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Selkie - Last Blog: Leg 2: Day 16



So here we are under 100 miles to the Azores. It’s been two days since I’ve kept a journal or written anything. After my last entry, which was a poem, I had a hard stint keeping adjusted to this life. Every once in a while, I feel like I’m in that horrible novel and movie, The Keeping Room. Like Nick has swept me away into one room that I cannot escape, and then I check myself and count myself lucky. Right? I’m on a yacht with four children that safely crossed the Atlantic Ocean! Not many can say that, but it’s gotten to the point that none of us change out of our long john pajamas. I get up wearing them and before I know it, it’s time to get back into them. Oh, wait a minute. I’m still wearing them. And my hair as well as my girls’ hair… it is so snarled it looks like an expensive Victorian up style that I spent two weeks preparing for the Azores. It will take hours to wash and brush out. And food. Oh food. It’s been days with just cans, and I’ve been creative! I’ve managed Chili, Minestrone, sun-dried tomato Alfredo, Spaghetti, tuna pasta, and I still have some cans up my sleeve, but we dream of huge pizzas, big juicy burgers, and we promise to eat out the whole week we are in the Azores. We honestly won’t mind waiting any more in a restaurant attempting to try to keep our children on good behavior. Let’s just sit and let others mix up the best ingredients, fresh ingredients. I even watched the cooking movie, Julie and Julia last night on my shift. I dream of those fresh open markets with so much food, cooking anywhere that has a stable huge open kitchen, and holding a delicious glass of wine that does not spill over when I set it down. As for the blog Julie keeps on Julia Child while she cooks, well you tell me? Should I start one? Would anyone actually read it? Does anyone care, besides our family, what we are doing with our lives? Are we interesting enough? Am I sharing anything that others can learn from or enjoy? Maybe. The girls miss home. They sit with me in the cockpit and ask, “Can we talk about land life?” Poor things dream of sleepovers with friends, though they have had a few at sea, cookies with grandma, tag in a lawn, their Baba’s dog Angel, and playgrounds. We’ve had a hard time keeping up with the ARC. After a year adjusting to the we-don’t-do-anything-in-a-hurry Caribbean life, we just don’t know if we can make the next leg in time. Don’t get me wrong, the ARC helped us cross an ocean and we are eternally grateful, but by the time we reach the Azores the finish line will be closed and the timeline for the Azore’s festivities starts ASAP. Selkie needs bandaids. I need ground and food. The kids need to run. Nick is fine though. He is a true sailor. He just needs a bath. So I will close out this leg of the crossing with a song dedication to my fine husband: “Wild Horses” by the Rolling Stones, because apparently I will follow him anywhere.


--
Maggie
Magdalena Hirt
 
"Writing is a process, a journey
into memory and the soul."
                          -Isabel Allende


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