Avast, ye maties! Aargh!

I am one of the leaders for the young men at church, and as such am always looking for opportunities for new things and getting them out of their comfort zone.
Luckily I have a kind and generous brother, and luckily he has a sailboat, as well as lots of other fun things to do at his house in Maryland.  Five of our young men and I traveled to his place for a couple of days this week to coincide with Spring Break.

They took full advantage of the opportunity.  They fell off kayaks.

They fell off jet skis.

They fell off the climbing wall in my brother's barn (don't worry, they were harnessed and belayed).

They fell asleep on the sailboat.

They did fall-away shots playing midnight basketball (all right, all right, enough falling).

The weather was great for sailing, with good wind and weather.

Everyone got a chance to captain the boat,

some with more style than others,

and some more intently, as he refused to be distracted by the ones that had climbed in the dinghy being towed behind.

To add to the adventuruousnessability of the trip, the motor on the little Zodiac dinghy decided to pout, and no, the young men did not actually save my life when I was ferrying them to Shark Tooth Island in heavy chop and winds when it heaved over and they shifted to my side and I fell over backwards over the side and had to grab the transmission in to neutral and they had to pull me back in because the sides were oily slick and there was nothing to hang on to and luckily I had thought ahead and left everything non-waterproof back on the boat.  They did not actually save my life, but they helped a lot.  Not enough to warrant their claims for full tuition at private colleges and to be included in my will, however, that's clear.  And don't let them try to persuade you otherwise.

The dinghy motor problems were solved, and the young men took advantage of the quiet cove anchorage for the night, and practiced their skills in the Zodiac.  They need more practice.  Trust me.

The anchorage afforded a comfortable night, giving time to fake yoga on the pulpit.

As I have said many times before, my brother is one of my heroes, being generous, funny, and always looking for things to learn and adventures to conquer.  He took all of this calmly, even napping a couple of times while my erstwhile sailors threatened our very mortality at the command of the vessel.

The guys enjoyed living aboard the boat for a couple of days.  The accommodations were not this crowded.  This was more like "How many young men does it take to stuff the fo'c's'le of a sailboat?"

It was indeed a great adventure,

with a happy ending.  Something about kissing 'terra firma' or whatever.

We hope that your adventurousness trips turn out as well.
Dave

You can only be young once....

but you can be immature your whole life!  Yee Hah!

Paula and I have windsurfed for literally 30 years, and every year for 20 years, until 2011, we traveled to Cape Hatteras in the fall and occasionally in the spring to do so. The Pamlico Sound is shallow, but subject to ocean winds, and so it's a superb venue for such things, and getting together with my brother and a great friend from medical school and their wives is just a great, fun, immature week.

Our friend, an ophthalmologist from my medical school class, began kiteboarding eight or nine years ago, and my brother and I started playing with it a little bit before we left town for a while. There are a ton of crazy physics involved, but it's a graceful-looking sport, and we wanted to learn it.

I was just starting to maybe understand it a teensy bit, had bought a kite, and then, whoosh! Paula and I were off to South America for five years.  Meanwhile, my brother and my friend kept at it, and are now expert.

Even when the wind doesn't blow, the Outer Banks are a great place to be.

And it's fun hanging out with my brother and our long-time buddy.

Would you let any of these guys a) laser your eyeball, b) deliver your baby, or c) replace your hip?  Heck, no!  Run!

We hope that your friends are as fun, and that I can get better at this stupid sport, even though I'll never catch up to them.

Dave

The stuff that matters

       I received an e-mail from Ashley late last night letting me know that they (though not their luggage) had arrived safely back in Tajikistan, and that even though it was 6:00 AM in Dushanbe where they live, they were all going to bed.  Wimps!  Just because they had left here some 42 hours earlier to begin their trip?!  Sheesh.

       So now the house is quiet again.  Paula has let her Inner Orderly Person run wild, and all the sheets have been washed, the bedrooms vacuumed, the Legos detected ("Ouch!  My foot!") and put away, the miniature pair of tights extricated from between the sofa cushions, and the pacifier reached from under the bed.  

       Was it therefore terrible when the Legos were strewn about, or when the cover finally fell off Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile, because after thirty five years it had been read one too-many times?  Is it better now because Joseph's interminable questions no longer need addressed?  ("Does the little red car go fast because you put gasoline in it?  Is it my turn to smash the cans for the recycling?" etc., etc., etc.)

       No, it was, and is, not better.  

       The things that matter happened in the midst of all of that.  It matters that Grandpa didn't blow his stack about the book, but instead said, "Yeah, it was getting old. It's a great book, isn't it?  Your mommy liked it when she was your age."  It doesn't matter that there are no longer pages of sketches strewn about, but that Sophia heard Paula say, "Wow!  You're really getting good at drawing people!" It doesn't matter that someone started playing the piano at 6:00 AM sharp every morning, but that joy was found as small fingers caused something beautiful to occasionally occur.

       It doesn't matter that chaos reigned at 7:30 in the evening - it matters that once night gowns and pajamas were in place, dad read a few more pages of Harry Potter and the Whatever, and that the day ended with everyone kneeling in family prayer.

       It mattered that everyone knew that they were loved, and that they knew that they were part of a family that intended to be good.

       So, yeah, the house is clean and quiet once again.  But it was the other stuff that mattered.

Dave

Visas, schmisas!

We have loved having Ashley and Brandon and The Gang here since a couple of days after Christmas.  They were scheduled to leave a couple of days ago, but thanks to sluggish responses both in Washington, DC and Tajikistan, an entry visa for the new kid didn't make it on time.  And no, as much as we love him, they can't leave him here.  Uh, no.  

Cute, but not going to happen.  

While the kids and Brandon were visiting his folks in Missouri, we took advantage of no little helpers and repainted the family room.

For various reasons, including how things are in Tajikistan, Ashley has home-schooled the kids. We've been impressed at how disciplined she has been with them, even here. However, the school books and materials were all packed in anticipation of their departure, so a holiday has been declared. They've visited museums and the North Carolina zoo, and enjoyed some good spring weather.  The kayaks came out again, terrorizing the frogs in the pond.

I mean, if you were a Lithobates sphenocephalus and spotted the above dangerously-overloaded craft heading your way, wouldn't you go back in to hibernation? Even before you saw The Dread Pirate Jo-Jo sailing at you?

All watercraft episodes end with waterlogged participants, and this was no exception, though they noted "Wow! My legs are tingling!"

Years ago, I built dry-stack walls for terraces in Paula's garden, but over the years, they demanded more and more nimbleness on her part as they became more and more wobbly. So, professionals were called in.

This has been of great interest for the grandkids, who incidentally have learned the importance of a) proper preparation of foundation soil, 

b) the value of a plumb line and adequate reinforcement of a masonry wall,

and c) correct mortar proportions (3 parts sand, one part dyed cement, appropriate H20), as well as the expected solidification time for 63 degrees ambient temperature (Fahrenheit).

They also helped grandpa put in a new strut bladder on the family kitesurfing kite, after grandpa popped the @#$%^ first one.

While everyone was at the zoo, Paula and I attacked the kitchen, getting it painted before they got back. 

No kidding, when they got home, the Dread Pirate Jo-Jo asked several times if he could help paint. I like the kid, 

but putting a paint brush in this guy's hand and letting him loose with yellow paint is as smart as, oh, I dunno...

or maybe....

The nice spring weather means eating lunch outside. 

Baby Doll (real name) needed nourished also, apparently.

Gang Sliding may make it in for the 2020 Summer Olympics.  Dangerous, but a real crowd pleaser. Haven't their parents ever heard of helmets? And shoulder pads?!

About the only thing wrong with an extra week is that they start looking for more things to do. This kid was arrested for doing 45 mph in a school zone.  And driving on a license from Tajikistan.  An expired license from Tajikistan, no less.  Diplomatic immunity counts over there, not here, sister.  

Anyway, we are perfectly fine that the incompetence unexpected delays of the two governments have doomed the Sherwood family to an extra week with us.  We love them, and will miss them. Though the Great Blue Heron decoy will probably be relieved.

We hope that your house is equally nutso, but in an equally great way.
Dave & Paula

Same title, different operations

During my years as an Obstetrician-Gynecologist, I learned and performed various operations having to do with bladder dysfunction.  While not universally successful, a lot of folks' lives were helped through the efforts.  

I haven't been in an operating room for five and a half years.  However, for a couple of years prior to heading to South America, I was periodically trying to learn to kitesurf, again not always successfully.

Most kites have a frame consisting of inflatable tubes and struts, both to keep them light, and so that they'll float in the more-or-less likelihood that they'll end up in the water.  In my case, more.

During a recent activity with the young men at church, I brought my kites to show them something about the sport.  We inflated my eight-year-old kite, and sure enough, age, abuse and long storage had taken their toll on the air bladder of one strut.  "How come it doesn't stay inflated, Dave?  How does that help?"  

So, off to the operating room, sort of.  

I guess you can say that what goes around seems to come around.  Once again, I'm doing bladder repair procedures, though with some differences.  For instance, the kite doesn't require anesthesia, I can quit in the middle of the operation and have lunch, my pre-op discussion with the patient is much shorter, etc.  

I'm super excited about a trip with my brother to the Outer Banks of North Carolina in a couple of weeks, and just hoping that the procedure has been a success.

We hope that any bladder repairs in your family are likewise successful.

Dave 

Don't knock your house down

Baby William was blessed by his father in church on Sunday.  My Sister Kathleen and her husband Bruce came from Maryland, and our daughter Brynn and her husband Chad and their gang attended, so we had all the grandkids in one place.  Against all odds, we were able to immobilize them, in church clothes nonetheless, long enough for a picture.  Note: my new bridge appears structurally sound.

Of course, they then scattered and resumed normal kid-ness.

but for that instant...

Once again, it has been good having Ashley and her kids around. Several parks are close, with fun equipment.

Baby William has been, well, like a 2-3 week-old. I've always wondered about the expression, "slept like a baby." I think that would mean waking up, crying and demanding to be fed every two hours, much less exhibiting control of bowel or bladder.  However, in general, he's been OK.

There always has to be a project, right?  I started working on the pocket door for the kitchen that Paula has bugged me about for years, and luckily my brother-in-law has done such work for a long time.  He was invaluable in preventing me from collapsing the house around us.  ("You mean that if I cut those 2x4's right there, the upstairs hallway stands a good chance of leading directly in to the kitchen?")  OK, I did get to buy some more tools, so all was not lost.

As Bruce put it, and I have confirmed through numerous projects, "It's always a surprise when you start working on a house."

All in all, a great visit, and continued fun having the grandkids around.  Ashley's husband bravely set out with the five older kids driving to Missouri this morning to visit his parents for a week.  We then just have another week before they all return to Tajikistan.

We hope that your grandkids visit you, and that you don't knock your house down trying to follow your wife's orders wishes.

Dave & Paula