Black and White Wednesday

Highbourne Cay has the neatest odds and ends in surprising places to catch the eye.  Here is an old propeller left by a bar-b-que pit near the marina.  It has taken on the rough pitting of salt erosion from years of sitting by the sea.  Once a useful tool, it has been relegated to a new post as decor.

Mrs. Claus has fun happening at Like Christmas Everyday. It's Black and White Wednesday.  Come join the fun.

Lent, Hair Cuts and Beggars.

Greetings, Fellow Bloggers!  

No matter where we are, what we are doing, or how we are feeling about things, life goes on relentlessly.  

  During this season of Lent, preparing for Easter and contemplating what God has done for me in His grace and mercy, I have been following a new web page, Relentless Act:s of Sacrifice, which stimulates thought, conversation and hopefully action, to make our world a better place thru individual sacrifice. 

 I am consciously making the effort to greet people I meet on the street, look them in the eye and acknowledge them as real people, with real lives, real problems, real joys.  Three days ago, I celebrated with a lady rejoicing at the birth of a new baby.  Yesterday, I commiserated with a man who is suffering the effects of a broken neck.  Today, I am listening to stories of depression and sorrow, without being judgmental.  

It seems to me people everywhere want to be seen, heard and acknowledged--affirmed.  I know that is what I want and look for.  When I tell my husband about a concern or problem, I am not necessarily asking him to make things better--I just want to be heard and to feel that he cares about my misery.

What does Lent mean to you?

Are you doing anything special to mark this season?

Here are some updates on recent activities aboard Steadfast.

Kristen is  "on Island" at Compass Cay from Germany.  She is a professional hair stylist and I really needed her services.  What a different kind of hair salon, right?

 I really missed the big mirrors.  Kristen kept cutting until there was hardly any hair left because I didn't see what was going on.  I would have told her to stop way before she did.  At least I won't need another hair cut 'til I get back home to Canada in a couple of months!!!!

Julissa, Kristen's daughter, made friends with Nelson while he waited for me to get beautified.

Nelson has discovered that portholes give him a new view of the galley.  Captain is a sucker for beggars  and regularly passes treats thru the window.

Bev, from Retired Sailor, marks sunset at Compass Cay, by blowing his conch horn.  A few years ago, I was adept at playing the first few bars of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" on a horn like this.  As with most things, if one doesn't keep in practice....   Just another life skill down the drain.  :)

Until next time, play safe and do your part to make the world a better place.

All That Glitters

Here we are, anchored in Big Majors Spot close to Staniel Cay.  This is my favourite part of the Bahamian experience:  gently rocking at anchor, enjoying the sea breezes, jumping off the back deck into the warm waters to swim.

Hey!  Look what's hanging out underneath my boat!!!!!!!

That's one BIG barracuda--almost 5 feet long.  He has HUGE eyes to catch sight of shiny objects which he thinks might be good to eat.  He has ENORMOUS teeth to shred his prey.  I definitely want to avoid being prey.

Look what I make sure to take off before I go swimming!!!

Hopefully, the small silver rings in my earlobes are too small and covered by my mask for him to see.

Good night all.  Sleep tight in your cradles/rocking berths.

Boating With Babes

Talk about "child-proofing" a house!  Here we are making the boat a safe place for a two year old.  With four pairs of eyes on him at all times (not counting Nelson's, who is watching for WAY different reasons) the kiddo isn't in much danger of anything short of being spoiled-to-death.  The kiddo is a happy child with winning ways.  He has wormed his way into our hearts BIG TIME.

Grandma Roe has big feet.

In the Ocean with Papa.

Being at the beach means playing ball with Nelson.  There is no getting away from it.  We have been trained.

In the dinghy

Helping Papa Buz drive the boat.

Wild Iguanas on Allen's Cay

After the beach, it's bath time on the back deck.

The five gallon "lookie bucket" is just the right size for our little visitor.  He has dubbed "bucket bath" his favourite part of his whole adventure.

Papa Buz got inventive before the little one arrived.  Look at this booster chair he made out of a plastic bucket.  (Buckets seem to be coming in handy this trip.)

Steadfast can now boast a third state room.  Papa Buz removed the forward shower door and built a bed for the Little One.  He has his own room!  Next year, when New Baby will be with us, Papa Buz has plans to put in a higher bunk that will be even longer (over the shower cupboard space) so two kiddos can share the space.  I wonder what Sabre Yachts would think of this new design????

Three more days to go before the Little One takes his parents home.  There will undoubtedly be more pictures to take and memories to store up.  What wonderful times it is when families can be together, growing in love and respect.

Caribbean Siesta

Jamal’s burgers and chips for lunch at the communal picnic tables was an amiable affair.

-Oh, Steadfast, we met here last winter—I remember you.

-Right.  You were the one who sang the 8 minute rendition of “The Wizard of Oz”!  Good times.

We’d braved the rolly seas from Highbourne Cay to Compass Cay to be in a secure spot for the big blow coming in on Sunday.  

The Babe barfed for the entire four-hour ride.  Mama, Papa, the fly bridge, the main saloon and several towels, rugs and blankets took on the odorous reek of VOMIT. 

Last night’s pot-luck supper and musical entertainment had us all late into our bunks last night, leaving us all a little worse for wear today.  Opting for the easy route of Burgers on shore was a no-brainer.

Even with a finger mangled by the windlass, Dave from "In Concert" was a top-rate show.

Chuck on Guitar.

Matey boy on tambourine.  He definitely knew and adhered to the adage:  Less is more.  A great percussion accompaniment.

And then there was Bev from "Retired Sailor" on the Spoons!

It is definitely blowing.  Even sitting on the sunny side of the deck, people were layering on sweaters and wind breakers trying to keep warm, while holding down plastic plates, napkins, chip bags and hats to out-smart the North Wind’s rapacious grasp.

Gobble, gobble, slurp—lunch was over and it was time for Babe’s afternoon nap.  Funnily enough, all the adults began drifting back to their individual boats with the same plan in mind—SIESTA.

All is quiet on the docks at Compass Cay.  The beach is deserted.  The wind has blown in dull grey clouds.  This afternoon was made for napping.

-Wake me up in time for cocktails.

ps.  There's still time to vote for Tales of Bliss...just saying.  Check out the pink heart on my side bar :)

Pigeon Pie

Dinner with friends means sharing stories and tales from days gone by.  One thing led to another, and before you know it, we were talking pigeons, again.

Buddy sheepishly told us the story of his job as a teenager, way back in the day.  Between the ages of 17 and 19, he proudly wielded a broom in the grain mills of Port Dover.  The opportunities for unskilled labour in that booming metropolis were few and far between in the 50’s and 60’s and having to compete with grown men supporting families, Buddy had to take what he could get.  The long chain of command from Farmer, to Harvester, to Trainmen, to Longshoremen, to Crane Operator, to Grain Sweeper--Buddy celebrated the day he landed his vital role in the procession of men and women feeding the world. 

On any given day during shipping season, cargo ships maneuvered into Port Dover’s docks to off-load the precious wheat from the Prairie Provinces, ready for milling into cereals and flour.  Vacuums sucked the grain out of the ships’ holds and sent it on its way via conveyor belts to the mills.  It was not always a direct route.  Often, one conveyor belt met another on a different trajectory transporting the grain to its destination.  Not every grain made the transfer successfully.  In fact, so much grain was scattered by jumping from one conveyor belt to another, sweepers were needed to gather up the excess loss and shovel it back into the stream. 

Buddy worked his four-hour shifts within the confines of a low ceilinged, 15 foot roundhouse.  He wasn’t alone.  He shared his working space with three other sweeper/shovelers  and  30 to 40 wild pigeons on the take.  The whir of flapping wings, the purring coo-coo-coo, the feathers in his face, all led Buddy into the dark side of man-against-beast.  Coffee break complaining of pigeon-related work hazards led to strategies for revenge.  Out of sheer desperation, Buddy began swinging his broom like a baseball bat at the birds flying up in his face.  The birds were everywhere underfoot and when they startled upwards in close quarters, the low ceilings kept them within arms’ and brooms’ reach.

         SWAT.

         CRACK.

         THUD.

         ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST!!

Nobody remembers how they came to learn of the elderly, Italian lady who lived along the route Buddy took to home after work each day.  Like an old-time milkman delivering three bottles of milk in each hand, Buddy laced the heads of dead birds thru his fingers.   He shakes his head, turning a definite shade of pink, as he recounts the sparkling-eyed greed of the Senora when she scooped up his proffered birds.

         BENISSIMO!

         FANTASTICO!

         TORTA di PICCIONE!!!

Squab Pie, Pigeon Pie, a delicacy of southern Italy, her native land.  Five dollars for three birds once a week or two kept Buddy and his pals in smokes all thru high school.

Today as he recounts his story, Buddy fears being labeled “Pigeon Killer” or “Profiteer”.

         IT WAS A DIFFERENT TIME THEN., he avers. NOBODY THOUGHT ANYTHING OF IT, AND THE OLD LADY LOVED US.

This photo of a Fountain outside "The Reef" Atlantis Resort.

Don't you just love that time around the table when things get relaxed and the stories begin to unfold?

Down A Lazy River

I met Joe as our innertubes ricocheted off the canyon walls and smashed into each other.

-I pulled both calf muscles yesterday at the beach.  I can hardly walk, so I thought I’d give myself a break and take this “Lazy River Ride”.  What a joke!

Flipped ass-over-tea-kettle by a wave of tsunamic proportions, I had to dive for my sunglasses that had washed off my face by the force of the water.  At least I still had my underwater camera in hand.

-Are you okay, The Captain, Sonny-boy, Joe and numerous strangers asked with concerned looks?

Another wave smacked me in the face and sent my tube hurtling down the rapids chute.  I caught a quick glimpse of Joe turning pale under his sunburn.

-Oh Brother!  Who named this ride “Lazy River”?  This is more like a scene out of “Deliverance”!!!!!  Rosemary, it’s been nice knowing you.  If we don’t make it out of this alive, maybe they’ll bury us together.

My favourite son-in-law (I only have one) couldn’t wait to get his thrills on the Power Tower Waterslides. The Lazy River took a turn towards death, with an option for near-death.  Joe and I were making our way thru near-death, while The Captain and In-Law climbed the Tower.  The whole park reverberated with the echoing wails of woe as The Cap’s tube took the first plunge down the tower’s face.

-Ayeeeeeee…eeee...eee...eee

Son-in-law climbed to the topmost landing, his eyes gleaming.  Our hero’s history includes champion titles as ski jumper, slalom racer, long board racer and all-round speed demon.  He never missed a beat.  Running up the tower stairway, he chose one tunnel after the other until he had done them all…repeatedly.  He claims his favourite was “The Abyss”.

Without a tube, bare-backed, his body flew off the top of the slide at lightning speed, dropping, then dropping again, spinning into darkness, whirling in spirals that seemed to have no end.  How he reveled in becoming completely disoriented before being spit out into the blazing sunshine of the pools at the bottom.  He didn’t scream.  He didn’t cry.  He didn’t even throw up.  He did it again and again and again--for two hours.

Joe and I just shook our heads in disbelief.  We were happy to be alive after the rapid runs.  I am sending up a prayer that my two-year old grandson hasn’t inherited his Papa’s penchant for death-defying dare-devilishness.  My heart couldn’t stand it.

Out For Dinner in Atlantis

So there we were in our "Resort Upscale" get-ups, ready to pay the inflated prices for a late night supper in Atlantis at Seafire Steakhouse.  I had forgotten my camera and had to walk back to the other end of the marina to get it.  Of course I had to stop along the way to watch the little kiddos play with the steel drums, to peak in the windows of the Dooney and Bourke Handbags store, and to chat up some friendly tourists walking in my direction.  Meanwhile, the guys were in line at the bar waiting for a table.  By the time I got back to the restaurant, they were seated and just beginning to scan menus.  Great timing.  Not so great news about the camera though: the battery was kaput.  Oh well, exercise helps burn calories and I could have dessert, yes?  

I went back next day for even better shots while the restaurant was empty.  Got some good ones before being politely asked to leave.  "Come back when the manager is here to give permission, Madam."

Now, being it is Black and White Wednesday over at Like Christmas Everyday, here are my B&W offerings to play along.

Happy mid-week Wednesday, Everyone.  We only have one life to live--make it count.