15 May

Ouest and I have been playing Mailman lately. I’m the mailman and I make deliveries to her. Before I give her the mail I say, “Special delivery for Ouest. Oh, hello, who are you?”

Reaching out for her stack of cards she blurts out, “O-U-E-S-T. Ouest Lill Schulte. Forty-three pounds. I live on Bumfuzzle. I’m from Mexico.”

And really, that’s all you need to know about her. With that information she should be able to find her way home from anywhere else in the world. At the very least her mail will always find her.

We’ve had something like three weeks now of nights in which there is not a ripple on the water. There is absolutely no motion on the boat, no way to sense that we are actually on a sailboat floating on the ocean. When living on land, staring out at the ocean, it always seems to be mayhem out there. From that vantage point the ocean seems so forbidding a place—even to me right up to this day. Which is why to so many people the idea of living on a boat is completely outlandish—you’d have to be out of your mind. But the reality of the ocean is that it lies flat for us more often than not—whether in port or a thousand miles from land. Which is why this outlandish lifestyle works I suppose.

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