I feel a bit
bereft. There’s this hole in my yard
where a big boat used to be. Too much
space. Bruce and Red came this morning
and away went Jeffie down to the marina and over the side, where it sat in the
straps half the day but then was deemed un-sinking and so is now resting
quietly at the dock until the spars are finished.
Started on
them today, in Paul’s warren of a shop.
Boy they are huge!
I am using
lots and lots of 80 and 120 grit sandpaper, just trying to get the shine off
them. It’s taking longer than I thought. Saved the biggest for last (tomorrow).
Take a look
at that bowsprit, willya?
I’m getting
really scared.
Also quite
territorial and protective. What if
other people now want to go on it? It’s not fair, I tell you . . . and yet it
is. I just wish I was a better sailor. The nautical types are going to come out of
the woodwork now.
I guess I
just want to be counted, instead of patted on the head and then ignored.
Feeling a
little post-partum depression, I guess.
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