JANUARY 3, 2008

Anchors
Cuban cigars, five bucks
Guinness 7.5%
Ruth and the Giant Pineapple, the new book
whole fish on a plate=Delicious

JANUARY 3, 2008
Jack here. Wow, it’s hard to believe it’s 2008. After people said Nostradamus said it would end in 1994, I’m still getting over the shock of still being here. I’m kidding, of course. It’s weird to see that number though. 2008. It’s odd every time. I didn’t even get used to the last… dozen or so year numbers. Anyway. How are ya? Huh?
Fine, be secretive. Ruth and I are outside of Staniel Cay, tucked up around the south side of the neighboring islands, Little Majors in particular. You could probably find it “on-line,” if you have the “internets,” they tell me. Basically, the deal is that this here cold front has been causing some fright of a wind, and besides blowin’ about sumpin’ fierce, it’s got the localfolk half bugaboo, scurryin’ about, like some chicken what been deprived of their hat racks. It come from yon’ northerly horizon yesterday abouts, and has been whuppin’ n’ hollerin’ to beat the band since. 20-30 mph winds, or 30-40, depending who you talk to, for two days, or five, depending again, on your company. We came up in here yesterday morning, running the engine trying to get some power, and basically ended up eating about $30 in gas, with little progress, trying to keep cold about $8 in food. We had a deal with Chubby to pay about $10 to charge the batteries at the dock for a few hours, but couldn’t get in, because the winds had started blowing already. We hadn’t even felt it, or the waves, because we were pretty sheltered there by the beach, except for two things, neither of which was the weather.
The first was the New Year’s fireworks, which looked like the intensity of those over the Detroit River, just smaller, and the bottom side being about 15 feet above our mast. But all’s well that ends swell, they say.
The second was when the barbecuers on the beach got done showing the races that we were in on video while they served a $15 dinner, and then afterward burning all the trash. And I mean, ALL the trash. Food, paper, Styrofoam, plastic, the trash bags, everything. We were immediately downwind of this, but don’t get jealous, because it’ll reach everyone sooner or later. That’s my number one bitch about this place: they don’t have trash disposal, so even at the dump, they just SET FIRE to all of it. It’s nuts. The club charges $5.00 a large bag, and $2.50 a small bag to dispose of your stuff, and you throw it in their trailer, and when they have a few thousand dollars worth, they drive it to the dump and set it on fire. Shit, I could have done that.
My only other complaint is that polluting the planet costs so much here. At home in Detroit, it’s FREE to burn garbage and wreck the environment. Hot bargain, that.
I suppose that’s typical human behavior though. Never knowing how good we have it and that it can get so much worse. I guess we’ll all know how much worse in good time.
Anyway, enough of such lighthearted chitter chatter. Ruth and I are holed up here, for another 1-4 days, with water, canned food, and a few books. And I’m trying to sift through the documents of what State Farm (really Hammerman and Gainer) owes me. We soaked beans for a few days in saltwater, and then made beans, burger and rice with them after cooking and tenderizing them a godawfully long time. We then took the salty bean runoff and made bean soup, just by adding a can of vegetables and some beans, burger and rice.
Ruth started to read “the Story of O,” but she says it’s a pretty miserable affair all around, so we’re going to play cards and read “the Old Man and the Sea” to each other later. We’ve both read it, but it’s a great book, with such good rhythm and focus. Some of Hemingway’s other stuff (“For Whom the Bell Tolls,” most notably) I couldn’t care less about, but I though this one was quite an achievement.
Anyway, battery power is precious, and you’ve just eaten up 9 of my 32% remaining. I must run now. Fiddledee dee, and all that rot.
XOX,
The JL