I'll Huff and I'll Puff and I'll...

The story of the three little pigs has always brought comfort to me during big storms. Brick is definitely my building material of choice when it comes to taking cover. Wood is OK nowadays -after all 12808 Caldwell is still standing, right? But there's no way you'd find me in a straw house during a storm, no way Jose. Tonight I'm wishing there had been a 4th little pig -- living in a fiberglass house. It would be nice to have conclusive evidence as to what happens when things start huffing and puffing when you're in a fiberglass house, otherwise known as a boat.

Never before has my day-to-day, make that hour-to-hour, life been so affected by the weather as it has over the past week and a half, here on the boat. True enough, I've read many books on "living aboard" with more than a few chapters devoted exclusively to weather. I've actually looked forward to wearing my foul weather gear, which includes a day-glo yellow hooded rain jacket and knee-high rubber boots (black with white polka-dots and pink trim) because they're so cute. But holy-crapoly! I've been on board for what? 10 days? I've already experienced 2 Tornado warnings with gale force winds, and tonight -- driving rain, again.

My rain-hat is TOTALLY off to my friend Rosemary and her husband Joe who, once upon a time, lived aboard a sailboat -- without electricity -- for a LONG time. I'll have to check with her to confirm just how long, but as I'm sitting here with the season finale of Dancing with the Stars rocking the surround sound in the salon, with the bright halogen lights on and air conditioning keeping things cool -- man I feel bad at how good I've got it.

But I have to say -- even when "roughin' it easy" like I'm doing out here, there is still a measure of battening down the hatches that has to happen when severe weather comes rumbling through. When the wind kicks up and the boat starts swaying from side to side pulling on all 6 lines tying it to the dock, it's like riding a Shamu-sized mechanical bull. OK, maybe in slow motion, but still. The rain starts coming down with a tink-tink-tink of high velocity raindrops on the fiberglass deck. Your brain goes through an automatic checklist of securing breakable things sitting on the countertops on the inside, then making sure zippered windows are zipped, overhead hatches are sealed and all the snaps are snapped on the outside. If you're like me, you prefer a nice natural breeze to 24 hour air-conditioning (sorry honey, I know you prefer 24-hour A/C) so all the windows are open. You have to rush around in a semi-panic to get everything closed up before the entire cockpit is soaking wet and blown to bits. It's weird, I'm not one of these people who's scared of a little thunder, lightening and driving rain -- but with sideways rain coming at you like a fire hose has been turned on AND it's dark and windy and choppy, let's just say it's a little nerve-racking until you're all closed up.

Then there's always the chance the power may go out so it's pretty important to know where the flashlight is at all times (and can I say, Thank God for cell phones!). All along the dock are power receptacles where you hook up to "shore power" (for electricity... but this is also where you plug in your cable TV and run your water [don't mean to rub it in Rosemary, sorry!]). A massive yellow cable as big around as a child's arm with a huge plug the size of your fist is plugged into the the shore power tower. For good measure, the actual outlet for the fist-sized plug is located behind a metal cover the size of a toaster that opens "up" -- not "out". Got the picture? So on occasion, the power goes out on one side of the dock, but not the other. When this happens, you have a choice. You can sit in the dark with no TV or AC, or you can brave the elements and go "plug in" to the other side of the dock. I have been through this ordeal of unplugging (er, yanking with both arms and legs while screaming and cussing at it like a crazy person for good measure) one of these electrical anacondas, hauling it over to the nearest power towers across the dock, while balancing a flashlight AND a golf umbrella turned inside-out in gale force winds, sideways rain and an electrical storm. No joke, it's happened - I swear. Not exactly a good mix, is it? Surrounded by water on all sides, clothing soaked through with rain, trying to plug into who knows how much voltage, holding not one metal object but two, all the while pleading with myself to hold it together another minute and you'll get the lights back on if you don't get electrocuted and fall into the water never to been seen or heard from again, first. But I digress.

Anyhow, there's one more critical reason to have the power on. It's the toilet. After the first lightning bolt scares the figurative AND literal *shit* out of you -- you better hope the power is still on so you can flush the toilet. At what point will I wimp out and chuck the flashlight and umbrella, pack up and go to my Mom's - 15 minutes from the marina? I'm thinking Hurricane season will be the true test. Ah. Life on the water. What's that saying about a bad day fishing is better than a good day at the office? Yeah, it's something like that.