Usually, this is the view from the poop deck. But Saturday night, there was a dirty great squall moving over Bedford Basin. Better than TV. We took turns standing in the companionway watching the show. There's been lots of wind and the boat is always moving around ever so slightly at the slip. Good way to acclimatize slowly, eh wot?

Sunday night. We awoke to hear voices and revelry between 3 and 4 am, and turns out it was the Dartmouth Yacht Club racers returning many hours early from the race to Lunenburg and back. The wind we had Saturday really moved them along, and one racer told Randy this morning that when a big rain squall hit with really gusty winds, it was "assholes and elbows flying everywhere" as they rushed to take in sail. Awards will be given out tonight, so we'll find out who broke which records.

Randy's been building shelves all over the place, and we now have shelves in both hanging lockers forward, and Tom has two big shelves at the end of his bunk. I can just see him carefully folding and stacking his clothes and colour-coordinating the stacks so he has a pleasing view when he's in his bunk. Right. If he gets cold, he can just haul everything off the shelves and it will keep his feet warm. He describes his new personal space as cozy and snug.

I've been the painting person, and it's been an interesting exercise for someone who's slightly claustrophobic to paint shelves, bent double, face first in a space that doesn't allow for back and forth movements of the brush. But the anal-rententive part of me will always know that there's spaces that we can't really see that are nice and clean with new paint.

Randy is doing all the jobs that call for using sharp tools and tools that have to be plugged in, all things involving crawling around on knees, every project (all of them) that requires rummaging in containers of fasteners cursing about what's not there, everything to do with wires or water that is where it shouldn't be, and anything that involves the bilge (including all of the above). He has vast experience walking the length of the boat over and over muttering things like "I've got two of those the same size, and I can't find even one. Ha, try to hide from me will ya? What the hell is all this wire? Eew, this is sticky. Shit, that's not long enough... " etc., etc. He's remarkably productive for all that, and the best way to work as a team, now that most of the painting is done, is for me to handle stuff ashore (though finding the right screws at Canadian Tire is sometimes beyond my skills) and returning to the boat with supplies in time to exclaim with delight over the day's progress. I pour him a liberal splash of Pusser's to celebrate, then open our remarkable refrigerator and concoct a meal for Nancy Dawson's own Holmes on Homes. Too bad he won't wear overalls.

Tom's best strategy is to spend the weekend in town and avoid contact. He warned me lately about being careful driving -- he too is thinking about all the things that might delay the trip, so I trust that he's being a sensible lad. He also reminds me that life goes on if one doesn't shower, but that very regular applications of food (meat) are necessary to sustain any level of function in his species. We're going to town this afternoon to use the workshop on Duncan Street -- Randy has a very complicated list of measurements for a zillion bits of trimwork that need to be cut on the tablesaw -- and we're having dinner with neighbours and Tom will meet us there I hope. We have yet to solve the mystery of the *&%^!!#*!! leak over Tom's bunk. Seven years the Capt. has been pondering that one, so when it finally gets plugged, there will be celebration of major proportions.

It's chilly today (Sunday)-- a reminder of why we need to work fast -- we've been glad to have the duvet at night. Randy hopes to have the furnace working tomorrow. It's all wired and ready to go, but apparently we need a bigger breaker, so we wait until Monday when the stores are open. You'd think that they'd make an exception with the Sunday shopping thing for Canadian Tire. It's not so bad for me (coffee is delivered to the bunk in the morning) but harder on the person who gets up to make the coffee.

Monday morning, and another gourmet breakfast appears from the galley: fresh papaya and lime -- the Canadian version of fresh, can't wait to get the real thing -- scrambled eggs with feta and toast. Tom's gone back to bed, Randy's gone to Canadian Tire, and I'll do the dishes (boat frau) and all's right with the world. Shortly, we'll all turn into human whirlwinds again, and by the end of the day, a few more things will be accomplished.