A week ago Thursday I had a dental appointment. Mine is a good dentist, but every dentist I have ever had eventually gets around to hurting me. Last Thursday was the day. By the time he was done the entire right side of my face felt like it had been used for Cardinals batting practice. Today, ten days later, it still isn't back to 100%.
A week ago Friday we headed off to Indy. to help Kristin and Brain get their house ready to sell. As usual we loved spending time with Daughter, Son-in-Law and grandson. And as usual we worked way too hard in the blistering heat trying to get as much done as we could. Once upon a time I could do that kind of thing without penalty. Nowadays that kind of effort extracts dues. Ignoring the pain in my jaw was a bit easier given the pain in my shoulders, back and wrists. I don't know how much a pick-up truck full of mulch weighs, but clearly it is more than a person my age should be shoveling around in a day.
Last Monday I rolled out of bed early for the first of 3 days of flying. And I mean really rolled. The attempt to swing my legs overboard and exit the bed in the normal fashion provoked serious protests from my lower back. It was an effort just to bend over to tie my shoes. By Tuesday morning I could barely manage even a roll out of the hotel bed. This was added to the continuing complaints from my jaw, which was getting worse rather than better. (Could it be that continuous altitude changes are not good for fresh dental work?) In any case electric like jolts ran down my jaw from my eye teeth, turned north at my neck, traveled through my inner ear and finally set off sparks in my brain.
On Wednesday the 3 days of flying turned into 5. It took a month to get to the end of the week and I didn't think Friday would ever arrive. It did (of course) and brought with it a marathon of tugging contrails around the country. Starting from Morgantown, WV we went to Waterloo, then to Kansas City, St. Louis, (a stop added at the last minute) back to Morgantown and, finally, back to St. Louis. I rolled the mains on home turf, parked the jet, changed out of limp and wrinkled flying clothes, sagged into the Saturn and drove the two hours to the lake. It seemed a long, long drive.
By the time I made it to little Nomad I could barely crawl into the V-berth. My back was stiff to the point of making it hard to breathe, my jaw ached, my right wrist wouldn't work right, and my ears were ringing from the noise of 8 1/2 hours of jet driving. Feeling every inch of the 3479 nautical miles of the week's flying and every one of the 19,745 days I have been taking up space on Mother earth; I was a seriously hurting unit.
Saturday morning I woke up feeling fine.
Sailboats are Magic.
The sailing this last weekend was pretty magical as well. Perfect winds blew in Saturday for a romp down the lake.
We ended up at Coles Creek for another impromptu raft up with 5 other boats. (Coles Creek is fast becoming our new weekend address.)
During the afternoon we splashed around in the lake with the young crew members from Miss My Money and Quicksilver. (Though a bit older they are almost as cute as my own grand daughters.)
I was a bit surprised to discover I could stand up on the bottom just a couple of boat lengths aft of the raft up. How we all managed to sail in and tie up without grounding is a mystery. Then calm winds and cool temps settled in for Saturday night. (Can this really be August in the Midwest?)
This morning we woke to a foggy sunrise, more swimming, and more perfect winds for a lap of the lake.
The sun burned through the haze and the good wind could not be ignored. Miss My Money and Gail Force set off for home. Nomad headed south toward the dam. From Coles Creek we tacked port and starboard, close hauled on a reefed main and working jib, heeled over and crossing paths with a whole parade of sailboats out playing tight on the wind. From the dam to home was mostly a broad reach / run, Nomad making better than 4 knots and seeing 6+ in the occasional gust. All while on a comfortable point of sail.
Magic all around.
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