So seriously, what do you do all day?

Yep, that's the question many of you are thinking.  We live on a boat, we don't work, and we don't do boat projects because it's too darn hot.  So what do we do?  Well, we go to Jekyll Island frequently because both the dogs and we like it.  But that's not all we do.  Living in one place for an extended period of time means melding into the community and doing things that community does.

For example, last Friday was the first Friday of the month, and that means downtown Brunswick Georgia has a par-tay!

I thought it would be fun to shoot photos through store windows in the twilight.  This is a ghost of a Buick in a wine store.

The many small parks downtown have bands.

Or single performers, like Kellie Parr.  She was wonderful.

And yesterday, for Pam's birthday, we went to the Coastal Georgia Regional Fair! It's hosted by the Exchange Club of Brunswick, an affiliate of the National Exchange Club.  It is a community service organization.  The proceeds of the fair benefit the local Boys & Girls Club (YAY!) and other worthy causes, buys bicycles for needy kids, and funds school social workers, among other things.  This is their major fund raiser.

Yes, look closely.  Those people are upside down.

And they even had a demolition derby!

It was a great day, made even better because our dock neighbor Neil took us to B&J's restaurant in nearby Darien for a shrimp dinner.  There is nothing better than fresh wild Georgia shrimp, and the shrimp at B&Js comes right from the nearby river.  Make sure the shrimp you buy is wild Georgia shrimp, and not that nasty stuff that grows in polluted Asian shrimp farm ponds. 

Today is forecast to be 91 degrees.  I think today will be a beach day.  Too hot for a boat project.  ;-)

Our Dogs Understand English

Now, I know that dogs have a basic understanding of a few words.  We teach our dogs to "stay", to "sit", and to "come here".  All  dogs know those words, this I know.

Oh, an important digression here.  As I said, all dogs know the word "stay".   Awhile back, Pam and I were walking through a neighborhood in Savannah and two large dogs came charging at us from behind a house, heads low and snarling and barking.  The worst thing you can do in a situation like this is to run.  If you run, you're prey to a dog.   So Pam and I stood there, and I held up my hand in a classic stop position and yelled STAY in an angry voice.  Both dogs stopped dead in their tracks.   They looked confused, as in "but if I stay, I can't bite you.  Heeeeyyy...."  and they came at us again.   Again I held up my hand and yelled STAY!  And they did, not pleased.  And we slowly walked away.   Remember that.

Anyway, yesterday Pam and I were discussing our plans for the day, and Pam said "Let's go to the beach!"   All three dogs jumped up and ran for the helm station, tails wagging and all excited.  We were now committed.  It was going to be a beach day.

The dawgs needed it.  So did we, I guess.  There's just something special about going to the beach.  Apparently, other people think so too, because a work crew was setting up for a wedding.

The dawgs love it here.  They romp, they play, they climb on driftwood to pose.

Honestly.  I don't know how life could be any better.  For the dogs, or for us.

Oh, and today is Pam's AND Ruby's birthday.  Three for Ruby.  I'm not saying for Pam.  OK, I will... 46.  So what did I buy her for her birthday?  Nothing.  No, I'm not a cold hearted SOB.  We live on a boat.  What do you buy someone who has everything?  Dogs, beach, a caring and loving husband...

So today, we're going to the Glynn County regional fair.  It's what she wanted, so that's what we're doing.  Livestock and amusement rides.   I'll take pics for you.

I've Got Nuthin'.

Pam and I didn't do anything yesterday.  We didn't go anywhere.  We didn't do anything interesting  or blog worthy.

Oh, it was a little overcast, but it didn't rain.  We could have gone to the beach, but no, we didn't.

The dogs did a few cute things, but I didn't take any photos.

We were going to go to the local regional fair and I could have taken pics of farm animals, but rain threatened and we didn't go.

We didn't play Chicken Foot or Tuk with other cruisers.  If we did, I would have been desperate enough to take pics and post about it.

Nope.  I've got nuthin'.  No interesting photos, no stories, no boat projects.  Nuthin'.

I read about photography and posing, but there's nothing to report there.  Pam played Angry Birds on her iPad, but that's not anything to write about.

Gertie is the same.

Drift Away went nowhere.  But you knew that.

Nope.  Nuthin'.

Life is good though.  Nothing bad happened.

Shooting Pamela and the Dogs

Yesterday was a "what do you want to do today?  I dunno, what do you want to do?" kind of day.  It was cool here in Georgia, down into the mid-eighties, but overcast.  No point in doing a boat project if it might rain.  So as we often do, we hied ourselves to Jekyll Island with the dogs.  And my camera.

Jekyll Island is a wonderful place to photograph.  We love the driftwood beach especially.  I really want to learn how to photograph people, in addition to dogs and driftwood.  I think both Pamela (my model) and I are getting a bit better.  Here are the results.

I think the driftwood is not as interesting on a cloudy day.  No shadows.

This photo proves that Olivia is indeed insane.

Here's my honey.  Proof that Rubenesque women will always be more attractive than emaciated anorexic sticks.

I love this shot.  The bright colors on the people contrast with the starkness of the beach quite well.

Yep.  Ruby loves the sand.

It was a great day yesterday.  It was cut short by rain, but the clouds hid the sun for most of the afternoon, which was good for portrait photography, not so good for taking pics of driftwood.  I think the driftwood pics are more dramatic with harsh shadows, while portrait photography is better in soft diffused light.

I'm learning.  Slowly.

Last night was also our weekly marina get together at the boaters' lounge.  It's great fun to chat with other cruisers and liveaboards.  Not a grouch in the bunch, just a bunch of happy people.

After the get together, we went home to watch the debates.  Sorry, but both candidates were pretty uninspiring and flat.  It was a snoozer.  Which I did.  I conked out halfway through.  I guess that's the danger of watching a political debate in bed.  If one candidate or the other came to life last night and had you shouting at your TV, let me know.  The economy, health care, taxes... I'm more interested in the beach.  Rock on, dude.

Proving Darwin Wrong

As you regular readers know, this is a lifestyle blog.  It's not a cruising blog (although sometimes it is).  It's all about what it is like to live in a home that sometimes moves.  To make it more interesting, we added three medium sized dogs.  Hey, anyone can do it the easy way.

We don't even do it the way most folks do.  Most liveaboards stay in one place, day after day, month after month, year after year.  You can tell their boats in marinas and anchorages by the huge amount of growth on their boat's bottoms.

And cruisers?  Most go north in the spring and south in the fall, following the sun and the mild temperatures, panicking if the temps get over 85 or below 60.

Not us.  We just kind of wander along, staying in a place if we like it and leaving when the karma isn't right.

We have friends who pretty much do the same thing.  We met Dan and Pat at Isle of Hope Marina in Savannah.  They bought Ironhore (the H is silent) about a year before we arrived there in February 2012 and had been at Isle of Hope ever since.  As Dan liked to say, "We're doing the Great Loop.   We're on mile zero."

As you know, when I do something stupid, I share it with you.  Why?  Because we ALL do stupid things.  If you're human, you're in this category.  And I figure that if you're reading about something stupid that I've done, you're saying "Hey look honey!  Gibson is cruising and he's a moron!  That means even I can do it!".  Yes.  Yes, you can.

I received this email from Pat on Ironhore yesterday.  Yeppers Pat.  I'm going to hang your laundry right out here so everyone can see it.

Dan and I laughed out loud several times while reading your blog today...So Funny!  And even funnier if you have ever had a dog that has a "farting" tendency!

We had a once in a boat-time experience today.  Dan wanted to get the hatches all cleaned up - spit shined...hardware and all.  He took the hatches off this morning - the first time in 35 years they have been unscrewed (is that a word??) from the boat.  Dan took all of the hardware off...and then went to the car wash to power wash the hatches...inside and out. 

A brief preface is necessary here...I watched the weather forecast for today...and there were some clouds a comin!  I happened to mention to Dan that he may want to postpone this particular project...BUT NOOOOOOOOO! 

Just before Dan left the boat with hatches in arm...there was a very dark line of clouds heading for us.  I did mention that he may want to hurry back.  While he was away I took our trusty duck tape and garbage bags and covered the open hatches...did quite a good job if I say so myself. Dan got back just as the rain was starting - so we literally laid the newly cleaned hatches over the opening.  We were sitting on the back deck enjoying the rainstorm when all of a sudden the wind picked up...and then we heard a loud splash...Yuppers, the wind picked up one of the newly washed hatches and flung it across our dock and right into the water...AND it was almost high tide!! 

Long story short...the diver is coming tomorrow to try and find the hatch...and we have to tape up tonight in case it rains.

Just to go on notice...I did mention the weather conditions....Will let you know how wet we get tonight...haha

Hope all is well - we are looking forward to coming to Brunswick for a visit in the near future...Miss you guys and pups!!

Hugs, P

Yep.  Dan and I are out here doing it, throwing caution to the wind and dancing on the edge of the volcano.  We're proving Darwin wrong, everyday.

Chevy the Farting Dog

Olivia is a German Shorthair Pointer puppy, six months old.  She's as smart as a whip.  I suspect she's smarter than me, and that's not good.   Within a few days of living aboard Drift Away, she's learned how door handles work and can open doors that swing out.  Luckily, most of our doors are sliders and only Chevy can open those, and only then if left ajar.

Olivia is also spiteful.  Whenever Pam and I run off do do errands and leave the dogs on the boat, we return to find the following;

a) Anything I've left on the dinette table, such as the laptop mouse or bills, will be on the floor and chewed or shredded.

b) Pamela's clothing from the laundry basket will be strewn around the main saloon.

Olivia has shredded newspapers, bills, magazines, and books.  She's destroyed USB cables and my reading glasses.  She does it to show her displeasure at being left behind.  We've tried disciplining her to no avail.  The only thing left was a crate.  Doggie jail.  If we didn't crate her, she'd be invading Poland next.

So Pamela hied herself to Pet Smart and bought a medium sized crate.  Space is at a premium on a boat, but we had to do it nonetheless.  We pulled it out of the box and set it up between the sofa and the dinette table. Chevy immediately parked himself in it.

Chevy is a rescue dog.   We got him when he was about two years old.  We suspect he was a bait dog for a dog fighting ring.  He was found abandoned in a a vacant warehouse in Bridgeport, Connecticut.  His backside is all scarred from dog bites, his muzzle is scarred from being wired shut so he couldn't fight back, and the tip of his right ear has been cut off to mark him.  When we got him, he weighed 50 pounds.  He now weighs 80 pounds.   But I digress.  It's apparent that he once lived in a crate since he took his bone and plopped himself inside.

Not Olivia.   She knew it for what it is.  Doggie prison.  She has to be put inside it, and she's not happy about it.   Too bad, so sad.

On the bright side, I thought that maybe this would be Chevy's new night time bed.  Our present sleeping arrangement is Pamela and me in the bed, Ruby on the sofa upstairs in the main saloon, and Chevy and Olivia on the settee next to the bed.  During the night, Chevy and then sometimes Olivia wind up in bed with us, squeezing me out.   Well, that night we went down below to go to bed, and Chevy and Olivia trotted right behind.

One of the dogs threw up on the settee cushion and it stinks so bad that it's out on the port side deck until we buy a replacement.  The dogs don't care and sleep on a couple of blankets.  Chevy and Olivia have an uneasy truce when sleeping on the settee and usually Pam has to intervene, scooching one of them to one end to make room for the other.

I watch TV until I get drowsy enough to turn it off and roll over.  While doing so, I noticed this.

Chevy can be a gassy dog.  

Fun fact - a dog's sense of smell is 400 times better than ours.

Great Boat Name - Willoughby

I've often written about our mostly stress free idyllic cruising/liveaboard lifestyle.   Last night, for example, was "chicken foot" night, a dominoes game.   There were 16 of us liveaboards at the marina lounge playing, laughing and giggling like kids.  My theory is that cruising makes you young.

After chicken foot, Pam and I walked the dogs and then retired to our stateroom's A/C to watch a little TV. Well, I did.  Pam quickly fell asleep.  I watched an episode of Thriller and then a couple of Twilight Zone episodes on ME TV.  The last Twilight Zone episode I watched was A Stop at Willoughby.  Rather than me try to recap this show, here's a copy and paste from Wikipedia...


Gart Williams is an overstressed New York advertising executive who has grown exasperated with his career. His overbearing boss, Oliver Misrell, angered by the loss of a major account, lectures him about this "push-push-push" business. Unable to sleep properly at home, he drifts off for a short nap on the train during his daily commute through the November snow.

He wakes to find the train stopped and changed into an 1880s railcoach, deserted except for himself. The sun is bright outside and as he looks out the window, he discovers that the train is in Willoughby and that it's July 1888. He learns that this is a "peaceful, restful place, where a man can slow down to a walk and live his life full measure." Being jerked back awake in the real world, he asks the conductor if he has ever heard of a town called Willoughby, but the conductor replies, "Not on this run . . . no Willoughby on the line."

That night, he has one more argument with his shrewish wife, Jane. Selfish, cold and uncaring, she makes him see that he is only a money machine to her. He tells her about his dream and about Willoughby, only to have her ridicule him as being "born too late," declaring it her "miserable tragic error" to have married a man "whose big dream in life is to be Huckleberry Finn."

The next week, Williams again dozes off on the train and returns to Willoughby where everything is the same as before. As he is about to get off the train carrying his briefcase, it begins to roll, returning him to the present. Williams promises himself to get off the next time he is in the village.

Experiencing a breakdown at work, he calls his wife, who abandons him in his time of need. On his way home, once again he falls asleep to find himself in Willoughby. This time, the conductor warmly beckons him to the door and Williams discards his briefcase.

Getting off the train, he is greeted by name by various inhabitants, who welcome him while he tells them that he's glad to be there and plans to stay and join their idyllic life.

The swinging pendulum of the station clock fades into the swinging lantern of a train engineer, standing over Williams' body. The modern-day conductor explains that Williams "shouted something about Willoughby", just before jumping off of the train and was killed instantly. "Poor fellah", the engineer mumbles, as the conductor nods in agreement. Williams's body is loaded into a hearse and as the back door closes, we see that it was sent by the Willoughby & Son Funeral Home.

Too bad Mr. Williams didn't just buy a boat, name it Willoughby, and cast off his lines.

Here's a link to the full episode.