Monday, August 27, 2007

Pittstown Point, Crooked Island, Bahamas

0 nm
Wind: E 10-15 knots

We’ve accepted another set of jobs at the house, so Karl’s there now, working on window trim, and I’m at my eternal post at the computer, reading email today. I’m thrilled to have discovered how to download my emails using the Macintosh Mail program, which allows me to read them offline and respond at my leisure. I know that jetsetting executives have been doing that for decades, but I’m still impressed by my own technical prowess. The best part of it, other than not feeling rushed when reading emails from friends and family, is being able to catch up on the news. I subscribe to the NY Times daily newsletter, which gives a fantastic digest of world news, but I never have time to read it. So I’ve spent today catching up on what’s been going on in the world in the last month or so. Karl doesn’t like to hear it, and I must admit it’s all same old, same old. Still people dying in Iraq. Still scandal in the government. It was good to hear that the Red Sox are up on the Yankees, though. Even Karl was glad to hear that.

We’ve been making ourselves delicious salads lately, in keeping with our current sedentary lifestyle and also the immense dual luxuries of having fresh vegetables available from the grocer’s cooler and a refrigerator available for our use. Our acorn squashes are all languishing in their hammock back at the boat. I can’t bring myself to use the oven in this awful August heat. Another luxury is being able to buy bread instead of having to bake it.

Last night for dinner we had pasta, another luxury for us, because we have to buy fresh noodles or the weevils will eat them all. (Here’s where Karl’s ghetto recipe window would pop up--but this one we stole from the Pardeys.) You know what makes fantastic pasta sauce? Canned corned beef. You’d never have guessed it, would you? But fried up with some fresh green peppers and onions, you’d never guess it wasn’t real ground beef. Especially good were the real Italian spaghetti noodles we bought at the corner store, fifty percent cheaper than the American Mueller’s brand. I need to go stock up on those before someone else buys up the rest of them. There were only three packages left. I don’t want to do it too soon, though, to forestall the weevil invasion.

I must be getting hungry. I’m back ashore, though, where we don’t really have cooking facilities other than the microwave, which does make a fantastic ghetto egg sandwich without heating up the kitchen. I’m escaping the overwhelming flies on the boat again today, and escaping from my endless list of chores. Yesterday, I did the dishes, which takes about two hours after I put it off for a week, made another futile attempt to keep the toilet in something resembling a sane and clean condition, and tidied the entire boat. Karl came home and said, “I worked all day--what’d you do?” Argh. I love the man, but he can be remarkably obtuse.

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