Today in sailing history (our personal one), we splashed our dear sailing vessel/expensive toy/love shack/mini restaurant/science lab Tranquility for the first time. We had been working on her for a summer that turned into five months in New Bedford, MA. Her maiden voyage was quite short – we just motored across the bay to Arne and Gail’s docks in Fairhaven – and she didn’t even have her sails on yet.
Yesterday, Fabio lamented along the lines of “if he knew then what he knows now” and how we could have done the deep refit that is happening now in a much shorter amount of time, and all in one shot.
I, on the other hand, could not be happier with how this second pass at the boat has worked out. In addition to the extended learning curve it offers us for boat works, has given me a (forced) chance to figure out a little more about who I am aside from Sewage Girl or Compost Kate. I am still those things, but I am also getting to rest my body and soul here in coastal GA. A relaxed person is different from her high strung version, I see.
Last night I went out on the back porch between rounds of test baking – I am trying to perfect what I call the Hand Bun, a mini bread with savory filling that one might gift to other sailors, house guests or an ailing neighbor. Before I drank from the glass of water I had left out there, I checked it for frogs. This is my Friday night turn up – Hand Buns and frog water.
Frog water in nature; Hand Bun variant that is more empanada-ey
Every so often I notice the change. I used to wear stress and anxiety like a suit of armor. After awhile there wasn’t even a reason to have it on, but there it stayed. I believed the lie my brain told me that I couldn’t live without it’s protection, even when the rest of my body was getting sicker and sicker under its weight. Now that it has come off, I can’t even imagine putting it back on. When I feel the dis-ease flutter up through my belly, I can look around and see what needs to change. Sometimes I just need to lay on the floor – something I’m not sure I could have found out living aboard.
The boat plan itself was a bit of a fire exit to begin with. How else does one attempt to gracefully exit one’s life? There was a time when I would have considered moving apartments as a high-level trauma. So to not just move but leave my work and friends as well was only reasonable if I was “sailing off into the sunset”. These days, I feel less and less need for an escape plan or cover story. I seek out activities and people that calm my soul, and the more I do, the better vantage I get on where I’ve been and where I’m going.
So happy anniversary SY Tranquility! Your name has gone from ironic to aspirational to seemingly attainable in two short years.