Ship's log: stern rail and stern wail

Got block ice and food, and I'm happy to say the shelf works exactly as intended. I'm pleased.

Sorted my tools & hardware into bins. Great to be able to lay your hands on exactly what you want. It also reduced the chaos level to have all that stuff put away.

Oooooh, I love an orderly space; I look forward to really having one. I tell myself this mess is not as bad as it looks.

I started on the project of running extension cords to where they'll do the most good. I ran aground on it, though. I really want to rewire, not string shit around. Hard to come up with a temporary measure that is reasonably safe, useful, and non-ugly.

Repairs:

Russell sanded down the fiberglass repair, which is still sticky underneath but hard as rock on top. He slapped Marine-Tex on it, a white patching/bonding compound that's UV resistant and a lot better to finish than fiberglass.

I took the bent & twisted stern rail to Svendsen's (boat yard, chandlery, metal works, all stuff boatish) and they were as kind and helpful as their rep, which is saying something. Should get it back in a couple weeks. I have to take some measurements of the stern tomorrow and take it over.

I used to wonder why more stuff wasn't available for boats. I wondered if boaters really were making it all up as they go, when it's time to fix something, and why they felt they had to keep reinventing the wheel (or tiller, as the case may be.) It's because boats are so different from each other, and indeed people are making fixes up as they go. Fabulous opportunity for someone like me, who really gets a charge out of fixing and creating things.

People:

Met another neighbor: he watched me try to fit the stern rail in my car, and when it obviously wasn't going to work, wandered over and offered to take it & me to Svendsen's in his eNORmous old diesel truck. Neither of us knew exactly where to find Svendsen's, so we wandered around a bit, but he refused to accept gas money. I offered beer, but he had to head back home.

I've noticed that men can get squirrely about being offered a beer by me, and I don't know what to think. Not sure whether to wear a paper bag to cover the worst of it, or to post a sign on my forehead saying, "Relax. Despite the boobs and hair, this chick makes Mother Teresa look like a floozy."

Residency status:

Bad news: this marina is part of a growing conglomerate, so the powers that be feel they can't possibly allow someone on a smaller boat to live aboard. Hell, blast, and damn!

However, I'm berthed here for the meantime, and can continue here indefinitely as long as I restrict my (traceable) visits to 2 days/week. This is true of all marinas owned by this conglomerate, which wants to cater to the richer crowd: "We want to give our clientele a resort-like experience every time they come to our marinas. So no pets, no bikes, no living with non-relatives, and no liveaboard boats under 35' even if they are to-die-for classic fantastics."

Not sure what their definition of resort-like actually is. Sounds pretty lame to me.

Planning:

We're buckling down for a blow tonight. The boat is quivering in its dock-lines, wanting to sail nearly as badly as I do. If it rains thoroughly, I'll get to check my leak repairs -- and see if any new ones develop.

As for living aboard, I'm debating the value of paying rent at 2 marinas (here and Moss Landing) and splitting my time between the two. There are a lot of advantages to this system, not least the fact that it gets me through the probationary period at Moss Landing before you can be a liveaboard.

I can't move the boat until I have a working engine, full paperwork, a stern rail, and at least one shakedown cruise. Looks like I'm here for another month at the very least. Not a bad thing, I suppose, but the indeterminacy of my homelife is getting to me.