Landlubbing v. boat life

writing outside while the kids play inside. Oh the space!

We’ve been landlubbers now for one month; one month as landlubbers after 11 years as  liveaboards. Time for a few reflections on the transition. Which do I like better? Boat life or land life? Which is easier? There isn’t an obvious answer, just lots of pros and cons, and a lot of the pros lead to cons.

In general, I’m enjoying the luxury and ease of living in a condo - the unlimited water and electricity, the space, the air conditioning. But we’re missing the boat too. The girls were very excited to move into a house, but they’ve also said goodbye to the only home they’ve had and they’re finding that they missing it, especially Freja. Maybe it’s a case of the grass is always greener but they’re (literally) dreaming about the boat and miss specific aspects. I feel it too. The change is easy, but I also loved our life on m/v Rhumb Line, and I’m missing it.

Yet, the house. It’s so easy. Here’s my current list of pros and cons of living in a house, in no particular order.

Pro: the space. This is the obvious one. There is so much space, and the sheer amount of space is amazing! I can hide from the kids and they don’t find me until they’ve found another activity to do. (Yes, I hide from my kids. All parents will get this.) We have a third bedroom which we call Hans’s work bedroom. All his scrubs are in there and he sleeps there when he’s working nights or other weird shifts. He can sleep undisturbed and I no longer have to shush the kids (Quiet! Pappa’s sleeping!).

There is an expression that used to run through my head on the boat, everything has a place and everything in its place. I was never good at this, especially because if we had one extra magazine out or if Hans left his shoes out, the magazine would be in the way of an art activity and we’d trip over the shoes. We had no extra space. It always looked like a tornado had just blown through and I was constantly purging and making runs to Goodwill with stuff to get rid of. Now I can shove the mail and the papers in an out of the way corner and no one notices. We have empty drawers and cupboards. I want to keep them empty; it’s the key (I think) to keeping a place tidy. Wow, it’s nice to live in a tidy place.

I have so much space to store food and cook, even though we have a relatively small kitchen compared to other houses. I’ve got my sourdough starter going, I’ve made baguettes, I’m trying out new recipes, I’m making yogurt. It is awesome to have so much space to cook.

Pro: the toilets. Boat toilets are stinky, they break, the flushing mechanism (a macerator pump) is loud, you have to find a place to pump-out the holding tank which contains all your, ahem, solid waste. There’s basically nothing good about a boat toilet, except, maybe, that it’s one step better than a bucket. But I’m not entirely convinced on that front. Diapers ain’t got nothing on a boat toilet. House toilets, on the other hand...big, clean, with a quiet, simple flush, relatively trouble free.

Pro: the fridge. I love the fridge in our condo. It is HUGE! It’s cold, the freezer makes ice and keeps ice cream frozen...it works! I hate the fridge on our boat. We bought it brand new in 2014, but boat fridges, at least this one, isn’t designed for daily use by a family of four. We overworked that poor thing. The constant opening and closing and filling and emptying it of food every third day made it work harder than it was designed for. The freezer constantly  needed defrosting and dairy went bad within one week. Plus it was small. I only could cook enough for one meal because we didn’t have room for leftovers. Thus, Hans ate a lot of meals at the hospital cafeteria when he could have been bringing leftovers. 

Pro: insulation. It’s really nice to live in a condo that is well-insulated and climate controlled. Our boat is like a greenhouse - which is great in the winter in Philadelphia and equally not-great in the summers. Older boats just weren’t designed for full-time liveaboards and they weren’t properly insulated. We added insulation, but we still found that we had to run the a/c and heat a lot (all the time).

Con: climate control. While it’s great to live in a place that is well-insulated and is 74 degrees at the touch of a button, I feel so disconnected from the natural world. I have no idea what phase the moon is in; no idea when high tide is; sunrise? Sunset? Is it raining out? I used to spend the majority of my waking time outdoors or at least with all the windows open and a breeze blowing through. Now I’m enjoying the ease of living in climate control, but I feel like I’m indoors all the time and I feel very removed from nature. 

Con: space. A lot of space means a lot of cleaning. We have three bathrooms. Three! That means three toilets to clean. All the space and rooms means a lot of square footage which means a lot of floors. There is a vast expanse of floors - all of which need to be swept and mopped. The space is great, but it’s not free. Much to their dismay, the kids now have chores they have to complete three times a week. (Except they do love vacuuming!)

Con: lack of community. I’m a big talker. I’m sure I’m one of those marina neighbors who people see coming and they quickly duck back into their boats. I try to reign it in when I see someone actively involved in a boat project, but, otherwise, sorry in advance and sorry retroactively, I talk a lot. I LOVE the boating community. Because I always have someone to talk to. Because I always have someone to lend a hand. Because I know we’re all looking out for each other. And, generally, most boaters are pretty chill people. At least when they’re at the marina or swinging at anchor, just hanging out on their boat. It is a fun environment. People really do listen to Jimmy Buffet, a lot. My kids have surrogate aunts and uncles in Philadelphia and Jacksonville - people who have known them and cared for them as babies and watched them grow into kids. 

I prepared myself when we moved off the boat that I’d be moving to an island. (Literally and figuratively.) I don’t know any of my neighbors. Not because I haven’t tried, but because it’s actually hard to meet them. People drive up to their garages, enter, and disappear. There are some common outdoor spaces, but they’re not frequented. Or if we do meet people, they’re here on a short-term rental. And now the pool is closed because the pH is off from Hurricane Harvey. So I’m finding my own community in other places, but it’s hard not to have that built-in community I so valued at the marinas and in the cruising community.

So which is better, boat life or land life? When I look over my pro and con list, it is clearly not black and white. A pro begets a con and I start missing the boat life again. Then I remember the toilets and...yeah I’m happy on land. On the other hand, not all things are equal. I’ll happily trade in some sweaty evenings without a/c for watching the full moon rise over water. I’ll happily trade in schlepping my laundry to a marina or laundromat for the conversation I have with other boaters while I’m doing that laundry.

After taking a minute to think about the differences between boat life and land life, I recognize two aspects of boat life that are vital to my happiness: nature and community. I get both of those on a boat, yet I have to work for those on land. 

I know that we’ll be back on a boat at some point in the future. The world is too big, there is too much to explore, I love sailing and boating too much to not get back out there. But I know when we do go again, while I won’t be trying to replicate land life on a sailboat, I will have a decent fridge and freezer and the toilet will smell like fresh flowers!

The trump card: high speed internet. Landlubbing means high speed internet ALL THE TIME. Boat living v. landlubbing can basically be boiled down to: nature and community v. internet. Will internet win in the end?!

Boating friends

July 18, 2017
Manjack Cay

happily reunited after many months

 We arrived at Manjack Cay around lunchtime to meet up with "Peter Rabbit" on s/v Grace. We'd been dock neighbors in Jacksonville and he and the girls are great friends. We like him too. But the girls...they're in love. [Long story: every morning we had to leave for school five minutes early so we could stop by Peter Rabbit's boat. Matilda would race down the dock and yell, "Oh Peter Rabbit, hey Peter Rabbit." He'd come out, play tickle ninja with Freja and listen to Matilda while she yelled at him for everything he'd done wrong. Then he'd walk us up to the van or bike trailer, chasing the girls the whole way to get them moving faster. Every kid needs an adult friend who isn't afraid to play like a kid; and every parent needs an adult friend that will play with their kids. It's awesome.] Short story: Peter Rabbit has a "bag of fun" on his boat. That explains his relationship with the girls in a nutshell. Best item so far: sparkly gold nail polish.

So anyway, we arrive at Maniac and immediately start hanging out with Peter and his 81 year old Dad. Matilda was (surprisingly) shy, so she stayed home with me while Hans, Freja, and Peter went snorkeling. We met back at his boat for dinner - hog fish and mashed potatoes. The next day Hans and Peter went spearfishing in the morning; the girls and I pumped up our inflatable kayak (a present from other marina neighbors in Jax) and we paddled to the closest beach. It was our first try with the kayak and it was very successful. I sat in the seat and had one kid on the bow and the other on the stern. We paddled around and saw baby sea turtles. Also a big stingray and I found tons of milk conch. Back to the boat for lunch and a siesta.

Life at anchor. The girls created a fort out of sun blocking material,
while Hans looks at the chart to find a good fishing spot.

happy kids, Freja making a bracelet and Matilda writing a book.

Hans went fishing and came back a mere 20 minutes later with a dinghy that was taking on water through a crack in the floor. He took it ashore for an epoxy workshop. Peter came by around 4 to take us for a hike to the beach to look for "magic fairy wands." This is the kind of thing he does. This is why our kids love him so much.

It was a long hike for short legs and buggy, but the girls were real troopers. Freja stayed with Peter and Matilda stuck with me and pretended to be Catboy, one of her favorite characters. He has speed. It worked. She is usually a distracted, dawdling walker, but not with Catboy speed. (Thank goodness.) The bugs were intense, but I loved the twisty trail that wound through a private homestead, a gravel road, some mangroves, and finally the beach.

Manjack has a few private homes, notably the house and land closest to the anchorage owned by a couple that has created a self-sufficient homestead. Hydroponics, fruit trees, chickens, and a gorgeous house with  wrap around porch overlooking the harbor. The owners cut the trail to the beach. The beach. Three miles of wild, undeveloped, windswept beach backed by casuarina pines, sand dunes, and a few palm trees here and there. Crystal clear water and white sand.

We (expectedly) ran out of fresh water on the boat that evening so we knew we had to leave the next day for Green Turtle Cay, only a few miles away.

Solo parenting on a holiday

 

 

With my big girl at the end of the day. (Matilda, knowing that I really wanted a picture of the three of us, refused to be in the photo.)

I can finally say, after nearly two years into residency, I have figured out how to enjoy a holiday even when I'm (temporarily) solo parenting. Mother's Day 2016 = success!

Let's get a few basics out of the way: 1) it's not easy. 2) other solo parents have to deal with more difficult situations. 3) I'm lucky, no matter which way you look at it, but my troubles are real to me, even if they're #firstworldproblems.

I've spent a lot of holidays over the past couple years without Hans, and I know I'll be spending many many more without him as well. It's a fact of his job and we choose to live far away from family. So I've been experimenting with, shall we say, coping strategies.

Coping strategy #1, the easiest: ignore it. Just pretend that the third Thursday in November is just like any other Thursday and, "come on girls, let's go to the park." Except...the park is filled with happy, extended families getting some exercise in before they tuck in to the big meal. And I feel like the biggest loser.

Coping strategy #2, avoid social media. Oh believe me, I've logged on to facebook on Christmas morning and seen lots of photos of kids dressed in cute Christmas pjs, digging into their stockings while adult family members coddle a cup of coffee and oversize cinnamon bun. Cue the tears. Avoiding social media seems like a no-brainer. But facebook is one of my communities. It's a major way I connect with friends and family around the world and I belong to groups that provide support and humor on a daily basis. Call me addicted, but I need my social media.

Coping strategy #3, pretend that Hans isn't working. Continue going through all the motions of the holiday - the decorations, the festivity, the food - and my other half will be around for about 10% of it. At the end of the day(s) I'm exhausted and don't feel festive but just annoyed that I did a lot of holiday work and no one was around to appreciate it.

Three strategies, three backfires. Yesterday, however, I did it right. Woohoo!

*****Coping strategy #4, make it my own. *******
Typical Mother's Day stuff that I've done, by myself with kids, that have felt hollow and lonely: church, brunch, mimosas. This year I planned in advance, talked with Hans about what I wanted, and connected with my local community. I had such a great day. Freja was thrilled that it was mother's day. The girls love holidays and special events and were excited that it wasn't just a regular day, but it was "mamma's special day." Hans and I put out a special breakfast for the girls the night before so I didn't have to jump out of bed to make them breakfast; I put out some art supplies for Freja because she wanted to decorate before I got out of bed; Freja let me go first when we played games together; Matilda kept hugging and kissing me and saying "Happy mother's day." They were as sweet as ever, even though Matilda did push my buttons from time to time. (She is only 3, after all.)

Morning dance party (Taylor Swift, Adele, Meghan Trainer, Shut up and Dance, Frozen - of course) while I drank coffee and read a book on the back deck.

A week beforehand I checked the calendar and realized I'd be alone all day, so I checked in with some friends. Sure enough, there were a couple others whose husbands were working all day so we made plans. A friend came over with her boy for pool time and lunch. It was fun and relaxing. Later in the day another friend found a "free meal for moms" deal at a Mexican restaurant so we met up with the kiddos and had a fun meal where someone else cooked and did the dishes. Please and thank you! And Hans, knowing that I do love mother's day, even though it can be viewed as a Hallmark holiday, came home with flowers, chocolates, and a bottle of champagne.

Three goofballs eating hamburger buns with forks.

 I was surrounded by so much love from that I truly felt lucky and happy and didn't want to be anywhere else. A spa day would have been nice (duh), but on mother's day I was so happy to be with my girls and be a mom.
It's Monday morning and we're back in the usual routine - kids at school, I'm doing laundry, and Hans is fishing before work. Now that I finally have figured out how to do holidays right, I can enjoy them for what they are: a break in the monotony to take a minute to appreciate what we have, relax, and have fun for a day. No responsibilities, just living. 

Speeding through time zones

at the Hoover Dam, circa 2002

Crossing America at 65mph

 When I was 23 I stood at the edge of Old Faithful with throngs of other tourists waiting for the big geyser to erupt. After ten minutes of waiting I got fed up and we left. I went to Yellowstone National Park, I stood next to the geyser, and I left without seeing it erupt because I was impatient. That is just embarrassing.

Hans and I were driving across country, from Montana to Connecticut. We had done the trip the previous year and we had made a real vacation out of it. Six weeks: Graceland, the Texas panhandle, White Sands National Monument, The Grand Canyon, Vegas, California. Our return trip was more of a trip than an adventure, but we tried to hit some big sites on the way. Like Yellowstone. We were speeding across country; we were speeding through the time zones. How much did we miss by sticking to the interstates as opposed to the Blue Highways?

Intentional travel. Slow down, see the sights

In his book Along the Edge of America, Peter Jenkins runs a boat along the Gulf Coast shoreline from the Florida Keys to the Texas-Mexico border. He writes "I could not have done this particular boat trip when I was twenty-two. I had to . . . learn to slow down, to be vulnerable, to understand both how different and how alike people can be." (p. 274) I hear you Peter Jenkins. I can say, without a doubt, that if I were at Yellowstone today, I would wait for that geyser to erupt.

How long does it take to get to know a place and its people? The argument for "forever" can be made. Or, "you'll never know a place till you live there." Back in my college years, Swedes told me that you never break the ice with Swedes until you get drunk together. (And Swedes can get rip-roaring drunk.) In a place with four seasons, like my home state of Vermont, you can say that you never really know it till you've lived through the grips of winter in January, mud season in March, and leaf-peeping season in October.

But what about the traveler? If you have a two-week vacation, is it even feasible to think that you might get to know a place, or its people? Or should you just scrap the idea of finding cultural and social connections and just book a room at an all-inclusive?

Don't even.

Create memories, make friends, find a sense of place

I have some fantastic memories from my travels, from places we only stopped for one night, or spent one afternoon or three days.

• There was the family on the west coast of Puerto Rico who were our personal tour guides for a day. They wanted to get into the tourism business, we were their guinea pigs. Win win.  The next day they invited us to their house for Thanksgiving, and the day after they came sailing with us. We spent three days together but those days were so rich and so full.
• I'll never forget the night in Bequia when we watched the returns roll in for the 2008 Presidential election. We were the only Americans, the only tourists in a bar/fried chicken shack and we celebrated raucously with the island's residents.
• And, most recently, there was the mechanic in South Carolina who, after diagnosing our engine as dead in the water, invited us to his boat to show the girls his shark tooth collection. It was a glimpse into a different life - a cigarette-smoking, soap opera-watching life - that reminded me that we're all unique, but still the same. I shudder at the damage to the girls' lungs in those 10 minutes we were aboard the boat, but the mechanic and his wife were so sweet with the girls and they loved boats. As Freja likes to say: same-same.

Of course, while a week spent lounging on a beach chair at an all-inclusive would be infinitely relaxing, it's just not for me. When I travel I crave social connection, human interaction, newfound cultural insights. Being away from home and outside of my comfort zone does not stress me out or make me anxious. Quite the contrary. Stepping outside of my daily life is precisely what relaxes me.

Valentine's....week

Freja diligently worked on Valentine's cards all day. (That's face paint.)

Week-long holidays

When I was in my twenties (free and untethered), I used to love to celebrate my birthday week. I've always loved my birthday, but an entire birthday week was a great excuse to go out to eat multiple times in the same week. Cake? Yes, please.

I'm noticing that more and more holidays are jumping on the long-term bandwagon. Christmas is popping up among the Halloween decorations and Thanksgiving starts on Wednesday and extends through Sunday. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for taking time off work and spending it with family and friends, but it's getting kind of confusing for the young-uns.

Valentine's day week

Freja is just getting the grasp of holidays but take Thanksgiving, for example. First of all, she kept calling it Halloween. My explanation of the holiday was a simple: "we remember what life was like a long time ago by eating special food and being together with our friends and family. It's on a Thursday, so you won't go to school." Except we went to church on the Sunday prior to Turkey day and had our Thanksgiving feast there. And the next day one of Hans's colleagues hosted a pre-Thanksgiving dinner for people that may have to work on the actual day. And, finally, we celebrated (and ate) with friends on the actual day. At that point, Freja was done with Thanksgiving. Next.

A pink week

Now we're up to Valentine's day. Again, I keep the explanation simple: "it's one day a year, February 14, when we tell everyone we love how special they are to us and that we love them. We can give people cards to show them how much we care." February 14. Every year. Well, it will be a 3-day, 4-party celebration for us. It rained all day yesterday so Freja spent the day gluing together doilies and glittery hearts for her classmates. Tomorrow there is a party at her school; in the afternoon we're going to a cookie decorating party. There's a potluck at the marina on Friday night. And then, of course, there is the actual day that needs celebrating. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, at least not too much. But it can get overwhelming. Head over to Pinterest to take a look at all the Valentine's crafts you can do or the cake you can make or the mini-tartlets you can bake. Schools throw parties for all the tiny holidays. Everything must be recognized! The crunchy earth mom side of me feels very guilty for not celebrating the solstices and surely I must have some Irish in me around St. Patty's day.

Anyway, just my observation on the escalation of holidays. Is it consumerism? Is it competition? Or is it just an excuse to party with friends, (be them little kids at an Easter egg hunt or adults waking up with Bloody Mary's on Valentine's Day)? Maybe it's as simple as the that: celebrating the random holidays with vigor as an excuse to be with friends and family. I'll subscribe to that rationale.

Island time, defined.

 Island time

I'd never heard of the term "island time" until I spent some time in the Caribbean, in the islands. When I first heard the term, it was often spoken with Western values...fellow boat owners or ex-pats who were trying to get something done, on Western time, and it just wasn't happening. Long lunches, siestas, red tape, power outages, spontaneous national holidays, etc. From a Western point of view, residents of the Caribbean islands operate at a totally different pace than residents of, say, Washington DC or New York City. (Heck, doesn't everyone operate at a different pace than New Yorkers?!) I get it. Born, raised, and having spent the majority of my life stateside, being impatient is almost like an inherited character trait.

Definitely not on island time. Image courtesy of digitalspy.com

You should have seen me in line at Starbucks the other day. (Yes, that was me. Loudly sighing, tapping my foot, checking my phone, sighing again.) By the time I got to the car and gave the girls their promised cake pops, I was ranting up and down about indecisive people and bad customer service. Then I laughed. The girls were happy and my husband was taking a minute to check facebook. The only person who was upset was me. Hang on, didn't I just write and publish a book all about how to live on island time in the rat race?

Island time, as a state of mind

So what does island time mean? It certainly doesn't mean getting all huffy while I wait in line at Starbucks. If I type "island time" into my Pinterest account, I get flooded with images of turquoise water, hammocks, and white sand beaches. Yeah. That's island time. But, to me, it's so much more than that. It's a state of mind. And if it's a state of mind, it can be independent of geography. Of course lounging in a hammock and sipping a rum punch are very conducive to island time, that's not necessary. How do you feel when you're lying in that hammock?

Relaxed.
Calm.
Connected to nature.
Settled.
Quiet.
Restful.

Easier said than done

I type this as one of my girls is napping on the living room floor after screaming for half an hour that she wasn't going to sleep and the other one is on and off fussing in her bed. Typical toddler: deliriously happy, no, wait, furiously angry. I have a lot of background chatter that pulls at my heartstrings and makes it very difficult to achieve that kind of hammock relaxation.

Relaxing in a hammock, figuratively

Hanging out with my girls. Not on a tropical beach, but definitely relaxed and happy.

But I also know what relaxing like that feels like, and I try to order my priorities and my to-do list to be more conducive to internal island time. I cross things off without doing them. If it needs to get done, it'll get done. I go outside, a lot. I meet with friends, a lot, and create and embrace my community. I do things that make me happy - I cook, I bake, I write. I embrace the concept of mañana, mañana. And I still get stressed. There is always a million things to do and places to be and people to see. But I try to prioritize the here and now with the goal of living the good life today. Being happy, today.

How about you? What does your island time look like?

Intentionally ignoring Facebook

Intentionally ignoring Facebook

multi-tasking. Photo credit: Freja Eriksson

Addicted to Facebook

I am a self-professed Facebook addict. I’m also a stay-at-home-mom and I rely on Facebook throughout the day to fill those conversation gaps that a preschooler and a toddler can’t quite manage. (“What’s the deal with common core testing? What’s going to happen with this new immigration policy? And, “is it okay to drink a mimosa on a Tuesday morning while the kids watch Sesame Street?”)

Despite my dependence, I have made a vow to intentionally ignore Facebook. Why? Because I am going to intentionally recognize my present reality. I am going to make a concerted effort to live more mindfully and be more connected to the here and now.

 Long days, short years

The common meme for parents of young kids—especially those that stay at home full time—is “the days are long but the years are short.” True, but that’s little comfort at three in the afternoon after I’ve already changed five diapers, cleaned up spilled milk, and played endless rounds of Candyland—and I’ve been awake since six in the morning. The days are long. Sometimes they seem endless. It’s important to find things to do on a daily basis that are fun, make me happy, and nourish part of my soul. I’m an extrovert so, for me, that means spending time with other people.

We moved to a new city six months ago and I spent the first four months eagerly chatting to other moms in the park and reaching out to new friends. Then I plateaued. I have a handful of friends I can reach out to and we attend a weekly storytime at the library. We’re busy, but I still miss other adults and I get fed-up answering 37 why questions every day. But between nap schedules and daily household maintenance like laundry and grocery shopping, it’s hard to find time to meet up with friends for a little adult interaction that isn’t with the grocery store checkout clerk.

 Oh, hi Facebook. Will you be my friend?

So I turn to Facebook. Someone is always online and there are always new stories and articles in my newsfeed. I’ve tried reddit and Pinterest, but I always go back to the social site: Facebook. It’s like a quick hit of social interaction.

Does that commitment-free, sound-byte type of social interaction fill the gap of adult conversation that I’m missing? Yes and no. Yes, it certainly acts as a good distraction when I’m bored or frustrated or lonely. No, because it isn’t direct, in-depth human interaction; and no because it removes me from the joys and frustrations of daily life with two little ones.

The gameplan:

I have decided to intentionally ignore Facebook.
1. I’ve turned the notifications off on my phone. Those notifications make my Facebook addiction too easy.
2. I am scheduling Facebook time. At naps for 30 minutes and in the evening for 30 minutes. If I still need the easy entertainment that the internet provides, I can read the news or learn new ways to macrame a hanging plant holder on Pinterest.
3. I am going to stop thinking and looking at the world through a Facebook lens: no more quipping pithy status updates in my head while I push my toddler on the swing at the playground; no more taking just the right photo because it will look so great on my newsfeed.
4. I am going to continue to put myself out into the mommy scene and make new friends for me and my kids.

I am going to intentionally recognize my reality. I am going to be present. I still need you Facebook, but I really need to see other people too.

Missing urban density

Urban density: the environment's secret friend

Cities: loud, dirty, polluting, asthma-producing concrete jungles with high urban density. But, at the same time, environmentally friendly? Yes.

Urban density in Spain.

I know there are studies and reports and articles written about the environmental benefits of high urban density, but it was hard for me to believe them when we lived in Philadelphia.

One of our favorite park in Philadelphia; directly under the Ben Franklin Bridge.

 We lived right next to loud, dirty I-95 and practically underneath the Ben Franklin Bridge, a major bridge connecting Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Our favorite parks were either under that bridge or at the interchange between I-95 and the bridge. It was loud and the amount of fine particulate that coated our boat and car made me worry about the quality of the air my girls were filling their lungs with. Moving to a smaller city seemed like a great way to live closer to nature with cleaner air, a slower pace of life, and a little more peace and quiet.

A quieter, cleaner life, but not necessarily and eco-life

And here we are. We moved from a city of over 5 million to a metro area of a little less than 850,000. It's practically a small town compared to the Philly metro area. Have I found what I was looking for?

• Clean air. Yes. The boat and car stay relatively clean and my lungs don't burn when I exercise outside. (Okay, well they do burn but that has nothing to do with air quality.)
• Peace and quiet. Yes and no. It is quiet walking around the neighborhood. We can hear the birds. There is no background hum of the highway. But we are close to a Naval Air Station and the planes run a lot of exercises directly overhead. We are also a stone's throw from the major railroad track that runs down the east coast of Florida. The trains are insanely loud. (Not the actual clickety-clack but the horns they blow as they go through intersections. And the horns have to be loud because the intersections are outdated, making the trains blow the horns as a precaution to warn drivers. But I digress...)
• Close to nature. Yes. We are close to nature. The river is quiet and big and actually feels like a living body of water as opposed to the Delaware River which always felt like a large dumping ground for farms and industry and energy plants. We're even considering getting a stand up paddleboard so we can play on the river. (You know, in all our free time.) We are a short 30 minute drive to the beach and the city has lots of parks that are bigger than your average city park.



A beautiful beach, a short car ride away.

• Slower pace of life. Yes. Rather, YES. It is slow here. Compared to a city of 5 million, there is not much going on. I'm not sure why I didn't fully expect that.

Clean air, peace and quiet, close to nature, slower pace of life. These all seem like they could go hand in hand with an eco-friendly way of life. But there is one key element missing: high urban density. This is a city built around cars. The sprawl is mammoth and it can take 30 minutes to drive from one end of the city to the other, on a highway, going 70 miles an hour. It is hard to wrap my head around how BIG this city is. People drive everywhere, the public transportation is sub-par, and it is not at all bicycle friendly.

So, yes, big cities are dirty and loud, but I'll venture a guess that the residents of a big city with high urban density are polluting (define as you like) less per capita than residents of a smaller city with big sprawl. 

Embracing the small

What do I miss about the big city? I miss impromptu conversations with random strangers as I walk down the street. I miss being able to walk to independent coffee shops. I miss being able to walk to friends' houses. I miss the color and the noise and the action.

The annual Mummers' parade on January 1 in Philly.

The Headhouse farmer's market in Philly. Local, organic produce every weekend.

Oh SEPTA. I didn't think I'd miss you so much.

So what do I love about my new city? I love the quiet. I love hearing the birds. I love living on a river that has boating possibilities from day trips to week-long trips. I love walking down tree-lined streets. I love all the parks. I love being able to go to the beach. Oh, and there are palm trees.

Palm trees, clean air, and a gorgeous sunset with wide open sky.

10 websites I love

I spend a lot of time online - from brief glances at Facebook to distract me and entertain me beyond the toddler/preschool sphere, to reading the news, getting recipes, finding inspiration, shopping, dreaming - I spend a lot of time online. I use this space to push me beyond just aimless surfing to interaction with friends, family, and my online community.

Here are ten website I love:

Elephant
The Elephant Journal is a compendium of all sorts of articles about living a mindful life. It's right along the same lines that I hope this blog to be about, but with content from a large number of authors including one-time contributors and regular columnists.

Huffington Post
For news, opinion, silly stories, feel good stories, facts, and good reporting and writing. I love HP.

YachtWorld
Dreaming about the boat for next year, for three years from now, for the one that will take us around the world.

Facebook
The ultimate in time suck and connectivity device.

Weather Underground
My go-to weather source.

Pinterest
Time suck, but also recipe storage site and the place to go for ideas of organization projects and things to do with the kiddos.

We Float Through Life
A new, community website for liveaboards or wanna-be liveaboards. Funny, entertaining, informative.

The Tiny House Blog
Living simply in small spaces. We don't have a tiny house, but we do live in a small space and this blog is helpful and inspiring.

Jane Lear's food blog
Good food and good writing.

Sail magazine's blog feed
Just dreaming...

What about you? What are your favorite websites? How do you spend your time online?

Think!

The daily life of a stay at home mom (SAHM) isn't all play dates at Starbucks and a long nap in the afternoon. Sure, those do happen, but more often than not I'm either cleaning, quelling temper tantrums, or rolling out playdough snakes. It's busy, and it's boring. Yes, boring.

We play games like "ring around the rosie" and sorting shells from little animals. We color with crayons and stickers are a hot commodity. 20 and 24 piece puzzles are the new challenge.

We make music,

we paint,

we wear shorts on our heads,

we have conference calls with our Aunt Angie,

and we eat. It's an action-packed life.

Sometimes I don't have time to play because I have work to do. Dishes to wash, toilets to clean, laundry to fold and put away. Sheets need to be changed. What are we having for dinner tonight?

My days are full. They're jam-packed. But I get bored. What is lacking? My job isn't what you'd call "intellectually stimulating." It's challenging, frustrating, demanding, exhausting, labor-intensive, fun, and demands an insane amount of multi-tasking, but it doesn't engage the critical thinking portion of my brain.

For awhile I thought that what I was missing was the end result you get from a professional job. I thought I needed to produce something. Something tangible, something bigger than me, something beyond the preschool crowd. I pumped a lot of energy into writing a nonfiction memoir about our sailing trip in the Caribbean.

I loved writing the book, but I loved the process more than the end result. The process: critical and analytical thinking. The kind you get when you work in a professional atmosphere where you have to write reports, organize a team, or do research. Teamwork, the back and forth exchange of ideas, compromising, expanding. Recognizing a problem or a need and tackling it to its solution. I miss the give and take and the thinking that takes place at work.

This, apparently, is my "thinking" look.
Listening to the commencement speaker at Hans's graduation, May 2014.

I don't, however, miss work. I love staying home with my girls. I don't want to change that, but I do need to expand my daily horizons so I'm feeling more personally challenged. How?

• I listen to the radio, a lot. I love news and politics so I keep abreast of what's going on in the world and in my neighborhood.
• I'm writing every day. Writing is a great way for me to organize my thoughts and expand my thoughts. Like talking with a good friend, the more I write, the more I learn about myself.
• I'm trying to write better. I'm taking my time with blog entries and I'm thinking of each one as an article as opposed to a personal journal. Complete sentences, big words (!), humor (at least I try).
• I'm reading non-fiction books. What are other people doing? How can I be inspired? 
• I'm brainstorming ways to get involved in my community through volunteer work or a part-time job.

It's so easy to get stuck in the rut of cooking, feeding, cleaning, playing, cooking, feeding, huh? What day of the week is it? I don't want to end each day feeling drained. I need to refill my own pot and, as much as I love Facebook and Pinterest, it's going to take a lot more than surfing the web to keep me inspired, engaged and fulfilled.

How to build community

Our marina community at a recent pirate party.

Community: one of those big words that can mean a lot depending on your vantage point. Tag a few words to it and it gets even bigger.

Community supported agriculture
Community Development Corporation
Community Network Center
Community Room
Facebook community
Church community
Neighborhood community group
Marina community
Boating community

etc.
etc.
etc.

Community changes over the years.

• Babies: They like their moms and dads.
• Preschoolers: They still like their moms and dads but are also figuring out that other kids are fun too.
• Grade-schoolers: Moms and dads, friends too.
• Teenager: Mo- and who? Friends.
• College: Friends and teary calls home asking for a bank deposit.
• Twenties: Friends, and now colleagues.
• Thirties: Friends with kids. Colleagues. Parents and siblings.
• Forties: Ditto.
• Fifties: Friends and colleague.
• Sixties to ??: Friends, siblings, and kids.

The basic: community is people getting together. We all need it. Almost all of us want it. But how do we build it? How do we find community that matters and how do we build that community into a lasting network of people, resources, and support?  Hint: Facebook helps, but you've got to get up off the couch and get out there.

Figure out what you like to do, or what you spend the most time doing, and then find people with similar interests and schedules. And then, here's the key, put yourself out there. Make phone calls. Send emails. Send texts. Invite people over for dinner. Meet at the bar. Meet for lunch. Organize a picnic in the park. Keep inviting,  (but don't turn into a crazy stalker), keep organizing, keep planning. Set up a weekly potluck or drinks hour. A circle of friends will develop around similar interests and before you know it, bam! You'll have community.

Proximity. Spontaneity. Repeat, frequent meetings. These are three elements to making friends, and to making a community.

Social media, like Facebook and Meetup, is awesome for community building. It's easy to create a group: Shuffleboarders of the Greater Boise Area, for example. People can go online, find others with similar interests, "meet" in a non-threatening space (online), and organize activities for anyone to join. Fear of rejection is minimal because you've already been accepted, per se, by virtue of joining the group. Activities are easy to organize and contacts are quickly made.

Get online, then get out there. Make new friends, find new things to do. We all need a tight circle of friends, but then we all need that bigger group of friends and acquaintances to inspire us, encourage us, entertain us, and support us.

Perspective

Our happy liveaboard boat family.
(Looks like Freja's practicing her pirate "arrrgh" while Matilda is sporting a pirate-worthy black eye.)

Sometimes a change in perspective is all I need. It’s amazing how seeing the world from a new place completely changes my mood, my plans, my status quo. Remember that scene from Dead Poets Society when Robin Williams has all the students stand on their desks to see the classroom from a new vantage point? That’s how I feel right now.

For the past few months I’ve been itching to move off the boat and onto land. I had 101 different reasons, but space was always #1. We were tripping over each other, literally. Also, I was fed up with our marina in Philadelphia where the docks threatened to split apart and float us down the Delaware River a la Huck Finn. I was fed up with packing a bag full of snacks and diapers and a change of clothes just to take the girls off the boat for an hour or two. I was fed up with showering at the dirty marina showers. I was fed up with not having enough space to keep clothes or shoes or food or playdough. Fed up.

No matter how few toys (clothes, shoes, diapers, non-perhisables) we have, they still take up all available space.
The main cabin (living room) is basically a playroom for the girls. Every shelf and cubby has a kids' book or toy.

Then we cast off the dock lines and motored our floating home south to Jacksonville, Florida. The trip was fun and challenging. There were moments when we were on vacation: dinghying ashore for a seafood dinner and cold beers or finding a deserted beach. There were moments that I swore up and down that the minute we landed in Jacksonville I was going to find an apartment: when the girls were constantly whiney and unhappy and demanding or when the food kept going bad in the fridge because our batteries are not equipped for living aboard at anchor. 

Our first marina in Jacksonville - close to the beach but also located on a busy three-lane road lined with strip malls - was nice. It was a real marina with concrete docks and concrete pilings and clean bathrooms. But it also had a large dry dock facility and the atmosphere was tinged with the constant sound of forklifts moving boats and people who seemed more interested in cleaning and buffing and polishing their boats than actually using their boats. So after clocking in my time on Facebook and Pinterest, I was still spending a fair amount of time on Zillow, dreaming of landlubbing.

Sunrise and sunset over the tidal marshes is pretty awesome.
But the no-see-ums and mosquitos? Yeah, they were also marina residents.

Now we’re at a new marina in a new neighborhood with new neighbors and Zillow is a thing of the past. For the first time in years, boat living is really good. The marina is clean, professional, and safe (gated, key card entry at each dock). It has a pool and clubhouse area that is downright spa-esque. Our neighbors are all active boaters - cruisers, some liveaboards, or people who are storing their boats here for hurricane season. The neighborhood has nice bungalows on tree-lined streets, parks, and a shopping center with a grocery store and West Marine a mere four blocks away. I can’t ask for much more in terms of a marina and its location. Oh and did I forget to mention the internet? Free, fiber optic wifi. Phenomenal. And free parking right at the end of our dock. Seriously, why would we live anywhere else?

The pool, hot tub, and marina as seen from the clubhouse porch.

A nice spot to catch the evening breeze - the clubhouse deck.

And a great place to grill our dinner.

Another big change, and it’s a big one, is Hans’s paycheck. Yup. His paycheck! For the first time in over four years, we’re seeing money come in instead of bleeding money out in the form of student loans. That makes it a little easier to make some livability upgrades on the boat: new air conditioning, a new mattress, proper marine shade curtains, etc. We have a long list and we’ll tackle it little by little, but with our new location and the fiscal ability to improve life aboard, we have a renewed commitment to living aboard. It feels good.

goodbye stroller

Our stroller was stolen. Yes, someone stole two little kids’ stroller. Five years of living at a marina in Philadelphia - big, dirty, crime-ridden Philadelphia - and we never had anything stolen. Less than two weeks of living at a marina halfway between Jacksonville and Jacksonville Beach, Florida (for all intents and purposes, the suburbs) and our stroller is swiped. WTF indeed.

That's our stroller, the red Phil & Ted's double that masquerades as a single.
This photo was taken at the zoo when Matilda was only a few weeks old.
You can't see her in the photo, but she's in the bassinet lying under Freja, who is up high in the jump seat.
Being pushed by their Meme and spending time with pals Harvey and Ander.

It’s not like we really need the stroller. Pushing two kids around in 90 degree heat and 90% humidity is not that practical. We’ve talked about selling it and buying something smaller. We’ve talked about how we’re happy with a small umbrella stroller and the Ergo baby carrier. We’ve talked about, and subsequently bought, a bike trailer to tow the girls. But still. 

Someone stole something that is mine. And now I’m doing the cliche things that most victims of theft do: I’m locking everything. I leave the bike and trailer on the dock next to our boat - locked. I leave the boat - locked. We leave the car - locked. (Okay, we have always locked the car when we leave it, but I used to regularly forget to lock our bike at the bike rack at our marina in Philly and we never, never, never locked the boat in Philly.)

So beyond the actual fact that we’re short a nice stroller that was pretty handy to have, I’ve changed my behavior. Not out of choice but out of . . . persuasion, you could say. Maybe that’s not a bad thing. Year after year of not locking up my personal belongings was eventually going to end up in theft. I suppose.

Yet, it was at the marina. I will wax poetic about the tight-knit boating community, and the interdependence and trustworthiness of boaters.  I lament that the social capital that is evident among boaters is sorely missing in the general public. I sing the praises of living at a marina for the neighborly feel. My fondness for marinas and boaters makes this theft that much harder to deal with. Everyone we meet here is nice, friendly, generous, but it’s hard to shake the idea that a stroller (a stroller!) could go missing so easily and so quickly from the marina property.

two weeks

We've been Florida residents for two weeks. I was commenting to Hans and to a friend that my life here isn't obvious, at least not yet. When we first moved to Philadelphia we lived without a car for the first 18 months. We explored the city via foot and public transit.

Jacksonville and surrounding area, on the other hand, is so big and so car-centric that it's hard to know where to go and what to do. The marina where we are staying is close to the beach but also on a busy 3-lane road lined with strip malls and box stores. The neighborhoods are big and appear to be mile after mile of houses. Yep. We're in the suburbs. I can't exactly take the girls out in the 90 degree heat and go aimlessly biking or walking. I've been spending a lot of time on google maps and searching Jacksonville blogs looking for things to do and places to go.

Our second car. Let's go exploring!

Of course the beach is obvious. And fun.

lunchtime

Freja calls this her surf suit.
And this is how she walks from the beach blanket to the shower when it's time to go home.
One cool kid.

Today I found a park with a playground just one mile away. The girls both ran straight for the swings. I'd love to think of them as such hippy kids that they'd shun the playground in favor of wild nature but, nope. They love the playground.

And we've been taking advantage of the public spaces at the marina.

Freja loves the idea of going to school. So the other day we packed her backpack with her school supplies and found a little desk for her at the marina lounge. And she diligently wrote letters and numbers.

We all ate lunch in the "cafeteria."

There's a little wooden ramp that Matilda loves. We call it the ramp game and we have to play every time we walk home from the pool. Up and down the ramp. Yelling and screaming in delight.

And the pool. I think today was the first day we didn't go to the pool.

This kind of unknown and exploration is good for me. I'd gotten into such a routine in Philly with planned activities every day of the week that I often wondered why I was a stay-at-home mom if I was constantly rushing off to go places. On the other hand, I'm a social person, not at all an introvert, and I need that stimulation to keep me energized. I'm excited to see how I can bridge the gap of getting a healthy dose of social interaction while still having a flexible, free-wheeling schedule.