They say that a change of scene is as good as a vacation. Or is it a new haircut? I don’t know but if it’s true we ought to be in Hawaii by now, but we’ll take Annapolis because that’s our home port and if it weren’t for that icy windblown rain cutting through our laughably ineffective cold weather gear it would feel like home.
Touched by the many kindnesses of family and friends we left New Jersey with many tears in the knowledge that it may be a long time until we see each other again. On the plus side it does count as a change of scene and boat stuff arrives in days instead of months. This intermezzo will culminate in DC where my niece will marry at the Anderson House and we’ll find my side of the family for a change. Post wedding will see us Sparking our way over the Allegheny Mountains to Pittsburgh for a party with our Pittsburgh friends and our traditional Christmas Eve Curry.
The poor little Spark was getting overloaded so we mailed several boxes of stuff down to Miami to await our eventual arrival. The flight back to Escape Velocity in El Salvador should be interesting. For now the flag halyard slapping time against the flagpole somewhere out in the dark in thirty knots of sleet-filled rain In front of the EconoLodge is the only reminder that while this feels like home, it isn’t.
Our course, plotted on a map, would describe a zigzagging unwavering inability to pass a Trader Joes or a Columbia outlet. I can’t explain this but it’s true, and every time we walk in with silly grins of wonder remembering our former lives. We can’t buy much because we’d have to lug it down to El Salvador, pay duty and we’re not sure what else they have in store for us, so it’s got to count.
It occurs to me that some of our friends here in Annapolis have never seen us dressed in anything but Ts, shorts, and flops so we may shock them. Then again, will we recognize them?
So as I was saying, today it’s Annapolis and the shiny pants digs at the Maryland Inn. I dare say I’ll miss that halyard slapping the flag pole just like some lazy sailor’s halyard left slapping his mast. I find it tough to sleep without mast music.
