Everything’s Funny, Eventually

Searching desperately for a reason to get out of bed every morning (other than kids pouncing on me in the wee hours) and trying to identify some goal or purpose to get through this Groundhog Day life, I have started writing our book in earnest, complete with the stories that may have made us cry at the time, but will hopefully be the punchline of jokes and stories told round the campfire years down the road. For a little humorous inspiration, I started watching David Sedaris’ Masterclass on Storytelling and Humor. He starts early on by saying “Everything’s funny, eventually,” and proceeds to tell us a series of stories that, at the time, must have been horrifying and embarrassing, but in retrospect make you smile, chuckle, snort, or just repeat “Oh my goodness” (or something more explicit) over and over.

Luckily – as you will have learned from the last post – Tom is one of those people who can see the humor in the moment, or at least as long as there isn’t an immediate emergency to deal with, like, say, sinking. And in the midst of a world of uncertainty, Tom was even able to find the humor in the 95-degree environment that was making him miserable: I was definitely in a cranky and irritable mood today.  8ft waves on a 5 second period right on the beam, requiring all the hatches to be closed and roasting in the heat was mostly to blame.  No beer available either to take the edge off my foul mood. I also didn’t get enough sleep the last 2 nights. The cat’s food from yesterday was full of maggots, care of the tropics.  Rashes that persist and multiply? Tropics. Constantly dehydrated with 90-degree tap water or 70-degree fridge water to drink? Tropics. Home-brewed beer tastes like shit? Tropics.  Sprouts go moldy before they finish sprouting? Tropics. Stinky clothes that were clean yesterday? Tropics. Two day old cat litter with maggots? Tropics.  Sunburn because sunscreen won’t adhere to my wet sweaty flesh? Tropics. I was in a mood to cut down every palm tree I ever saw for the rest of my life. Give me a home… where the Eskimos roam… and the sky is dark and cloudy all day!  (sing it with me!)

That was 13 days ago, and I haven’t heard him complain about the heat in at least five days, so I think they have finally made it into cooler promised land. Not that we ever expected Hawaii to be that promised land. Images of sitting in cold anchorages in Alaska is what has fueled his motivation for the past month, but if Hawaii is willing to take the temperatures down a notch (83 F) from those of French Polynesia (93 F), he’ll take it. Every degree is a gift.

If Tom made his dislike of the tropics known in that last rant, then Korvessa is making her own dislikes and needs known in this next one. I don’t think Tom meant this to be a poem, but I am turning it into one, and it shall be entitled “Day 51 at Sea, or Rants from a Fed-Up Ketch“. Bonus points for other great titles you put in the comments!

Last night one of Tinker’s securing lines broke.  I fixed it.
Today the vang broke.  I fixed it.
Today the SSB modem broke.  I fixed it.
Today the chart plotter broke and erased all info and placed our boat south of Burkino Fasa on the African coast.  I fixed it.
Today the helm seat broke, with me on it.  I didn’t fix it. I got a huge bruise in the fall.  I punched the mizzen mast.

And from thousands of miles away in our isolation cell here in Anacortes, to top off the many things we will laugh about in the future (can you hear my voice squeak with withheld tears as I write that), we have lost the remote control to the TV (to one of those modern “smart” TVs that doesn’t actually have any real buttons, I might add). Any of you with small kids will understand what a disaster this is. Or maybe you’re among the parents who wisely don’t allow TV time in the morning and carefully control content and time. I am not one of those parents. At least not right now. After experimenting with different times of day to write, I finally settled on 6:00 to 6:45 am, which was the only time of day that I have been able to successfully hide from my kids, thanks to the wondrous invention of the TV. Unfortunately, that is no longer an option. One child crawled into my bed at 6:11 a.m. and said “Mommy, I can’t watch TV, so I’m going to watch you write.” Yeah, right. He did leave, but I can hear him making whale sounds through the wall. The other child is now curled up against me and attempting to hold onto my left arm like a beloved stuffy. I am now typing with one hand. At least he is not making sounds.

Aha! We found the remote after about five hours of searching, which is the sole reason I am able to sit here locked in my parents’ guest bedroom and finish up this post. (Oops, never mind. I was just interrupted. Twice. Three times. That’s it, I need a lock.) I am clearly not going to be able to edit or revise, but you all like nice, raw writing anyway, right?

There will be so many stories we will have from this adventure, so many memories. Many are so good that they will bring smiles to our faces without even trying: kids jumping on the fore-deck while we bounce over waves, beach fires with friends, finding whale bones on the beach, watching breaching whales from the boat. Others, not so much: Demon pooping on the bed right in front of us? Staring in horror at a son who seemed to have turned into a car, because those were the only sounds he would make? The entire bin of Lego and toys spewing all over the v-berth and galley due to a 35-knot gust that knocked us on our side? Dylan puking all over me within the first hour of a 3-day passage? No personal space, ever. We’ll tell stories about those things, too, and hopefully get a laugh out of friends and ourselves. Because everything’s funny, eventually.

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Informational Addendum: The guys seem on track to arrive in Honolulu on Saturday sometime. After looking at weather and currents, they have wisely decide to take the slightly longer windward (north) route around the islands in order to have more consistent winds and swell than what they would encounter on the lee side of the islands. The strong winds coming in over the next few days are predicted to cause some strong winds and confused seas around South Point (on the Big Island) and some nasty-looking gap winds whipping through the Alenuihaha Channel, which would result in a very difficult, uncomfortable, and potentially dangerous last 48 hours. So around the top they go.

Once they get to the dock in Waikiki, they will hopefully be able to get some beer, pizza, and a very very long sleep (pretty sure that’s the order they want things in). Roberto will fly out on Monday. The kids and I will fly in on Tuesday. And while we complete our 14-day quarantine together, we’ll work on cajoling and repairing Korvessa and all her tough but tired parts. We don’t know what lies ahead after that: a little time to explore Hawaii by car? Or by boat? Will be there for three weeks? Four? Seven? We don’t know. What we’re hoping is that, when the time is right, we’ll fly the kids back to grandparents for a few weeks and take off on the 2,200 nautical mile trip north to Alaska!