Channel 29

Waiting.  Waiting for No Show already at sea to report conditions on Channel 29.  Channel 29?  Someone said, "It's the long distance channel; that's why we are using it."  On the rotary knob, channel markers were distributed along a logarithmic scale with Channel 29 just to the right of Channel 16.  As I looked up from the old VHF radio, black water reaching out from a hazy beach to a dull sky filled my field of vision.  Somewhere over the horizon, TMCA boats were either sailing a meandering river home or rushing about as if riding a wild rapids under bare poles. We were to join them, waiting now for No Show to call on Channel 29. Silence. Looking around, my brother-in-law Paul charged like an angry bull.  Before I could dive between the rails of a corral fence and out the way, Paul rushed by as if I weren't even there, his eyes riveted on Ed Herndon of all people.  Midnight. Prevacid. Six hours till dawn. Six months of construction to go.

Michele came for a visit last week. We sailed on the harbor.  She borrowed the car to drive to Key West. The lucky cats with six toes are there. She quit her job. She is living in the moment.  I have lived in the past that never was and the future that may not be. So living in the moment is OK, I suppose, as long as the moments add up. It's better than Prevacid.  When she returns on Monday, we may or may not sail down to Pelican Bay for a day. Later in the week we drop her off at the Tampa airport and pickup Marie for Easter.  Richard back to 16.