This is it.

Well.

This is it.

This is our last night 'living' aboard Awaitea. We had intended to spend it together, toasting our travels (or lack thereof) over a lovely dinner & bottle of bubbles, but instead I'm going to be slogging it out at work whilst hopefully Xave & the kids meditate, light a few candles - extinguish a few lit torches? - & toast our time aboard our most recent home on behalf of me too.

Awaitea is all but sold. We are taking her out of the water to paint & antifoul etc, and so have rented an eensy weensy teeny weeny apartment in Double Pay for a couple of months. In this case, compared to home, lets just call it Triple Pay...

It was our decision, and at the eleventh hour we can only see the pros of the boating lifestyle. 'sokay. I'm fine. Just sad. :(

Because you see, It is just as easy living on a boat as a house, when you are connected to mains power & have plenty of water, & can simply step off onto a pontoon to get to wherever you're going. Just as easy.

Staying at Rushcutters Bay however has enabled us to be amongst the vibrancy of this city, and for the most part, we have been made to feel welcome - by the staff of the CYCA in particular - thanks largely to Cooks bewitching everyone that she comes across. Just this morning, as Cooks busied herself on the reception desk, a comment was made about her interesting outfit & head gear. The wonderful Maria on reception, stated very matter of factly to her colleague, that 'Cooks likes to do things differently. Doesn't she look lovely'. Warm thanks to Maria, Nick, Gerard, Angie, Marcus & Frank for indulging the kids, making us feel welcome, and shuffling us around in order to accomodate us. We will miss the CYCA.

Awaitea has been very kind to us. She has kept us safe & dry. She has rocked us to sleep, and provided a simple stepping stone to the aquatic playground for the kids. Cookie was 2 when she moved on board Awaitea. She is 4 now. This will probably be most difficult for her - already bursting into tears at the thought of not living aboard. Roo, at 6, simply wants to RUN. To the car, to school, to the park, to the soccer field. Land will suit his ever increasing stride. And as for us, for Xave & I, we are dreaming of our next boat.

Thanks Awaitea, for bringing us close, & for teaching us balance (and now the tears are well & truly flowing......

Re-berth.

So here we are - snugly tucked in to our temporary berth. Once again being rocked to sleep at an entirely too early hour - & waking up groggily on the couch 2 hours later, and that's without wine...

It feels the best. It truly does.

Wasn't the easiest and most glamorous arrival at our berth I have say. Xave might divorce me for spilling the beans, but that's a risk I'm willing to take.

(Anything for a laugh).

I insisted that he reverse in - the bow sprit had something to do with it, but mostly because the other boats were stern in and I wanted to match. Going forward is obviously easier than reversing, but keeping with the 'happy wife, happy life' theory, he quietly (& still calmly) acquiesced.

Bearing in mind that we were surrounded by gazillion dollar racing yachts, we (he) took it super slowly - we've witnessed lots of people come to grief, approaching a pen too fast and getting into all sorts of trouble. Xave popped her in her pen after 6 goes, but not before a nice little audience had assembled to witness the task. Nothing like a bit of public pressure to calm the nerves... As usual, Cooks and Roo started trying to kill each other down below which kept me busy and not much help. (I promise I wasn't hiding). Promise.

Anyway - after poking my head up & checking all was good, I went back down below to ground the children for the rest of their lives. On resurfacing, I found Xave had turned puce. PUCE. That lovely pinky/purple colour. Of course I burst into laughter (fearful nervous - I could get chucked in the water for this - type laughter) because he looked so.... purple. Xave had been re-routing the stern line, when the current grabbed the keel and swung her round, causing Xave to lose balance, and dangle wetly in the water, then having to ask a passerby to grab the rope and pull the boat (and Xave) back to the pontoon - "BECAUSEHISUSELESSWIFEWASNTHELPINGASUSUAL" (add your own expletive).

Seriously, he was so purple. It was so funny.

We are managing to get kids to school & ourselves to work, clean and tidy, and only smelling a tiny bit like deisel. We have also reconnected with each other. There is NOTHING more family friendly, than living on a boat.

THE PROS FAR OUTWEIGH THE CONS.

Seashoes on our seafeet which should hopefully be connected to our sealegs...

and no, I'm not talking about those Japanese toe shoes...

AT LAST we are back on board Awaitea.

We have had such a wonderful time looking after our mates' dogs in Watsons Bay, and now that they are home, last night, we slept aboard Awaitea for the first time in 5 months.

OK, so I haven't bumped my head - yet - and apart from the initial nausea, and the great galumping ferry "Borrowdale" nearly throwing me off my not-so-seafeet, some things have come back very naturally, (like using 3 squares of toilet paper, and cleaning our teeth with a mouthful of water) and apart from Xave & I admitting that it feels 'kinda crowded', the kids are very comfortable, happy & cosy, and jump about like it's the most normal home in the world.

Backtracking, to say we (I) agonised over the decision to move back on board is an understatement. Lets just say, that during one of my frequent bunny boiling moments (I was BORN for that role), a couple of serendipitous meetings with a couple of kindred spirits, enabled me to re-focus and choose to get back on the boat rather than lease an apartment which we were an ink stroke away from doing...

Last night, as I lay awake with a sick Cookie (she hasn't been unwell for AGES - hows that for timing), unable to switch off my brain, I thought about the logistics of getting Roo to school, clean & tidy?, of about Xave leaving the boat at sparrows fart to get to work, clean & tidy?, of about me getting to work, clean & tidy?, and returning home from work at 1.30am and looking for a carpark, then walking through a well known beat to the marina, (maybe my gender will work to my advantage in this case).... needless to say, I'm kinda buggered this morning.

On Sunday, we will be moving our palatial vessel to an easier berth rather than mooring for the next month or so, whilst Xave finishes his work commitments, then after that, well, we'll see.

Finally, lets not underestimate Awaitea. She is truly a beautiful boat. She is comfy & safe, and as much as I bag her, it's not her, per se, it's the fact that she's 30 square metres rather than 150 square metres, and that's not her fault.

Distractions.

Always distractions.

I know I am neglecting my blog. But apparently I am easily distracted.

Most recently, each time I sign in to this blog with the intention of writing, I get caught up reading a TOTALLY ADDICTIVE BLOG called: this battered suitcase. ( www.thisbatteredsuitcase.blogspot.com ) It is about travel in South East Asia, and she is alluring. Usually I read until I've caught up on this strangers' travels, then I find my small window of writing opportunity has passed.

Today, Cooks is being 'good' and I reckon I can squeeze out another 5 mins, so here goes....

I have been wanting to write something hilarious for AGES, but strangely, this city has me stumped.

Things aren't really funny in Watsons Bay. Well, maybe they are, but I keep missing them, either that or I've lost my sense of humour. ?

The whales: big & plentiful (but not funny).
The boats: floating (but not funny).
Work: tolerable (but SO not funny).

So sorry. Sorry for losing my sense of humour. But I WILL find it again.

We've got a month or so before our lives are turned upside down again, thing is, we aren't quite sure which direction we will be heading. We will either head north aboard Awaitea, or go and work in Asia somewhere, or travel in Asia, or go catamaran shopping. Somewhere. What we DO know, is that we're not ready to settle yet.

Fasten your seatbelts kids.

Lady Muck's Erection.

Roo's school has a fantastic kitchen garden, and the school have been asking for a volunteer to create a girlfriend for their resident scarecrow, Malcolm.

I thought it would be a nice idea to leave a legacy in the form of a scarecrow, so put up my hand.

There began a scarecrow making frenzy. Of course it all happened with superhero speed, as once I start something I pretty much OBSESS about it until it's complete. Not good for my brain or my family for that matter. Good however, in this case, for Malcolm.

After several trips to the oppy for her garb, and to the hardware store so that my over engineering husband could create a frame which would withstand a cyclone, she sat, frighteningly, in our hallway, for a week, waiting for it to stop raining long enough to be able to enact her erection in the vegie patch.

She only spent a day or so in the hallway, as she freaked us out every time we caught her in our peripheral vision - nightmare causing stuff - the rest of the week, she lay, face down, in a corner of an unused room....

Anyway, she's up now. She's freaking out the kids in the kinder classes who overlook the vegie garden, and not us at home, which is a GOOD thing. She might however be a bit fancy for Malcolm.

Oh, and her name is Lady Muck. My clever sister Sam thought of that. Nice work Sam, although no-one here gets it... don't all husbands call their wives Lady Muck? Or is it just mine?

The kids and I recently had a brief visit home. Roo in particular had been hassling me to see his friends, and so, we zipped home for our fix.

I also had an alterior motive: to see if a visit home was 'enough' or whether it was time to come home permanently.

We filled every moment with friends and family, exhausted ourselves extensively, had sleepovers and sleepins, and were well and truly plum tuckered out when we came back to Sydney.

Cookie, being the most 'changed' to her little friends (thanks largely to her haircut), had to work hard to convince her mates that it was indeed her. On one such occasion, Cooks stood happily next to her pal, whilst her pal appealed to her mum "where's Cookie?" right beside you darling. The poor little possum, burst into tears, stating "but I want the other Cookie". They found their friendship again after not too long.

Another little friend of Cooks', seemed to accept that Cooks had cut her hair, and that it was indeed still Cooks', HOWEVER, Cookie had just, simply, become a boy. Hence, "is he sleeping on my floor mum?" and "he's in the bathroom". etc etc. Cookie took it all in her stride.

She also amused us all one afternoon, whilst creating a communal picture with some little friends. My pal asked her what those lovely things were in her picture? Cookie replied matter of factly that they were "creatures that live in your hair". Most little girls draw flowers and girls. Cookie apparently draws head lice. She's a funny little bugger.

Roo had a wonderful time with all his friends, and certainly got his fix. I also formally apologise to everyone we visited for COMPLETELY TRASHING YOUR HOMES. I did warn you. We haven't changed!

And me, well I drank too much (!), ate too much (!!), talked too much and gratefully accepted all the generosity and time afforded me by my MUCH. LOVED. FRIENDS. AND. FAMILY.

and so to the alterior motive: I'm happy to continue on doing whatever it is we're doing, I'm not ready to come home, and keen to continue being adrift..... and stay tuned, August will bring change, and hopefully more entertaining and interesting posts! and I'm looking forward to it.



Excited squids.


Amongst their special mates.


All a bit much.

Wear beige.

Today I'm off to Roo's school's Mothers Day lunch.

something is bothering me: is it [Mother's] or [Mothers] Day? i.e, if it's the day belonging to Mother then it would be Mother's, but if it's for all the mothers, then it would be Mothers, and so, by that reckoning, seeing as though it appears to be a day for all mothers, belonging to mothers, then it should be Mothers'. But then I guess we don't really own it........

Anyway, to celebrate the occassion, I am trotting off down the hill to the water's edge to spend a 3 hour luncheon with some other mums, and we have been asked to wear white or beige. So as not to overstimulate the senses......

Now, some of my friends, are VERY good at wearing white. I however am NOT.

I am a dirt magnet. I have never looked crisp and clean. it is not in my makeup. in the rare occasion that I have worn the wretched hue, I have come off second best - food slopped down my front, or sat on something disgusting - right on the crack, never a cheek, always the crack ?@#*!

Currently, I don't have anything white. I did have, but I managed to dye it all pink in the last wash.

So beige it is, and beige it will have to be.

I have ONE beige top, well it's possibly more peach than beige, and then again one might call it apricot or oyster, but I'm going to have to go with beige. This top is unfortunately a bit see through, so it will have to have a [formerly white] pink singlet beneath it, which will potentially make it more of a salmon colour... It is also made from a very fine cotton, so no doubt, I will slop my first sip of sparkling down the front, and my [now salmon] top will have a wet patch which will stick to the [originally white] singlet making the top a dirty sort of clay colour - AND IS THAT DIRTY SORT OF CLAY COLOUR BLOODY BEIGE?...

Probably not.

Now, what to wear on the bottom....

Happy MOTHERS & STEP-MOTHERS Day.