Oooohhhh Lawzy! I’m back and I feel completely discombobulated. It is shocking that it is this hard to get back into a regular schedule after taking an entire week off of work. I woke up this morning (after a terrible night’s sleep because my bed was cold. Why did my heater go back to Massachusetts?) completely confused and bothered and not quite sure what I was supposed to be doing. Was I going sailing today? Did I get to go downstairs in my pyjamas and talk to Pete while he cooked me eggs? Why in GOD’S name was my alarm going off? Why is it noisy outside? Aren’t the woods of Alabama usually really quiet in the morning? Is that a garbage truck I hear? WTF?
And then: AHHHHH! I have to go to wooorrrk. I’m all aloooone. Bleck. Whine whine whine.
But damn, y’all. I had so much fun this week. It was great and perfect and warm and sunny and entertaining (except for the very last part, when I almost got Pete fired, but I’ll get to that later). Everyone got along very well. My parents loved Pete. He loved them. We didn’t kill each other even once during the multiple long drives, and, in fact, I wasn’t even annoyed or frustrated at him (except for when he told me he didn’t like Weezer. Because: Oh my God! How can a human being not like Weezer? Is that even possible?). He may have gotten annoyed and frustrated at me, especially when I started yelling at the stupid, selfish cows driving 40 mph in the left lane on the interstate, GOD! But, if he did, he kept it quiet.
We drove down to Alabama on Wednesday afternoon (did I say we were leaving in the morning? Well, I lied.) and then on Thursday morning (-ish) we drove down to Mobile bay so we could go sailing. We spent most of Friday sailing and had a great time. The weather was perfect. Warm but not hot with a nice steady wind. Really ideal conditions. I also got to see my parent’s marina for the first time. We used to keep our boat in a marina called Pirate’s Cove in Perdido Bay, which is right on the Alabama/Florida border, but it was destroyed by hurricane Ivan, rebuilt, and then almost immediately re-destroyed by hurricane Katrina. Ever since then, there has been a shortage of Marinas in the gulf coast area, so my parent’s have their boat in this very salty marina in Mobile bay.
Let me teach you a nautical term: Salty. Salty is used to describe a person or object related to the sea that is A) in a state of disrepair B) in a state of repair but it is hard to distinguish C) rather, shall we say, colorful or D) weatherbeaten.
Here are some examples of things that are salty:
1. Captain MacAlister:
2. The merry band of pirates from the Black Pearl
3. Old ramshackle fish camps
4. My parent’s marina
Now, salty can be used as a good or bad term. Often, sailors with a lot of experience are referred to as “salty” with some sense of reverence. Other times, as in the case of this marina, it isn’t necessarily a good thing. Now my dad loves this sort of thing. He thinks it adds character. I think it is funny. Because salty marinas tend to attract an unusual class of people. People, for example, who would have a boat named something like this:
I swear to god that is completely un-retouched and true to life. My friends, this is what happens when rednecks win the lottery.
Here are a few more pictures from the excursion:
Ok, y’all. I have more to write about and more pictures, but I need to go to the bank right now. Entertain yourself for a while, and I’ll be back later to finish up this story. Cheers!