Foot Fault and Evapalooza

Back in April, when we passed through Charleston on our way back up the ICW, I was a bit alarmed by the fact that the supercute pair of platinum sandals I bought while shopping during the Second Sunday on King Street were European size 42.  I figured it was an aberration — that the shoes weren’t really that big — explaining why they were marked down.

Alas, I was wrong.  Seven months of wearing flipflops and Keens (when wearing shoes at all) has resulted in bigger feet.


Yes, Harriet has the same pair…. But hers aren’t the same size as mine anymore.

Not just longer, but with more relaxed toes.  I thought that once I tried to corral those puppies in work-appropriate shoes, they might fall back into line.  But after over 3 months of being back in the business world, I’m having to face the reality that it ain’t happening.  Those toes got a taste of freedom, and will simply not be reined back in.

Most guys won’t understand, but I’m sure my female readers will: having to jettison a good percentage of my cute shoes is painful.  I LOVE SHOES!  And to send some of mine away (to a good or worthy home, no doubt) causes a bit of a pang.


And those are only some of the summer shoes to which I’m bidding farewell.

Lest you think that I’ll be replacing all of them … well, I won’t.  Perhaps some strategic new acquisitions, but one thing I’ve learned as a cruiser is to live with less Stuff.  And that requires clearing out things that are no longer useful, and sticking with essentials.  Of course, I say that now….

One of the things I missed about living with my feet on the ground  [see how I did that?  that is what fancy writer-folk call a transition]  is live music.  We had the occasional opportunity to hear a local rake-n-scrape musician, or a bar band, here and there, but nowhere near the frequency or quality of shows I attend in “normal” life.  Even as we were making our way home, I was scooping up tickets to shows.  Not always easy when WiFi is patchy.

I was totally psyched to find out one of my favorite bands, Guster, would be playing at Merriweather Post Pavilion as part of the “Route 29 Revue” (here’s a representative Guster song, if you’re curious:, and quickly bought tickets.  But then another favorite, Pat McGee ( announced a show the same day at Ram’s Head on Stage in Annapolis.  What to do?!  I did what any fangirl would do: got tickets to Pat’s show as well.  Lucky for me, Guster would be done by 5 p.m., and Pat wouldn’t start until 8:30 p.m.  Plenty of time to get to Annapolis and change out of my Guster t-shirt (which, incidentally, is the only band shirt I own other than a few Jimmy Buffett shirts, and the only band shirt I’ve ever worn to a show).

I’ve often wondered how much performers can see from the stage, and even if they can see, how attentive they are to what happens in the audience.  Well, Saturday I learned that they can and do.

We had 5th row seats for Guster.  I call those grown-up seats, because for all the years Jimmy Buffett played Merriweather, we always sat on the lawn, rain or shine.

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Great views of Guster.

Although they were well-received — audiences love Guster, even if they’ve never heard of them, and this was no exception — it wasn’t quite a Guster crowd  The audience was waiting for Iron and Wine, Trombone Shorty, or Trampled by Turtles.  So the fact that I stood for their entire show, wearing my Guster shirt, made me noticeable. And lead singer Ryan Miller gave me a shout out!  Squeee!

Unlike Merriweather, the Ram’s Head is an intimate room, and audience interaction with the performers is inevitable (we’ve seen some pretty embarassing instances of fan affection gone out of control….)  And Pat McGee was clearly aware of the amorous young couple right at his feet (and just in front of us), who left mid-show to … er …. get a hotel room.  So during the encore, when the band unplugged their instruments and wandered into the audience, one of them used a vacated chair to stand on.


Pat McGee, right in front of us, unplugged.

Rick warned Pat to be careful of the napkin that the young lovers left behind, so Pat picked it up very gingerly by the corner before tossing it aside.

For us, another of the great things about Ram’s Head shows is that we can go “home” to Calypso afterwards, instead of driving back to our house.  Which is exactly what we did.  But it took me a while to fall asleep afterwards, since the endorphin buzz of Evapalooza took a while to wear off for me.

On the way home from Annapolis, we stopped at a produce market in the parking lot of the Easport Shopping Center.  As I was inspecting the wares, I heard Guster’s Satellite ( on the raido/Sirius/XM playing there, and absentmindedly sang along.  Just like the 20-something cashier.  We caught each other’s eyes, gave each other abashed smiles, and moved on.

Wonder if she has a t-shirt?




Doing Good by Having Fun

If you’ve been following this blog, you’ve probably noticed that we’ve been having a lot of fun on boats.  I’ve spared readers, for the most part, from the day-to-day grind of our lives and from weightier topics.  That isn’t what you come here for.  If you want news, do what I do and go to Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert….

But sometimes, we get to combine our fun with doing good.  Annapolis sailors are (in)famous for combining regattas and fundraising.  Many good causes receive support and attention, and Calypso or her crew have been there.  Most consistently, we have focused our efforts on Hospice Cup, as it’s a cause we feel justly receives our support, and one which has touched (or will touch) most of our lives.

The Chesapeake Bay Sabre Association — a club of which Rick and I are both past commodores — has been so successful at raising funds for Hospice Cup that the sponsors have stopped giving out the trophy for club fundraising.  CBSA has raised over $40,000 over the years; Team Calypso has raised over $5,000 of that amount.

But we’ve also been successful — both our club, and Calypso itself — in participation and WINNING the race.

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Team Calypso on the racecourse in the 2013 Hospice Cup.

Although we’ve never had enough Sabre sailboats in the race to have our own class, there are typically 5 or more Sabres out on the course.  And they do well (and, if I may say so, look good doing it).

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Last year, Rick and crew took 2nd place overall in PHRF-N.  And there are other CBSA boats on that list as well.


Calypso took the glory from Sailin’ Whalen and Graciella, who have long taken the honors.  But clearly Greg of Sailin’ Whalen (above) bears no ill will.

But Team Calypso took another honor as well.  By including a hospice caregiver on the crew, Calypso took the prize for best finish of a boat hosting a caregiver.


Rick handed that trophy over to Sarah, representing hospice, in recognition of all the great work hospice does.

This year’s Hospice Cup is on September 20, 2014, and Calypso will once again be upholding our club’s tradition on the racecourse.  (And then we will tarnish the club’s reputation at the post-race shore party….)

I invite all of you to help us support this terrific cause by making a donation to our fundraising page:

As an incentive, Team Calypso will match all donations made (up to $25 per donation, and up to a total of $250). Better yet, come to the party — great food, great music, great company.

City Weekends

Rick and I live in the middle.  Equidistant from Baltimore, where I work; Washington, where Rick has worked most often; and Annapolis, where we play.  It’s a perfectly nice house, in a perfectly nice community, but kind of a suburban no-man’s-land.

When we want to get into nature, we hop aboard Calypso and go.  Last weekend, we didn’t have time to go out overnight, so we used Sunday afternoon to duck into one of our favorite nearby spots: Saltworks Creek.  We inflated our water toys and explored most of the creek under paddle power.


I spent a lot of time on my kayak, chasing the blue herons.

Then we swam in the still-cool water, napped, had a dinner of whatever odds and ends we could find in the galley, and were back at the dock before dark.  It was relaxing and rejuvenating, and a perfect way to enjoy one of the nicest mid-Atlantic Augusts we can remember.

But sometimes, I have a craving to soak up some city energy.  Frankly, weekday work in a city center doesn’t provide that.  With a soul-sucking commute at either end of my days, all I can think about is getting the heck out of there.

So, I’m lucky to be able to enjoy city life on weekends from time to time.  I grew up in Chicago, and still have parents and siblings who live there, so I visit a couple times a year.  But my parents and my sister live in the suburbs, so if we wanted city action, we’d have to make a special trip and drive downtown.  Not optimal.  Until my brother obliged our travel plans by purchasing a  condo on Lake Shore Drive.  Now we have a city base for at least part of our visits.

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My brother’s place is a few blocks from Wrigley Field, where I misspent part of my youth for the $2 bleacher seats used to cost.  And across the street is Belmont Harbor, with SAILBOATS!


The Chicago skyline from my brother’s building.

Last year, when we visited in August, everyone we were hanging out with had a sailing bug.  We learned it’s not very hard to charter a sailboat for a few hours.  I’d never been out on a sailboat on Lake Michigan, so it was a thrill.

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What a great view to have from a sailboat!

The boat we chartered was kind of junky.  It had an engine that wasn’t quite as efficient as a hand mixer (I guess they didn’t feed the gerbils enough…) and no working instruments.  But that didn’t matter, because depth wasn’t an issue, and there were no obstructions — just get out of the harbor and go.  We had perfect wind and a great afternoon.

Two weeks ago, we decided to stay in a River North hotel for our visit, right next to the Marina Towers and the House of Blues.

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It was Lollapalooza weekend, so we just soaked up the energy of the city.  And concluded our day with dinner at an of-the-moment restaurant, next to huge open windows that let us enjoy the cool (especially for August) Lincoln Park breezes and watch the passing parade of humanity.

Today is our 25th wedding anniversary, so we made special dinner plans for last weekend.


Look at these innocent children on August 18, 1989.

For a local celebration, we don’t have to think too hard about where we’re going for dinner: Charleston restaurant in the Harbor East section of Baltimore.  (Clearly, we were not the only ones with the same idea, because at nearby tables there were 3 couples celebrating their 39th anniversaries, and a pair of rookies celebrating their first.)  But, because we knew we were going to indulge in wine (especially if we went with the wine pairings for each of the many small courses), that meant we were NOT going to drive home.  As we did for our 20th anniversary, we got a room at the Marriott Waterfront.

Our 20th anniversary was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.  We didn’t even mention to the hotel that it was a special occasion, but we got a room upgrade.  Not just any old upgrade, but an upgrade to the 2,700 square foot Presidential Suite.  270 degree views of the Inner Harbor and city, dining room for 12 people, full kitchen, etc. etc.   A VIP experience likely never to be repeated.  This time, I selected a slightly upgraded room category, and was delighted with what we got.

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Day and night views from our corner room.

As you can see, we got breathtaking views.  And you can also see a city that is much changed from the one I moved to in 1987.

Back then, parts of the land over which we looked were an EPA Superfund site.  Now, what is known as Harbor East is a hip, happening, vibrant and — yes, EXPENSIVE — neighborhood.  With my office building out of sight, behind others, I could enjoy this part of Baltimore for the escape it offers from suburban chains and highway homogeneity.  And, as we did in Chicago, and other cities we love to explore, we just took it all in.

Most of the time, when I want to escape, I think about a boat and water.  But sometimes, I want to escape into the fray of a city.


Where Do I Go From Here?

Well, Calypso’s Odyssey has been finished now for almost 2 months.  As you might guess, I miss many things about it, but I’m also grateful for the comforts of home.  As always,  I’m plotting the next adventure, and working hard to make sure that this “trip of a lifetime” is not just a one-time event.

Click above (on “MAP”) to see the final map of our journey.  We covered over 3,000 nautical miles by boat.  That’s not so much by air, a lot by car, but a HUGE distance by vessel that typically goes about 6 knots.  Not including all the amazing stops along the way.

I’ve really enjoyed writing about our adventure on this blog, and my monthly dispatches in Spinsheet.   Writing is fun for me, not a chore, and so I’d like to keep it up here.  So, while I won’t be posting as often here, keep watching this space for occasional musings about sailing and travel.  Feel free to make observations and ask questions.  I’ve loved having readers’ input.

In the meantime, if you’re interested in reading about my past travels, I’ve been keeping a website for ages.

Until next time….







Summer in Chesapeake Country

Now that I’m back to a land-based life, and work, I’m often asked if I’m now “done” with the boat for a while.  In fact, I am anything but.  Calypso now feels more like home than ever.  We’ve pushed her limits, and expanded her utility.  I’ve got enough gear and supplies on board to just turn up, or stay longer, without planning to have done so.

The big difference these days is having to work.  But my most valuable tools — laptop, iPhone, personal hotspot, full array of chargers, obliging captain — make it possible for me to meet my work commitments without sacrificing boat weekends.  Unless I explicitly tell them, no one needs to know that I’ve been taking conference calls and whipping out document drafts from the nav station or, when the engine is running, the v-berth.

Since we’ve returned from our travels, we’ve been making the most of our Chesapeake weekends.  And for the most part, the weather has been obliging, offering up sail-friendly breezes (and gale force winds — thanks to Hurricane Arthur) and weather than hasn’t been too hot.  Yet.

I finally got my hands on my long-ago ordered kayak, and returned Harriet’s loaner.  I tried it out in the friendly environs of the Wye River home of Running on MT.

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Protected water and lots of wildlife make the Wye River a great spot to kayak and SUP.

A more typical weekend activity is the raft-up, where we make plans to meet with friends in one of the dozens and dozens of nearby coves and creeks.

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On this particular weekend, we met up again with Running on MT in the Rhode River.  It’s not a particularly peaceful spot, but it is convenient.


It’s not a Bahamian beach, but this quite little spot of sand has its charms.

The girls get the chance to flex their culinary muscles.  Caprese salad (made with burrata – yum!) and tuna tartare are staples.  And on this particular night, I experimented with skewers of avocado, raw tuna, and watermelon with a tropical teriyaki splash; sounds scary, but it was yummy.

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After a few gin and tonics, and many glasses of wine, we’re happy not to have to hit the road.

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A beautiful moon over the Rhode River.


Because Annapolis is even smaller than Smalltimore, we of course run into other people we know.  Hello Pleiades!

A week later, we were back to the Wye River, this time on the southern branch at an every-other-year Annapolis Yacht Club Newcomers’ Rendezvous at the home of Dick and Karen Kimberly.  We had been asked to move our annual solstice weekend party for the Chesapeake Bay Sabre Association accommodate those of us who are also AYC members who wanted to attend the now-famous event at “Kleenex Cove.”

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Calypso in a cove just across from Kleenex Cove.  Meanwhile, we take advantage of the dinghy service offered to us by Comocean.  (Our official AYC name tags make it easy for us to remember who we are.  And — oh yeah — the names of new friends.)
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Lots of little boats at Kleenex Cove — both dinghies on the muddy dinghy landing, and me and Rick on our trusty paddled craft working off the sins of the coming night.
If you know me, you’ll know that there is a lot of sinning involved for me to get into the music.  Thanks to Comocean’s Phyllis, I wasn’t alone.  And I didn’t spill a drop.
Delaying our solstice party — which is officially known as the “Margaritaville Sailgate” party — didn’t dim enthusiasm for it.  Inspired by our southwestern France wine — I mean barge — tour, I borrowed the name of a Jimmy Buffet song to set the theme of the event: Turn up the Heat and Chill the Rose.  We headed to Eagle Cove on the Magothy River, served up a case of Languedoc rose, and all was good in the world. 
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The décor includes palm trees, Conch Republic flags, and lots of beautiful Sabre boats.
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 Thanks to Whisper and Scrimshaw, who joined us on the host raft, there was plenty of room for revelers.
At the party, Sailin’ Whalen’s coveted trophy was grudgingly handed over to Rick, who earned it at last year’s Hospice Cup Regatta.
Another weekend on the Wye followed.  This time, we sailed to a Running on MT party celebrating life, and in particular, some milestone birthdays.
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 Parties are much easier when you bring you bed with you.  Likewise, after seeing the reunited Subdudes at the Ram’s Head in Annapolis, we could just crash on the boat instead of driving all he way home.
We had a brisk sail home after that weekend.  But it was no match for the sail down in the gale winds kicked up by Hurricane Arthur.  Top speed was 10.9 knots.
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Rick has also spent time crewing on Sailin’ Whalen, as they moved their boat up the New Jersey coast for their summer sailing vacation.
I guess this all goes to show that while I’m not a “cruiser” anymore, I’m using my summer to extend the wonderful feeling of life on the water.
[P.S.  Thanks to Sailin' Whalen, Comocean, and Running on MT for some of these photos.]

Sipping From A Fire Hose

When I got home from work last night after cranking out 10 billable hours, I reached for some comfort.  Not just the Ugg flip-flops which are so much more comfortable than heels, and a glass of chilled white wine, but a treasure that I’d stashed in the boat freezer and brought all the way up the ICW from the Bahamas: lobster tails.  I turned them into lobster salad.  Dinner.

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Not quite the same as dinner at anchor, but it’ll do.

Today is Friday, and I’ve been back working for 4 days.  Four days, because I couldn’t face having my first day back be a Monday.  I was welcomed back warmly, and for that I’m endlessly grateful.  But I’m nevertheless somewhat shell-shocked.

After 7 months, I’d almost forgotten what fresh hell commuting can be.  We live near NSA, where thousands of jobs have been added in the last half dozen years.  Except they didn’t bother adding infrastructure like, oh, road capacity.  So I had to deal with that congestion.  But once past it, I’d forgotten that the only appropriate speed to drive is 19 MPH over the speed limit.  I’m not used to moving that fast; I was only going 10 over — in the right lane — and was being mercilessly tailgated until I stepped on it.  Then I discovered that since I left, road destruction has taken over every route into the city from the south.  I’ll have to refine my coping mechanisms if I’m to survive commuting in anything other than a dinghy.

Luckily, I have a pretty view in my office.

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A picture of an Albury Brothers 20 we’d once rented, anchored over Tilloo Bank in the Abacos.

Which is a good thing, because I’m going to be spending a LOT of time there in the coming months.  While my work had slowed to the point that a sabbatical was do-able last fall, I’m now in great demand.  (Which makes me wonder whether my colleagues missed me, or my capacity….)  I’m glad to have the work, but I’d been hoping for a gentler transition.

There are so many things to get re-accustomed to now that I’m working again.  I have to wear more than sunscreen, shorts and a t-shirt to go to the office.  I have to get up early in the morning to spare myself the worst of the commuting.  I can’t just have a cocktail before dinner, followed by 2-3 glasses of wine, on a “school” night.  I actually plan menus and make shopping lists, instead of picking up random available items in the supermarket.  Life is much harder than just looking for a likely spot for finding sand dollars; I’m chasing American legal tender now.

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Not looking for these dollars anymore.  And the only sharks are opposing counsel.

But right now, the hardest part about coming back to “real” life is the ordinariness of it all.  I don’t feel like I’m in the middle of being special and different anymore.  I live in a normal house (not a boat), in a normal place (not an exotic island), doing normal things like working (not making overnight passages or exploring uninhabited beaches).  I know I’ll be back someday, but it’s a long way off.  Sigh.

But at least I can still dream about it.

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Shroud Cay, Exumas.

Paris in Black and White

Earlier, I’d written that as kids, my sister and I imagined Europe was black-and-white, based on my parents’ old home movies.  Actually visiting there dispelled that notion, as reality tends to do.  But the days we spent in Paris definitely felt black-and-white.  We’ve been dogged by lousy weather since we left Charleston, and our few days in Paris were no exception.  Grey, cold, rainy.  Ugh!

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This picture of the Eiffel Tower looks pretty much the same in black and white as it does in color.  The only color we saw much of in Paris during our visit was green — it’s a city with a lot of trees.

Here’s the same photo, in B&W with only green picked out.  Sort of makes my point!

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The only place we really saw much color was in the flower markets on Ile de Cite.

My principal goal in visiting Paris was going to Roland Garros, one of tennis’ four “Grand Slam” tournaments.  While I won’t go so far as calling myself a tennis fanatic, I took up the game when I was 14, played on my high school team, and have been a player and fan – with a few hiatuses – ever since.  Attending all 4 Grand Slam events – the Australian Open, Roland Garros, Wimbledon, and the US Open – is on my bucket list.  By attending Roland Garros, I’m now ¾ of the way there, having also been to the US Open many times (it’s do-able as a day trip from Maryland) and the Australian.  Wimbledon next year?

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Me and Rick in front of Court Suzanne Lenglen.

I’d arranged to get tickets through Championship Tennis Tours, and requested first round tickets on Court Suzanne Lenglen, one of show courts.  When the tickets are purchased, there’s no knowing who will be playing and on which court.  CTT and the scheduling gods came up trumps for us.  CTT came up with a VIP package that gave us access to a separate entrance to the grounds and lounge where endless champagne flowed – which turned out especially useful during the several rain delays we endured.


A champagne lunch in the VIP lounge under Court Suzanne Lenglen.

And the schedulers gave us Rafael Nadal against Robby Ginepri of the US.  Rafa is the No. 1 player in the world, the defending champion of Roland Garros, and the most dominant clay court player of all time.  Not bad!

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Rafael Nadal serving, and returning.  Which view do you prefer?

We didn’t have much time left in Paris after a day at Roland Garros, as we’d planned this trip while I was working and needed to get back to work.  Which, of course I still do.


The view from our room.

Since we only had one full day to look around, we did a quickie tour by Metro, tour boat on the Seine, and lots of walking.


Ile de Cite and the River Seine.

The tour boat was super-cheesy, with lots of schoolchildren aboard, but gave us a good orientation.  We got to gawk at many of the sights along with them, starting at the base of the Eiffel Tower and ending past Notre Dame.

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More views of the Eiffel Tower.

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Breathtaking Notre Dame.

Then we walked along the banks of the Seine for hours, despite the cold and wind.  My impressions of the City of Light were clouded by the weather and by the crowds – for example, we’d hoped to visit the Musee d’Orsay (the Louvre is closed on Tuesdays), but the lines would have consumed the better part of our day.  At least we visited an interesting exhibit on tattoo art at the Musee Branly.

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The unusual plant-covered exterior of the Musee Branley, and the exhibit we toured.


We didn’t go into the Louvre, but walked the grounds.

As limited as our self-tour was, we confirmed that Paris is nevertheless a stunning, life-filled, historic, beautiful, stylish, vast city deserving of more time than we had available.  It’s also crowded, maddening, confusing, and loaded with traps for the unwary (e.g. pickpockets and other scammers).

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And it can be very expensive.  We ended our tour with a stroll down Rue de Faubourg Saint-Honoré, one of the famous shopping streets in Paris.  As much as I wanted to bring home a high-end souvenir from Hermes, I was out of luck (I’m hopeless with square scarves, and so would not be willing to spend several hundred Euro to play with one.  And the huge crowd of foreign shoppers – which made the store feel like a Coach outlet before Christmas with a sale on – was off-putting).  At last, I spotted gorgeously-colored handbags in a shop window, and felt like a kid in a candy store, when I discovered I could buy an orange leather tote bag body, add a fuchsia zipped pocket, and aqua handles.  Except the body was 500€, the pocket was over 200€, and the straps were 195€.  Each.  Bye bye beautiful orange bag….

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Locks placed on bridge railings by lovers.

And goodbye to our European adventure.

I’ll have more thoughts to share about our sailing odyssey and our travels in coming blog posts, but right now I’m facing going back to work next week.