Owl Post

A white owl sat on one of my spreaders the night before R. left the Delta.  I was waiting for a letter from Hogwarths but maybe because R. was sitting there the owl kept the letter for later.  I hoo-hooed to him and he flew away.

Now I’m parked at “my office,” a picnic table oasis where it is possible to catch the fickle wifi signal.  I don’t have enough sun at my boat to make solar oven bread and so I swiped a marina cart and am towing the solar oven around behind me, parking it in good sunlight for as long as it needs to cook Swedish bread and brownies.  That gets a lot of commentary.  “What are you up to NOW?”

I appear to be a continuous source of entertainment for this crowd.

I procrastinated for as long as I could on the broken marine head problem.  Yesterday I finally did the Royal Flush and spent my afternoon in a painful half crouch twirling not-quite-the-right-screwdrivers on blue calcified hand pump bolts.    I put it back together ok, but it still leaked.  The answer was my favorite Lanakote.  I slathered it on both sides of the new rubber flappers and valves so it would seat securely.  It protected my hands from the briny blech, but made the screwdriver twirling a lot more challenging.  No more leaks.  It appears I have solved the problem until the flapper breaks again.

By the way, on my Linked In page I am listed as a Boat Systems Actuator, which R. was kind enough to point out are the same initials as Bull Shit Artist.  I guess it’s one and the same.

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