My scrapbooks, yearbooks and random stuff went up in smoke but my letters and inspirational gifts from my 'North-South' trek are safe and with me on the boat.


Her before:

And her after:

A little bit about the things that we have discovered about our new 'floating' home. The first few things are just so ironic that I can't ignore them and I have to share them with you


Without question, gloomy skies, cold air and wet weather can really bring you down and we are no exception. That's what me and my 'Southern man' have dealt with for the past month. Granted, we are grateful to be alive and relatively healthy but the weather and circumstances really frustrated us.


I've set up my personal space with all my treasured things that mostly remind me of my 'North-South' trek and of those who walked with me in their thoughts and with their good intentions. 

All my beautiful rosary beads, amulets and trinkets hang from my night light where my beautiful Angel and daily devotional remind me that I'm loved by so many. Whenever I am tapping away on my iPad, also gifted to me by a friend who followed my journey, you are all with me, keeping me focused on the task at hand. 
The book.


When a boat is out of the water, it's the optimal time to get the bottom clean and painted. It's called a 'bottom job' and that's where our week began. My 'Southern man' spent a few days sanding and painting the bottom of the boat while I concentrated on the deck. 


It was time for me to change my perspective.
Time for me to bust out a new move.
I threw Osprey on my back and left the boat behind.
I needed food to make lunch so I decided to walk to the grocery store which was 1.3 miles away; a 2.6 mile round trip trek and I was pumped up to make it happen.
It felt good to have Osprey on my back again and today's path resurrected some wonderful memories of my North-South trek; cars passing me on both sides and walking on shoulders, sidewalks, and bike paths.

I breathed deeply to get the oxygen in my lungs and walked briskly towards the local grocery store. Nothing was going to change if I didn't change it myself and that's what I did today. I took 'ownership' of my weird mood and walked it out. Osprey was also loving it because she was getting some fresh air too.

We arrived at the store and like usual, Osprey sat in the cart. I grabbed a bunch of items: chicken, bananas, potatoes, pears, lemons, garlic and broccoli.

My gosh, could I have chosen any heavier items? I needed spring water but that wasn't going to happen on this trek. I packed her up and headed back. With an extra 15 lbs. in my pack, the return back to the boat was definitely more challenging but it felt great. My walking pace was still the same but this time my core muscles were working and let me tell you, those muscles definitely needed to be woken up.

Boat life is beautiful but there's minimal cardio workout unless you swim and I'm not jumping in the ocean anytime soon.

For now, it's me and Osprey in the it should be.


Howling wind.
Cold rain.
An ominous sky.

My 'Southern man' works vehemently on the engine of our 'unnamed' boat while I sit closely by handing him tools, fetching him rags, turning on switches while I tap away on my keyboard producing more chapters of my book.
There are few people in this area of the boatyard and I have made no new friends. It's the complete opposite of Fort Myers Beach where we landed in the midst of high tourism, high traffic and high times.
When I venture down the boatyard path to where there is boat life and people, I feel out of place. I'm not dressed in the typical yachting skirt and boat shoes that are abundant in this Annapolis marina and when I am among the other 'yachters', it is only to go to the shower house, do some laundry or to fetch something from the Shore Store.
My 'Southern man' and I aren't talking much but it's not because we don't want to, we just are both so focused on our tasks at hand. It's interesting to watch him work. He's a master in mechanics and when things aren't going well, he responds with no foul language or cursing to our God. His way of handling things is very new to me because in my childhood world, the men swore loudly and brought Jesus H. Christ into the mix. I'm thankful to the Heavens for my greasy handed southern boy.


There she was, tucked away in the back of a fenced in boatyard surrounded with a bunch of other boats just waiting to be chosen. She didn't know that we were there to claim her so she stayed there quietly resting. 
Just like an orphaned animal in a shelter, our boat was an unhappy soul waiting for a new owner to find her. We were told that the previous owner had suddenly died, and our new boat was clearly mourning the death of her former Captain.