Minding the weirdness

Yesterday was one of those days that just didn’t wear well. Deb asked me several times if I felt okay. Being tired from working on the tile project and a bit bummed that the job has highlighted that my left hand doesn’t work as well as it once did, were excuses that didn’t really explain anything. The hours nurfed by slightly out of focus, turning into a day spent walking in some stranger’s shoes.

Then last night was filled with odd dreams. I don’t usually remember dreams so this morning got off to a fuzzy start as well...blurred by muffled images of wandering around very familiar airport scenes feeling lost, surrounded by once daily companions and friends who didn’t recognize me in the slightest. I couldn’t find the airplanes I fly on the ramp anywhere, and my offices had strange furniture and even stranger people filling them. Clearly a life long addiction to flying is grinding up against an insatiable desire to be a full time sailor…a brain sized example of an irresistible force and an immovable object both trying to squeeze into one small life.

With the tile job stalled just short of being finished, (watching grout dry is even worse than watching grass grow) we decided to take sails and stuff out to Nomad and spend the afternoon. We needed to get the stuff out of the house to make room for still more projects. I really wanted to get the bolt fixed in the engine (a task left over from last season) and secretly hoped that being on the boat would help clear the weirdness out of my head.

There were a few friends gathered at the club house. Instead of getting right to work we hung out talking things Tartan. (We should have taken the time to turn the heater on in the boat first, letting it warm while we gabbed. It be cold around here again.) Rumor has it at least one other person has been inspired by our plans and is thinking of bringing a 38 to 40+ foot "retirement home" to the lake to get ready to go. We should petition the Army Corps of Engineers to change the lake's name from Lake Carlyle to Lake Wanna-be or Lake Cruiser in Training. It would be much more descriptive.

Eventually we made it out to the slip. Buy mid-afternoon the heater glowed merrily, the bolt was fixed, and the batteries topped. We sat cozy and warm while the boat rocked gently in the north wind. Deb was at the end of the settee working on a project while I checked some weather for a flight tomorrow to snow country. (Damn I’m tired of snow country!) All was right in Nomad land and I was glad to be there. Going cruising is more than just daring to change the scenery. It is more than daring to change a way of living. It’s about daring to change your mind.