Better today. The wind has dropped off a bit but we're splooshing along at 6-7 knots; the sea, while still an active 8-10 feet, seems a little better organized; and best of all, we're both feeling better.

Sleep and read. Eat some crackers, have some water, sip a Coke, read. Have a nap. Read. Eat a cookie. Read some more. Make some tea. Wring out the laundry that for some reason didn't spin in the washer this morning when the generator was on, so now it's wet and heavy. Then drape it about the cabin on hangers and over fishing poles, since it's too salty outside. Have some brown rice with butter and pepper. Take a nap. Write a blurb. Eat some nuts.

Waves have been occasionally breaking over the boat, we've gotten sort of used to that, it's especially dramatic when we're down below and the sounds of water crashing on the fiberglass and rolling down the windows feels completely aquatic. Last night I heard a wet splashy sound on the port side while I was finishing up my Harry Potter book. We're surrounded by wet splashy sounds, so it took me a minute to register that it was a non-normal sound, and when I went to investigate I saw a very large flying fish, flapping it's wings furiously in the scupper. I tried to grab it and flip it overboard, but it was too slippery, and the feel of my hand sent it into a renewed flapping fit causing it to slip away and scuttle farther toward the bow, into the "No Trespass Zone." (We don't go forward of the cockpit when it's night and we're alone on watch.) I tried to get him with the end of the cork-protected gaff, but it was no use. He stopped flapping after a minute, and I thought about the people I've who collect the flying fish from the deck in the morning and have them for breakfast ... probably not what we'd have for breakfast, but an interesting thought.

No, for breakfast we had crackers. And tea, and Coke. It's not a very nutritious life, but the apples, the lettuce, the carrots, even the lentil loaf just don't sound good. It's taken me almost the entire trip, since last October, to realize that I really don't have to provision before a passage; just make some brown rice and have plenty of crackers, juice and plain cookies in the snack box. It wasn't always like that; on the 22-day crossing from Mexico to the Marquesas we ate like royalty, even from the first day. But since then, we've been less and less interested in cooking and eating while underway, and I'm not sure why. I theorize that we were so emotionally wound up for that first big ocean crossing, an endeavor none of the four of us had ever tackled before, and maybe we were just spun up for it. We were also a bit overly ambitious. Now, with just the two of us, it's easier to be lazy, and it's only for a few days at a time, and we're never sure which fruits and vegetables and meats and dairy will be admitted into the next country, so it's best to be understocked. Live and learn.

In fact, as we near the end, we're astonished at the sudden compilation of things we're finally "getting." Oh, THAT'S how that works! This is the most comfy spot to read! This is how we use this thingy! Here's a better place to keep that! We've streamlined pre-passage prep, figured out where to sleep under changing conditions, have our watch schedule dialed-in, and have stuff better organized. Yep, live and learn.