Eve and Strauss are sprawled out on the galley sole (floor). Harrison is hunkered down in the pass. I’m half-in, half-out of my bunk. We’re listening in the dark to Johnny Cash’s Live at Fulsom Prison album. Buttons is on duty tonight, so every now and then I look up to see her sitting on the steps of the companionway.
We’re hiding out. Listening to music in the dark in order to escape that big noisy wedding outside, and the “village” none of us want to be visiting.
I tried to take photos of it from our sail today, but they just don’t seem to do the place justice.
Not long after we scooted in from our last sail of the day, my friend Marc texted me: Were we docked beside the concrete embankment, beside the grassy lawn with a silver convertible parked on the other side? We were live on web cam, updated every ten seconds. I went and stood behind the convertible, and occasionally waved up at the building across from me.
“That’s not the first Harborcam we’ve been on,” said Harrison at dinner. Who knew? All this time, I could have been sending messages to the outside world. This time the message is: HELP!
Ten more days left on my contract. Ten more days spent here on The Truman Show. If you’re out there, in the outside world, and you still exist, wave back, will ya? Let us know there’s hope after Bay Harbor.
Cherry cream cheese bread pudding
Soft tacos with leftover carnitas meat and smoked whitefish
Banana bread, Bittman’s recipe but with chopped dried dates in addition to the coconut and walnuts
Bibimbap (“Remember that day when you made it twice?” asked Buttons.)