You're So F*#%ing Fired!

This edition was meant to be posted a few days back, but it was pre-empted by Carrie's more spectacular broken thumb.  Since it involves pain, I almost hate to post it.  We are scaring the kids with reports of boat bites, and my nephew Joey even e-mailed to inquire if handicap stickers and parking facilities were available to boats!  I would like to note however, I was somewhat vindicated on the issue of my thigh injury on the cleat by an e-mail we received from Elaine, the former commanding officer of this vessel.  She says she sports a large scar on her thigh from the same cleat!  I was tempted to write back, "If you'll show me yours, I'll show you mine!", but I don't know her quite that well.

What I haven't mentioned until now is that I managed to throw my back out (provisioning back in Morehead City, NC), just as I had each of the past two years preparing for long cruises to Catalina Island.  After only commenting once that, "For such a bright guy, I would have thought you would have figured out it happens every time and been more careful", my first mate was very concerned, helpful, and sweet...for a couple of days.  Which brings me to the somewhat graphic title of this post.

A few years back after a great company Christmas party, my partner Bobby, our LA area manager Vic, and a then fairly new project engineer who worked in LA, Chris and thier wives (in Chris' case a girlfriend) were driving back late.  There had been much good cheer (translated, all were a bit inebriated, except hopefully Bobby's wife, who drove).

As I later heard the story, Bobby in the front passenger seat, controlled the stereo.  Chris' girlfriend, in the way way back of the Suburban, took issue repeatedly with his choice of music.  Bobby, being the devil he can sometimes be, egged her on with more and more ridiculous choices.  She cranked up her displeasure considerably until Vic finally stepped in and asked, "Do you know who you are arguing with?"  The girlfiend replied, "No, who?"  "That is my boss, one of the two owners of the company!"  Instead of a meek apology she simply turns to her boyfriend Chris and states flatly, "You are so F*#%ing fired!"

Not only did it crack up everyone in the car, it soon became a standard phrase with our management team for any occasion any of us screws up (which by the way, contrary to Donald Trump's or anybody elses wishes happens quite regularly in the real business world).  When we deadpan, "You are (or he/she is) so F*#%ing fired", we obviously are joking, but...

A few days ago when I had to ask my first mate for the zillionth time that day to help me with some minor chore, like rolling up the shore power cord or something, she lost her patience.  Suddenly I was looking eye to eye with the Admiral, and she didn't say it, but I could read in her eyes, ..."You're so F*#%in fired".  I felt like at the very least I was in jeapordy of soon being voted off the island!

Of course, the sea gods were looking out for me, if not her, and a few hours later she was sporting a thumb splint and I was performing tough tasks for her...like opening a botttle of water.  So, I have been spared for now.  As usual, she and I need each other to get through this...go figure.

After spending Mother's Day cruising through The Great Dismal Swamp (catchy name, huh?) we arrived in Norfolk, VA.  Our first order of business yesterday morning was to find an orthopedic surgeon to look at the x-rays of Carrie's thumb.  Of course, the "What If Monster" was planting all kinds of seeds in our minds.  What if surgery...what if this...what if that.  So, we were scientific about chosing an orthopedist, we yellow paged on our iphone and picked the closest one to the port.  Turns out, he was formerly a hand specialist, which made us feel really good until we found out he made his living now mostly doing plastic surgery.  But what the heck, he could see us that day and had a hole in his operating schedule Wednesday, if needed.

On the way over I was working myself up to deal with a plastic surgeon, who by reputation try to talk people into surgery, with a lot of skeptecism.  Although he was quite a character (see photo below) my fears were pointless.  After looking at the (poor) x-rays from the hospital, he said he wasn't even sure it was broken and was pretty sure no surgery would be required.  He cracked us up though when he said, "But, before I committ myself to doing absoloutely nothing, let's get some better x-rays".  These confirmed that though she did have a small break, it was nothing to worry about and would heal quickly on its own.  We were overcome with relief, but in the back of my mind I thought, oh, no, I better get my butt to a chiropractor pretty soon or I'm so F*#%ing fired!

I asked the orthopedist if he could refer me to a chiropractor, which I reflected later is kind of like asking your MD for a referal to a Witch Doctor.  He personally did not do so, but Mickey, his super nice nurse, did.  Off we went and although it seemed to help last night, I am hunched over a bit again today, so I'll be seeing him again this afternoon or Wednesday.  Don't panic, I'm in no immediate danger; her thumb is not healed, yet.

Note the words on the sign in his office!  Perfect!

The Motorcycle Frankie Theory - Boat Bites Part 2

First, a couple of new terms to add to our glossary of boating terms:

Gunnel-the side wall of the boat

Cleat-the (usually) T shaped piece of hardware used to fasten lines to boats and/or docks

Once Around has really nice high gunnels, which make for increased safety when moving from one end of the boat to the other outside.  However, it also has a cleat on the inside of the gunnel about three feet off the deck.  Last week when we were preparing to depart from Moorhead City, I was striding up the port side deck of Once Around and jammed that damned cleat into my left thigh.  I winced in pain and uttered, "boat bite".  Although it swelled to about the size of a half of a baseball and turned purple almost immediately, I probably wouldn't have ever mentioned it in a post.  It was just another boat bite.

Before I go on, I need to tell you about a guy I knew some 35 years ago when for a time I raced hydroplanes.  (Did I ever tell you I love boats?)  Anyway, there was a real strange character who also raced with us who we all called, "Motorcycle Frankie".  Some of you reading this out there remember him, and know how really strange he was, even before he did a face plant on his motorcycle through a construction barrier at about 50 mph!  For the rest of you I offer the following.

Motorcycle Frankie loved his cat, Zoa.  All the boat racing crowd knew that, because we often saw him sharing his food, booze and cannibus with the little feline.  Zoa was a bit strange, too.  Also, Zoa would disappear often and at all odd hours you could hear Frankie calling, "Zoooaaaaa" through the pits, searching for his pal.  One race day in particular, cries of "Zzzoooaaaaaaaa, here Zooaa" were heard for what seemed like hours.

However, come time for Motorcycle Frankies race, and he forgets all about Zoa and jumps in his flat bottom runabout and heads out for a particularly rough riding five lap heat.  At the end of the heat, as Frankie pulled into the pits, he had a grin on his face as big as if he had won the race...and he hadn't.  It seems Zoa had chosen to sleep off his hangover from the night before in the bow of the race boat.  When the race was over, he looked something like this:

Zoa lived through the ordeal, but to our knowledge he never raced again.

Motorcycle Frankie also had a particular wierdness, that whenever he hurt himself, he would immediately do it again.  Several times I witnessed him for example, bump his head, and then repeat it full force.  He swore it made the original pain go away.  And here I finally get to the point of all this...

As I was refueling at Alligator River Marina two days ago, a sailboat pulled in in front of me, totally lost control, and began to drift back headed for a collision with Once Around.  I was busy with the fuel hose, but the Admiral standing alongside on the dock yelled, "Get up there before he hits us", and off I sprinted...right into that same damned cleat, in the same damned spot on the same damned thigh.  My eyes started watering from the pain, and I muttered, "Screw you Motorcycle Frankie", to which the Admiral said, "Huh???"  Once the situation (and my pain) came under control, I explained Motorcycle Frank's theory of the double hit, and how I damned sure did not agree with it.  Neither did my now grapefruit sized thigh.

Then today, on the crossing of Abermarle Sound, things got pretty rough, and the sea gods took their toll again on my first mate.  A rougue wave hit us from the port side just as Carrie was moving around the back of the helm chairs on the fly bridge.  Although she was holding on with her left hand, she lost her footing and while stopping her fall, she jammed her thumb into the seat back...hard.  After a trip to the Ablemarle Med Center in Elizabeth City, NC, she is sporting this on her broken right thumb:

When we get to Norfolk, VA, she gets to go see another orthopedic surgeon! (Just to make sure no permanent damage). Score, Once Around 2, Carrie 0.

Then tonight at dinner the strangest thing happened.  Our waiter took one look at her thumb and said, "I can tell you how to make it feel better", and he slammed his thumb down on the table and told Carrie to do the same.  She and I looked at each other and said..."Screw you Motorcycle Frankie"!

Remember, "Boating is Fun!"

Finally...We're Off!!!

After a great bon voyage party thrown by our kids last Saturday, Carrie and I flew out to North Carolina on Sunday and caught up with our boat in Morehead City.  The captains who brought her around from Sarasota said all systems were go, no problems whatsoever.  We sent them on their way home and spent Monday and Tuesday stocking up on provisions and doing a few minor chores, like installing a spare anchor.  We met a few fellow loopers (experienced) and got a few good tips on anchorages in the upcoming stretch.  We also tried to dispell the rumor (apparently started by our hired captain) that we were brand new to boating.  People had been told we just bought a 45 foot boat and were going to hit the waterways!  Some couldn't wait to see what kind of misadventures we would have, while others were overly explaining every detail ahead...cracked us up.  Anyway, the weather report for Wednesday looked bad, with thunderstorms predicted, so we reluctantly planned on staying one more day at the dock.  I figured I could use the time to study charts and maybe get a post in.

In typical Frank and Carrie fashion, we changed our minds about 9 AM Wednesday morning after an elderly couple of loopers asked for our help getting off the dock in the wind.  Hell, if they could do it we could do it. (Yes John and Linda, we did check the weather and confirm that the storm had been downgraded considerably).  So, with only a quick photo taken by a nice couple from Canada who were passing by, we slipped the lines and began our yearlong journey.

We did catch a bit of rain periodically, and the wind did stir up a bit in the afternoon, but thanks to the loopers the night before, we knew that Slade Creek off the Pungo River near Bellhaven would provide a good protected anchorage for the night.  Here was our view at sunset:

Thursday we ran up the Pungo River, through the Pungo/Alligator River Canal and most of the way up to Abermarle Sound.  

A bunch of gulls seemed very interested in us as we transited the Pungo.  We hadn't left any food outside, so couldn't figure why they were swarming around us.  Maybe they were just hopeful...or maybe we need to shower every day.  Anyway, they lost interest pretty quickly.

We also got buzzed by a couple of military jets along the way.  One was (I swear) only a few hundred yards above us and our chests thundered as he flew over.  The admiral said it scared the (expletive delted) out of her, and she was hereby removing fllying in a jet fighter plane from her bucket list!

There are some gorgeous (and not so gorgeous) homes along these backwoods waterways.  This one looks like a place I could hide out for awhile, how about you?

We also saw a few interesting boats.  We liked this one best:

We opened our first (of a zillion on the loop) bridges, along Alligator River,

and stopped into a cute little marina, aptly named the Alligator River Marina.  As we refueled, several loopers (including our friends Doug and Judy from Moonstruck!) greeted us and invited us to a cocktail party and a taco feed aboard some new friends' (Jim and Linda) trawler, Jeremiah.  The margaritas flowed, oh yeah, happy Cinco de Mayo!

At least 10 looper boats left the marina together this morning.  We needed a down day, so waved them off as they left.  There isn't a town to visit within 10 miles, and this morning at least, few boats in the harbor.  I've precisely timed getting this post in with my first mate completing our laundry chores...I think it's about nap thirty...but first, (just in case we don't get wifi in the next few days) a great big HAPPY MOTHERS DAY to all you moms out there. Now, about that nap...