"Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks"

We're in for a blow. The boat is chattering to itself, but the wind is not yet shrieking in the rigging, so the wind is probably not much more than 35 mph. I set up my tarp to keep the rain off my hatch, so I can go in and out easily regardless of the weather.

I finished that sanding project I started with my feet. I had a hard time moving forward because teak oil smells like rancid bug repellent, and the stink lasts for days. I have observed that olive oil tends to penetrate, and grape seed oil tends to harden on the surface of wood; I rubbed my teak bookrack with a few coats of olive oil, and it has taken on a glowing reddish tone that brings the bloodstained tint of the Red Violin irresistibly to mind. It's not shiny, not shiny at all, but I love the deep, vital glow. The grain shimmers even though there's no gloss to make it obvious.

In short, it's ooh classy, and smooth as skin. (Now I have to sand and finish the rest of that piece, so I can take a picture and show you.) I might try a little grape seed oil to see if it gives it a sheen. Fingers crossed.

I gave in and bought an electric sander for the rest of the sanding. I can't tell yet what the vibration will do to my hands; we'll see. I want to get the worst of the brightwork taken care of over the next couple days.

I fixed the heatsink at the back of the 1/4-berth. There was a big hole leading to the unlined space under the rest of the cockpit, and it sucked the warmth from the cabin like a black hole with its event horizon fastened to the gap. (Slight exaggeration, but still.) I sat and stared at it until all the crannies and weird protrusions had imprinted themselves on my mental map. Then I picked up a pair of scissors and tackled a piece of the heater-wrap I use for insulation. Five minutes later, I rolled it up the way I had seen it in my mind, put it in place at one end, then watched it unfurl and tuck itself in almost exactly as I had imagined.

I'm blogging the mind-bending effect of this new discovery at my chronic pain page. I'm still scratching my head.

The storm has set in for real. I'm going to take advantage of my increasingly cozy galley and rustle up a hot dinner.