I got a bee in my bonnet a few years ago that life might be simpler (i.e., cheaper) if I were to live aboard a boat.

To wake up every morning to the fresh sea air on my face. To wander down the marina as I sip my morning coffee. To never pay rent again!!

I wondered with the Guster’s reaction would be, but I was sure that he would adjust to his new surroundings.  We both would.  There might be a little bit of anxiety and sea sickness at first, but ultimately we would achieve a truly sustainable way of life.  He would take up fishing with his mighty cat claws…perhaps he would catch both our dinners!  And the days he would spend sunning himself on the deck.  He would be happier there, he’d learn.  It would be a good place for him to grow old.

Imagine the sunsets we would see from our birthing spot on the San Francisco Bay.  Imagine how real the storms would be, with waves sloshing all around us.  It would be a truly glorious adventure.

I started searching Craigslist for boats for sale or rent. Most of the boats I found did not have the ethos of my romantic adventure, which had its origins in the beautiful boxy houseboats of the canals of Amsterdam.  The boats I found were small, and made of plastic. They looked more like a child’s toy then the home base for this beautiful life.

Something inside of me knew that the right boat was out there.  I searched on. Continue Reading

(I cannot vouch for the truthiness of this story…but it comes from a credible source 🙂 )

My grandfather was a geologist. He was sent out mapping all over the country, and dragged the family with him. From what I hear they had some major adventures–lots of camping for weeks without running water, and lots of moving around.

One day they were some place with a county fair. Most places have county fairs, actually, so this could very well be anywhere. County fairs were a very important social activity back in those days when people didn’t have a Wii to keep them locked up at home.

For whatever reason my grandfather took a job dressing up as a Native American at the county fair (???). I’m not really clear on how or why, but apparently he made a pretty ridiculous Native American as he was fair haired and absolutely coated in freckles. (I guess they didn’t have any better options?)

At the fair, there was a fellow there operating that game where you toss a coin into a sea of bowls. If you get one in, you win a prize. I’ve only ever seen goldfish for prizes, but on this occasion they were ducklings.

The fellow operating the game noticed that if my grandfather (ridiculously dressed as a Native American) hung around near the game, more people would come play it. He offered my grandfather ducklings in exchange for having him hang around the game when he could.

My grandfather earned a total of three ducklings. My mom, being the oldest, was given two. Her little sister–six years younger–was given just one to care for. Apparently it is very easy to “assign” ducklings to new moms; stick them all in a room and it just happens. This answers one of the questions I raised in my duckling documentary fantasy.

Apparently, though, ducklings will poop anywhere. Also, they will poop anytime. These facts will definitely impact how the duckling documentary will go. Zach will eventually realize he should just coat the floor of his apartment in newspaper. Those scenes where Zach and the ducklings go to the bank and the grocery store will be legendary. And I bet Zach could get them on a plane in a carrier.

The story of my foremothers’ and the ducklings ends rather sadly. Their ducklings followed them to and from, and they grew to be great friends with each one. One day my aunt put hers on a swing; a heartbreakingly fatal error. But, as the duckling documentary also relates, though the friendship of a human and their duckling may be brief, the lesson of love stays with us.