Blue sky, bright sun, big seas
More of the same. Even the dauntless Horatio is starting to feel the strain. He cracked a weld and Ken had to patch him up with a hose clamp. I cannot imagine what these last few days would have been like without him!
Reading is not a good recreational choice when seasickness has been a recent malady, but we have Ken's ham radio for entertainment. We listen to a couple of maritime "nets" each day to listen to weather and hear reports from other cruising sailors.
We also, twice a day, have "Ben and the boys" - a group of Ken's ham radio buddies all over the country who get together on the same frequency morning and afternoon to shoot the breeze. ken cannot talk to them right now because one of the many waves that broke onboard splashed water into the cabin and the salt spray wiped out the microphone. But they are following our progress, and we can hear them talking about us. They are always entertaining - better than a soap opera!
We decided that we are getting hungry and are ready for some real food. Way too rough to cook; we decided on a tomato sandwich. It seemed like a simple solution but turned out to be a real challenge in choreography.
Remember those 12' seas? Well, the boat is like a bucking bronco, pitching, rolling, and leaping. Everything aboard that is not tied down or wedged in will move.
I plan my strategy. Bread first - shouldn't roll much. I lay the slices on a piece of non-slip matting to apply the mayo, I have to hold the knife in one hand and the jar in the other. If I set either one down, they will slide away and make a mess. So, I have no and to hold the bread while I apply the mayo. Tricky, but not impossible. I accomplish my task and move on to the tomato. Bracing myself, I slice the tomato into a bowl, which I set in the sink, where it can't escape. I apply salt and pepper without incident.
Pleased with myself, I go for the lettuce. The bread slices watch quietly from their non-skid perch, obediently immobile. I take the head of lettuce from our little top-opening fridge, peel off two leaves and place them on the non-skid beside the bread. As I begin to return the head of lettuce to the fridge, THE WAVE hits. Just as I begin to lift the hinged lid of the refrigerator, a huge wave slams the side of the boat. The lid flies open, striking me in the cheekbone, and the head of lettuce falls into the fridge. As the lid continues to snap up to its fully open position, the lettuce leaves on the non-skid see their opportunity. They leap gaily into the air and sail across the sink and countertop, airborne until they dive into the open fridge a split second before the lid slams shut.
Bruised but not beaten, I retrieve the lettuce, assemble our sandwiches, and we chow down without further incident. Whether because of or in spite of the effort involved, we both pronounce the sandwiches dee-li-scious!
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