Keith's Curiosity Unleashed Again

This morning, I faced down the keeper of my cryptonite, my archest of enemies. This morning I summoned all my strength and character and went head-to-head with The Head. Until this day my mind and body were held hostage by this tiny, taunting, chamber of torture. Not so today. No sir. Today would be different. The seas were somewhat flat, and we were on a steady course. All crew were quietly occupied about our vessel as I lay in my bed, contemplating the plumbing. Perhaps you've never taken the time to think about plumbing on a boat. You're obviously a very busy person with a lot of work to do. If you find a bit of time, to paraphrase Jesus, consider the loo. Boat plumbing is but a distant relative of house plumbing. There is neither a fresh water supply pipe coming in, nor a septic field or sewer pipes going out. I lay still in my bed, fighting back the queasiness, as I envisioned the pipes and their workflow. I have a pretty clear understanding of plumbing on terra firma, so naturally it was truly bothering me that the same thing, when applied to a boat, was an unresolved riddle. I listened to the whir of a pump which is stowed only 8 inches beneath my matress. What is it pumping? Steady man, steady. At last, I sat up, stared at the door to the head, and uttered the quote that Kevin Costner uses to make the roaring noise of Yankee Stadium go away in For Love of the Game: "Clear the area". My mind became something like an empty lobby - only more Zen-like. I went in. After my eyes got accustomed to the light, I opened covers, turned valves on and off, and even disconnected a few things. After thirty minutes of battle, I emerged from the head a hard-worn but victorious hero. I had overcome the head's evil spells and clutched firmly to the confidence given to a man who knows in his heart as well as his head exactly where the poop goes.
Above deck, nobody seemed to take notice of my newfound shimmer and swagger. Tom read a book about angels, or maybe, the English. The title was written out in Dutch, of all things, so there's really no way to be certain. Louis hung laundry on the small clothesline on the aft deck. Mark watched a movie. The wind and sea paid no mind as they gently nudged us onward. The fishing lines have been out all day, but even the fish seem to be distracted and noncommittal today. Barry was looking at the waters and lazily scanning the horizon.
"When you write your journal today, Keith, would you please send my love to Polly? And Andy, Joey, Stephanie, and Ben. It's really the only way to get through to them out here. I can't send a postcard."
"Of course I will, Barry." I announced in a confident, victorious tone.
"What else are you going to write about? There's not been a lot happening today."
Not been a lot happening? Was he serious? Could he really not see that I was a changed man? Was he truly blind to the fact that I had defeated no lesser a villain than The Head? If this were professional wrestling, I'd be clutching a giant gold belt in my gorgeous, shining white teeth. If this were science, I'd win the Nobel prize! If this were the Tennessee State Fair, I'd be Miss Tuscalusa pinning a blue ribbon on the fattest damn pig you've ever seen! Not a lot happening? I had a sudden impulse to grab Barry's arm and escort him down below to see The Battlefield, but I couldn't because Mark was blocking the path and looking concerned.
"Whatsa matter?" I asked him.
"Not sure ... the tank that holds the desalinized water is really low, and it was full yesterday. Also, there's a bunch of water in the hull. I think something might be leaking somewhere."
"I ... see," I said, as I mentally reviewed the various valves, filters, and whatnots that I had been twisting and banging on, "well ... good luck."
So the point is, there's not been a lot happening today. Not a whole lot to write about. It has been very quiet, as I will continue to be.



p.s. - we never spoke.









and over to the Dutch side...
Nu begrijp ik waarom veel mensen het prettig vinden te gaan cruisen.
Je voortreffelijke eten en drinken op tijd, af en toe een beetje gokken,(Rummicup) de was wordt voor je gedaan tot zelfs het wasgoed opgehangen (Louis). Het enige wat er tegenover staat is om af en toe op de bok te moeten zitten en zelfs dat is geen straf. O ja en de vaatwas doen want dat kun je de chefkok toch niet aandoen.
U hoort het al hier gaat alles naar wens alleen je vrouw zal er bij moeten zijn.
Er gebeurt op dit moment niets bijzonders om verder over te vertellen.
Keith zal wel weer iets uit zijn duim zuigen om het log vol te krijgen.
Er is namelijk een prijs voor wie de leukste, gekste, meest bijzondere weblog instuurt. Volgens hebben we daar zeker recht op.
Gegroet
16.37N
43.11W
yo to all our dawgs hanging out there checkin' out the 'dream (or something to that effect).