The Winded, The Wounded And The Sprint To The End.

 I don't live life, I meander through it. All that crap about only living life once or grabbing the gusto seems to be made up excuses to do something unwise. I stumble along going thither and yon trippingly until I step in something that I can't scrape off my shoe bottom. I then have to confront it, though it smells to high heaven. Such is this boat endeavor. I can't get rid of it. The whole process stinks.  I cannot afford to buy a new pair of shoes so I scrape my soles and bear my soul here. This allows me to share the stench with you two stalwart followers, one for each shoe.

With the deadline looming, we attempt to speed up the pace. The amble becomes a brisk trot only to find out you're out of breath. Paint dries, epoxy sets, deliveries arrive at their own set pace. Meanwhilst, my ribs hurt from laying in the cabin in an awkward position trying to drill some holes with little clearance, Budge's arm hurts from hauling things around. The steps get higher each time I go up them.

I finally purchased the last plumbing bits. Now, those of you whut knows the intricasies of plumbing can feel my pain. The plumbing department of large hardware big box stores are thinly populated by lost wandering souls delving into the sea of small boxes containing, mainly misplaced items. This is how the Israelites wandered the desert for 40 years; they were in the plumbing department. There is no Moses to guide you through this desolate arid environment in search of water. He's on break.  It seems no easy solution exists that will bring relief to your dessicated boat existence. So you amble through the perils of pvc, cpvc, pex, elbows, tees, barbs, and whatever else you can find, constructing some sort of steampunk assemblage to achieve the simple task of transporting water from there to there.

Yeah.....there......plumbing on the right......with the Israelites.
​I am quite susceptible to poison ivy. I have stayed away from it here, so God sent fire ants instead, lest I be too self congratulatory of my good fortune. I stuck my hand in another hill this week.......... the ocean will be better (HAH: Iricongi!) . 

So Budge says "I can't drill these holes under the bunk. There's no room for the drill and bit" thus throwing the theoretical testosterone laden gauntlet at my feet. I pick it up and say "I can do it!" There is no simpler ploy to get a guy to do something than to challenge his masculinity. Guys are really dumb. I hurt a rib laying down on the narrow edge and reaching across and under . I did get the 8 holes drilled.

Now, you might like it when Suzanne feeds you tea and oranges that come all the way from China, But Dewalt sanders don't like bearings from that place. It ate another set. Both sanders are limping along, too.

This week, I'll reflect the actual week and jump around a lot showing the different stuff we did. We turned over the pod top and coated the underside with epoxy so we can eventually finish this.

Surely Budge must be done with the plumbing by now! We're.............................awaiting parts.

We bolted the chainplates. Budge on the outside.

Me on the inside.  We only drilled these holes 3 times! Or did I forget one?

The mast material came in this week. Three 24' sections of 6" OD aluminum that must be sleeved together to form two masts about 32" long. The guy we had lined up doesn't have an aluminum guy anymore. Man plans, God laughs. So you again say the short version of the serenity prayer and move onto the search.

So we gave the camera to Grin and Bear It and said "Take pictures of us unloading the metal". This is what a five year old boy is interested in.

The pile. Wanted: Aluminum Guy.

Remember that thing Budge made last week? Me either. Anyway it's for the running rigging. He scraped paint away from the pod seat back and I helped glue it on. Then Budge mounted the swivel cam cleat. 

I spent a lot of time in the port center cabin, AKA: the galley. I scrubbed and scrubbed. I painted it in several stages. Hot, sweaty work. I still have to back in and do more.

The pod top is a continuing effort. We made end boards and glued them in.

More pod stuff. A rainwater collection system for runoff.

The water box fittings finally came in and we positioned them and drilled a hole through the coach roof to bring in the water to the cabins.

We just have to rout the water to the galley sink and head.

Time to glue the tops on the boxes and finish them.

Crawl under the pod top.

And up through the hole so I can.......

Rout a lip for the plexiglass window. Oh, crap, I have to crawl back out!

Sigh........................................................

The Music♪: Gilberto Gil "Balafon"

I saw him once. It was a poor audience they had only a few cigarettes that they passed up and down the rows.