Sophie)

The Last Throes

2011-08-17T07:53:00.002-05:00

Old Sturbridge
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

This morning the temperature dropped into the high fifties. In August. We may get another heat wave, but the act of pulling the blankets up higher reminds me that we are in the last days of true "summer." A five-year summer, as it were. No school days, few commitments. All of that about to change.

Our three-year plan is to get to Maine, settled with our girls and some chickens (and a bunny, dog, and hedgehog, says Sophie) on a little plot of land. Realistically I need to be able to look for a job along with John, as work opportunities up north are even fewer than they are here. With that in mind, I'm going back to school to get my masters in social work. John will continue working to pay our slip fee and pizza bills. The girls are starting school, each in their own way. We will miss the homeschooling community, for sure! We have been lucky to find spots for them at great schools, almost next to each other, and close to my program, which doesn't get crazy until next year. This year will be about adjusting to a morning routine, getting up the gangway in time, and managing a pretty big transition for all of us.

In the meantime, we've been soaking up the last bits of summer. We've picked pint after pint of tomatoes on the farm. We've had our faces painted and eaten snow-cones at the art fair (and held an alligator!). We've gone to Sturbridge and ridden the stagecoach again. We've walked in the woods at night looking for bats and bullfrogs. We've eaten outside as much as possible, enjoying the best August weather I can remember having in Boston.

Thank you, summer, for being truly, summer.

(ready for kindergarten, for sure!)

Rosy:

2011-08-09T07:41:00.004-05:00

Love love
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

-finally sleeps through the night! Hooray! I've been waiting a solid five and a half years for a decent night's sleep, in a bed alone with my husband. Thank you, Rosy, for arriving at that milestone.

-starts the day at 7AM, burrowing into me while I try to make my eyes functional. Today she has moved on to pretend cooking- "chard toddies" with sunflower seeds. Then she cleaned up with half a dozen paper towels, and is now back in bed with her sister, macerating a zucchini muffin into a crumbly mess. No, you shouldn't eat in bed, but when your bed is on top of your table, do you really have much of a choice?

-is not ready for a carseat without a 5-point harness. Recipe for disaster and destruction in the backseat. She may never get a booster seat, never ever.

-also not ready for sandals without a multitude of buckles.

-plays independently and intently. I remember when that day arrived for Sophie. Having played every role from every story we'd ever read, I was over the moon to see her wander off and entertain herself. Like, "kids do that?? No way!!" Rosy needs even less of me. The mess is often bigger and the banging trains can be louder but I am constantly reminded that, yes, her imagination is definitely intact. My work here is (nearly) done.

-took off all her clothes this morning because "baby dogs don't need shirts. they have soft fur."

-is a budding botanist. none of us could remember the name of the big red flower next to the marina gangway. i didn't think to ask Rosy, until she said, "that's HIBISCUS, mommy!"

-starts preschool next month. Time has seriously flown. Looking at old videos, I barely recognize her, and yet I see all of her. It was there all along.

Signing from Ellen on Vimeo.

Off to Camp

2011-08-03T07:26:00.001-05:00

Driving with Roo
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

This is the second week of camp for Sophie. A camp she adores and looks forward to every day. Meanwhile, I have three hours with Rosy every day. And let me tell you, it has been so fun. Our lifestyle has afforded little of this one-on-one time. We'll only get more of it, as Sophie starts kindergarten in the fall. It has been good for both of us. Being away from home, away from dishes and ugly overhead projects helps. Having a sleeping beast occasionally and stealing a few chapters from my book with a coffee, that's also nice. I could do this more often, I think to myself.

Meanwhile, Sophie is reveling in her mini-vacation from our everyday routines (and me!). She comes home with a song or story (of a runaway rainbow chicken) each afternoon. She loves being a part of a group, walking in a "counselor sandwich." My biggest wishes for her are coming true- that she find joy in learning from other adults, that she feel accepted and loved among her peers. She is getting all of this and more. We will both count the days until next year, when I can send them both off to Farm Camp! Drumlin Farm has been a big part of our lives since we came back from Florida. We have all learned so much there. Now, to have an added layer of magic and games and crazy chicken-led treasure hunts- it becomes even more. It has been worth every penny, every minute getting there and back, every bit of diesel, to see the joy it brings. Thank you, Drumlin, for the very best weeks of our summer.

The Farm

2011-07-27T07:41:00.002-05:00

The Farm
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

This week Sophie is back at camp this week, which leaves Rosy and I to spend long afternoons driving through the gorgeousness that is Lincoln and its surrounding communities. Old farmhouses, stone walls, fields. It makes me homesick for our slice of Maine, which has a similar vibe, at a different price point.

One of the things I most looked forward to when we were in Florida was an honest-to-goodness CSA. There was one option in Miami, where the harvest arrived in winter (hmm) and some of the tropical fruits were were just not for us. But in New England, wow, there are so many choices. Of course I started to back away when check-writing time came this spring (with a CSA you pay upfront for a portion of the harvest), but then I happened upon Waltham Fields, which we've found to be a truly special organization. They give an enormous amount of food to local Food Banks, provide tons of community programming, and match CSA dues to a family's income level, no questions asked. Our weekly trips to "our farm" (as the girls call it) are an event. There is bean picking, flower cutting, a visit to the chickens. Then the great joy comes with choosing our nine items. Yesterday Rosy was my helper and we selected:

-Rainbow chard. Even though they won't eat it unless I bake it to a crisp, they are in love with the stems, which are beautiful. We may try pickling the stems next week.

-Curly kale. Also good baked up, or in a pasta with bacon and chikpeas (my plan this week).

-Carrots. Our favorite. They girls devour them roasted in butter until they begin to caramelize.

-Potatoes. Always. Conventional potatoes are just gross with pesticides. Nothing makes me happier than a "clean" potato. Our favorite way to eat them is in a foil packet in the grill, laced with butter and salt. Flip the packet halfway through cooking and all the bottoms will caramelize.

-Beets. The girls love beets. I'm still looking for my favorite way to prepare them.

-Cucumbers. The smaller the better, we find.

-Tomatoes. The first of the season, for BLTs and/or grilled cheese.

-Eggplant and green peppers! Also first of the season.

We also picked a pint of green beans and enough basil to make pesto, and rescued one of the giant sunflowers that had fallen. In the past month we've had squash, garlic, onions, scapes, radishes, turnips, collards, and so much more. Rosy is anxiously anticipating the watermelons and I am counting days until apple season, when a local orchard begins supplementing our share.

All of it is as local as it can be, unsprayed, untreated, grown by people who truly care about what they do, and what they contribute. Food, and life, doesn't get much better than that.

We are where we need to be for the next few years- I can earn a degree, John can work, the girls will have a multitude of opportunities. But when the day comes that we can escape to the fields and barns of Maine. When we'll have a bit of grass and clover to call our own. Maybe a few sunflowers on the fence and some potatoes in the ground. That day is what we're working for. And for once, it doesn't feel so very far away.

Oh Hot

2011-07-21T22:00:00.001-05:00

All those winter days complaining about the cold and here we are in the midst of a 100 degree heat wave. Rosy has an ear infection and I probably shouldn't be letting her swim, but really, what is one to do when you eat most of your meals on the deck of the marina that features a glorious pool?

So, we are staying wet. In all sorts of ways.

Catching hermit crabs with friends at Spectacle Island.

Playing in the Rings Fountain downtown.

Swim Class.

Having had enough water, we took a long drive north last weekend and visited the heights of New Hampshire. So beautiful.

There was an outdoor picnic in the Hill's backyard. On a rare, perfectly cool New England evening. With blackberry icecream and dress-up wildness.

Summer is upon us, in all the best ways.

Chilling

2011-07-15T14:04:00.002-05:00

Chilling
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

It's almost three in the afternoon and I'm sitting in the cockpit, the girls are playing below. I have a coffee. Not too bad.

I am not someone who thrives on a mile a minute, and for some reason we have been living a life packed to the gills with events, picnics, beach trips, and all sorts of other blissful summer stuff. Except it sometimes doesn't feel blissful. Between the heat, the comings and goings, the single parenting 4-6 days a week, I have left almost no time for coffee in the cockpit.

Quiet, ordinary stuff we all need. Unstructured time. We walked our neighbor's dog this morning, did a little laundry, and then decided to opt out of the multitude of free and impressive museum/activity options. And I'm so glad we did.

Six weeks until school begins in earnest, for all of us. I'm hoping we won't forget to enjoy the freedom.

Cruising Friends

2011-07-11T07:25:00.004-05:00

Crusiing Friends
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

A virtual shout-out to our friends on Heron, currently crossing the Gulf of Maine in the Marblehead-Halifax Ocean Race. Greg, Tracy, Hannes and Anna stopped at our marina for three weeks between ocean races (Greg races with crew, not kids!). The kids were fast, fast friends and we enjoyed their company so much. Sophie is missing Hannes and has been busy making a fat envelope to send him in return for this sweet note:

You follow Greg's progress on the boat tracker on the official race site, and on their ship's log.

Old Ironsides

2011-07-10T20:32:00.004-05:00

Old Ironsides
Originally uploaded by ellenjohnrubicon.

In the whirl of everyday life, I need to make a point to notice the special. This Fourth of July was perhaps as special as it's ever been for me. There is nothing like a New England Fourth. I remember my first, in 2002, when I was shepharding a group of young teens on a tiny boat during an Outward Bound course. Our serene wilderness experience included two fireworks displays in separate harbors. We even moved the boat in the middle of the night on the Fourth itself because the pyrotechnics were so close.

The following year I was John's deckhand in the ferry from Thompson Island. We came around the corner of South Boston on our mid-day run and were greeted by the most spectacular sight I'd ever seen. It was the U.S.S. Constitution, with a tug on her hip, being paraded out of the harbor with the fireboat leading the way (spewing enormous fountains of water, if you've never seen a fireboat). Our arrival at the dock was delayed by a solid half-hour while she exhausted twenty-one cannons, firing on Fort Independence. John, having once been on the ship for her annual "turnaround cruise," was annoyed at the delay. I was absolutely blown away.

(photo by Tim, our friend and marina neighbor)

This year the Navy opened up its lottery for a spot aboard the Constitution on the Fourth of July- for many years post 9-11, only friends of the crew, military personnel, and other bigwigs were allowed. I saw the ad in the local Charlestown paper in January and submitted my name via email. never expecting to win. Somehow, some way, my name came out of the hat in early May, and my dad and I were given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be aboard Old Ironsides last week.

I am a Navy geek by marriage and genetics. My grandfather sailed on minesweepers in the South Pacific, my husband was a submariner, my dad served in the Army but passed down his love of ships big and small. It was a thrill to have him with me and I won't soon forget him turning to me when she started pulling away from the dock- "OK, this is cool."

Between Patriot's Day and Bunker Hill Day, we've seen a fair share of historical reenactors, but the sailors aboard Constitution, in their "1813s" are of a whole different breed. Their passion for what they do, and what the boat represents, is simply infectious. And when I felt hot, I looked at the First Lieutenant in his wool coat and hat, swilling his Nalgene bottle.

It was a memorable day. We saluted a visiting Navy ship. They fired on us from Castle Island, and we fired back. The marines shot muskets at the flotilla of small boats trailing us to the Fort and back. Navy officers, in their sparkling white uniforms, donned harnesses and climbed the rigging, led by young guys who'd normally salute them. I was struck by the crew's diversity and professionalism. We even left with a fired shell.

Like her outsized American flag, the whole thing felt larger than life. And perhaps it was. Underway over 200 years after she was built. I stood behind the ship's wheel, hoping no one would ask me to leave. Somehow we got away with it. Three miles at the helm of the Constitution. I can think of no better way to spend a Fourth of July.

A Birthday

2011-06-29T07:12:00.000-05:00

We've spent the past couple days celebrating. There were cupcakes and hula hoops, boat rides and Duck rides. It's been a hot, good time.

And an overdue birthday letter-

Dear Roo,

Welcome to Three! It seems like such a random, arbitrary thing to someone as little as you. You'd just mastered telling people that you were "Two" when they asked. So I can't blame you for crying "I want to be two again!" when we tell you you're a three-year-old Rose.

But as much as parent wish to stop the quick march of time, we can't keep three from arriving. So we celebrate! We started the day on Monday with cupcake making. Then a boat ride to a new island, a picnic, beachcombing and dancing with huge hula hoops (the highlight, for sure). We came home to a barbeque and more cake with our neighbors. Surprise packages and cards were left for you in the cockpit. Rosy, you are loved.

Yesterday we took a long-awaited ride on a Duck! If there was a Duck Tour fanclub, you and Sophie would share the presidency, knowing all the names and colors, and even some of the drivers. Our friend Jim helped us secure a few tickets and suddenly we were actually riding high on the red Duck. Sophie took a turn as a legacy Duck driver, piloting us under the Longfellow Bridge. It was a wonderful cap on our celebrating. Not to mention a present we didn't have to make room for on the boat.

Three is a high-spirited and funny as ever, with more discoveries every day. Last week we were driving and you said from the backseat, "Oh, we get groceries at the store. That's why it's called GRO-CE-RY store." Uh-huh. When a woman at Dunkin Donuts gave you a tiny sprinkle donut, you informed me that, "These are not sprinkles. These are Jimmies." It seems you're adapting to your new environment rather quickly. My favorite thing is when you say "Dottie Dough-ah-cester" in perfect accent. My girls have always excelled with language, and acquiring a proper Boston accent is proving no exception.

The biggest hallelujah of late? Sleeping all night long! I have no idea what is in the magic nasal spray the ENT gave us, meant to clear up your perpetual runny nose of early Spring. It has been a small miracle in all of our lives. But especially yours.

For the past four or five months we've been living with "Baby Dog," your alter-ego. She seems to be starting to wane, but for a long time, your name was exclusively "Baby Dog," and we were introduced as various canine family members: "Mama Dog, Sister Dog, Daddy Dog." On our trip it was "Baby Dolphin," but with the influx of dogs at the marina, you've become fixated on being a dog. So much so that my friend Meg wonders if you have an ability to simply see things, like yourself, in a different way. Maybe you just need more access to a mirror?

Your imagination is fierce, which makes me so proud. There is always a game going on with trains, animals, with Puff. There is always a new song in your head. And you've gotten big enough to play roles in Sophie's pretend play. The baby to her mommy. The doggy to her owner. It's fun to watch.

I love three. I loved watching Sophie emerge from her wee shell and start seeking out friends. You are right on the verge of heading out into the world. Your first nursery school experience will start in September, deep in the woods of an Audubon Sanctuary, and I can't wait to see what stories you bring home. Making connections, exploring, having friends. My silly, opinionated, lovely Roo. Passionate about mac and cheese, cooking shows ("this is my favorite show!"), Yoko books. With eyes like saucers, greener every day, and smile that lights up any room. Rosy. Particularly wonderful Rosy. How we love you.

Happy birthday sweet girl.
Love,
All of us

Three

2011-06-27T07:15:00.000-05:00

"What number old am I now?
Free?"

Three! Wowsers. Three years since then.

Words to come, after we make the cupcakes. Because it's hard to be patient when you're Free.
Happy Birthday my sweetest baby doggie/dolphin/Roo. How could I love you more?
xo,
mama

new this week

2011-06-21T06:32:00.001-05:00

new places

new champions

new toys

new experiences

Working to Play

2011-06-12T21:19:00.001-05:00

Sophie complained yesterday that we didn't have any fun. We worked all day. Swim class, laundry, working on the Bed & Breakfast Afloat. No fun whatsoever.

I attempted to remind her of our past week, not to mention today's festivities.

We took Thursday's 90 degree heat wave as an opportunity to play at the Museum of Science. We saw a great many Ducks on the way, which pleased Rosy endlessly. Her secret birthday surprise must, must be a Duck ride.

On Friday the temperature returned to normal and we managed to meet the homeschooling group for a hike in the burbs/woods. It was tons of fun, complete with stolen babies and new friends. The kids walked two miles, nonstop. Awesome. We came home by our CSA farm and left with two pints of red, ripe strawberries. So much work.

And today? It was the Bunker Hill Day parade here in Charlestown. We witnessed the local militia, the Lexington Minutemen, and even the Redcoats march past our local playground. We were joined by our beloved marina neighbor, Bill, which was a thrill for the girls. There were clowns, politicians, countless fire trucks, pipe bands (swoon), and the Polish-Americans, who steal the show every time.

So much work.
More of our fun on Flickr.

Good, good summer

2011-06-09T08:03:00.001-05:00

I am reading a couple of memoirs by different women and there seems to be a consensus that the good memories of childhood blend together like a pleasant hum. It is the harsh words, the fights, and the tragedies, god forbidding, that stay with people long after they've grown up. The flaws stand out as their own episodes. Oh how I hope my firm words on the dock at the end of the day don't color their memories of an otherwise blissful summer (so far). John has been taking the car to work four days a week and most of our activities have ended, so we are left to enjoy being outside, living in the pool, cooking on the deck. The unstructuredness is a welcome change. It truly feels like the summers I loved as a kid.

Yesterday we made our own adventure at the Scooper Bowl (all-you-can-eat ice cream from a half dozen creameries, raising money for the Jimmy Fund). Sophie proudly displayed our twelve (tiny) scoops. We happened upon a wonderful food truck, Clover, in the corner of City Hall plaza. They were out of most food by the time we arrived, but they gave us lemonade and french fries just to keep us coming back. And we will return. Foodtrucks = summer perfection.

The ferry ride home was the best breeze we found all day. Then on to swim lessons, where Sophie received a promotion to the "big kid" class for swimming without help, with her eyes open under water. There was some pride at the end of the day, and rightfully earned.

This hot summer feels so good after so much cold, snow, and rain. And if these days become a blissful blur in their memories, perhaps that's alright with me. At least we've made tons of the good.

Just Beachy

2011-05-29T20:59:00.000-05:00

The girls and I spent last week at Edisto Beach, South Carolina, with my family. From the first minutes, Sophie was deeply in love with the surf. She has always loved water, and swam like a fish in the shallow reef-protected waters of the Keys, where her beach-love was kindled. But Edisto has waves! She would jump and dance and plant her feet as the water surged out underneath her. On the second day we got her a tube and I took her out beyond where the surf was breaking, so that she could feel them lift her and then roll underneath us. We talked about how each wave could have started thousands of miles away and traveled to this one beach. She said, "Waves are like people. An old one dies and a new one begins far away." Apparently I was swimming with Buddha.

On the third day, she'd let her tube slowly drift into the break zone. They would break behind her and she'd ride them all the way into shore. Again and again. and again.

One of the more unforgettable parts of our journey up the coast was being in the Gulf Stream, water as blue as blue. We'd watch these big ocean swells come from over the horizon, lift our stern, and like freight trains, one car after another, roll under us and off to shore somewhere. No other boats in sight, just us and the waves. There is so much about sailing that goes over our kid's heads. They are masters of the practical but have very little interest in the more ethereal bits of being on a boat, on the ocean.

This week, I feel like I saw Sophie begin to build a connection. I saw the beginnings of something. Something that will always be hers. How lucky we all were to spend a week at the beach. But something tells me she was the luckiest of all.

Two Years Ago . . .

2011-05-22T22:00:00.001-05:00

So we're back. Back to Blogger. It's been almost two years since we moved the blog to Wordpress, experimenting with the possibilities. It was fun, but more than we need, as our blog has never been about making money or recruiting sponsers. It is simply my way of documenting our days, of keeping our faraway family in the loop. It is my recent history and together with the blog we started when Sophie was born, it is the story of our girl's lives. I write here because I don't scrapbook. I don't have a diary. But I love looking back. John will tell you of my terminal need to say, "This time last year . . ."

I will slowly move all of the Wordpress content back to these pages. Soon svrubicon.com will point us here. Until then, we appreciate your patience with our spring cleaning. Consolidation is a good thing.

In the meantime, our week has brought us
-a small oil spill
-baby ducks, and geese
-flower girl dresses
-a slew of inconclusive doctor's appointments (and inconclusive is good!)
-the sun, briefly
-a heated pool to play in
-John's first day of work!
-and tomorrow, a trip to 90 degree weather for a few days of beachcombing with the grandparents.

See you, here, when we return.

Back in Time

2011-05-15T07:55:00.003-05:00

We went back in time last week. To Old Sturbridge Village, in central Massachusetts, where time exists in 1790-1840. I hadn't planned it at all, but being there made me realize how we had unintentionally put together a respectable curriculum about the ways people lived in 19th and early 20th century. Sophie and I have been reading Laura Ingalls Wilder, which we both love. We've found two other moms who love reading them and I often find myself comparing notes on straw-hat making and maple-candy dripping with Amy and Tania.

We've been heavy into the great book, Ox-Cart Man and found ourselves reading it with our class at the Museum of Fine Arts recently. The girl's weekly class there has been specifically about how people lived "way back when." We have looked at dozens of paintings of dancers, musicians, picnics, and families in the nineteenth century. This past week we talked about arriving on ships and visited a reconstruction of an Puritan cabin (in the basement of the new Americas wing, for the locals- it's lovely!).

Our farm adventures remind us of the ways people used to provide for themselves. Milk, eggs, wool, meat, crops, all in one place. We spend time at the Constitution Museum and dress up in old sailor's garb. Sophie knows that there was a war against the British, and that it was fought right here, all around us. She knows that Paul Revere landed his boat in our beloved dog park, steps away from the marina. We looked at an ancient map of Boston last week and saw that there was no bridge to Charlestown. Just a boat. Tonight we read a great book, Lucy's Summer, about a little girl from New Hampshire who takes the train to Boston in 1910 and visits Woolworths for the first time. Sophie was thrilled to see that she arrived at North Station, where we've been twice in two days. She also appreciated that it was a true story.

I don't expect Sophie to understand the amount of time that has passed, or anything about chronology at this point. We're still working on the days of the week, afterall. I am not after anything but a sense of difference, a sense that things have not always been this way. More than anything, we want our girls to be curious. To ask questions and wonder why?, how?, and eventually when?.

I will always be grateful for having these homeschooling adventures with the girls. We have one of the most active library cards in the Boston system, and I know that no matter what we are studying in school (myself included- I'm going to school!), we will always have our own questions to answer. Our own stories to read. Our own time-traveling to attend to.

Mother's Day

2011-05-08T07:57:00.000-05:00

In short:
coffee
cinnamon rolls
bagels (thanks, marina!)
coffee
tree hugging
sand digging
stick-shelter building
butterfly chasing
birdwatching
garden drooling
did i mention tree hugging?
bee hives
wild turkey close-encounters
(in the heart of Dorchester!)
good lunch
Guinness
more coffee
food shopping
fresh corn
grilled on the deck
dinner outside
even though we could see our breath
winter hats
flip-flops
dog-petting
book reading
Masterpiece Theater
my favorite things, and my favorite people

Sophie and I finished Little House in the Big Woods. The books ends with Pa playing, "Shall Old Aquaintances be Forgot . . ."

"Laura thought to herself, 'This is now.' She was glad that the cosy house, and Pa and Ma and the fire-light and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago."

I loved today. And will, a long time from now.
Happy Mother's Day to all my mom friends, and to my Mom, especially.

This Week's Circus

2011-04-29T07:58:00.003-05:00

A quick rewind of the past few days.
-Upside down pose courtesy of our trip to the circus! Rosy clearly enjoyed the acrobats and contortionists. I'm looking forward to seeing what she tries tomorrow. The Big Apple Circus has been camped out in front of Boston City Hall for the past month. Or as Sophie would say, it was "close to the government." Close to the Government Center subway station.

-I love that they are as at home on the subway as they are up on top of a hill looking for bluebirds and meeting tiny falcons at Drumlin Farm. We love our farm class. Every kid should have a Debbie in their lives.

-In the midst of all the other goodness of the week, we happened into a library program with an African drummer, Otha Day. It was beyond fabulous! Sophie was deeply invested in her djembe rhythms and I've promised her that we can look for more drumming opportunities. I may have loved it as much as she did.

-John often asks me to write recipes down. We've been eating well recently. And to remind myself when he asks, the week's highlights included pasta with alfredo and sauteed mushrooms, carbonara with green beans, pasta puttanesca (my favorite), "otis-ree" chicken with roasted cauliflower, and a mince meat pie that needs a tiny bit of spice tweaking, but was heavenly in its crust. We do not suffer in the culinary department. We may use a few more pans than the land-dweller, and spend a great deal more time cleaning up, but food is food.
-We are officially summering, one dock over in our new summer slip. The engine managed the five-minute trip without fail (a significant decrease from last year's mileage). We are pleased to be unwrapped, and facing bow-in, for a bit of privacy. Now, to find some time to go out to the islands . . . we may have to scale back on the drumming, dancing, birding, cooking and take a vacation from our fun.

Still Here

2011-04-25T08:01:00.002-05:00

For some reason last week feels like a year ago. Last Monday was Patriot's Day (the state holiday commemorating the Battle of Lexington and Concord- "the British are coming!"). And look- Paul Revere came to town! Literally (well, sort of).

We watched him thunder across the Charlestown Bridge on his horse. Sophie's understanding of the Revolutionary World begins and ends at fighting the British and winning (is there more to know?). It was fun to add a character to that little drama, especially with the story of him rowing to Charlestown and landing where her beloved dog park is today. Who knows if she'll remember it, but it's a start.

My birthday was Tuesday and we celebrated in the rain with cupcakes and pizza at Santarpio's. Rain and dreariness has been the weather's theme of late. Our neighborhood egg hunt was held inside thanks to the rain. Cabin fever has set in hard, between the rain and the school vacation week. We are thrilled to get back to our regular scheduled programming (and swim lessons! and the Circus!) this week.

(ready for anything)

A Day in Cambridge

2011-04-16T08:02:00.002-05:00

The girls and I set off early this morning to see a show by one of our favorite children's artists, Elizabeth Mitchell. Listening to her sing was like tripping down memory lane, revisiting all the songs I sang, and continue to sing, in the car over the past five years. I have loved Elizabeth Mitchell since college, when I'd go all over New York to hear her and her husband, Dan, play with their grown-up band, Ida. I remember being at the show where they announced their engagement. And here they were today, with their gorgeous and talented daughter on stage between them. It was all kinds of special. If you haven't shared Elizabeth Mitchell with your kids, you MUST. She takes wonderful old folksongs by people like Woody Guthrie and Elizabeth Cotton, along with some beloved classics and "grown-up" stuff, and makes them absolutely new and perfect. We sang the Velvet Underground and Bob Marley, followed by You Are My Sunshine and a traditional Japanese children's song. The girls danced in the aisles and Sophie has already written Storey (Elizabeth and Dan's daughter) a fan letter. I hope she writes back.

We left the show and visited Hi-Rise Bakery, just down the block. I needed the coffee to keep me warm at the awesomest playground in Cambridge. Just look at the blocks, the conveyer belts and pulleys for sand. We played for a long, long time before hitching a ride on the Red Line back to Boston. Like my friend Tania pointed out the last time we were in Harvard Square, it used to be the hippest, coolest place on earth. And while it has perhaps fallen victim to the mallification/gentrification that seems to catch up with all cool spots, it still has its charms. A great bakery, a killer playground, cool events. Instead of the Ida show tonight, I saw my band, with my kids, at 11AM. Which is exactly how Harvard Square feels now. Different, but a good different, for sure.

Unshrunk

2011-04-15T08:05:00.000-05:00

We are unshrunkwrapped. Awaiting the big move down one dock to the outer limits of the marina. Summer awaits!

We arrived at the marina when most boats were covered for the winter. We've become familiar with people's wooden doors, their strings of Christmas lights, their dogs . . . but now we get to see their homes! It's been like unwrapping a present- every day a new surprise as we make the trek to the gangway. With the wrap went quite a bit of privacy, too. We're looking forward to turning the boat around so that our hatch isn't facing out like a big, open, picture window. I always think of our friend (and marina owner), Sandy, saying, "Boaters know, you just DON'T look. You can't!"

There's also been this kind of fun. Reserved only for boat kids.

Springing

2011-04-06T08:06:00.003-05:00

Serena asked how the dock garden works. It's basically going to be two containers- one for sunflowers, one for the rest of our stuff. We were lucky enough to get a permanent slip, and will hopefully have neighbors who tolerate a little foliage next to their shorepower post. It's not complicated, but it will do. John and I always joke that boats with plants all over them are going nowhere fast. The signs of true liveaboards. We intend to keep the plants on the dock, at least.

Here's our Florida dock garden, circa 2005-2006.

We spent the weekend basking in the sun with the grandparents. This, on the heels of an April Fool's Snowstorm! Haha, Mother Nature, I laugh at your sense of humor. At least it melted fast.

It was bliss to have a staycation at the local hotel after the couple weeks of sickness. Leave it to me to go and get sick at the hotel. But all is well now.

We spent the morning feeding and petting sheep at Drumlin Farm, then chasing the sun as it peered in and out of clouds. To think, I spent four years in Florida shielding myself and the girls from its relentlessness. I am scarred, literally with sunspots and an overwhelming addiction to sunglasses (really, bordering on disability when I forget them!). My girls have big freckles in the parts of their hair. Too much sun.

Now? It feels like good medicine. One of the first questions people ask when they hear we live on the boat is, "How do you stay warm?" Well, two inches of insulation and a wicked good diesel stove keep us positively tropical down below. And then there are those magical days of late, when the March and April sun, just a bit more powerful than the weeks before, heats the shrinkwrap up to 80 degrees. The hatches are all open. People start cutting holes for ventilation. Our seeds sprout.

We are so, so warm. Thank you, sun.

Lows and Highs

2011-03-29T08:10:00.001-05:00

We started last week with a really sick kid. I'm pretty sure that a bad stomach virus slipped in with our carry-on luggage on the way home from Atlanta. I was mildly sick, but Rosy was hit hard. Then Sophie, with a less-awful case, and then John, who may have been sickest of all. I will say that we were spoiled by Florida. Whether it was the kids being smaller and not exposed to as many groups of kids, or the climate keeping colds at bay, or just dumb luck- this has been a sick sick winter. Sick and cold.

We were teased by spring weather and are now back to dipping into the 20s at night, lucky to hit 40 in the daytime. Rosy and I, undeterred, planted a flat of seeds for our future dock garden. And a watermelon for the plot we hope to get! If spring won't come on her own, we will WILL her to arrive.

We followed up the sick with a whirlwind of activities. The girls visited the penguins at the Aquarium with their babysitter. We made beautiful stained glass panels at the Museum of Fine Arts. The Constitution Museum (we live almost adjacent to the USS Cinstitution, better known as "Old Ironsides") held a family night and we took a night walk last Friday to swing in the hammocks and hoist the goat aboard (a really great kids exhibit, for the locals!). Then there was WOolapaloOza! We watched the sheep being sheared and herded at Drumlin Farm. Sophie carded wool and made pom-poms. If you ask her though, the highlights may have been climbing the cliffs and making fairy houses. A perfect, if not COLD day on the farm.

The week ended with a good swim and a birthday party and a collapse in exhaustion. Sophie has been in bed an hour earlier than normal, two nights in a row. The good, the bad, and the ugly, all in a few days.

Now we turn our focus to spring-izing the boat. The shrinkwrap has to be off in two short weeks, which means all the exploding we've done on deck- airing out sails, leaving tools and coats and shoes outside, has to be put away. We'll soon be in a new slip, looking less like a greenhouse and more like a sailboat.

Sugaring Season

2011-03-21T08:11:00.003-05:00

Last week was a tease of spring. First, a trip to Atlanta where temperatures hit the 70 degree mark and the trees were covered with white and pink flowers. Daffodils were everywhere. We swang and swang and swang on the neighbor's rope swing and practiced two-wheeled bike riding. We even drew on cars (gasp!). It was an extended party in my Dad's driveway, which is exactly the kind of party he likes to throw. If only my sister would get married in the driveway.

We came home to absolutely stunning weather last week, and a celebration of Sugaring Season. Sophie and I have been reading Little House in the Big Woods, along with a pile of books about this New England tradition. On Thursday we got to go out to our local Audubon Sanctuary and see some trees being tapped for sap. The kids tasted sap from a couple of trees, visited an antique evaporator in the sugarhouse, and compared "real" maple syrup with Aunt Jemima's version.

We learned that it takes 40 buckets of sap to make 1 bucket of syrup, and that a tree 30 inches around is already 40 years old (finally old enough for tapping). The trees store sap all winter in their roots where it gets super-concentrated. As the spring thaw comes, they draw it up to the buds of their leaves. On its way, we steal a bit for us. We can't wait to see if we have a few sugar maples on our land in Maine. Wouldn't that be heaven?

Friday saw us to the Maine Boatbuilder's Show, really the only boat show we recommend to people. It's lovely, with great food and a beautiful setting in historic buildings along Portland's waterfront. If you plan to cruise Maine, or buy a small Maine-built boat, it's worth the trip.

Before our weekend came screeching to a halt with the onslaught of Rosy's second stomach virus of the year, we managed a trip with friends to the coolest playground west of Germany, in Cambridge Commons. It has been a long winter waiting for the playgrounds to emerge from the snow, and it was a thrill to be playing with friends and tasting a bit of the summer routine. TIme in the woods, time in Maine, time in the parks.

But for now it seems that we're looking at another two weeks of running the heater and bundling up. I am sitting here next to my feverish and lethargic Rose, optimistic for what's to come, but focused more on dripping water into her little body, slowly, slowly, like the sap running up the tree. She could use some now.

Feeding Time

2011-03-16T08:13:00.004-05:00

In the midst of all the terrible news of late, John and I came across something today that simply set our hearts aflutter with pride. It was this article, which our marina neighbor posted to his Facebook page. The town in Maine where we own 17 acres, has passed an ordinance giving its citizens the right “to produce, process, sell, purchase, and consume local foods of their choosing.” It basically states that anyone who wants to sell raw milk, make their own cheeses, butcher and sell their own meat, etc., is exempt from state inspection and licensure, as long as that food is consumed (at home) by a citizen of Sedgwick, who is acknowledging its lack of inspectedness. It takes away the expensive obstacles that keep people from selling their homemade wares, and for once, truly legalizes and encourages local eating. It is awesome. Sedgwick is the very first town in the country to do this, and we couldn't be prouder. Not Berkeley, not Brooklyn, not Seattle or Portland, but our tiny Sedgwick.

It's been a food-thinking kind of day. After going back and forth over the expense of a CSA subscription this summer, I finally found a local farm with a sliding income scale (the first I'd seen!), and the ability to pick a week's crops from a large selection (almost like going to a market), which is important to us with our limited refrigeration. The real selling point, though? We can actually pick much of the week's harvest ourselves, and cut flowers, turning it into the ultimate summer experience for the girls. Dreamy. Thank you, Waltham Community Farms.

I also drove by the weird and abandoned community garden in Charlestown that sits on a finger of the Mystic River, with a housing project on one side and a car-carrier terminal n the other (think, thousands of Subarus and an ENORMOUS ship!). I'm hoping to get a little spot there to grow some strawberries and sunflowers with the girls, maybe a tomato or two. It would be the ultimate urban irony, in the best way possible.

In short, we try to feed ourselves as unprocessed and well as possible here in our limited space, with limited budget. As summer rolls around, we will try to get as much as we can locally and the challenge will be to eat, store, and preserve our harvest, as a practice run for the Shangri-la that awaits us in Maine (think chicken coop and wild blueberries and gardens!!), but also as a learning experience, and a way of doing things. We do it because it feels good and it tastes better. And if anything is going to get my girls excited about peas, it will be pulling them off the vine every week.

Here's to Sedgwick. We are lucky to be a part of that place, if just in spirit for now.
(the pic at top is by my sister, of a friend's garden in Scotland. we ate his peas, carrots, and potatoes nearly every night we were there in September. below, is Sedgwick).

Warming to It

2011-03-07T08:15:00.002-05:00

Turning the calendar to March felt like a relief. The vernal equinox is just two weeks away. The girls have never experienced a change of the seasons quite like this one. We find buds coming up where the snow has melted over the past week. We have been reading about maple sugaring and are set to attend at least one demonstration next week. This time last year we were picking strawberries! Nuts. 50 degrees has never felt warmer, or more welcome. I have missed you, early spring.

We learned about a wonderful Japanese festival this week at the Children's Museum. Setsubun is celebrated on the day before the first day of Spring. An adult comes into a home, or a school, wearing the mask of an Oni, or ogre. The children throw soybeans at him, to symbolically drive away the past year's bad luck. Then they eat one soybean for each year they are old, for good luck. Sophie, of course, was entranced. She has been an Oni all week long (click on the pic below to see video).

From February 11

Our two favorite recipes from the week: Scottish Scones, from Molly Wizenberg's book, A Homemade Life. These were insanely delicious, just as Molly described, like a sweet biscuit. The girls loved making them, more than they loved to eat them (not sweet enough?). We used dried cranberries- maybe Florida winter strawberries next time?

On a less edible note, we made Oobleck, from Mudpies (a brilliant series my aunt introduced us to. Suddenly I can't imagine my life without the Mudpies books. I have every one in the Boston Public Library's collection, with no intention of returning them soon). Oobleck is supremely addictive and wicked messy (the way my kids play with it), but cleans up easy enough. John loves it as much as they do. We fantasize about a wading pool full of this stuff for a birthday bash in the future.

Enjoy, and Happy Setsubun, from our Onis to yours.

Oobleck
1 box (1 lb) cornstarch
1 1/2 cups cold water
Fold together with your hands in big bowl until smooth. Try squeezing it in your hands- it remains a solid. Then let go: instant liquid. It's so much fun.

Knitted

2011-02-24T08:16:00.001-05:00

Last week was a hard one. Between a nagging but wimpy cold and some other issues, I was having a hard time trudging through. We were on a hike one day, looking for birds, and I kept breaking through the icy top layer of snow and would end up knee-deep, with wet socks. That's how the whole week felt. Like I couldn't stay on top of it. Sophie started spiraling in that direction too. Grumpy, short with her words, impatient with herself. And then this happened.

Finger-knitting appeared in our Waldorf curriculum and I was a bit terrified to try it with her, as new and challenging things are often met with tears these days. But she has absolutely mastered it and something about the rhythm, and the visual accomplishment, and the fact that she gets no help from me . . . something about it has simply worked magic.

More than anything, I think she's clamoring to grow up a bit. She needs challenges, and she needs successes. She needs a bit of space, mentally. Who can blame her for that?

Amongst the grumps, there were some highlights this week:

Kool-Aid playsilks. We were inspired by our friend's collection and made some for us and for a new baby about to arrive just down the dock. They are enchanting, and stupid-easy to make in a big pot (we don't have a microwave). We play with them all the time.

Filling the boat with kids! My friend Tania asked me if we feel like we're the spokespeople for liveaboard families in Boston. Yes, I often do, when I answer the skeptically phrased, "And how is that?" question for the fifth time in a week. It's good to have friends who want to know exactly how it is, and who make an effort to find out for themselves! Thanks for coming, kiddos!

With all the wool wrapped around our fingers of late, and a warmish day on our hands, we ventured out to Drumlin Farm, an Audubon preserve, about 15 miles from here. Seriously, we found heaven. I may have experienced heart palpitations entering the sparkling chicken house, with a half dozen varieties of beautiful birds. Or was it the veritable sea of lettuce seedlings in the greenhouse? The wonderful sheep in the pic above is called Lionness, and her best friend is the farm's resident pony, Midnight. She shares a stall with Midnight during the day. That may have been the end for me. We will be back, many times over the next few months. It was truly the icing on the knitting girl's cake. And the perfect end to the week o' grumps.

May all of your rainbows be so meticulously crafted.

Loves

2011-02-13T08:17:00.000-05:00

The Valentines mailbox is full. The cookie dough is chilling outside. I love that Valentine's Day, for Sophie, is about seeing us read the cards she made. The chocolate is a bonus. She's thrilled about surprising us. I can't wait.

This past week was another mishmash of unschooling goodness. Our first gymnastics class, new friends (for all of us), more dancing, many books written and illustrated- a popular theme seems to be robots and kung-fu. We visited the Frog Pond and watched the zamboni clean the ice. We made insanely awesome collages at the Museum of Fine Arts. We got some new clothes and John secured yet another overpriced piece of government identification. Today we watched the lions dance at the Children's Museum, in honor of the Lunar New Year. The highlight for me may have been the group of Korean girls who dressed all three of us head-to-toe in traditional Hanbok. They helped me fold my own origami dress and gave the girls paper dolls and peppermints. The biggest surprise of all? An entire kung-fu demonstration! No robots, but quite impressive.

Happy Valentine's Day from us to you-

Warmth

2011-02-07T08:18:00.000-05:00

It has been positively tropical for two days here. In the 40s. We went out without coats today. In the SUN! Rosy danced on the table, in the SUN!

Nearly all of last week's business was canceled on account of the epic two-day snow affair. We did a lot of slipping, sliding, and pushing strollers through slush (something I have come to abhor). On Friday we ended up at the Museum of Fine Arts again, which is quickly becoming one of my favorite places to be with the girls. We don't see much, but their interest in everything from Buddha to masks of Oceana, to portraits of the Spanish Royal Court, keeps us busy wandering and talking. We stop for coffee and a cookie, clementines, and "cheetohs" for Rosy (really Tings). This week we joined a homeschool class on self-portraits and while Rosy's was a brilliant study in ALL colors, Sophie's turned out to be a precious representation of exactly who she is.

Our future liveaboard friends held a wonderful party for the Chinese New Year. The girls reveled in the company and were thrilled with their envelopes of "cash." We can't wait to see Serena and Phil cram that many people into a 30ish foot boat next year!

Today's big occasion was Sophie getting a library card! We are celebrating not only her penmanship, but her sudden and real enthusiasm for decoding words. She spent a solid twenty minutes sounding out the spines of books before deciding to take home an Iron Man comic book as her first "check-out." To each his own, I suppose. When she's not painting herself or decoding comics, she has been producing illustrated stories about her stuffed camel, Carl. I see the series growing by leaps and bounds this week, as she is thrilled to be not only a reader, but also an author.

Happy Lunar New Year of the Rabbit!

Exhale

2011-01-29T08:19:00.001-05:00

(mosaic by Sophie, a highlight of our MFA visit, along with real mummies!)

Today has felt like a real Saturday. A break from the week. An out breath, if you will. After a few weeks of feeling a bit closed-up on the boat, waiting for new activities to begin, we've fallen into a rhythm that's nothing short of BUSY. Busy with playgroups, library storytime, babysitting, swimming, dance class, museum classes, gymnastics, errands, visiting. The girls love it (especially "Dance Your Tail Off," the creative movement class they take together), I love it. And when you finally get moving, you appreciate the stillness more. The snow days. The Saturdays. Just waiting for the laundry becomes therapeutic.

The highlights this week: the season's fourth major snowfall, the arrival of a new sled, the Yo-Yo Man show at the library, a new babysitter, a new 5-year-old friend at playgroup (they talked about dinosaurs- eep!), a visit to the Museum of Fine Arts to learn about its rad homeschool program, a swim with Seth in the marina pool, and tomorrow, a meeting of the MBTA Fan Club (Sophie is officially a subway geek, and we're excited to meet more of her kind).

The ladies fall asleep a bit faster these days. And so do we.

Boatschooling

2011-01-24T08:20:00.002-05:00

Just a quick round up of our boatschooling week. Mixed in with a ton of snow, a wicked stomach virus, and the final steps of our diesel heater installation!

We attended a rockin' Japanese New Year celebration at the Children's Museum, complete with hakimachi (headbands, with their names in Japanese!), a suminagashi workshop (an unforgettable activity that involved ink, water, wind, and paper), and GIANT origami. I love origami, but GIANT origami may be our new passion. We also got to see Taiko drumming (loud and awesome), Japanese dancing, and Rosy's personal favorite- double-dutch!

We visited our friends Lilja and Theo, went sledding on their hill, and left with their chicken's newly-laid eggs, along with a ton of awesome handmedowns. The most generous people EVER- we love them!

In the mid-week snow, we made sun bread. We have read the wonderful book dozens of times, but never tasted it ourselves. It was delicious- like challah, and the girls shaped it into a sun, a braided wreath, and two small wreathes we covered with birdseed to leave for our feathered friends in this frigid weather. We have been feeding ducks and swans that visit the docks, and have a plethora or tiny and hearty birds that inhabit the shrubs around the marina. How, I have no idea?

Later in the week we celebrated reaching the Number 10 in our Oak Meadow curriculum, by making a family hand wreath. Sophie practiced tracing, cutting, and writing. Rosy collaborated on the gluing. Lots of glue. She has has a passion for sticky.

We have made it to the double-digits and the Letter R, which features a longtime favorite story of ours- The Roly-Poly Pudding by Beatrix Potter. Sophie became obsessed with it before Rosy was born and they have been busy watching, reading, and retelling it all over again. Oak Meadow even includes a recipe for roly-poly puddings, which is on the agenda for this week! I'm finding that as we go along in the curriculum, the storytelling gets more complex. Sophie is a master multitasker and will illustrate the stories as I read aloud. I'm not sure if it helps her digest the material, but her book is filled with intricate drawings of fairy tale play-by-play. They're quite lovely, I think!

What else did we do? We painted, upon Rosy's request. She is deeply invested in her watercolors these days. It is easy to focus exclusively on the kindergarten materials we have and overlook the little one's needs. But I have to remind myself how much time we devoted to giving Sophie opportunities to ply her trade when she was two. Rosy loves to sing and paint. She spends a great deal of time applying her ballet shoes and tutu. She even draws faces!

On Saturday we attended the Open House at the Waldorf School in Lexington. I was thrilled to see the girls simply insert themselves into classroom after classroom, donning dress-up clothes, setting to work coloring, arranging, building. I am keeping all of my options open for next year, as I know Sophie would love to spend more time playing in the company of her peers. She is a master at making friends- in airport playspaces, in libraries, at our local playgroup. She is a social beast, and while we hope we can find more community within the homeschool groups here in Boston, I'm not opposed to the right school, at the right time.

Sunday took us to the Central Library- the big, beautiful, historical branch (with the best books). We loaded the stroller to its full weight capacity and as a bonus, were treated to a preview of the children's production of Hansel and Gretel by the Boston Lyric Opera. I could not love the library more, especially on days like Sunday.

So, all in all, a productive, busy week. Every week is different here at the boatschool. Which is exactly how we like it.

Uncle Ward

2011-01-23T08:22:00.000-05:00

Our beloved Uncle Ward passed away today, having lived exceedingly close to a century. For my family, having lost all three grandparents over the past five years, losing Ward is truly like losing an entire generation. He was my grandmother's sister's husband, but we knew him as my grandfather's surrogate brother. Uncle Ward was my grandfather's closest friend, and I dare say, his favorite correspondent. I was just looking through pictures and emails and found notes from Ward from the past few years. Not only could he type and use a computer, but he used email regularly. My parents can attest to the number of devices they attempted to teach my grandparents to use for email. The whole concept seemed to stump them. But not Ward. He simply evolved with his hundred years. He was constantly learning, reading, using his mind. I hope there are memoirs and journals somewhere in his things, as his stories were always wonderfully rich. He was an English professor, a baseball fan, a poet.

The last time I saw him was at a family gathering in Atlanta. My grandfather was there, with his long-awaited great-granddaughter (Sophie!). And Ward was there, surrounded by a slew of grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. They were the great patriarchs. The deafest, most wonderful old men I've had the pleasure to know. I remember going to lunch with them and my dad, and quickly realizing that we needed to put them between us in the circular booth, so that they could lean in and listen to each other. I will always remember them like that. Leaning in, laughing. How lucky I am to have known them both.

Winter in Two Worlds

2011-01-19T08:23:00.001-05:00

I was just about to sit down and write this post last night, when Rosy started vomiting. A lot, and often, until about 4AM. It's her first big illness and thankfully it seems to have passed, but nothing is more heartbreaking than a wee one who wipes her too-long bangs from eyes after being sick and declares, "I'm BETTER!" Then she begs for water. Oh, heartbreaking.

So we are holed up on this winter day, heater running, the big girl out with her dad getting the last parts for our diesel heater (we're going to have a fireplace!"). We had snow last week, and yesterday, and more is coming tomorrow. More snow in a week than I witnessed over the first twenty-three years of my life. The girls and I took a walk last night and stomped through the wintry mess. Sophie loves spotting the wild animal tracks in new drifts (raccoons? skunks? and many, many dogs). Rosy participates in making new tracks until her toes freeze. They love snow as long as they are warm. Which was the problem when it snowed in Atlanta, of all places, on Sophie's birthday weekend.

I left the waterproof gloves and the snow boots on the boat when we took off last week. The woman at security at Logan Airport showed me the weather forecast printed on my boarding pass- snow??! I wrote it off to a fluke, but when we got to Georgia and people started packing into the grocery store the day before the "big storm," it became clear that we had brought some of our snow with us. It was quite beautiful, and full of nostalgia for my family. My dad walking down our steep driveway with two girls. All the neighborhood kids sledding down the "big hill" at the top of the street.

They inspired my dad to fetch our old Radio Flyer sleds from the attic, which the adults enjoyed as much as Sophie and Rosy did! At one point there was a three-way tournament for distance sledding, which I won, but only by a drastic shift in technique (headfirst, the same way I knocked two teeth out when I was eight). We had a great time, until the street froze into a treacherous sea of black ice. Being there made me thankful for New England efficiency when it comes to clearing and treating icy roads. As soon as it starts coming down, we hear the dock crew walking by with snowblowers and salt carts. The girls have climbed many a "snow-plow mountain" in the parking lot. We love our snow. There are few things as beautiful as the quiet blanketing of a real snowstorm, no matter what it state it happens to be in. I'm quite sure my parents will be craving a Radio Flyer rematch soon. And I'm sure we'll still have plenty of the good stuff here in Boston, by the looks of the forecast this week.

And Just Like That . . .

2011-01-14T08:23:00.001-05:00

She's FIVE!!! Five years old. Holey moley, ridiculous. FIVE.
I always think I'll be wistful, in disbelief over the fact that she's having a birthday. But every year, I'm as excited as she is. Proud of who she's become in a year's time, ready to celebrate what's to come. Yes, I would give most anything to squeeze the round, perfect, big-eyed HER of four years ago.

Would'nt you? As little as she was, her eyes are just the same. Full of kindness, empathy, curiosity. She is still the sweetest girl I know.

Five is? Five is organizing toys into groups of omnivores, herbivores, and carnivores. Five is making sure that the toy knight is always holding the toy baby without legs. Because she shouldn't fall over. Five is naming your new stuffed dragon after the neighbor's unborn daughter. Five is kissing Rosy goodnight and saying, "I just can't stop kissing her!" Five is reading an entire book, in your own words, which must be better, as the story always changes. Five is a passion for candy. Five is believing in Santa, fairies, and dragons. Five is waterproof gloves and mittens, better for making snowballs. Five is reading the subway map. Five is drawing elaborate illustrations of stories I can't remember the details of. Five is walking on stilts. Five is so, so sensitive. Five is just about as beautiful as you've always been, and always will be.

Five is Sophie. She's FIVE!
Happy Birthday, beautiful girl.
Love,
mama

Happy New Year

2011-01-01T20:24:00.000-05:00

As I was wrapping up the last post, it occurred to me that I hadn't sent a New Year's greeting out from Rubicon! Happy 2011! The girls and I celebrated with puppet shows, crazy hat-making, and then the Grand Procession (parade) down Boylston Street. It was great to be back among the throngs on New Years Eve, but also able to retire to our little corner of Boston by dinnertime. We had a dip in the marina pool and some pizza to round out the celebrating. The girls had long gone to bed, but John and I heard the fireworks begin in the harbor after midnight. I could see the high ones from our finger pier. After the mega-year we've had repowering, rerigging and moving onto the boat, not to mention traveling up the near-entirety of the East Coast, I imagined for a moment that a few of them were for us. Who knows what 2011 will bring, besides a 5-year old (in 10 days) and a 3-year old. But we are exactly where we want to be. Thank you, Boston, for celebrating with us.

Happy New Year to all of our friends out there.

Visiting

2011-01-01T08:25:00.000-05:00

We've been treated to a string of brilliant, sunny, warm days and yesterday was no exception. With a super-warm cockpit under the shrinkwrap, it was a good day to have visitors.

We welcomed Miss V and her family aboard to talk boats and family and the intersection of all of it. They are in the process of boatshopping and hope to be aboard by spring. We would love to have another family on the docks! You can read about their boat search on their blog, Liveaboard Dreams. I'm off to update our sidebar with links to boating families- there are some great folks taking the plunge and I've been slow to update our page. Check out the People on Boats list to read about our people near and far. I just sent Serena some links to our favorite boat books. We have dozens of boat books- between the boat and the shelves in my parent's house, we have everything Lin and Larry Pardey have ever written, multiple copies of The Long Way, tons of canvaswork, sail repair and technical rigging handbooks. And my very favorite, North to the Night, by Alvah Simon. But for the boat-buying set, we love John Vigor's 20 Small Sailboats To Take You Anywhere, and for the sailing family, not much is more inspiring than Dave and Jaja Martin's book, Into the Light.

Thank you, Serena and company, for reminding me of the good books that John passed on to me, introducing me to this great club of people who lead their lives on boats. It brings a bit of perspective to the dirty work of installing the diesel heater!

Blizzard

2010-12-27T18:49:00.000-05:00

Want some snow? We have plenty!!!

Boston welcomed us back with a blizzard! Wow, it was a doozy. Our first real winter storm, and we were buttoned up tight, the shrinkwrap doing its job. The wind is still absolutely howling, giving the impression of being at sea on a day when we wouldn't want to be at sea. The girls have reveled in every last inch of the white stuff. We never ventured farther than the marina parking lot today, and we still had plenty of adventures. Best of all, last night, as the snow started swirling outside, we were in the pool. Swimming in a heavenly heated pool (with a tent overhead), warm in the water but feeling the bite of the cold air on our heads. It was like a hot spring in Iceland. Perhaps those in the coldest countries are onto something with their saunas and springs. It felt like laughing at Old Man Winter. Keeping it fun is truly what it's been about for the girls. Thankfully the fun is contagious.

Welcome to Winter

2010-12-23T18:51:00.000-05:00

For the first time since 2003, really, we are having a true New England winter. It arrived on Solstice Eve, with the most perfect timing imaginable. Sophie has been fairly down on the cold, and having to wear her "puffy pink coat" and all sorts of unforgiving, itchy accessories. I've purchased half a dozen pairs of gloves trying to convince her to wear some. Early in the week she would walk down the dock saying, "I hate winter." Until it snowed. Everything has changed.

At about two o'clock on Monday afternoon the snow started coming. She was skipping down the dock. Magically, a new well-fitting, warm coat arrived from Goonie (two thumbs up to Land's End, btw. I love my coat too!). She never looked back. On Tuesday we went out and got her some waterproof ski gloves and she wears them every time we go out, so she can make snowballs and hurl them into my pockets and purse.

This year the solstice has been about warmth. About finally winterizing and buttoning ourselves up. Settling in and arriving, finally. Our boat has been magically warm inside, warmer than most boats we know, warmer than we ever imagined it would be. The weeks I spent cursing the overhead insulation, replacing the foam last summer, have more than paid off. We spent all day Sunday, and then some of yesterday shrinkwrapping the boat, which will protect the deck from the snow and gives us a 33-foot storage unit abovedecks until the spring. I was starting to feel the crush of outerwear, but now it lives "outside." What could be better?

The girls relished Solstice Santa's booty. Somehow he knew that Rosy is obsessed with lip balm ("lip on") and butterfly wings. Somehow he knew that a 9-inch plush worm would be Sophie's favorite thing (Lowly Worm from Richard Scarry's books). Sophie was thrilled that he left one carrot for her snowman ("HOW did he KNOW??"). My family came through in a big way, warming my toes with great socks. We got wool sweaters and hats, good books, kitchen stuff, beer opening devices. Our friend Chris sent books that could not have been more perfect for the girls. The boat got a new set of Buddhist prayer flags. We are loved.

The girls and I took an afternoon ramble through the park and found a big snowdrift, which they jumped into until their feet were wet. Two groups of tourists stopped and took pictures of them. We had our favorite roast for dinner and read a pile of great books, including The Longest Night, a perfect winter tale. The only thing missing was the eclipse. It was simply too cloudy. Maybe in another dozen years.

Happy Winter, Merry Christmas, and much love to our family and friends in these next days of celebrating.

The Best Week

2010-12-19T18:51:00.000-05:00

It has been another busy week of making, making, and making some more. We started small, with birdseed ornaments to give to our neighbors and friends, along with a big batch of homemade dog treats for the marina pooches, and our family canines. The dog who lives behind us returned the favor with two baskets overflowing with snowglobes and candy. Sophie was mystified: "How did Barkley pick these out himself??"

We also painted, and painted some more, made lanterns and cards. The girls were proud to have made nearly everything in our big family Christmas box. The abundance of pink paint is the true giveaway.

John and I aren't religious people, and wanting to emphasize the natural symbolism of this special week of the year, we choose to hold our big family festivity on the Winter Solstice. It ties it all together nicely, since most holiday celebrations borrow from the old pagan traditions- the evergreens, candles, gifts to animals, etc. The girls may even get their first snow in time for Solstice, which would set them over the moon. That said, Sophie firmly believes in Santa Claus, and why not? Why would the big red bearded dude NOT visit here? She sees him as a great friend to children and nothing more, nothing less. He doesn't care what we believe, as long as she believes in him. So we embrace it all, and love that she so easily adapts him to our Solstice needs. She has declared us "Solstans."

Happy almost-Solstice to Solstans everywhere. Which I suppose, we all are.

Rosy v2.5

2010-12-16T18:52:00.001-05:00

Rosy will be two-and-a-half in just a few days, making her the very same age Sophie was when she became a big sister. There have been times over the last few months when I've wondered how on earth I had a baby, and an older child who was still essentially a baby. Rosy seemed so little, so needy, so MUCH to me. And then a switch went off. John and I have both recognized this immense change that's come about in the last few weeks. Rosy has simply grown up. Almost overnight. She's funny, she talks constantly, sings in the car. She LISTENS! She's still mischief incarnate, but she's manageable. This is the stage Sophie had arrived at when Rosy entered the scene. Two-and-a-half is simply a lot of fun.

There are bits and pieces of Rosy I wish I could bottle up. The way she "hatches an egg," instead of cracks it. Her funny mispronunciation of "his," as "that's HEEEEES coat!" The way she substitutes "our for "we"- "Our going to the museum!" WHen she asks where something is on the boat, she follows the question by saying, "Think!" We all adore the way she dances back and forth from one leg to another when she's excited. The way she bows after she dances. She gives these fabulous tiny, sweet kisses and has somehow connected the dots of what love really means. She'll randomly shout out, "I WUV you SO much!" It's the absolute best.

Her other big milestone- she's weaned! Another difference in siblings: Sophie weaned herself before she was two. She just stopped wanting/needing to nurse. With Rosy, I knew I would have to draw a line, as nursing was starting to hurt me. It became something I resented. She was waking up four and five times a night and needing me every time. There came a point when nearly five years of sleep deprivation trumped all of my attachment parenting instincts. This girl was ready. I was more than ready. And when that lightswitch of reasonable toddler behavior was flipped, it came easy for us. She was sad and angry the first night, but settled in well, and it has been an easy week of snuggles and singing at bedtime. I love holding her and being next to her, hearing her recount her random musings on the day. It's amazing how that time that made me so frustrated has so quickly been replaced with time I adore. Finally, she is sleeping better, and I am too. Thank goodness.

We are emerging from the larval stage, as John calls it. We have no babies on our boat. We are so lucky to have these amazing girls. Or as Rosy would say, "Our so lucky" to have them.

15 degrees

2010-12-11T18:53:00.001-05:00

Wow, it has been cold. The water in the inner reaches of the marina had a frozen crust on top of it yesterday, and the high tide line is marked by big chunks of ice in the rocks. We still haven't wrapped the boat. But she stays remarkably warm, even without her greenhouse. Thank you, two-inch foam insulation!

Meanwhile, the holiday season is starting to make its appearance onboard. It is remarkable what a few paper cranes, some leftover cranberries and a bit of popcorn can do to make a place feel festive.

And credit is due to my parents, for turning an otherwise frigid weekend into a ton of fun. They revolutionized our local playground, sliding down with the girls again and again. It is a picture I won't soon forget. Their visit was exactly what we all needed, at the end of a long journey. Thanks, Goonie and JoePop!

A Week at Home

2010-12-04T18:54:00.001-05:00

And what a week it's been. Our first week "home." I suppose it is home. It's where we started, afterall. Though the current winter digs in Charlestown are new to us. What a heavenly location- a walk from the train, the bus, the parks, the ferry, shopping, the library, more parks. Every liveaboard should have it so good. My view at night is the lit-up Zakim Bridge, the old Boston Garden decked out in her Christmas colors, and the Old North Church peeping out from the top of the North End. My parents are visiting and can watch us walk the docks from the hotel room, adjacent to the marina. Not to mention the heated, indoor pool that we've enjoyed twice in the past week. A marina in the frozen north with a heated pool. To the girls, this is boat heaven.

We weathered a stomach virus this week, certainly the lowlight. The highlight was a visit from my long-lost friend, Meg, and her tiny bug, Juniper. Good friends can spend five years passing emails, letters, and the occasional Facebook photo, manage to have three babies between them, and then reconnect like nothing ever changed. I am lucky to have a few, so that wherever "home" might become, we have those connections to fall back on. It was a gift to gab about babies and mothering for a few precious hours. To share a cup of coffee and do my best to get a smile from June-Baby. Anything for a glimpse of those two tiny front teeth. I will see her again before she's a first-grader. I promise, sweet girl.

(juniper and meg)

This week is the big plastic project. John built the shrinkwrap frame and we are ready for melting. More soon, as boat becomes BUBBLE.

Thanksgiving in Boston

2010-11-26T18:55:00.000-05:00

We had much to celebrate yesterday. Reaching our winter destination, finishing the East Coast slog, beating yet another gale into the Inner Harbor. Whatever you want to call it, we are here, done, and decompressing. The trip deserves its own special wrap-up, but it must be noted that the high point has been the boat. We bought her five years ago, with no previous owner to sing her praises. It was clear that he cared for her and that she was built for ocean crossings. We took a leap and it has paid off. Over these past four months, she’s never let us down- as stable and forgiving as a boat her size can be. John had some fairly strong winds on the last passage from Cape Cod, but he described her as “being on a rail.” She loves a nice breeze and with a bit of sail out, she heels over just enough, and then takes off, solidly. It is important to love what you sail. And today more than ever, we simply love this boat.

As a bonus, she’s super warm! We have had nights in the twenties this week and are running one small heater, without shrinkwrap, and staying toasty.

This was our second live aboard Thanksgiving. The first was worth remembering- a blustery, lonely day in Ocean City, Maryland six years ago. The story is on our old blog. But this one was even tastier, I do believe. Our old boat had a two burner camp stove. Now we bask in the relative luxury of a three-burner stove with an oven. We bought a small de-boned turkey breast from Whole Foods- a bit of a splurge for the fancy all-natural deal, but after reading Barbara Kingsolver’s account of turkey farming, I’m willing to get a “good” bird. The de-boned “roast” was perfectly sized for the oven and our small casseroles. It also cooked in just over two hours, saving our precious propane for sweets and side dishes.

Our pies may become a new tradition. The girls have been fixated on pumpkin pie for many months leading up, so we had a “pie party” the night before. They each had a bowl and a spoon and I threw ingredients for a pumpkin and a pecan pie in their respective bowls. We used the premade refrigerated crusts and they each got to press them into a pie pan and shape the sides “like waves, Mommy!” There is a line I draw with boat-cooking, and pie crust crosses it. Anything that involves rolling out on a well-floured surface is just not happening. This was a perfect compromise.

We did mashed potatoes, cranberries, cabbage and gravy on the stove, and baked our stuffing while the turkey rested. Our cranberries were from a bog in East Sandwich, where John grew up. Making the stuffing made me think of John’s and my first Thanksgiving together, spent with his sister, who instructed me on what to buy. I still remember Dondi in the store, saying, “Did you get stuffing bread? Stuffing bread and Bell’s Seasoning is all you need.” I’d never heard of such things, but wow, she was absolutely right.

It was a blissful holiday. The girls ate like crazy, really for the first time on Thanksgiving. I consider that a milestone. Sophie had turkey and cranberries for breakfast this morning, with a side of pumpkin pie. Thank you to everyone out there who has sent us well-wishes along the way. We appreciate your comments more than you know. For now, you know where to find us . . .

Bathtub

2010-11-17T18:56:00.000-05:00

We missed a day. The sting of missing a day is brutal, especially when it's the last day. We stayed put yesterday because despite the low winds, the weather people issued a small-craft advisory for "hazardous seas." The waves went down, and it would have been okay, but at the time, we made the call we felt was safe. It doesn't take the sting out.

We have been indulging in a bathtub and some good Wifi for a couple of nights, squaring away some domestic loose ends- job search, insurance, reading back months into friends blogs . . . A vacation from our vacation. You can't hear the wind. Ahhh.

We've done some exploring to keep our minds off the weather. The beaches at the end of the Cape are simply the stuff of dreams. I am in love. John told me that Cape Cod was created when a giant glacier pushed down from Canada, then receeded, leaving this enormous elbow of sand in its path. It is a nice result.

Some day this week we hope to bring this whole shenanigan to an end and start settling in to our winter abode, Constitution Marina, in Boston. We went up last week to secure our slip and were turned away initially. Full-up. We sulked back to the car to consider our options, and took the girls down to the Aquarium. On our way back to the parking lot, I suggested stopping at a park downtown, to let the ladies burn some energy before the drive back to the boat. Sophie settled into the sandbox and started playing with a little boy. John and I were standing near her when a gentleman came up and introduced himself and said, "I think my wife reads your blog." We put two and two together- I had seen him, also John, coming off the gangway at Constitution, with a kid's stroller. He and his wife, Kelly, along with their four-year-old son, Seth, live at the marina on their boat, next door to another blog-reading friend of mine, Jenny. Jenny had steered them our way. Somehow they were in the park at the same time- a park far from the marina, no less. And the weirdest part of the whole weird coincidence? Sophie had plopped herself in the sandbox with their son. She and Seth played together like the long-lost liveaboard boatschooling friends we hope they become.

As it turns out, Kelly works in the marina office and coerced just the right people to make just enough space for a 33-foot boat and its resident family. Thank you, Kelly and John, and thank you Seth and Sophie, for finding each other at just the right time, just when we needed a little bit of fate, or luck.

Now, for that luck we need with the weather . . .

Science Friday

2010-11-13T18:57:00.000-05:00

An excerpt from an email Sophie sent to my aunt, Sally: “I tasted a bunch of jams yesterday. I touched a toad yesterday. He ate a bunch of insects and a beetle. I also saw a pollywog. I even touched a slimy frog that lived in a pretend treetrunk with water in it. I saw a sleeping hedgehog. Did you know that hedgehogs sleep all day and wake up at night? Her name was Lola. I think that's a nice name for a hedgehog. There's hedgies all over the world- one at the library that's a puppet and my hedgie too.”

The rain finally stopped and the wind has abated enough for us to have some outdoor fun. We had a ridiculously awesome educational morning just driving around Sandwich yesterday. We stopped first at the fish hatchery and fed all sorts of trout, in various stages of development. Sophie would have doled out the fish bits for hours, but we ran out of quarters. Our next stop was the Green Briar Nature Center, with its incredible jam kitchen. The girls tasted half a dozen flavors each before we met the naturalist, who runs a weekly program introducing one of the center’s resident animals to preschoolers. This week was Frog & Toad week. We watched a toad stealthily attack a mealy worm. We learned to wet our hands before touching a frog, and then watched one jump across the classroom. It was such a sweet, sweet introduction to science. I feel very lucky to have happened upon it.

Sophie’s highlight may have been seeing a real hedgehog, as we have spent many months in the company of her beloved stuffed Hedgie, and then met another Hedgie puppet at library story time last Tuesday (also a gem in Sandwich). We have read many of Jan Brett’s book featuring Hedgie. But to see those prickles in real life- and to know more about them! That, for Sophie, is the very best.

I love her enthusiasm. I love seeing her confidence grow when she masters writing a new number, climbs a new jungle gym, tells her grandparents about slimy frog skin. Even as John and I wallow in the stuckness of these past few months, she has grown by leaps and bounds. She is loving the learning, and that’s truly what it’s all about.

That's Quite Enough Wind, thank you

2010-11-09T18:58:00.000-05:00

We are growing roots in Sandwich. I am a new member of the library. We have visited the town transfer station/dump. We have a local pub, a grocery, a breakfast place. We have friends twenty-minutes away. The wind has been howling, literally humming through the rigging, heeling the boat over, for close to a week. Today is worse than yesterday. Tomorrow promises to be more of the same. We bought more fenders today, ours have taken such a beating. If the marina had a shower and water on the dock, I’d throw my hands up and surrender to it. But we can’t stay, as lovely as it is.

The blowing rain only accentuates the beauty of the Cape. The fall colors are at their peak. Driving through big drifts of wet leaves, over a misty creek or cranberry bog, you can really forget everything else. Like we say about Rosy, “She’s lucky she’s cute.” Dear Cape Cod, with your incessantly raw weather, you’re darn lucky you’re beautiful.

Just One More Day

2010-11-05T18:59:00.000-05:00

Two more weeks underway. We have slipped back into the “I don’t know what day it is” mindset, each day defined only by staying or going, rain or wind or other weather that kept us in port. As Toad would say in Rosy’s favorite storybook, “BLAH!”

The high note is that we’re one day from home! One 50 nautical mile day away from the finish line of this great marathon of a cruise. We are sitting in the marina at Sandwich, Massachusetts, in John’s hometown. There are many lovely things about Sandwich- a supermarket in walking distance, a playground on the grounds of the marina, a beach just steps away. Playgrounds have become the ongoing theme of the second half of our trip. Sophie truly thinks I am magic, as I have developed an uncanny sense of where to seek out a park. Most of it is luck. Two parks next to the boat at City Island, a big playground in Stamford, two playgrounds in New Haven, and this- the icing on the cake. A playground within the marina itself. If it weren’t colder every day and so gosh darn expensive to stay at marinas in this part of the world, our present pace would be pretty ideal. A day underway, followed by a jaunt ashore to explore a city. The girls are loving it. We are exhausted of it.

That said, we have had adventures. We took the train to Manhattan one day from Stamford and had lunch at Grand Central, and visited the American Museum of Natural History, in all its dinorific splendor (they have redone the dinosaur floor since I was in college and it is worth the price of admission, truly). We fed ducks illegally in Central Park and sat at the John Lennon memorial and listened to Yellow Submarine. It was nice. Sophie’s favorite souvenir was the train ticket the Metro North conductor punched into a smiley face. Rosy remembers the cab with the flat tire on Central Park West. A hundred bucks well spent.

The highlight of Stamford was a ridiculously accommodating dockmaster, Tom, who made us feel welcome and cared for. He is one of those good Samaritan folks we’ll remember for years to come. If there are any sailors out there planning a passage in Long Island Sound, we can’t recommend Stamford Landing Marina more highly. The harbor is well-protected and easy to enter, too!

From there we made a bit of a sloggy passage to New Haven, where we had one phone number of one marina, which was no longer in service. Luckily for us, the new owners of the place, the Paquonnock Yacht Club, were gracious hosts to Rubi and her crew. I wasn’t prepared to like New Haven as much as I did, but we lucked out with a lovely, historic neighborhood, the two aforementioned parks, and a fabulous children’s museum downtown. The Connecticut Children’s Museum is absolutely lovely- not too big, but perfectly arranged. The girls loved it. We listened to a trumpeter from the New Haven symphony read a story and perform. Rosy now uses my measuring cup as her trumpet, humming songs into it, and bowing after each tune. We even left with a copy of the book, which will be a prized souvenir.

Halloween was lovely and cold. We spent most of the day preparing our superhero costumes. When five o’clock actually arrived Sophie kept saying, “It’s actually happening! We’re GOING!” Rosy was over the moon with the bizarre outdoor dress-up and free candy. She fluttered down the sidewalk saying, “We’re Halloweeeeeening!!” It was a lovely good time. We did ten houses or so before it got too cold to Halloween. I’m still enjoying the fruits of their labor.

The trip from New Haven to New London was simply cold. And fairly windy, thankfully from a direction that minimized the waves and the rolling. We cooked along at 7 knots thanks to motorsailing and the tide. We had spicy Thai food and Harpoon IPA for dinner. It was delicious. The next day through the Race to Point Judith was the same- cold, cloudy, and quick.

We started out on Wednesday with frost on the sail cover and wind on our nose. John said something like, “If you’d told me a few months ago that I’d be out in twenty degrees, motoring into the wind, I’d have said you were out of your mind.” Luckily the wind went away, completely, and the sun even came out as we came through Buzzard’s Bay. John peeled off two or three of his six layers. After a morning wondering when we’d catch the tide, we finally did entering the Cape Cod Canal, and hit 11 knots at some point (we normally motor at 6). And here we are, waiting for the rain and gusts to move off and give us just one more day. Just. One. More. Day.

Cross your fingers.

NY, NY

2010-10-24T19:00:00.000-05:00

(written yesterday, 10/23)
There is nothing in the world like being in New York on a small boat. It’s such an incredible harbor- this great bend in the East Coast where you can go back behind Long Island to reach New England, or all the way to Vermont and Canada on the Hudson River. Nearly alone on the East River on a brilliant fall day, it was like we had the whole city to ourselves. Just us and the Brooklyn Bridge.

We spent the last few days at Great Kills Harbor, on the southern end of Staten Island. The harbor is almost completely surrounded by a National Recreation Area, just miles of wild marshes. It seemed impossible that we could walk a block from the marina and catch a city bus. But we did. And rode it to the Staten Island ferry, where Sophie got her first glimpse of the Statue of Liberty. She was mesmerized. We rode the tire swings at Battery Park and came home to our bit of city wilderness.

Today we came up to City Island, a quaint little New England-like town that’s somehow attached to the Bronx. We love it. The girls have played on city playgrounds in three boroughs. They ride the city buses like they’ve always lived here. They’ve learned to look for walk signs at intersections. They are happy to be somewhere new, off on the next adventure, the search for a new playground.

As Sophie said a few weeks ago, “What I learned on this trip is that even if you like a place so so much, you shouldn’t be sad to leave it because you might love the next place too.”

Rhode Island, here we come.

(I'm posting this from the cockpit of the boat with the first decent internet signal we've had in a month. We left New York this morning and had to pull into Stamford three hours later, the weather forecast was so terribly wrong. It may take us a while to get to Rhode Island.)

Where We Just Were

2010-10-23T19:00:00.001-05:00

(written last week)

There are many titles for this post about the last three weeks. The Fall I Never Thought I’d Spend in New Jersey. Paying Through the Nose for Marinas with No Amenities (like internet, or POWER, in some cases). Wind, Wind, Go Away, Give Us More than Just One Day.

Basically we’ve had one day out of each of the last weeks where the wind and waves cooperated enough to let us go out into the big, bold Atlantic and get a bit farther up this godforsaken coast. Three passage-making days in three weeks. Granted, our Columbus Day trip from Atlantic City to the Manasquan River (where we’ve been sitting for close to a week), was one of those “This is what it’s all about,“ beautiful days. Our waiting pays off- it does. We are not alone in our predicament. Cruising veterans we’ve met along the way have remarked that this has been the windiest fall they’ve ever experienced. They’ve spent more days in marinas, or days making awful, rough passages, than ever before. Every good-weather day there is a mass exodus to the next spot farther down the coast (it should go without saying that we are the ONLY boat traveling north).

John and I have nothing to prove to ourselves. We don’t set out in rough weather. We don’t set out if it’s nice in the morning (like today) but supposed to get bad in the afternoon. We have three people on board who are prone to seasickness and a small person who delights in acrobatics, even at sea. Needless to say, big swells are not something we seek out.

Our goal is to trick-or-treat in Boston, though at this rate, we may be knocking on doors in Mystic, or Newport, and honestly? That would be okay with me. Through it all, the girls have been the anchors to reality. Their needs and routines keep the long marina stays in perspective. Currently, at the overpriced boat basin in Brielle, New Jersey, we have a playground just on the other side of the road. We have visited a bookstore and a childrens consignment shop. We spend a few mornings a week delving into our pre-K home schooling curriculum. The Oak Meadow curriculum is just enough structure for us- very Waldorfy and open-ended. Both the girls love it.

This past week we’ve collected leaves, made leaf prints and a mobile. We’ve read a half dozen Beatrix Potter stories, made letters out of play dough, baked crescent rolls and bread, rubbed bark and bought pumpkins. It’s fall all-around here on Rubicon. Fall in New Jersey. Who would have thought.

Scotland, belatedly

2010-09-30T19:01:00.000-05:00

We are sitting in the Cohansey River, back aboard the boat, with 25-30 knot winds, gusting to 50. There will be no sailing today. We haven’t had wind like this since Scotland! I was absolutely fascinated by Scotland’s weather- heavy winds, fast-moving clouds. It changed as quickly as you could add or subtract layers of clothes. I have never visited a place and fallen so head over heels in love. I may spend the rest of my life plotting ways to get back, by plane, by boat. We explored a small corner of the country, and I’m quite sure that had we made it to the West Coast, with its endless islands and lochs, we’d have found a way to extend our visas. It was not a huge departure from our trip up the coast. We spent a great deal of time poking around harbors, looking at boats. That’s what we do on vacation- seek out harbors, and look at the boats. The North Sea harbors we visited were literally fortified against the ocean- old castles built around basins, basins built into cliffs. I have nothing but respect for sailors in that part of the world. Huge tides, heavy winds, very little protection. We couldn’t cruise the east side of the country, as the tide would have us on our side for large portions of the day- it literally empties out the harbors. That’s why we must return to Jura, Iona, and Skye . . . it’s a moral imperative.

My parents planned this trip to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary, and for me, the most memorable and pleasing thing about the adventure was seeing them so at home, so relaxed, like they had always driven on the left side of the road. By then time we arrived, they had befriended a local woman, Liz, who was cooking incredible dinners every night and delivering them to the cottage. By the end of the trip Liz and her husband were having coffee, drinks, and dinner with us. Another friend they met in the church in Haddington sent them home with a Scottish flag used by a local pipe band. When John and I visited the local pub, Michael, the bartender, was all business when we arrived- “You on holiday?” But the mention of my dad’s name put a huge smile on his face, and a few shots of local whiskey in front of us. I am sure my parents are already planning the dinner party they’ll host on their return, catered and attended by Liz. I will guard her recipes for shepard’s pie and chicken korma with my life. They are treasures.

We wandered into farm stores, through petting zoos, and drove hundreds of miles through the countryside. We took one day away from the girls and rather than going into the city, we drove over the Lammermuir Hills. From the top you could look back and see the Firth of Forth, all of Edinburgh, and the volcanic outcroppings called Laws dotting the farms. With two little girls, the trip became less about crossing off museum visits or making the rounds of the entire country. We were happy to just be there. More than anything, we came to appreciate Ewan McGregor’s comment he made anytime he found a spectacular landscape on his round-the-world motorcycle trip. “Ah, just like Scotland!! You’re welcome.”

All of our pictures are on Flickr.

Back Across the Ocean

2010-09-23T19:02:00.000-05:00

Last night, as I marveled at the fact that we started the day in Germany, visited London, and managed to arrive in Boston before the sun set, I revisited my 5mph theory. That there is value in the slow. At 3AM, when my children are awake because their bodies are telling them it's 9AM in Munich, I wish we could have made that passage just a little bit slower. Nothing that five or six cups of coffee over the course of the day (and a well-timed visit with friends to keep them awake and interested) won't fix. But what a massive acceleration of our traveling circumstaces. Atlanta, Boston, Scotland, Germany, Boston and Maine in two weeks. It was a wonderful trip, full of beautiful scenery and many adventures. I have 3 Gigabytes of pictures to develop. A few thousand words to write. And perhaps when we rejoin the boat tomorrow and time slows down again, I will manage to put it all together. For now, I am just thankful that my girls were amazing on our flights home, and that our friends have a abundance of coffee upstairs.

Until then, welcome back.

Chesapeake Bay

2010-09-03T19:03:00.000-05:00

Our plan leaving Florida was to retrace our route from six years ago and sail "outside" from Norfolk to Ocean City, Maryland. Until we realized it was summer. Traveling in the heat of the summer, or in the dead of winter seems to be our modus operandi, unintentionally for sure. Going against the grain. The upside is that we've had very little company, or competition for marina slips. Empty anchorages, too. But north of Norfolk, we arrived "in season." And the season in Ocean City was a sea of sportsfishing boats, and a boardwalk the likes of which we had no desire to experience. When I called and found no slips available, at three marinas, we decided to take the longer route. Chesapeake Bay.

The first two days, we found the hot, still waters summers in the Chesapeake are known for. Then the weather arrived. On our third day in the Bay, we pulled the muddy anchor and motored out of a creek up the Patuxent River only to listen to reports of 30mph winds and small-craft advisories. We re-anchored, in the exact same spot. The girls and I went hiking in a park that surrounded the anchorage and had to be rescued by John, rowing the dinghy, trying to outpace an enormous thunderstorm building around us. (Thanks outboard motor, for dying at that moment). The next morning we decided to try again and sailed literally under a cold front (pic above). We were treated to a brilliant, cool, light-wind day once we plowed through it, but it made for an interesting morning. That night light winds were forecast, but we ended up with waves slapping into the transom as the wind blew yet another stink.

The universe had us in her plan, however. The girls were treated to a few extra days in the wilds of Maryland. They found toads and turtles in the Patuxent River, a playground with ducks in Selby Bay (south of Annapolis). My biggest regret was missing Zach and his family, but Annapolis was simply jammed and without the outboard, we wouldn't have made it from the anchorage and back on speaking terms.

Our last day in the Bay was just gorgeous. It took us beyond Annapolis, under the double spans, and up to the very northern reaches of the Chesapeake. We anchored in the Bohemia River and watched the big tugs squeeze through the narrow channel, lit up like Christmas Trees at night. The tides for the C&D Canal worked out just perfectly, and we were treated to a three-knot current down Delaware Bay (8.6 knots). We pulled into the gorgeous Cohansey River, which was eerily reminiscent of those deep, marshy creeks in South Carolina and Georgia. We had no idea it would be our last night at anchor for more than a month, but what a beautiful, cool night it turned out to be.

The next morning we started getting reports of Hurricane Danielle, with surf advisories for the New Jersey coast and Delaware Bay. Once we make the turn at Cape May, New Jersey, we have no choice but to stay outside up the coast of New Jersey. With two little girls and just over a week until our departure for Europe (my parents long-standing anniversary trip!), we decided the best plan was to leave the boat at a marina up the Cohansey. At that point, Hurricane Earl was still a small storm, but when it started to strengthen and head for the mid-Atlantic, we once again thanked the universe for pointing us in the right direction. Had the winds been light that last day in Delaware Bay, we might have set our sights on Cape May and gotten stuck there for the better part of 10 days!

We're looking forward to a leisurely sail up to Boston later this month. In true FALL weather, in the off-season, which is how we like it! John is en route to Boston with our car. In two days, he's covered the distance it takes the better part of six weeks to sail. Coming down to Georgia from New Jersey, we crossed over all the rivers we'd traveled past or through- the Susquehanna, the Patapsco, the Patuxent, the Piankatank, the James, the Potomac, the Pamlico-Tar basin, the Neuse River. All in rapid succession, at 70 mph. What a different speed.

I read a piece recently about a couple who kayaked the length of the Inside Passage, from Seattle to Alaska. At the end of the journey, when asked to sum it all up, one of them remarked, "We know exactly what traveling 1000 miles under human power feels like." While our boat is nothing compared to arms and legs taking a person up the coast, it is another perspective. A slower pace, with very different possibilities. So much so that it can seem like two places.

We will be in Scotland and Germany for the next two weeks. Reading about the canals and Lochs of Scotland, I am happy to be seeing it by land, and car, and train, but what truly excites me is one day seeing it by boat. At 5 miles an hour, anchored off the Isles of Jura, Islay, and Mull. Only when I see it both ways will I have seen it all.

Between

2010-09-01T19:04:00.000-05:00

Our SPOT tracker on the left has gotten a bit confusing, as we have abandoned ship briefly and taken a roadtrip inland! My parents are celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary in Scotland next week, so rather than attempt to outpace what has become a major hurricane, we decided to tuck Betty into a protected river in New Jersey and take a vacation from our vacation. We are here in Atlanta retrieving our car, which we'll leave in Boston while we're away. We rejoin the boat at the end of September and will bring her to Boston for the winter.

That said, I have finally updated our Flickr set with pictures from the Chesapeake. Our trip up the Bay deserves its own post, but for now, enjoy the visual story.

Intracoastal Wrap-up

2010-08-24T21:47:00.000-05:00

I’ve been keeping mental notes about our trip up the ICW and finally put them all together this week. Technically, the Intracoastal includes the Hudson River, New Jersey’s inside waterways, and the Chesapeake. For us, it may include Long Island Sound and the Cape Cod Canal. Every time we “go outside” and make a passage in the ocean, we are a little bit thankful to have the ICW as an option. And never moreso than with kids. It can be a slog. A slow, crowded slog. But it promises relatively settled, safe waters and good anchorages (in most places). It’s one thing to put two adults on a boat and ask them to endure rolling seas and sleep deprivation for a few days. Kids, on the other hand, have no need to prove anything to themselves. Their perspective is a bit more limited. A steady table for their coloring books, some time at the end of the day to play with us, or on a special day, to go ashore and swim or run- that’s all they’re after. So that’s what we set out to find.

Miami Beach has a lovely anchorage on the north side of the Venetian Causeway bridge- I can imagine it’s jammed in the wintertime. We dinghied ashore at the police marine patrol docks. Publix was two blocks away. The girls had a lovely playground at their disposal. We explored up the Collins Canal but would not have left our dinghy there without a big chain.

Las Olas Municipal Marina in Fort Lauderdale deserves high praise. We picked up a mooring there and dinghied in- the girls loved being at the beach (two blocks), and we rode the free weekend trolley which takes you right through Fort Lauderdale, to the science museum, library, lots of shopping. The thing that amazes me about Fort Lauderdale is how BIG some of the boats are sitting behind people’s houses. Sometimes bigger than the houses themselves. It’s ridiculous.

We spent nearly a week in the Palm Beaches. First at the big anchorage south of Peanut Island and the Lake Worth inlet. It’s breezy and spacious but there’s basically nowhere to go ashore. A local live aboard recommended the anchorage in North Palm, at the very northern edge of Lake Worth. It was lovely- tons of room, no current, with a great dinghy landing under a bridge in the canal going to Little Lake Worth. Just down the road was a huge mall with Publix, Starbucks, a pub, and a West Marine not far beyond. The girls swam at the dinghy landing and left a few sandcastles behind.

We put into North Palm Beach Marina for a few nights waiting out Tropical Storm Bonnie. Great rates, good service, and access to a ginormous pool at the country club across Rt.1. Kid heaven.

Fast forward to Fernandina, where we spent three nights at anchor. The marina has been dredged and had we wanted a slip, they were offering good rates. We did dinghy in and use their facilities, including a super-nice television lounge that was a respite in the 400 million degree heat. Great town with restaurants, bookstores, taxis to shopping. We visited the local library and participated in their Wednesday story hour. Rosy was fond of the trains on the waterfront. If we ever go back, we’ll spend some time at the fort on the northern end of the island.

Our one night in Georgia we spent in Walburg Creek, off St. Catherine’s Island. I loved the deep creeks of Georgia and South Carolina. We plowed through the ditch to a second creek just west of Daufuskie Island the next night- I’ll never forget sitting in the cockpit with Rosy, in this lonely, narrow creek, and seeing a huge tourboat coming over the marsh, right at us. With another one right behind it. Our secret was out. “And on your right, the disheveled, hot mother of two with her naked baby and her wine glass.” Classic.

Beaufort, South Carolina has a great marina on the downtown waterfront. We met my parents there- they stayed directly across the street at a hotel. But had we needed it, the marina has a courtesy car for shopping. We found a West Marine in Port Royal, with a PigglyWiggly behind it. The waterfront park goes from the marina to the swing bridge and contains a really cool, unique playground with a nautical theme. The girls also discovered shave ice on that hot Sunday in the park.

Charleston City Marina is hardly a municipal marina, but for a premium ($2 a foot has been our highest on the trip), we spent the night at their “Megadock” alongside the big yachts. The facilities were beautiful. They have a courtesy van for shopping, and were essentially just steps from downtown. We thoroughly enjoyed our romp through Mt. Pleasant and Sullivan’s Island, thanks to our friends Haddie and Dino. It was a great occasion to stop in beautiful Charleston.

We spent another night in a creek south of Georgetown, SC and were truly attacked by an army of mosquitoes. They swarmed. We got the nets up and started exterminating those that made it in, but it was fairly unforgettable. The next four or five days are a blur of busy, narrow stretches of the ICW with no anchorages. The jet skis and wakes were truly maddening. Our best stop was south of Southport, NC at St. James Plantation. The marina was among the lowest priced we’ve seen ($1/ft!), but really well-maintained and had a restaurant and store on-site. The girls made fairy houses in the woods nearby and were completely smitten with the wild mushrooms growing all over the lawns of the condos around the marina basin.

Which brings us to Oriental, NC, home of the best coffee on the ICW (thank you, staff of the The Bean, for half a dozen cups or more) and a lovely local restaurant, M&Ms Café. The girls and I found a playground three or four blocks from the marina, and a great park along the river. It’s a sleepy town. Don’t go there expecting to do much but eat, play and drink coffee. No amenities beyond that! Which is how we like it.

Our intention the next night was to anchor off Belhaven, but between the heat and an urgent need for toilet paper, we went into a dock at an old Southern plantation/estate famous for it’s Southern smorgasboard of a buffet. Turns out the restaurant only opens once a week now and the old house looked and smelled like a relic from a bygone age. The eeriest thing was walking in and seeing dozens of tables set for dinner, with white tablecloths and napkins, like a family of ghosts was expected after hours. We were the only boat at the dock, which should have given us fair warning. When we asked about shopping in town, we were offered the “street-legal” golf cart, which had no brakes or signals, as it turned out. John got the 411 on its operation- “To stop it, you put it in reverse and step on the gas. Just like a boat, Cap’n, just like a boat.” That trip to the Food Lion will go down in our collective family memory as the most unusual shopping trip ever. I told John at some point that it felt like a continuation of the boat, moving along this main road at 5 miles an hour. The world from a very different perspective. Just like a boat, cap’n.

We braved the wilds of the Alligator River and spent a nice night at anchor north of the Alligator-Pungo River Canal. In Elizabeth City we were the only cruising boat at the town’s fabled free dock, and we are happy to give sufficient warning: Grouper’s Restaurant, adjacent to the town dock features bad cover bands at extremely high volumes on Saturday night. The girls quest for wildlife led us down to the Waterfront Park where we fed a large flock of geese and ducks. The Museum of the Albermarle looked lovely and inviting, but was closed on Sunday.

So off we went to the Dismal Swamp! On our last trip, and on this one, the Dismal Swamp Canal was hands-down, the best part of the waterway. Its speed and draft restrictions keep the big boats away. It is a sailor’s paradise. Through a gorgeous, dense forest! We locked through at South Mills Sunday afternoon and tied up to the free dock maintained by the North Carolina Visitors Center. Two fabulous ladies welcomed us and we planted ourselves in the sitting area, with a book exchange and a kid’s table (genius). Half in jest, John asked where we could get a pizza and sure enough, Geneva, one of the kindest people on the East Coast, took him down to South Mills after work where he secured two pizzas from the local convenience store. The girls were over the moon, having a pizza picnic in the woods. We spent the next morning exploring the new Dismal Swamp State Park, with a beautiful boardwalk and visitors center. Sophie and John succeeded in her quest to catch a butterfly. The butterflies and dragonflies are reason enough to visit the Swamp.

On our way to Norfolk, we spent one last Dismal night at the free dock in Deep Creek, VA. There is a Mexican restaurant beside the bascule bridge that we remembered fondly from our 2004 trip. It was still in operation and though the margaritas were a bit weak, the food was still excellent. We also happened upon the easiest provisioning we found on the entire Waterway. Literally a few hundred feet from the boat, we had a supermarket and an auto parts store (for oil). It doesn’t get easier than that.

The lockkeeper at Deep Creek was the same guy we met in 2004. He even asked if we’d brought him a conch shell (which he asked us to bring back six years ago). He’s a bit grayer but every bit as nice and helpful. Into the Elizabeth River we went . . . mile marker 0 is at Hospital Point in Portsmouth, VA. We tied up to get fuel and water, and a break from the heat just south of High Street Landing in Portsmouth. The ICW, over 1000 miles. Accomplished.

More soon . . . . and more pictures in our Trip Set on Flickr.

Oriental, NC

2010-08-11T21:56:00.000-05:00

We are in the village of dragons. Everywhere you look- dragon statues, dragon murals, even dragon eggs. My Puff-obsessed children are in heaven. We love Oriental. We love the sleepiness. We love that we can walk off the dock here, up to the coffee shop, and speak to everyone inside by the time we leave. People already know my girls' names. It's a lovely little place that reminds me of Maine.

The 100 degree heat and overpriced cab fare kept us from re-provisioning today. The stars just wouldn't align. As I was sitting on the banks of the Neuse River in an Adirondack chair with my feet up, watching the afternoon breeze fill in, I realized that perhaps that was exactly what we needed. A day with no sailing, no motoring, no shopping, no maintenance. A day that was long enough to have three coffees, two trips to the playground, a long sit by the river, a few $1 beers and fries, and an icecream for the ladies. I realized that had we found a cheap cab or a local ride up to the stores, we would have shortchanged the girls the time they so desperately needed spinning and sliding in the park. We needed the excuse to stop and sit.

I'll admit, it has been hard for me to pull the throttle back and fall into to the slow routines of cruising once again. We travel the East Coast at 5 miles an hour. It takes multiple days for us to travel distances a car covers in hours. But somehow the sense of accomplishment that comes after a 50 miles day on the ditch is just as satisfactory as any other trip. We are that much closer to somewhere new.

Rosy wakes up from her nap and says, "Are we anchored yet?" Not because she's tired of the trip, but because dropping the hook means something new. That's truly what all this is about.

Extremes

2010-08-06T21:57:00.000-05:00

These past two days on the ICW have been two extremes. Thursday we headed past Georgetown into the Waccamaw River, one of our favorite stretches of the waterway. It is truly special, with abandoned rice fields on both sides and cypress trees that have managed to grow these mangrove-like root systems that allow them to survive in the water itself. Along the edges of the river are stumps from old docks boats used to transport the rice from the plantations downriver to Winyah Bay. As you go north the fields and houses disappear and the trees get super-dense. We had almost no boat traffic. Just us and the cypress trees- the only people in the world.

Today, as we entered Myrtle Beach, it was like a switch went off. It seemed like there was a new development every ten feet. Brand new houses, new docks, golf courses, people everywhere. Jet skis were all over the place. We would meet big oncoming powerboats in the narrowest sections of the channel and have not an inch of room to move over. I felt like we needed an escort vessel with flags on both sides. Instead of wide load it would say DEEP DRAFT! But honestly, the folks zooming around us wouldn't have understood. They remind me of the black houseflies we have on the boat. They just swarm, with no particular destination in mind. Always buzzing, oblivious, irritating.

The good news? We are moored in North Carolina. Another state line crossed. I have nothing but rave reviews for the ICW in Georgia and South Carolina (with the one exception of Myrtle Beach). We were careful about the tides and used them to help us through the low-water spots (and there were some), but the abundance of deep-water creeks and isolated anchorages was just lovely. The stretch we're in now has very few of those winding creeks to drop a hook in. We miss that. On the flipside, we've come across some very affordable, accommodating marinas, most of which didn't exist five years ago when we sailed south. Development is a double-edged sword. North Carolina maintains their stretch of the waterway, but only because it is a maven for tourism. I think I may prefer the unpredictable, isolated waters of its more southerly neighbors. The Waccamaw, the Dawho, Minim Creek, Edisto, St. Catherine's island . . . just plain lovely.

More pictures on Flickr. And more jetskis tomorrow, if we don't choose to rest.

Highs and Lows

2010-08-03T21:58:00.000-05:00

I've been following a group of blogs by cruisers traveling together through the South Pacific. One boat, IO, was visited by some non-sailors who wrote a really wonderful letter to Mike and Hyo, her owners. For me, it truly summed up the "real" cruising we do everyday, whether it's in French Polynesia or off the coast of Georgia.

"Kevin and I wanted to thank you both for an unbelievable vacation. Both the highs and the lows are an experience we will soon not forget, although it's only the highs I can think of right now. The amazing ocean life, both on land and in the water. The different people and their boats we met and will remember forever. The infinite stars, beautiful moon and sun rises. The sunrises on Moorea were amazing. The indescribable blue of the water. It's really interesting when I mention to people the demographic that we met sailing. "how can they afford to live like that"? or " they must be rich". I just laugh and tell them anything is possible when you are determined, aren't focused on material wealth and chose to live your dream. I am also getting a lot of comments on" what a glamorous way to live" or "how romantic". Again I just laugh, if they only knew how glamorous and romantic sea sickness is or staying awake all night to the rocking of the boat and the sound of chain rubbing on coral! Wondering how big the swells will get."

We feel lucky to be in a position to opt out of the swells and the seasickness. We can go out and sail when the weather is good. We can motor up the Intracoastal for the next 10 days if it's not. Sleep deprivation is a current low. Making miles towards Maine every day- a big high. There are the lows of small lapses in communication made every day, countered by the high of watching your kids gleefully run down gangways to show their home to friends we haven't seen in years. There is the low of having the current push you out of the breeze on a sweltering night, and waking up to a dozen flies in the boat (unwanted passengers at this point). But the high for me comes at the end of the day, slowly motoring into a deep creek, the only boat in sight, dropping the hook and thinking, this is why we do this. It can be beautiful and romantic. It can be hard, hot, and irritating, and infinitely challenging. It wouldn't be cruising without hard work.The very name belies the reality!

Further Along the Ditch

2010-08-01T21:59:00.000-05:00

We are in Beaufort. The Beaufort in South Carolina that's pronounced "BEEEUUUUUfort," as opposed to the Beaufort in North Carolina that sounds more like "Bo-fort." We are retracing our steps. Four and a half years ago we came through here, just ourselves, left the boat here and went to see my family for the holidays. This weekend we arrived in a new boat, with two kids, and my folks waiting at the dock. An odd symmetry . . .

It is a lovely town with Spanish moss on the old oaks. There's a beautiful bend in the river that frames the marsh and the gracious old houses behind it. It exudes South Carolina, in the best ways. Humidity and all!

The girls were thrilled beyond belief to see their grandparents. I won't soon forget walking into their cold hotel room to hear the ladies splashing in the bathtub (what a luxury!) and having my Dad offer us a cold beer. Perfect. We cleaned up and ate our way through the next thirty-six hours, replenishing all the calories we've sweated away. It's simply too hot to eat much underway. We heard reports of heat indexes in the 110-120 range here in the Lowcountry. NOAA Weather Radio warns us to stay in air-conditioned quarters (hah!). We drank 20 gallons of water in two and a half days.

And yet the girls don't complain. They soldier on, drawing endless variations of superheroes and dragons. They watch Robin Hood and Wall-E and Curious George. They eat crackers and drink lemonade. They put stickers on things. I bought a book of 700 stickers in Fernandina Beach and we have stuck our way through nearly all of it. They are wonderful companions- patient, willing, and ready for the next adventure, even if it's just a ride on a tiller, or a pretty sunset, or a dolphin off the stern. It's all good to them, and frankly, that rubs off on us.

Thank you family for a lovely few days- in "Booful Buu-furt."

Fernandina Beach

2010-07-28T22:00:00.000-05:00

We left Saturday from Lake Worth with every intention of jumping into the Gulf Stream and riding it to Beaufort, NC. It was a wild ride to get out there, but once we got in and had our sails set, we were making 9-10 knots, 11.2 was our high! Then the ocean set about teaching us, once again, that things rarely go as planned.

Rosy got sick. I managed to get some Dramamine into Sophie in time, but Rosy had a long day. It take me most of a day to get past my own seasickness, so it shouldn't have surprised me. The adrenaline, and the easterly swell kept both John and I up most of the first night. Then, on Sunday morning, we lost the wind. It totally, and completely died. We never intended to motor for four days. We don't carry enough fuel to make that kind of passage under power alone (we do have sails, afterall), and we had no desire to sit and be rocked by the swells while waiting for wind. So, on to Plan B.

By Sunday afternoon, the day felt very normal. Just like motoring up the ICW. I did the dishes, the ladies played with Playdough. Their appetites returned. John took a nap while I took my turn in the sun (oh my, it was HOT). The wind picked up around sunset and we were in for an entirely different ride. We still haven't figured out quite why- the moon tides, we think- but those last eight hours into St. Mary's inlet were a rollercoaster down quartering seas. We took turns sleeping (and having been up the night before, we SLEPT despite the rollers). The girls slept in their leecloth like rocks (thank you, Dramamine). The highlight was seeing a pod of tiny porpoises jumping through the waves around us, chasing flying fish, their black bodies all lit up by the moon. Somehow the wind subsided just in time for us to make our grand entrance, past the shrimpers headed out at 5AM. We dropped the hook in the Amelia River just as the moon set.

We've spent the last few days in our favorite town in Florida, trying to make sense of the randomness of the weather, and the unexpected swells. We've gone back and forth about whether to go inside to Charleston and Beaufort, or to travel up the coast. Whatever we decide, I try to keep John's mantra of , "Every option is on the table," handy in my mind. As the ocean clearly abides by that philosophy as well.

You just never know. You plan, you adjust, and you take what you can get. For us, that's been a nice sojourn in Fernandina Beach. And that's not much to complain about.

Today

2010-07-21T22:03:00.000-05:00

Today, John sat at anchor and read a book.
Just a month ago I remember him saying something like, "When, WHEN am I finally going to be able to just sit at anchor and read a book??" This, probably while drilling yet another hole through a thick steel hull for yet another hose or wire that needed installing.

Today it finally happened. We still have a to-do list, but nothing on the list keeps us from the here and now. The blissful breeze that comes down our hatches and keeps us up in the cockpit in the evenings, while the girls tie ropes around our legs and say things like, "It's booful (beautiful) Mama. So booful." Nothing that keeps us from preparing to go offshore, weather-permitting (go away, ugly storm!).

The first night we were at anchor we walked out on deck and could see not only the stars, but the Milky Way streaming over the Keys. I hadn't seen it since the night before our wedding, on the coast of Maine. There are few things more spectacular in the natural world, from our perspective. It was like the universe lined itself up to say, "Welcome back. Welcome back to where you've always wanted to be." This was the life we chose to live together and finally, we are here once again, with no intention of looking back.

As John said last night, standing in the cockpit in this lovely anchorage, "Why would anyone NOT want to live this life?"

Truly. We are thankful, Universe.

Just a Bit Further Along

2010-07-20T22:04:00.000-05:00

The East winds continue to keep us pinned in Florida, but we've used the Intracoastal (ICW) to get up to Lake Worth, just off the Palm Beaches, where we can set ourselves up for our long passage to Beaufort. I hope never to transit the ICW in a deep-draft boat again. We went fully aground inside the marked channel just north of Miami, where an inlet was shoaling the waterway. We went through three more sketchy inlets yesterday and you could almost reach out and touch the palpable stress in both our faces. With that experience in mind, not to mention the nearly thirty bridge openings we endured to get to Lake Worth, we hope never, ever, to revisit this stretch of the ICW.

That said, the anchorages we've managed to discover have been nothing short of lovely. We spent two nights in a nice spot in Miami Beach, two nights on a mooring in Fort Lauderdale, last night off the Lake Worth inlet, and tonight, up in a nice cove at the northern reaches of the lake. The girls were beside themselves with glee when we pulled the dinghy in to go shopping and found a nice, sandy swimming hole under a bridge. They were in the water before we could ponder the question of swimming. Of course we will swim. Of course.

The ladies have been wonderful. The other big downside to the ICW is that there are long stretches where I'm watching for buoys and shoals and John is steering, leaving the girls to manage themselves. They watch Curious George, color and draw, play with Play-dough, sleep, eat, repeat. It's insufferably hot in the cockpit with a bulky lifejacket, so they bide their time down below. They never complain. Today on our short passage, they played some involved imaginary "Make you into a princess and sell the shark for three quarters" game. I am glad they have each other, and deep down, they are too.

The highlights for them come when the adventures onshore begin. Just riding a bucking dinghy in a chop is fun. Add that to a thunderstorm while waiting for a trolley, and then an impromptu swim in the ocean. Every day is new. Every day is different. For them, that's enough.

Cross your fingers for the wind to go south, or southeast, or west, or southwest. We might get our chance this weekend. But I shouldn't have said that.

Miami

2010-07-15T22:04:00.000-05:00

We've been underway two and half days and just like that, we've set up temporary housekeeping in Miami Beach. It's a wonderful and strange thing, to travel from place to place with your home fully intact. Our routines, our possessions, our habits simply follow us. Like a turtle's shell, John always says.

Spot is frustrating me with it's odd inability to upload our positions automatically. But I will continue to work out the bugs. For now, here's our map!

Tomorrow is a day off for some shopping and boat projects, in hope of making a long passage outside the Intracoastal later this week. We need the East winds to abate- universe, send us good vibes!

Speaking of which, we had a big karmic moment on Monday afternoon. We were trying to get off the dock and out to an anchorage, just to set ourselves up for Tuesday's run. Just after four o'clock John tried to start the dinghy motor and it wouldn't run. Diagnosis: a clogged carburetor (thank you, Ethanol!). He raced up to the outboard shop owned by a friend of ours, Eric, who we met on our trip south five years ago. We led Eric and his family through Biscayne Bay, and across to the oceanside via Angelfish Creek. As we retraced those same steps today, almost exactly, it reminded me of how the universe had paid us back. Our little bit of help was paid back in spades, as Eric took the carburetor apart and got us back underway in less than an hour. You never know. You just don't.

Love from Miami Beach, and more soon.

Hasta la Vista

2010-07-10T22:10:00.000-05:00

For a while there, I thought the universe might be conspiring to keep us in the Keys, forever. The autopilot parts got delayed. Then after days of rigging the darn thing, with its sensitive and expensive compass, the autopilot wouldn't steer a steady course. We tried to make the GPS talk to the autopilot and bypass the compass altogether.The GPS doesn't even speak the same language as the autopilot. And on and on and on.

But today we had success. What had become a monstrosity of a electronics issue, boiled down to two wires being mixed up in a wiring diagram that came with the darn thing. We didn't need GPS. We didn't need an expensive technician. We needed to look at things in the simplest way possible. Eliminate one problem at a time. And the biggest lesson of all? Never assume the literature is 100% spot on. Even if you are.

So off we go in a day or two, bound for cooler waters, if not a cooler summer (wow, the hot hot heat is everywhere, it seems). You can follow along if you wish. We have a SPOT on board, which is a nifty little GPS beacon that we will set off every evening at anchor. It sends our position to our SPOT Adventures page, which shows us on Google Maps and has a few boat pics too. I will try to update from our logbook as we go. Thanks to our 5-Mile Wifi, it just might happen!!

That said, while we are more than ready to leave, we have some missing to do. Our dear friends, playmates, babysitters, confidants, the people who threw Sophie a welcome party when she was born, the people who brought me food when Rosy arrived (it was SO good). Many have already left (what a transient place this is), and many we leave behind. Come and visit- stay in touch! Thank you for being a part of this chapter in our lives. We grew a family here, restored a boat, and feel very blessed to be hitting the Gulfstream and heading north, richer than when we arrived.

John and I are avowed humanists, so without traditional religion in her life, Sophie always thanks the Earth for the good things that come her way. "Thank you Earth for this cloudy day that wasn't so hot and had swimming in it." There's something deeply satisfying about taking our girls out on an adventure with us, our boat, "and the Earth." Send Earth your good vibes for fair winds, following tides and happiness on all fronts. Maybe it wasn't the universe conspiring against us. It was just Earth telling us to look right under our noses. A good lesson for the days ahead.

The Fourth

2010-07-05T22:12:00.000-05:00

I've had some memorable Fourth of July fireworks experiences in my adult years. Seeing both the harbor and the Lake Washington displays from a highrise condo in Seattle. Being high in the hills in Portland and looking down on them- never have fireworks seemed so tiny. We saw them on July 3rd in Boston on year, a huge display being taped to show to troops overseas. I remember having to wake a dozen teenagers and move a pulling boat in the middle of the night for fear of some landing on us.

But last night was the first fireworks experience we've had with kids. They are a bit daunting, and loud, and late. But also quite special. Sophie was alternately mystified ("how do they MAKE those?") and secretly terrified of the sound. Our friend Joe, who was gracious enough to take us out on his boat, offered his commentary: "Now we're really getting into it. They're bringing out the four-color DOUBLE sparkles!!" Rosy was as entranced with the anchor lights all around us as she was with anything else, "Oh mama, there's STARS!" It was a beautiful night. Simple, sweet, and yes, a little bit loud. One more fireworks experience I won't soon forget.

TWO!!

2010-06-30T22:13:00.000-05:00

Dear Roo-

A few days ago, officially, you turned TWO! Two years old! Your big day was folded into the craziest of months, installing the engine, getting underway for the first time, celebrating with grandparents. But what a week to be TWO! This morning you're sitting in your usual spot on the settee, legs folded underneath you, your hands crossed on the table, watching Wallace and Gromit with Sophie. I will remember your wild sun-bleached hair, pink tie-dyed shirt. Your constant narration of the movie- "Dat Doggy! Dat Sheep! Dat a white sheepy!" You'll drink from a sippy cup, which you've been relegated to on the boat, due to your insatiable urge to pour water from one container to another. You're a candidate for Montessori school if there ever was one! But aside from the no-spill cups and the binkies that you horde like candy, there are very few remnants of babyhood in our lives. I can't remember the last time you rode in a stroller or wore a diaper, or the last time I rocked you to sleep.

We celebrated three times, the first with Tabitha, your first friend, two days older than you. Our water girls played in the pool and dressed up, ate pink cupcakes and gummi worms. You savored the singing and the candles, but took so long to blow them out that you felt the heat of it on your nose. Now you decline all candle-blowing duties. Thankfully, Sophie is here to help!

A week later Goonie and JoePop came down and after swimming, we shuffled you upstairs for a bath while Sophie and I decorated the condo. You were pleased and surprised and approached the present-opening with the utmost seriousness. Your pink cake with weeping M&Ms was truly a work of art. But what we'll remember most from the weekend was you pulling your trains around the round table in the living room hundreds and hundreds of times. The simplest kind of fun.

Your real birthday was a good old normal day on Rubi. Daddy worked on the running lights. We went for a nice swim, had a long nap, made pizza and surprised you with a donut and two candles. Simple and sweet. Happy TWO!

And now we're off on a real adventure, Rose! In just a few days we set off for the great white north. We'll sail from here to Fort Pierce and then on to Beaufort, North Carolina, and eventually to Boston and Maine. This fall will bring your first Transatlantic adventure (by plane, not boat!) and a few stamps in your passport. Then your first real winter! Last night we were out walking after dinner and it started raining- one of those tropical showers that can turn a dry parking lot into a lake in minutes. Suddenly there were puddles everywhere. You were in the very definition of your heaven, splashing and running, "swimming," trying to catch water on your tongue. You are one for adventuring, never complaining about a fall or scrape suffered in the quest for fun. You are your Daddy through and through- confident, determined, stubborn, wicked smart. If we can keep the adventures coming, and manage your energy (and acrobatics), it will be a very memorable year indeed. John often wonders, looking at you, how his mother managed to raise five kids, and "this" as the youngest! It's clear to me. I love you fiercely. Our frustrations and challenges are balanced by this crazy love for your happiness, goofiness, the crazy way you just emanate light and life. You glow, Rose. You truly do. You're a charmer, even as you terrify us.

Thank you for being exactly who you are. So different from our first-born, who loves you so dearly, who says, "Rosy, I'm so glad I have a sister like you." I know just what she means. A sister full of ideas, of fun, of mischief at times, but most of all, full of enthusiasm, curiosity, and love. You're a beautiful girl, in so many ways. Holding you in my arms two years ago, I had no idea who I was holding. If I could have only imagined . . .

Happy, happy birthday Roo. We love you!

Underway!

2010-06-26T22:14:00.000-05:00

It's been over four years in the making, but this baby left the dock!! We went out for a spin! Our boat MOVES under her own power. And gracefully at that! How good it felt to wake up Friday and get out a chart, plug in a GPS, stow the accumulated junk on the table, throw off some lines and GO SOMEWHERE IN OUR BOAT. We took two trips on Friday- the first, for us, while the girls were with a babysitter. And the second, with them. They were totally nonplussed. Sophie read a book in the cockpit and barely looked up, like this was the most normal thing in the world. Rosy relaxed into the motion and nearly fell asleep, even after a two hour nap. While we hollered and high-fived around them, they were simply at home.

And that's all we've wanted for them. We did this for them, but also a little bit for us. One thing parenting has taught me is that they will never understand what we do. There is no way for them to conceive of the hard work involved. The constant meeting of needs. The sleeplessness, the working, the taking of walks when all you want to do is lie down. The four years of boat projects, just to make a floating home.

They won't understand it, until they have kids of their own, and renovate a house or a boat or an RV or canal barge while parenting two small kids. And when the work is hardest, I have to remind myself that we chose every bit of this. We chose to make this our home, because before there was a Sophie or a Rosy, there was this part of us. In the midst of living with and loving them, we've also made something for John and Ellen. This is who we were, who we are, and who we will continue to be. Leaving the dock on Friday, that fact is what I was most thankful for.

Underway!

Dad's Day

2010-06-23T22:15:00.000-05:00

We told my Dad we were going to dinner, and look where we ended up!
When we arrived, Paul, the pilot greeted us with a mouthful of what were possibly the most disgusting teeth I'd seen in a long time (and mind you, this is not a rare occurence in the Keys. Our last auto mechanic had about one tooth in the front . . .). We were all averting our eyes, wondering in dental issues had any bearing on small plane safety. Paul muttered something about Obama promising dental insurance and out popped the mouthpiece. We were won over.

I love that my dad loves stuff like this- gliders and floatplanes and helicopter rides. I love that occasionally I get to do something like this with him.
Happy Father's Day, JoePop!

Golden Girls

2010-06-10T22:15:00.000-05:00

This has not been our finest month. Between the stress of the engine situation (that miraculously arrived, yay Yanmar!), the weather, and feeling like we may never be able to sit and enjoy our boat, we are, in a word, fried. To read a book in a quiet anchorage . . . it is a goal so close, so tenable, and yet in the flurry of last-minute preparations, it feels like a lifetime away.

There has been a highlight. Our ladies. Our sisters. They have found each other. Today they were sitting at the table in their usual spots, Sophie surrounded by about six dozen toys and bits of jewelry. Rosy with wild, wild hair and the orbit of cracker crumbs that usually surrounds her. They were sharing watercolors and talking to each other like the Golden Girls. "Oh, I wike that color Sophia. It's pretty, Sophia." "Now wash your brush off, Rose. Don't make them all brown, Rose." Sophie was endlessly patient, even as Rosy made mud of a few colors. She even praised the concoctions- "That one's better than the first yellow!" It was so unexpected, so perfect, I just sat and watched.

Whether it's happenstance that they've discovered one another on the boat, whether it has anything to do with the close quarters of the hot months, or the lack of many other playmates- I have no idea. But I do know that they've slipped into a rhythm of true appreciation and true friendship. They look out for one another. Sophie puts Rosy's shoes on when we leave the boat. Rosy, as stubborn as she is, is willing to share most anything in the world with Sophie. These past two years were hard, hard times for all of us. Adjusting to a colicky newborn, then managing the emotions of Sophie's jealousy. Juggling the praise and "special time" they both needed. But we've somehow, on the eve of a second birthday, arrived at the good place. I can send them off together and know they will be a team. Today Sophie was trying to think of something she could play with Rosy. Her eyes got big and she laughed, "I know Rosy, we can MAKE MISCHIEF!!"

It is what I wanted most in the world for them. I hope it lasts. Something tells me that it will.

I read a caption on a photo of a little boy recently. His mom wrote about how fast the time was flying, how she wished she could slow it down. Her husband said something so perfect- "Remember, we made him for him. We didn't make him for us." We made them for who they are, and who they will be. We also made them for each other. Rose and Sophia.

Stifling

2010-06-04T22:17:00.001-05:00

I know I've belabored the heat of the last month, but I felt somewhat justified when I heard today that after one of the coldest winters on record in South Florida (and no complaints about that!), we had the hottest May ever. Ever. This morning the heat index was well over 90, before 9 AM. We look forward to a climate where winter is the time to batten down the hatches and cozy up around a fire. To make slow-cooked food and loaves of bread in an oven. Right now the oven is off limits. In fact, I have cooked little other than coffee this week, trying to keep the boat at a reasonable temperature in the late afternoon. It's a good challenge- finding ways to feed a family with veggies and salads and bread baked in someone elses's oven. If anyone has a favorite no-cook recipe, I'd love to have it. My sister's black-eyed pea salad is on the list for this week.

These are time I miss my grandmothers. Peachy would have had an entire compendium of recipes fit for the Southern heat. Granny Ross would have had practical suggestions, and maybe a jar of homemade pickles from her sister's garden. When it starts to feel hot on our little yacht, I try to imagine not so long ago, living in the southern part of Georgia, in the summers without air conditioning. Or living in Houston, Texas, where my mom grew up, lying under the attic fan on hot nights, running across hot asphalt, barefoot. East Texas can be a very hot place.

Recently I came across a recording of my grandfather, telling the particular circumstances of his birth, on August 20, 1917. He was born in a small town in Eastern Alabama, not far from Columbus, Georgia, where he lived as an adult.

"I have often wondered what it was like to birth an overweight baby in Camp Hill, Alabama in August of 1917. Must have been terribly hot. All the windows would have been open. I think the house had screens, as I was told. There was a spigot over the porch, with fresh water. That was the sum total of the plumbing other than chimney pots and a privy in the backyard. Dr. Louis Hamner presided over the proceedings, I’m told, and apparently they went quite normally for those times."

Quite normally for those times. As hot as hot can be.
I wish I could channel some of that normalcy, just to ask a few questions. Get some advice, and continue to feel grateful for my particular situation, with wet kids every night and the cool confines of our boat to slip into.

Stifling

2010-06-04T22:16:00.000-05:00

Twenty-Three Months

2010-05-30T22:20:00.000-05:00

Dear Roo,

This is the last of your month-birthday letters before the big TWO! I wrote twenty four letters to Sophie and I swore up and down that despite the fact that you were second in line to the throne, I'd do the same for you. We did it! We have reflected on nearly two years of milestones and stories, hard months and lovely ones.

This month? A lot of both. Two is coming on like a freight train, in all the textbook, headstrong ways. "I do it" is the endless refrain, from putting clothes on, to buckling carseat straps, to using sharp scissors. I do it. Most times you actually do, and I'm the one who needs to be reminded to slow down and let you savor the accomplishments. "NO!" is another fun refrain. Most times you say it just to say it. Just to remind us that you have a say, a voice, in the matters of the day. The opposite of NO is this breathy, wonderful, "Yah." Never yes, just "Yah . . ."

On the other end of the spectrum, this has been the month of cuddling, loving, hugging, lip kissing. All day long there are proclamations of "I wuv you, Daddy. I wuv Sophie." Sometimes you'll roll over in the middle of the night, looking for a stray Binky and then say, "I wuv you Mommy." When you've done something wrong, the "I wuv yous" come out like a weapon. My, you've learned fast. It makes me feel good to see you giving us love, as it means we're giving you plenty of it.

And love there is. So very much, for our impish, mischevious, wonderful you. For you, singing "Puff the Magic Dragon" in the car. You, and your "cool cool shoes" (everything is "cool, cool"). You, eating yogurt raisins. You, holding Sophie's hand as you walk down the dock saying, "Wook at dat boat, Mommy! Wook at dat!" Always questioning, always noticing, endlessly you.

We love you Lily B, Rosy Roo, RooBot, Roobee, Bobo, Chachi, Baby, Biggirl, Rosy Wandrum.
xo,
mama

Water, water everywhere

2010-05-25T22:21:00.000-05:00

and not a drop to drink . . .

I just finished the National Geographic issue about water. It had the usual scary receding glacier pictures (there are few things that sicken me more), and a half dozen fascinating maps of the world's rivers. But the one statement that has stayed with me was the fact that the average American uses 100 gallons of water at home every day. Albuquerque, New Mexico, recently brought their per capita consumption down to 80 gallons, from 140 gallons per day! Where does it go? As I was filling up our drinking water jugs the other night I tried to do the math for us. As a family of four we go through about 58 gallons of freshwater a week, on the boat, for dishes, drinking, washing and cooking. Our toilet/head uses saltwater exclusively. Our tank is pumped weekly by a local pump-out boat to keep it out of the Keys waters. The girls and I shower together at the marina, with a low-flow shower head. Between ourselves and John, we use about 40 gallons a week to keep ourselves clean. We do two loads of laundry a week, which we estimate to be about 80 gallons total. That brings our total family freshwater usage to 178 gallons per week. If you go by National Geographic's numbers, the average American family of four (like ours), uses 2800 gallons of freshwater per week.

One of the pieces in the magazine profiled a community in Ethiopia where women spend eight hours of their day walking to and from a dirty river to fetch drinking water. They wash their clothes once a year. We are clean, healthy, and well-fed. We drink all the water we want. In fact, we've banned juice and other sticky beverages from the boat, so water is just about all our kids drink. John and I supplement with beer. But the numbers seem staggering to me. How is our weekly total just 78 gallons more than the average American uses on a daily basis?

I found a water use calculator for Tampa, Florida and entered some guesstimations for the average family of four- two showers a day, a few baths a week, a lawn to water occasionally (in Florida, for sure!), four loads of laundry per week . . . and sure enough, I hit the 100 gallon per day mark. It must come down to a few things. Our faucets don't run. They can't run, as I have a foot pump to feed water to my galley sink. We don't have a lawn or a garden. If we do in the future, we will most certainly collect rainwater for the plants. The toilet seems to be an enormous consumer. Here in the Keys, we've been short on water for so long that public restrooms will often sport the sign, "If it's yellow, let it mellow . . ." I'm not advocating drastic measures, but for land-based homes, a composting toilet is looking better and better. I've seen dishwashers that recycle graywater/rainwater, but they seem to be fairly efficient appliances to begin with. Far better than handwashing. I have made a concerted effort to cut down on our laundry- making sure that the girls clothes are actually dirty. Rosy being out of diapers has helped. And I suppose showering is a state of mind. We don't shower every day. If we worked in an office or got particularly gross at a job, we certainly would, but years of sailboat living have robbed us of that need. We do spend a lot of time in the pool.

We didn't move onto the boat to save water. It is a wonderful by-product of our lifestyle, in the same way that energy conservation comes naturally on a boat fueled almost entirely by wind power and solar panels (when we're off the dock!). But crunching numbers like this makes me truly appreciate how much we were taking for granted. Freshwater truly falling from the sky. Everywhere you look, with every faucet you turn on. And yet it defines entire existences in other parts of the world.

How lucky we are.

Vonk

2010-05-22T22:22:00.000-05:00

My friend John sent me this picture a few days ago and it has jogged all sorts of memories. It was early in the morning, in Boston Harbor- I love the city and the sunrise behind him. We were packed into zero-degree sleeping bags on the stern of an open pulling boat. A big storm was coming in. John was not amused. I can almost hear the voice of the NOAA weather operator on his radio. So long ago, and not so long at all.

I wonder if everyone has a John Vonk in their life. A perfect stranger, then a friend, who had a hand in truly shaping the trajectory of my future. I met John Vonk eight years ago, my first day of work in Everglades City, not far from here. He was going out on course, leading a bunch of preteens into mosquito country in a canoe. We often hijacked the school sailboat and tried to short-tack our way to Chokoloskee. We had a grand few months, and then the season ended. The "What, now?" began. He suggested I come to Boston for a WFR class and Watch-O training (Outward Bound sailing instructor training). I had no idea what those acronyms meant. No earthly idea. He even called me an acronym- ERL, "Earl," my initials. In Boston we froze out butts off on a pulling boat, rode out the worst weather he'd seen as a captain, and then he flew off to his future in Seattle and left me to discover my own. My own John- his friend, and now my husband.

Were it not for John Vonk, I'd never have gone to Boston, not in a million years. He planted the seed, met me at the door, and then left me to my own devices on that tiny island. He invited my John for a beer, encouraged me to dig a little deeper. He was the backstage manager, all along.

I just noticed that he shares a birthday with my littlest girl.

Simple. special

2010-05-21T22:23:00.000-05:00

A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. - via soulemama

Mike

2010-05-18T22:24:00.000-05:00

Two months into the full-time living aboard we have made a big decision. Our dear parakeet is not making the trip North with us. Tomorrow Mike will join a veritable kindergarten of other parakeets at a lovely local pet shop (where birds are literally free to roam!). He will be happier, but we will miss him- especially Sophie. It comes down to an issue of space, temperament, and fairness. We will soon be off the dock and the hatches will be open all day long. Parakeets need temperatures in the mid-70s all the time, and are susceptible to drafts. Unlike Mike, we are not creatures meant for the Tropics. Sophie spent most of the morning complaining that Key West is "just a hot place."

We do our best to keep him warm, but he has been nothing but grumpy and bitey recently, leaving us with even less motivation to get him out and about. He is growing up, ready to fly and needs more space. Keeping him caged and swinging with the boat's motion seems downright cruel. The pet shop owner says that he's probably molting and will eventually be less grumpy. But our living situation isn't changing soon, and for a bird who needs constant tropical conditions, we can't justify making him more grumpy. He would frankly hate Maine.

I think both of us feel torn about sending Sophie the message that pets are temporary- will she wonder when the next one will get returned or passed on? But on the flipside, there's the question of what is best for the animal. And being with us, in this case, is surely not the best situation for Mike. We've tried to emphasize the "this is what's best for him" part, the unselfishness of her decision, but deep down we're fairly selfish for wanting and keeping a bird in the first place, not to mention giving him up! Ah, the conundrums of parenthood . . . In the end he's had a nice life with us and will have a nice life in petland, wherever that takes him. Perhaps I'm giving too much weight to the question of a bird. A birdbrain, afterall.

John broke the news to Sophie and she was bereft, until talk of a puppy emerged. A puppy in Maine, on land, not before. Ahem.
She wrote a letter to her friend Johnathan to tell him about Mike. It was her way of processing it. We drew a picture together. He was a lovely pet, I must say. And will be missed, by all of us. Even Rosy, who imitates his "shuffle dance" and calls him "Michael." Mikey Mike, here's to happy life where you can have a girlfriend and all the honey treats a bird deserves. We will not soon forget your green feathers and your close-quarters flights in the boat. Or the time you flew onto the neighboring catamaran, and then back, petrified of what you were capable of. Thank you for being Sophie's first real pet.

I can guarantee he won't be the last.