Saturday — After attending a morning seminar about what to expect on the Intracoastal Waterway, John felt reassured that what we are about  to do will be an excellent adventure and I was pleased to remember that much has not changed in 28 years except there are more 65′ bridges. We are ready to face the big “M” week — the leaving of the land and moving aboard our 46′ floating recreational vehicle.  There is no turning back now as the lease is up and the movers are coming.  Like the pig and chicken and breakfast — the chicken has an interest, but the pig is committed.  We are two very committed pigs.

Sunday –  sea trial with sails.  Despite soaking humidity, stultifying heat and stubbornly light wind, I eased Dolce Vento out of her slip and into the Bay for another test drive.  As with the previous power (engine) sea trial, we learned what works and what doesn’t work well — our new mail sail is awesome, the extra steps on the mast make all the difference for usReady almost-Aug 2016 short people in attaching the halyard (rope used to hoist the sail)  to the main sail, about 10 feet above the deck.  However, getting the sail down into the stack pack cover was more than a sweaty proposition — the stiffly crisp new sail hasn’t trained itself to lay in the stack pack easily. Additionally, the stack pack zipper and the enclosure at the mast need adjustment. We reported the needed adjustments to our sail maker.  He promises fixes.  The very good news is that we were able to back Dolce Vento into the slip once again with nary a bump against a piling.  Last week’s docking miracle turned into a skill set.  Yeah!

empty aptMonday, Tuesday and Wednesday – Back at the apartment, with our close friend throwing her all into it,  we packed and packed and packed.  By the time the movers came on Thursday, there were only glass shelves and a few pieces of art work left for themboxed up, then they hauled it all out to the warehouse.

On Friday, we visited our belongings — our world in stored in 8 crates.   Since we moved into together in the winter of 1992, I’ve always had itchy feet that John accepted as part of the ‘deal’.  We’ve moved nine times; but this is the first time to not unpack it all at a new place.  It was a bit eerie.

Saturday – Back at the apartment, the pack rat (John) and the minimalist (me) were faced with what was left to stow in the boat —  papers, office files, food, HBAs, stray clothes and all that stuff you stick in drawers and closets over the years and almost never look at again.  And that doesn’t count all the jars, cans and spray bottles  that can’t be saved or stored.  For example, just looking at our office supplSpices in Placeies, we were faced with over 100 pens and pencils, several dozen note pads, four collections of paper clips, and piles of notes and files and printer ink along with half a dozen scotch tape rolls, two sewing kits, four staplers, and three dozen post-it notes, despite our best purging efforts over the past six months.  We sighed, knowing we had to reduce it or be faced with living in chaos.  Bag by bag, paper by paper, item by item, we went through it all together.

We are quite proud of our spices.  In the beginning, there were over sixty jars and bags that are now a tidy twenty or so, fitting nicely into the Dolce Vento’s spice rack.  The whole effort has been a true testament to our team work,  listening to each other, patience and organization skills.  We have successfully stowed the last twelve bags of stuff in Dolce Vento.  She still floats.
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