Posted on: June 2, 2011 Posted by: Cole Ruth Comments: 0
View looking over the rope bumper on the small boat.

Awoke to the fog horn early in the morning, but fell back asleep having looked at my watch and discovered I had another hour to sleep. During the night my cold had returned with a vengeance and I slept poorly, coughing phlegm up like it was my job, as Captain Flash would say. Then Neb woke me up and asked if I knew that the time had changed, but only on my watch, not for the ship? It was seven o’clock. I had 30 minutes to get breakfast on. 

Last night I made two pie crusts for quiche, but that would’ve been tough to pull off anyway given the washing machine of a sea we were still getting kicked around by. 

Neb didn’t mention anything about Rigby being hurt, though, so I was surprised to find him prostrate on the settee when I started setting the table for breakfast. In fact, Rigby said, we were altering course in order to get him to a hospital. He had fallen and hurt his shoulder pretty bad.

Homemade tortillas for taco night.

I was walking though a haze, the cold like blanket hanging on my eyelids. “A purple haze?” asked Captain Dashing. No, I laughed. I think I’m finally pulling out of it now. Having the boat docked is giving me some brief respite. Everything is easier.

Since we’re sitting outside town aways, at a commercial fishing dock, there’s nothing to do off the boat. So I’m making English muffins, because we’re out; tortillas, because I don’t have a ton. I made rice Krispie treats because they love ’em and they’re easy. And I may make dough now for cookies so it’s not as hard later, when we’re at sea again.