Days 2 and 3

I had the best of intentions. Post something every day, yet here I am on day 3 and I've already fallen off the pace. Ah well. Such is life in the Conch Republic, I suppose.

Day three and we may be hitting our stride, mostly. We've been working out the best way to navigate the many tasks -- domestic and professional -- that must be accomplished each day. I expect it to be a continuous evolution. Today was a good day: John and I were up early for work, John made breakfast while I had conference calls, the kids swam and snorkeled while John and I put in a few more hours, and when we finished, the day was capped with another familly snorkel trip along the "drop off," the place where shallow beach sand and seagrass fall away to the marina bottom at a depth of about 18 feet. Anenome, brain coral, small barracuda, a handful of various crab species and some lobsters were the finds today. We've ascertained that John and Eve, with their minimal body fat, can't float. Let's just say Ian and I would do well in a stranded at sea scenario. I think maybe it's some kind of evolutionary trait, passed down from antecedents who survived some great flood. Or maybe I just need to lay off the Dove dark chocolates and Chips Ahoy...

Like any new experience, you learn as you go. Today, instead of working down below in the fetid swelter of the boat salon, we opted to work in the screened porch of Navigator's Bar and Grill, which is just a few steps from our bow. Later we moved to the beach tiki hut, ecstatic to find that our wireless connection would reach that far. A steady 10 knots of wind from the East kept us plenty cool, and we marveled that maybe this crazy idea we had just might work. In case you're wondering why I say crazy, take a look at our "home."

Not a lot of space for four people, but we will manage. Of course, for it to work, we have to be willing to compromise on a few things. How do you cook for one pseudo-vegetarian, one no-carb guy, one pre-teen appetite and one finicky eater? Very creatively. I've learned to cook pizza subs on the stove instead of in the oven by creating an "oven" using two frying pans. My firefighter friend will cringe at the sight, I'm sure, but I believe myself a genuis for figuring out how to make Eve's perennial favorite food without fancy appliances! Apologies to my firefighter friend in Pekin, IL...

I've learned to position myself carefully when I lean over the hotplate to reach into the cooler, as the (thankfully minor) nipple burn will attest. I've learned that because we are always hot we use 2.5 gallons of water to drink and sparingly wash fruit in just over a day. That's a big deal when you're no longer buying in bulk and you have to lug it from the store!

More of what we know so far:

• You can cook a pretty damned good meal with a 2-burner hotplate and a gas grill.
• The more you cook, the bigger the mess to clean up. That didn't mean as much when there was an automatic dishwasher and a steady supply of water readily at hand.
• Big mess in small space = crabby mommy.  :)
• Ovens and microwaves are nice -- really nice -- but you CAN get by without them.
• I need more one-pot recipes (send them to me at msotham@me.com please!)
• This is a pretty damned interesting life.

Three days in, and I'm still optimistic. That's a good sign, but ask me again at day 30 and we'll see. This life teaches you patience. You can't cook everything at once, prepare everyone's food at the same time, do laundry whenever you want and a host of other things that are simpler on land. It takes, but it also gives in abundance. Amazing sea encounters for our kids, an unparalleled feeling of freedom for us and the sense that life is still chock full of possibility.  And there's the sway. I always loved when we visited the boat for a long weekend and the sway set in. It meant we had made the transition from full time landlubbers to wannabe ocean voyagers. While I worked on letters and documents and reports this afternoon, the sway my body had so rapidly learned from a home constantly in motion kept the crescent of beach before me gently rocking. In the shower tonight, the walls undulated with a slow wave around me. If my body can make the transition that quickly, surely my mind can follow.

A few of my friends who know about this experiment have asked questions like how and what we cook, where we sleep and such. Like every challenge in life, this one requires patience and flexibility. An appalling lack of hygeine standards helps too! Yes, there are showers here, with real hot water too. But more often we find ourselves hosing off after a snorkel and falling to sleep with the ocean still in our hair. A few days of that and a simple shower feels like a religious experience. And you have to do laundry in paradise. Who knew clothes didn't magically clean themselves when you live in the tropics? Thankfully there's a laundry room just 30 feet from the boat where we can use soap and machines when we're tired of rinsing our clothes in the hose!

Because we have limited access to TV, we've resorted to other forms of entertainment at night. Board games and stargazing have given us plenty to do, and Ian has downloaded an app on his iPad that shows the position of the constellations as you rotate the device around the night sky. Pretty cool. We don't have a television on the boat, although the kids can do some limited viewing on the iPads, and the TV in the patio bar is left on all night, so we're able to stay current on Olympic happenings. Eve was so inspired by the women's gymnastics team that she asked to go back to the sport. So we found a gym in Key West that looks like it will fill the bill nicely. Like any parent, I would love to see her stand on a podium and accept a medal, but I'll settle for her enjoying using the talents of her little athlete's body and feeling pride in what she can accomplish.

And then there's Ian, my little music man, who is so much his father in his creativity, artistry and love of music. Here he is playing bongos in the cockpit, the fading light of a Key West sunset in the background. I hope these are the memories they most love to tell their children.