Cat Fangus Merangus says, "Hello World!"

Life is crazy (and perfect); you never know where it will take you. Last October when I went to the Seven Corners New Seasons to buy tea and lemons, I had no idea that it would lead to sailing on an epic journey less than a year later! In fact, at the time, I was sick as a dog and bleeding like a stuck pig, and was just hoping I would feel better the next day. But as fate would have it, as I entered the store, I ran into Michael, who had just gotten off work. We had met six or so years earlier when he threw freight at night at the Concordia New Seasons (where I still work). We'd run into each other again and again over the years, and have always been friendly and exchanged casual chitchat, but we'd never been anything but acquaintances. But as I was leaving the store with my purchases, that night I heard a quiet voice behind me ask,"Mind if I walk with you?" There was Michael, with his trusty bike. I didn't mind at all, and we had a lovely walk and talk. He told me of his plans to sail on a photo documentary of Baja and beyond. As it turned out, he needed a partner and I needed a quest. It has just kept going from there. The universe has consistently conspired to arrange this voyage through unexpected help and 'lucky' breaks. Like finding an inflatable dingy on craigslist for $100 in Brookings, OR, which led to a lovely albeit short road trip along the gorgeous Oregon coast. That night, we stayed in Gold Beach, where I bought a golden goose lottery ticket on a whim to satisfy a little goose obsession I'd been having, and ended up winning $50. And most recently, Michael heard about a little single boat haul out joint from our neighbor Jack. He called Phil at the Tomahawk Island Marina, and as it turned out Phil was booked until July except for this past Tuesday through Thursday. We decided to go for it; the weather was _supposed_ to be nice. Of course, this is Oregon, so it wasn't until Thursday, right after we got the boat back in the water. But we learned that you can paint a boat in the rain (you make duck tape gutters above where you are painting and the water drips off them instead of running down the side of the boat), and Michael found a can of $180 bottom paint on consignment for $80 at Colombia Marine Exchange. All in all, we did it for $420 and we had the opportunity to invest a lot of love and time into Minor Key's happiness. It was an enlightening and empowering experience, and it gave me a chance to witness her in her full glory, fully exposed and perfectly balanced(which I feel is a noble thing in any being). Tomorrow will be seven months exactly since that fateful Monday night, and both of our lives are astoundingly different now. I gave up my cute little apartment in South East Portland in February and moved on the boat with Michael. It feels a little like being out in the country, and I find I don't miss the buzz of traffic and people. The river is a beautiful and calming influence, and the best back yard I've had since I left the home I grew up in, which was in the countryside of San Luis Obispo county, CA and five miles from the nearest bus stop. I gave away the majority of my belongings (boats are small, and there's no room for useless nicknacks, a queen size futon, dressers, bookcases and 75 pounds of clothes). Michael cleared out unnecessaries as well to make room for the books, fabrics, and art supplies I felt would be useful for our free time on the trip (and was unwilling to part with). I am currently enrolled in a sailing class at the Portland Sailing Center and enjoying it immensely. As I learn more about sailing, boats, and cruising, I am discovering a whole new world and a new society. I geek out pretty hard core over sociology, anthropology, psychology and philosophy, and I find the cruisers' mind state and outlook fascinating and encouraging. I am also excited to have a chance to use all that Spanish and French and possibly the Japanese I learned in school but haven't practiced enough. I'm finding that the T'ai ji chuan I've been studying for the past four and a half years is incredibly useful for balancing on a rocking boat. And the fact that I've blown bubbles almost every day for the past 14 years has taught me how to feel and know the wind. I've discovered that the years of customer service has done wonders for my patience, understanding, and helping me get over my shyness with strangers. And after being at my current job for seven and a half years, change feels due. I find myself grateful for the lessons I have learned from the experience, but now we are both very much chomping at the bit to leave. We still have four months until we plan to leave, so the patience will come in handy. I do feel incredibly grateful to the universe and to Michael and Minor Key for the chance to steer my life on a new course with the sweetest man and most beautiful boat I have ever met! All thanks to a perfect and loving universe! Thank you for reading; may you have a blessed day! Cathy: over and out.