August 20, 2013 00:00
30 50.11 S, 173 28.07 E
Greetings from the open ocean! Papillon is two days and about 275 NM out of Opua, so this post is coming to you via the old-school magic of single sideband radio. Your correspondent gave into curiosity a few weeks ago and checked out marine satellite internet systems. After I picked myself up of the floor, my brain aching at the cost, I gave my trusty Pactor modem a friendly pat, and decided such luxuries as posting photos and checking failblog will have to wait until we return to port. As is often the case, low tech is happy tech on a boat.
It hasn’t taken long to settle into our passage routine. The first couple of days of passage are a free-for-all. The girls read, play, watch movies, eat, and stay in their pajamas day and night. I take Sea Legs religiously, feed the masses, read, and sleep. And Erik puts sails up and down with a zeal and regularity that makes me feel like I am living in some sort of a nautical brothel, without the naughty bits.
But today, things get back to normal. School this afternoon. Family-wide resumption of regular chores. And the Nail Fairy.
Back in Whangarei, Indy managed to slam her finger in a car door. It turned purple, the nail began to lift off, and as the weeks went by, we slowly trimmed it back, bit by bit, to keep her from catching it on something and ripping it off completely. The usual. This week, she was down to a 2mm-wide section clinging to one side. And Indy had plans.
“Hi, Mom.” Indy woke me this morning with her hand in my face. “Look. The rest of my nail is coming off.”
I cracked an eye open. “So I see. Want me to clip that off for you?”
“Yes, please. I’m going to leave it for the Nail Fairy.”
“The Nail Fairy,” said Indy, as though I were mentally deficient.
Indy is four years younger than her sister, and has long been jealous of Stylish’s encounters with the Tooth Fairy. Now that Stylish does the breakfast dishes and earns a modest allowance, this jealousy has increased. I scented a con for easy money.
“Honey, there is no Nail Fairy,” I said.
“Mom, you’re hurting the Nail Fairy’s feelings.”
Groan. “Okay. I’ve never heard of the Nail Fairy. But if there is a fairy out there who collects post-injury nail clippings, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t pay for them, like the Tooth Fairy does.”
“That’s okay. We’ll make an origami basket and leave it for her anyway.”
I know better than to fight city hall on that one. So that is my next job. Heaven help me, I’m leaving out a nail for the Nail Fairy tonight, in a teeny-tiny origami box, probably with a note that says, “Dear Nail Fairy, Please enjoy my yucky bit of nail. Leave money here. Love, Indy.”
If she shows up, I’m going to be a little concerned.
This article was syndicated from Sailing Papillon