Now where the heck was I? It seems like a remarkable dream, almost. A year ago we were heading off to California, I was still on Lyrica, my poor mum was still struggling and today I am sitting in my tie dye yoga pants from Jammin’ on Haight (got to love the name)
short one mother, with a chunk of metal in my leg, access to wonderful legal weed, and still somewhat stunned by the recent tempest in my teapot of a blog. And life having improved (?) we are looking forward to heading south to the Bahamas, to join our aged parents, or parents-in-law, for the last two weeks of February, with a brief start in Miami to go to the Strictly Sail boat show, now as boat owners, not just dreamers. Plus ça change, mais plus ça remain the same. Thank Thor.
But what of philosophy and economics and the general theory of everything? Has it progressed? No.
But I just have to get this out there. Last summer we took a couple from the sailing club for a sail on our new boat. And then she died, unexpectedly, just a few weeks ago. She was very much my age. I didn’t know her well, and I don’t think we were destined to be friends in particular, but what has really spooked me is that after I broke my leg there was a brief moment when an x-ray had resulted in some considerable panic about my insides and I had a weekend between the phone call expressing concern and the booked x-ray to determine if they had somehow missed an aggressive cancer (which was clearly the unspoken fear that drove the schedule of appointments). And so we went sailing. I knew it was actually really unlikely that there was something wrong as I have been poked and prodded most everywhere throughout my interesting medical history (actually everywhere, without going into too great detail, even with a toothpick which did find a one inch circle of fire on my back that was fed by my ilioinguinal nerve, and which was entirely cured by the nerve resectioning).
I was lying out on one of the trampolines that beautiful sunny day, looking down at the water rushing past, and I remember thinking that if this was my last day on the planet I was going to enjoy it. And now I find myself thinking that most days, even when it seems ludicrous to my rational brain. It is not that I have gone passive against wrongs or ills, it is just that the question, as raised in 10% Happier, of whether the worries are useful or detrimental is much on my mind.
Is the world going to hell in a hand-basket? Maybe yes, maybe no. It certainly is taking its time if so, and we are lucky to be along for the ride.
As the always cheerful Pink Floyd would have it, life is a short warm moment, and death is a long cold rest. Here’s to the warm moment, and hoping it lasts a little longer.
Have a superlative Sunday.
Happy February.
Good sunny morning. 😎
And speaking of maudlin, while I have tried hard to ignore the world of economics, it tends not to ignore one, and this John Mauldin Thoughts from the Frontline talks about Japan’s introduction of negative interest rates, NIRPs, and how they might be coming to the enormous economic elephant to our south, and discusses a complete lack of understanding of what the implications might be for those of us trying to grow some wealth for retirement, or just muddle along comfortably now. I don’t understand how negative interest rates would work, and am not sure anyone really does, but the experiment has begun, with several European countries and now Japan.
Good frozen morning. It is an absolute sheet of ice outside, the surface of the snow even a skating rink. I think I am both lucky and unlucky and will try not to walk outside today. I dread the thought of four more months sitting in that chair … I try not to think too much about it, because I do understand the pathological nature of pain and depression, but I am hell-bent on not falling over.
Good Morning.
I do enjoy Sawbones, a Marital Tour of Misguided Medicine, and today (or yesterday to be precise) they put out a not so funny episode about the Zika virus, in case you are curious or worried.
Good Morning. A beautiful day. Except the marmalade I made (for the second time) is a little runny (for the second time). But a neat recipe and I think I just panic at the end and don’t quite let it finish up because I really don’t like over-cooked jam. This recipe has you simmer the whole fruit, and then scoop out the innards before slicing the peel and really used the whole fruit very effectively. And according the website, it is the way Paddington Bear would have made it, so there really was little choice. Oh and I used the whole lemons too, and threw in their peel for a little colour and brightness.
Paddington’s Marmalade
Good Saturday Morning.
But wait! And I mean wait … and your marmalade might just set! It took a day, but it is absolutely a lovely consistency, which is what I really had hoped for as this recipe makes use of all the pith and stuff really well, as by the time you are scooping out the insides of the simmered fruit it all comes out, and I remember previously trying to peel and then separate pith and membranes and seeds and it was a nightmare with a lot of waste, but you need them for the pectin.
Good early morning.
It sure looks beautiful from space.
Treasure Cay marked with the star, is where we will be joining the in-laws:
And I don’t quite know what has come over me lately, but canned some tomatillo hot sauce yesterday. Maybe a touch heavy on onion, but pretty yummy. About ten medium tomatillos, two jalapeños, 3 chili peppers, three garlic cloves, and most of a sweet onion, roasted with olive oil and salt for about 30 minutes at 350, then food processed with the juice of two limes and a splash of vinegar and a tablespoon of sugar and a little more salt. Oh and a handful of fresh cilantro. Hot water bath for 15 minutes, which the web suggested so we can blame it when we succumb to botulism.
Good Morning.
Good evening. Impossible to concentrate, as Offspring #3’s girlfriend’s puppy, the Luna … tic was over, proof that girls are handsome, and a handful!
And good morning, surprise surprise.
Well, still battling something, and some doubt as to what, but that aside, excitement is beginning to outweigh panic for our upcoming trip. Hotwire came through as it so often does with a sweet deal on a hotel in Miami that looks like walking distance, even for old hop along, from the Strictly Sail show. There is a large duffle in the living room collecting fish identification cards and sun screen and chocolate, nasal strips and printer cartridges for the in-law’s, wetsuits (it will be cold in the Bahamas in February, especially in the ocean, no matter what the ads make it look like, which is partly why I love it so much because it doesn’t have hoards of people roasting like sausages on the sand, like say, Barbados) and the like. Mouse to go and stay with offspring #2 and his roomies, and all should be well.
And finally my camera might be fun again. And maybe even my commentary on life will get some updating. And it was the Bahamas that inspired most of my world’s worst novel, so perhaps I can start on the world’s second worst novel.
I’m sure you can’t wait.
I first ran into Eddie Minnis at a place very aptly named Paradise Cove (except for the no-seeums) where we stayed in a little rental villa (there only were two) next to the most modest and lovely snorkelling operation with a lunch bar/bbq spot. And I heard the words (because I am very lyric driven) to the Buffet, playing at the restaurant, and off we went to Freeport to find the cd.
Ahh, Mikey sitting in a hole in the sand, and Nana with a beverage. The good old days. That was taken at Paradise Cove on Grand Bahama, a truly magical spot. Mikey and Mum and the three kids, 14 or 15 years ago:
Good Morning.
Next stop Miami. Well, actually Montreal, but it’s a start.
Hope all is well with all.
Missed connection in Montreal. How many times have I sworn never to fly Air Canada? At least three. But now on a stand-by to Ft. Lauderdale, with a couple of glasses of wine under the belt. Cattle plane. They almost needed prods.
And now we are in Miami, at the Epic Hotel. About to wander off to the Strictly Sail show, which should be an eleven minute walk, according to the google monster.
The first thing the check-in lady said was, “you missed wine hour, so here are two tickets for a free glass of wine.” And it was true, and was not their choice of wine either. Now that made Air Canada seem a little more pathetic.
But enough whining … or not quite enough. I really am not in top form and am frustrated once again by presenting confusing symptoms. But sunshine and water and sailboats and Tramacet … and hope for the best.
Survived the boat show and free beer and pizza. Lots and lots of boats, and many more of the big hideous catamarans and one really odd but kind of cool big trimaran. But the vendors were much more interesting now that we have a boat to fix up – some excellent furlers and then advice from the only Corsair rep there about how to use a bungee cord to solve the problem we were having with our screecher furler, which is a much cheaper concept. Here is hubby discussing same with the nice fellow.
And now we are sitting in West Palm Beach airport, which is actually called Palm Beach International, and is a lovely airport, especially if you have ever been to Miami airport, about to board our BahamasAir flight to Marsh Harbour. Realised it would be way cheaper to rent a one way car than take a cab, which took about three minutes to book and was indeed about a quarter of the price, and had quite a lovely drive and then breakfast at a strange tony club called “The Colony”, where only after we had eaten did they realise we were not staying there. But all’s well that ends well. And my head is beginning to function a little better, but I don’t think the beer and wine yesterday was the smartest thing I have done in a while. My belly does not approve.
Much improved and at the lovely villa in Treasure Cay. And who knew, but they have detected gravitational waves, things Einstein had predicted 100 years ago, but only now have they been able to build a facility capable of detecting them:
Based on the observed signals, LIGO scientists estimate that the black holes for this event were about 29 and 36 times the mass of the sun, and the event took place 1.3 billion years ago. About 3 times the mass of the sun was converted into gravitational waves in a fraction of a second—with a peak power output about 50 times that of the whole visible universe. By looking at the time of arrival of the signals—the detector in Livingston recorded the event 7 milliseconds before the detector in Hanford—scientists can say that the source was located in the Southern Hemisphere.
…
At each observatory, the two-and-a-half-mile (4-km) long L-shaped LIGO interferometer uses laser light split into two beams that travel back and forth down the arms (four-foot diameter tubes kept under a near-perfect vacuum). The beams are used to monitor the distance between mirrors precisely positioned at the ends of the arms. According to Einstein’s theory, the distance between the mirrors will change by an infinitesimal amount when a gravitational wave passes by the detector. A change in the lengths of the arms smaller than one-ten-thousandth the diameter of a proton (10-19 meter) can be detected.
That is crazy! And if you would like to know more about a collision between two black holes 1.3 billionish years ago (if I remember correctly) that left behind gravitational waves that have hit the LIGO interferometer, here is a link to the horse’s mouth:
LIGO Interferometer Lab
Missed all the dramatic weather, short of a good downpour. Lovely, humid, no seeums, wine and books. Yum. Red snapper going in the oven. Yum.
Oh and a swim in the pool, my first real swim since I broke me leg. Yeah!
And mirable dictu, we are getting to go for a sail to Hope Town, Elbow Cay, a magical place in my mind if not in the world.
Oh, and a very good morning to all. I hear we had a record snowfall in Ottawa, 51 cm, or twenty inches. But honestly after living there for over twenty years, it doesn’t sound like that much somehow!
Some places just get into your heart. I have been to Elbow Cay twice before, and up the light house, and yesterday we got to go again, thanks to lovely friends with a sailboat who live sometimes in Marsh Harbour.
A view from part way up:
The world’s greatest door pull on the tiny door that opens onto the top deck of the lighthouse, and a strange panorama taken from said deck: