Oooh! What happened to warm and sunny? It is not as nippy here as what Osprey and Nelleke are going through, but the weather has definitely taken a dip here in North Carolina. And the rain doesn't help. On the other hand, it has gotten me off the settee to take on some projects that were on the back burner.

We do not have a full enclosure for the cockpit and the gent in Galesville who made our dodger and bimini left them rather unuseable for attachments. The poor guy had no concept of symmetry. I decided that cockpit lee cloths would give us some protection from wind and spray so before we left I sent out an all points bulletin to our WRSC members who wanted to clear old sails out of their lockers and garages. The response was fruitful, and free, so I handed off a well-patched light weight drifter that we wouldn't use to a friend, tucked a bag or two of the heavy stuff all the way forward in the V-berth and we took off. Back in July, the weather was hot and dry so there was no urgent need for lee cloths and the project stayed on the bottom of my To-Do list.

Another sewing project also lingered at the bottom: screens. We have two Breeze Boosters with screens (great products, easy to use) and I refreshed most of the port screens but lacked one for the main companionway hatch. We jury rigged a blanket or a towel over the hatch opening held in place with a large bean bag that worked rather well although it was awkward to reset every time we passed through. Pokey encouraged me (okay, maybe a bit more than encouraged) to make use of that new Sailrite machine in the forepeak and fix the problem for good.

I had sketched up what seemed at the time an excellent idea for the hatch screen/soft insert, a supreme example of inventive engineering, a masterpiece of design: Sunbrella frame, nylon screen and privacy flap to keep cool air in and the hot air and bugs out, snap hooks, bungee cords, Velcro-ed window flap, varnished teak dowel for shape and zing...oh, God it was good. Then I visited Silverheels III in Deltaville. Ken and Lynn had a very simple no-see-ums netting with lead shot hemmed in that was perfect and easy to use. It put my Rube Goldberg masterpiece thingy to shame. So, when the weather took its decisive turn the other day, it was time to commandeer the main salon, set up the sewing machine and get to work.

This was as good an excuse as anything to run to Mitchell's Hardware Store in New Bern. Mitchell's is a fabulous old time hardware store that is a must see if nothing else. They have a little bit of everything and I'd made several trips there already. It puts me in my "zone", kind of like a fix for a junky. However, I stumped the band. They didn't have any sort of lead shot or leaded line, that's a stretch for any hardware store, but I found some brass chain that would do the trick. Unfortunately, they only had nine feet left. I needed twelve. Redesign time: add canvas to the forward part to lengthen and store the netting underneath when not in use, and while you're at it snaps to hold the whole thing in place.

Now that I had the Sailrite warmed up, rather me warmed up to it, and the main salon converted to a canvas shop, I was in full Betsy Ross mode and took on the cockpit lee cloths with my trusty assistant, Blackie. The table in Prim opens to 56" x 42" so it makes a great work space for sewing although we spent two days scooting down the settees to get around it. There was still room for the computer so Pokey could make some money (while I spend it). We had a discarded staysail from a Ranger 37 but there wasn't quite enough material per panel to make what I wanted. There is a yacht canvas shop up the block and on a whim I stopped in to see if they had a throwaway or two lying around. The Brit who runs the place was very accommodating and rolled up the balance of an old mainsail he'd been using for odd pieces and sunshades. $10 and a piece of string to tie it and I was on my way. I have to admit, riding a folding bike with a rolled up mainsail on the handlebars is interesting, in fact downright scary at my age. It is almost as awkward as when I rode to grammar school with my french horn on the bars, but I was infallible and fearless then.

I strung a line around the dodger/bimini frames to judge the height and figured 20 inches, roughly shoulder height, would give us the most protection without cutting off all vision. I cut three panels out of the scrap mainsail and sewed them double hemmed to the 20" width then spring-clamped the panels to the frames to mark angles for the ends. Down below, I double hemmed one end of each panel and got out my grommet kit. Oops, the hole punch is missing and I'm short two grommets. Soooo, "Hi Mitchell's. It's me again. Do you happen to have a 3/8" grommet kit and while you're at it, my wife wants a new sink strainer. Of course you do. Thank you, thank you!" Re-stocked, I headed back to the boat and the task at hand. I stopped along the way to pick up two chocolate milkshakes for Poke and myself to put some sunshine back in an otherwise drizzly day.

With one end on each panel finished I was able to mark the angles on the other ends and the grommet positions. The final product was quickly strung in place while the rain poured. I have some fiddling to do when the rain stops but I'm impressed, they work. I might add some bungee cord just to humor my original screen design and a quick release for access to and from the cockpit. Right now I'm hopping over the back but that will get old.

Now we have the dodger in front, clear panels on either side, bimini, the insert between, and shoulder-height lee cloths port, starboard and aft. I'm a happy camper.

Before I broke down the canvas shop, I did a quick repair on my foul weather pants. Last year I tried stuffing too much 'me' into them and blew out the zipper. I had to break down and buy some cheapo wind breaker britches, a mediocre substitue for my heavy Helly Hanson bib fronts. This year, with my new svelte physique (ha!) I wondered if I could get my big arse back in them. Yes, but they needed some work. The zipper fix was easy enough, and I figured out how to darn the crotch (this is clearly a practical place for Don't Ask, Don't Tell). A word to the wise: make sure you know what's on the other side when you darn with a machine. A bit too much of the lining got crossed up in the mix and I had to tear out all the stitching and start over. Ah well, I have my foulies back, and they fit.

Project review: I only scared the dogs when I banged away with a hammer inserting grommets, Pokey knew enough to leave the cabin when I made a crucially bad cut, and I kept the number of curses under, oh.....mumble, mumble, mumble. Not bad for a Pete project and I didn't even ding my head - now that's a record for a boat project.

You have to look in our Gallery to see the results of Prim's Canvas Shoppe, sorry. Since I have yet to figure out how to place photos within a post the question remains, "What's the big secret here?" Somebody, please send some simple non-computereeze instructions to me by email, thanks.

Thanks to Lynn and Ken for the hatch screen design, Pokey for her incredible patience with my projects and Blackie, my assistant for whispering sweet nothings in my ear and jumping on the sewing machine peddle when I wasn't looking (whoops). Red could care less about my projects but he perked right up when I fixed his favorite stuffed toy.