The Villes

Ok, I will admit it:  can't sleep.  It is well past cruiser's bed time (sunset) and here I am sitting in the cockpit feeding noseeums my ankles and toes watching thunderstorms in the Northwest sky.  Why am I doing that?  Well, for one thing, I am on anchor watch for a bit and watching whether or not we are in for another close encounter of the lightening type.  Bear, trusting me like a foxhole buddy to keep her safe, is in the rack below.  Us wimps chose to turn on the generator and keep the sleeping quarters cool this time of year.  For the purists, we anchored well away from those with open hatches so as not to irritate them. Now the thing is that I have a sort of ear worm this evening in that I cannot keep from thinking about the villes.  What?  We are near a place called Titusville, the edge of space insofar as our efforts to escape earth are concerned.   Founded by a Confederate General Titus, I am sure he did not have any idea how important this place would  be a hundreds years thereafter to space.  That brought other villes to mind this evening.  There is Niceville.  Interesting place where one Ensign, now Lt. Commander Brian Skubin was transferred after buying Lady J, our Cal 28.  He went there to further his skills at blowing stuff up as a Navy UDT sailor.  Then there is Nashville, where my good friend Willie Bill Holmes' son Ross is making headway toward a great career in Blue Grass Music. He almost matches Charlie Daniels in the fiddle. Or is it the violin?  Not sure about the distinction.  Then there is Halletsville where, according to Robert Earl Keene, they pay money for armadillos of the dead type.  See how that can capture a mind dead sailor on a dark and stormy night in Florida? 

This cruising thing has taken on an aspect of the surreal.  We are just now starting to really appreciate it.  Our house back home has high weeds; most like more than a few squirrels in the attic and deer living in the carport yet we have no compulsion to check on the place beyond that which Poozak and our youngest son accomplish.  Further, and perhaps most important to our intense loyalty to Texas, is our decision that as long as Why Knot survives, she may well never return to her home port ---- or not.  For now, methinks I will remove the food supply to those no seeums and go below. Nightall.