“You live on a boat?! How is that? Does it move all the time? How does the weather affect you? Where do you keep your stuff? Do you have electricity? How about fresh water?Do you have a real kitchen? How do you deal with waste? Are you connected to cable and WiFi? Does your dog like living on a boat? What happens when you go sailing?”
Do you have electricity and water? Heidi and Aaron get this question quite often. Yes, I am a boat. But I’m a finely appointed vessel, built to cruise the world. So although I don’t offer amenities such as a dishwasher and washing machine, I have systems that provide far more than a roughing-it camping experience. These systems are quite complex though, and we are very fortunate that our Captain is an electrician who understands the intricacies of maintaining my electrical system and will be well-versed on my new water-maker in the coming months.
Hilary McKittrick was a precocious child. She had the run of her grandparent’s Belfast farm and loved exploring the large piece of land. She often told her parents about her friends and their adventures and they laughed at her vivid imagination.
Aaron and Heidi were both raised by sailing fathers and being on or around water is as natural as walking on a sidewalk for landlubbers for them. Their prior spouses both enjoyed boating … at a much faster speed than sailing generally allows. And definitely not on a full time basis. So, neither got as much water time as they craved until they bought me. Now it’s water-time all the time!
Lack of food and water had taken a swift toll. She lay naked on the hospital bed, soft fleece blankets draped over her private bits and the white wisps of her hair surrounding her face like a halo. A fan gently blew cool air on her feverish body and damp cloths draped her forehead and neck. Her limbs were mere sticks and she had to be turned every few hours to prevent bed sores. The vibrant, quirky woman of only 63 was now reduced to barely more than a skeleton, eyes sunken in her face and breathing so shallow that one had to watch closely to see that she was actually still alive.
He tied the rubber tube around his upper arm, holding one end with his teeth to pull it taut. He made a tight fist, took in a breath and jammed the needle into the bulging muscle. Breathing out and releasing the tourniquet, he stared at the reflection in his bedroom mirror. Not big enough.
Vivo O Sonho 