home

I'm home!  Big new truck is bought, turkey is dead. More later.

uno mas!

One more watch.

     I've got the midwatch tonight- I'll be up at 2330 for night lunch  (a meal made out of something that is going to spoil, since I'm leaving for a few weeks and my relief will want the room in the fridge), and we're at a daylight-only berth for cargo ops, so most of the 8 hours I'll be awake will be spent exercising, packing my stuff and cleaning up after myself. After that, it's a matter of showering, getting a nap in, and then waking up to go home.
 I'm taking the train tomorrow. Train tickets from New York to Boston just 2 days before Thanksgiving are EXPENSIVE. And I could only get a business-class ticket on an Acela train, which doesn't help. But maybe it'll be a nice ride, and they have a bar, so I can have a diet beer and enjoy the taste of freedom while I read a book or whatever.

 In the meanwhile, here's some nice Brazilian girls for you to look at while I  get my act together.

something to make you laugh?

So, one of my little hobbies on teh internets is posting on discussion boards. I often go back and forth on different places online that host discussions on matters of religion, men's issues, marriage and parenting and of course maritime commerce.
    Some message boards have more relaxed policies on putting up vulgar or funny pictures to go with them- to make a point, or take the sting out of one, I often attach things like what you'll see below. Some are animated, so click to embiggnify.

Damn you THE COMFY CHAIR!!

So,  I have the time and weather and positioning to get a decent 5 mile walk in today here in Red Hook, NY. I've been averaging 5mi daily, (4 miles one day, 6 the next) around my deck edge, but this morning I'm in my chair, and I didn't have bacon or anything awesome for breakfast, and I'm feeling lazy. I've retaken lost ground today- went in one of the 3 belt notches I lost after I dicked off on my weight management, and with the holidays coming, that means that I'm going to have to decide between cutting booze and good food for my ration of Gluttony, while home at least, and that makes me sad. So,  shortly, Ima get off my ass and move afore I get the piles.
          The Today Show has the Rockettes on. I'm watching this, and I can't help but notice that the whole thing seems awful...dated, I guess. I mean, the music is some Lawrence Welk castoff that was out of date 40 years ago, and the girls have bird legs now, and synchronized dancing in their style is amazingly non-sexy. Seriously, it's time to take the program out behind the barn for some Ol' Yeller time.

 Well, there's my motivation, I guess. I'm just not a TV watcher. I'm too contrary I guess. It makes me feel like somewhere just over the horizon there are some kids I need to get off my lawn.

Weight gain/re-loss.

After losing a grand total of 90 lbs last year, I've managed to regain far too much, and last week decided, again, to do something about it (again).

 I'm fairly bent out of shape, literally, at myself. How did I let so much gut get back above my belt? I lost the weight as rapidly as was humanely safe (and sustainable), but I guess I didn't bear in mind that YMMV when it comes down from push to shove.

 Because it can't be ALL me just digging my grave with a fork and spoon, I've looked at work hours, and seen that I will have spent one more week at sea than I ever have before in a single year. 2012 will see me having spent 300 days on my steel beach, and almost 0 on a real one. So, that's got to change before my wife looks at me and sees a stranger. It seems like no matter how good the paychecks, and man or maneschevitz, the extra weeks of work make for some big checks, there's still always the same amount in savings: not quite enough, though, to be fair, I've diverted a lot of income to my retirement portfolio this past year too. I think the extra week and all will still equal less actual take-home pay year for year in a pepsi challenge with last year.

   My point is that the brown-water merchant mariner does not live a healthy lifestyle by default. Stress and irregular sleep cycles contribute to fat deposition. Eating instead of sleeping to keep up energy levels doesn't help, either.

 So, I'm back to trying to eat healthier- so far so good. I'm walking 90 minutes a day, ashore when I can, in circles on deck when I can't. Weight training every other day, and awful pushups/planks too. I feel good, overall. Better already, in just 10 days. Belt is one notch in, which puts me back where I was in July, so that's progress.
      I'm not trying to get skinny anymore. I want to live well and not make noises when I bend down to tie my shoes. I'm looking for something more sustainable now.  I just want to live long enough to get back my investment in my kid's college fund. I want to be healthy and look as good naked to my wife as she does to me. Seems only fair.
   Last year I buckled down and met my goal. I didn't stay there, but I set out to do something, and did it.
I feel like my head's in the right place to keep this goal, too.

Warm thoughts of Brazil (semi NSFW)

Good dog down

Just before I came home last time, my mom had to have her dog put down. It was time, as his quality of life had declined and he was suffering the ravages of a slow senescence and resultant system breakdowns. I was proud of how my mom and brother handled it, and though it's always awful, part of being a responsible pet owner is accepting responsibility for safe and humane treatment from start to finish.


        Figaro was the runt of the litter, the character- a near perfectly round hairball of a Pekinese, and handsome in a way the breed usually isn't. He had a deviated nasal septum and a narrow respiratory tract- as I said, he was a runt. The end result of this was that he snorted a lot when he was excited, and snored quite loudly for an 8-lb dog. He was a perfect puppy, and, happily, never lost the puppylike desire to play and be affectionate. I'm not a small dog person, but he was awesome-

It takes a confident heterosexual man to pull off this pose.

 As my father's last days wound out, Figaro was always at his feet- supremely loyal, and, after my father's passing, the dog aged quickly.



 At 12, he was still as puppylike as ever, but when my mom broke her leg this year and spent 3 months at a rehab hospital trying to get the bones to set, Figaro wilted on the vine. One of the best stories I heard was how my brother brought the dog into the rehab hospital to see my mom after she had been away from home for a month, and Figaro went absolutely bonkers, after which, at home, he perked up again. But none of us can win against the determined march of anno domini, and his time came to an end.

         My parents had a habit of getting a new puppy when their dog began to slow down from age. I credit this with the long-lived and content series of dogs we've had over the years. The combination of youth and age seems to have had a synergistic effect in terms of behavior and longevity. My mom's health precluded that, this time, but that's OK. After losing a little titan like Figaro, I think it's OK to wait a bit.

The cone of shame