You can make real food with a bbq and a microwave. Just not everyday.

Be afraid, be very afraid.

Never thought I'd find myself living in a motel in Florida, but here we are. It's less depressing than you'd think. The room is clean, we have wheels, but it's not as good as a boat.  A galley would be nice. We resorted to take-out burgers for lunch today after a hard-scrubbing morning, and then we remembered how depressing fast food is. While I waited (and it wasn't quick food - Abe was the new guy on cash, and he was traumatized by special orders. I regretted ordering the cheeseburger special without cheese), I saw several very large people order giant burgers and pop, and ask for their large fries "without salt." A healthy choice. 

Last night we decided to eat out at a real restaurant, and found a terrific little family-run Mexican place, La Casita, and stuffed ourselves with refries, chili rellenos, and a huge plate of beef and rice. As we were eating, a nice-looking man came in and set up a mic and amp and got out a very pretty guitar, and proceeded to start his set with a heavily accented version of "Sweet Caroline," followed by heavily accented versions of 80's rock tunes, country songs, and anything else anyone requested. He introduced us to his wife and father-in-law when they came in. It was very fun. Randy manages to take me to unlikely and charming places. And a few really crap motels, but it all evens out. 

We're also back to boatyard life, another place with unusual folks and the occasional unlikely encounter. The yard manager was dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein on Wednesday. The boat next to us is having a major refit, and is home to a largely silent group of men - Russian I think - and their large white cockatoo. The cockatoo is in a big steel cage next to the boat, and sits on top during the day repeating his few words of Russian, and occasionally screaming at passers-by. Next to the bird's cage, beside the boat, are four fancy chairs and a dining room table full of dirty dishes and food. I had to pay close attention when I was washing the deck so I didn't soak their stuff.  

The yard is dusty, but the boat is a lot less dirty than it was when we arrived. She looks a lot less neglected, and belowdecks looks and smells like home again. Next up, get the masts and booms off, and start prepping to paint the cabin. 

Then varnish. Once the new varnish starts to go on, Randy will cheer up.