The party that night was fun. I’ve developed a habit of staying up until the break of dawn with the boys. There were fireworks of Illegal quality, ducks (I’m serious Sullivan’s family has pet ducks) a pack of seven little yapping dogs who bite and snap at your ankles anytime you walk across the living room floor, smoked deer meat, beer, sparklers, meat loaf baked into zucchini, and an orange cay named Tommy.
And today was my second to last waffle Tuesday. Two weeks left is creeping in, seeping in, sinking in with heavy gravitational weight. So sudden I desperately want to see all my people and do everything I can before I go. Weekends are already booked and pushed and crammed into every free second I have. Weekdays I’m still charting, mapping, leaving open to the wind and getting an idea of best course to sail. I am resisting the expensive urge to go out each and every night I have left.