I'm having a heck of a time with time. I thought this summer was going to be great - I'd have so much time to read and to write. I'd get so much done. Ha!

In my old life -BB - Before Bruce - I used to spend hours and hours alone with my computer. My social life had become the people I emailed and I occasionally met when I would go to crime writers' conferences. I read a multitude of listserve lists like DorothyL and EMWA and others where fans of mystery and crime fiction gathered to discuss the biz. I had no idea how much time it ate up - because I had no other life. I wrote, I read, I had my virtual community and I went to work. I figured that with work out of the picture, I'd have tons more time.

Now I'm living the WB - With Bruce - life and I've been trying to continue with that same thing, trying to continue to do it all. But I have added sailing/cruising and the time that I want to spend with the big B. I can't do it all - and I've been trying to and at times, I've been neglecting some or all of the above. We dash to the next location and I'm down below, face glued to my laptop, answering email and only getting to half of it and then doing a page on the book and then running topsides to take a turn at the wheel to give Bruce a break - and the result is that I haven't been paying a whole lot of attention to him. Hence my theme song for this blog entry - woo, woo, Witchy Woman . . .

Because of my lack of time management, I've not posted here to the blog, either. We have made many stops. When we left Newport, we had a great sail up Buzzard's Bay with the wind behind us. We tacked downwind, gibing the main over as we went back and forth across the bay. The weather was clear and we could see all the detail on the islands, the cut where Wood's Hole is located, and the various quaint lighthouses. We dropped the sails just outside Quissett and motored in mid-afternoon. The bay is small with moorings sprinkled throughout and lots of lovely little Herreshoff daysailors moored throughout the bay. It seems New Englanders often have a greater appreciation for the graceful lines of a classic boat. I see fewer fat Hunters and Beneteaus around here, those boats shaped like steam irons that carry their beam so far aft. This is the land of sleek overhangs and heart-shaped transoms. Quissett Bay held many examples of classic sailors.

The next day we motored up to the mouth of the Cape Cod Canal and passed through the arm of the Cape, stopping just before the end of the canal to tie up at the marina in Sandwich, MA. When we called the harbor master on the radio to ask him which slip we should take, he told us to go down past the lobster boat and it would be on the right. I looked at Bruce and asked, "Do you know what a lobster boat looks like?" He shook his head. Don't laugh. We're from Miami!

In addition, you have to understand that we were both feeling a little groggy that morning. The evening before we were preparing to cook our dinner of fresh cod we had purchased in Newport when Bruce said with uncharacteristic vehemence, "Oh shit." He announced we were out of propane. We managed to cook the fish in tin foil on the propane grill, but the next morning we had had to do without coffee. Not good.

So, we walked around the harbor in Sandwich and went into the marina office. The woman in the office greeted us warmly and after settling up with the marina charges, we inquired about a taxi.
"Yes, there is Sandwich taxi, but you usually have to make a reservation."
"Okay, how do we do that?"
"Well, do you need it right away?"
"Yes. We need to get our propane tank filled."
"Well, usually, you have to call them a day in advance. They could probably take you tomorrow."
Welcome to a small town on Cape Cod.
Then the Harbor Master walked in. The woman told him about our problem and he called out to the young man in the back of the office. "Todd, take the keys to the truck there and drive these folks over the bridge to the hardware store to get their propane."
Again, nice welcome to a small town on Cape Cod.

The next morning, after a nice hot cup of coffee, we exited the canal and tried to sail to Plymouth, but wound up having to motor most of the way. This time, we took a mooring way outside the inner harbor and we had to dinghy in with laundry. We docked the dinghy right next to the replica ship, the Mayflower II. At the head of the dock, we asked directions and it went something like this:
"Go left, past the Rock, to Water Street, then up to the corner where you'll find the Ye Olde Pilgrim Washing Well."
Once the laundry was in, we went for a late lunch at the Water Street caf� and watched bus loads of Japanese tourists taking pictures of Plymouth Rock while the caf� played rap music over the loudspeakers.

And then Friday, we sailed here to Salem. We decided to spend three days here as the forecast was for thunderstorms and rain. We tied up to a mooring with Salem Watertaxi and it includes the launches driven by the nicest bunch of young men. It seems they all have Labradors and each time we ride ashore, Chip gets to meet a different colored Lab. Yesterday, Saturday afternoon, we walked through town and looked in the windows of the fifty some shops that all sell magic wands and potions and various witchy implements. Then we visited the Peabody Essex Museum and though we didn't have time to do it justice, we saw all the Maritime art, including ship models and navigation instruments and paintings. We saw some of the other world art areas, too. It was amazing to see all the art and artifacts the sea captains had brought back from their travels around the globe.

And today, we took a taxi over to Marblehead to visit the northern sailing center. We had decided not to moor there because it was Marblehead Sailing Week and after all the canons in Newport, we thought it a little too yacht clubby for our taste. This afternoon, we decided we might have misjudged it. The village and waterfront is really spectacular - especially at low tide with all the rocks exposed. It was a foggy afternoon and the photo I've included with this blog was taken in front of the Landing just past sunset. We ate an excellent fish dinner at the Barnacle and made it home to ride with a water taxi driver who is a fan of Florida mystery fiction. He was reading a Tim Dorsey novel, and when we got to the boat, I gave him a signed copy of Cross Current - it's my witchy, voodoo book - along with a treat for his dog.

Tomorrow morning, we sail for Portsmouth, New Hampshire. I have decided to go to No Mail on all my crime fiction listserves and just concentrate on taking care of Big B and the boat. Both will certainly need the attention in the morning. The forecast is for dense fog - a spooky Salem departure. We hope it will burn off by 8:00. We'll see.

Fair winds!