In general, I don't miss TV very much now that we are without one. I canceled our cable even at home a few months ago, and sold the TV itself earlier this month, and hardly noticed it was gone with so much else going on. We never considered replacing it when moving aboard, although many people do have TVs aboard these days. Dedicated marine satellite TV receivers are one option, and if you spend most of your time at the dock, Comcast is available at every slip here at Shilshole. Dish antennas abound, clamped to rails or in makeshift mounts on the floats themselves.
We don't really have the room or the desire for a dedicated TV, and with options like BitTorrent and Hulu we can pretty much keep up with any of those shows that we do deem as "must see" TV.
But fall is upon us, and with it football season, and this is where my plan is failing me, because football is an event best viewed live, and the NFL and NCAA are both extraordinarily protective of their respective properties and considerably behind the times in their adoption of web-based technologies.
I can almost always find Seahawks game audio streamed from the various radio stations that follow them, but I like to watch, too. NFL's GameCenter web tracker isn't terrible for a visual representation, but it doesn't sync with the audio and it's a little dry and statistical. Here, atdhe.net is my friend. The site is an aggregator of sports video streams, originating from individuals who are generous enough to put up streams direct from their own TV receivers by a variety of means. Most NFL games can be found there, although bandwidth can be a problem. I'm not sure if it's primarily at our end (I suspect this is the case; the marina wireless is not overly robust here) or elsewhere, but it's generally a serviceable quality. I'd like to find out more about the whole operation, which is apparently run out of France, but they are understandably reticent to put up much information about how it all works.
Husky games are more difficult. They have a service similar to NFL's GameTracker, run by CBS Sports, but it's much harder to watch as they have sauced it up and made it 3D, which only muddies what is actually going on. Sometimes more popular college match-ups can be found on atdhe but not, for example, yesterday's game against Stanford (although considering the outcome, perhaps it was a blessing I couldn't find it). To make matters worse, however, the NCAA has a web blackout it imposes against streaming radio stations, so I couldn't even listen (we don't have a standard radio receiver aboard for similar reasons as the TV).
I have found a number of somewhat shady looking services online that claim to stream web video of just about any game but until I can dig up more about them, I am hesitant to offer up my credit card number. Anyway, it's an interesting challenge to figure out what I need to do to get these things for free; they are, after all, broadcast openly over the air, so there isn't any inherent reason they shouldn't be equally available online.
Anyway, the 'hawks and Bears are neck and neck right now with six minutes left, so pardon me while I return my attention to that side of my screen.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Herbert the Heron
Mandy has decided that the Q dock heron here at Shilshole is named Herbert. I was thinking Henry, but whatever. He's a wily one, in his own way, so I haven't managed to snag a picture of him yet. At the same time, he's remarkably tame, and seemingly curious about us people and our strange ways. A couple days ago he scared the heck out of me as he blasted off with a godawful squawk from the next finger dock outboard of us when I was clambering out of our hatch early one morning bound for the restrooms. Coming back, he got me again, this time by perching atop a radome on a stern rail mast right next to a wind generator... in the half light, the silhouettes are remarkably similar and my mind just registered two generators there (as unlikely as that may be) until he blasted off.
Even when he isn't trying to scare you, Herbert is a little bit spooky. Last night I was coming back down to the boat after dark, and saw someone walking ahead of me down the float. Lighting along the floats here is from little lamps installed in the utility stations at the head of each slip pair, resulting in little twin puddles of light marching down the float in regular order. It's kind of dim and cool and hits people about waist level, allowing you to see them as a set of sort of disembodied legs either approaching or receding along the float ahead of you. So people look a little strange anyway, and it didn't hit me until I was within 60 feet or so that the guy walking down the float ahead of me was actually Herbert.
I slowed down a little bit, thinking I might get the drop on him and even up the score in the scaring the heck out of people game, but he knew right where I was. When I got within about twenty feet of him, he calmly turned off onto a finger pier and wandered down to where two neighbors were kicking back over beers, probably to try and bum a Coors off of them. He didn't say anything as I went past and I didn't either, and as I was packing my stuff down the companionway I saw him stalk past on the main float continuing his casual inspection out toward the end of the dock, sans beer. He didn't seem too put out, though, probably understanding it was always a longshot and that he would have had trouble carrying it anyway.
Lately he's been surprising me less often, as I am on to most of his hiding spots, but what with him being a bird and all, there's always the vertical option, and he can relocate from mast to mast in near-silence. Still, he hasn't been blasting me with that terrible noise even when he does get the jump on me, and I take it as a sign that we are now known and welcome inhabitants of his dock.
Whoop... he's squawking about something outside right now. Did Timmy fall down the well? I'd better go check.
Even when he isn't trying to scare you, Herbert is a little bit spooky. Last night I was coming back down to the boat after dark, and saw someone walking ahead of me down the float. Lighting along the floats here is from little lamps installed in the utility stations at the head of each slip pair, resulting in little twin puddles of light marching down the float in regular order. It's kind of dim and cool and hits people about waist level, allowing you to see them as a set of sort of disembodied legs either approaching or receding along the float ahead of you. So people look a little strange anyway, and it didn't hit me until I was within 60 feet or so that the guy walking down the float ahead of me was actually Herbert.
I slowed down a little bit, thinking I might get the drop on him and even up the score in the scaring the heck out of people game, but he knew right where I was. When I got within about twenty feet of him, he calmly turned off onto a finger pier and wandered down to where two neighbors were kicking back over beers, probably to try and bum a Coors off of them. He didn't say anything as I went past and I didn't either, and as I was packing my stuff down the companionway I saw him stalk past on the main float continuing his casual inspection out toward the end of the dock, sans beer. He didn't seem too put out, though, probably understanding it was always a longshot and that he would have had trouble carrying it anyway.
Lately he's been surprising me less often, as I am on to most of his hiding spots, but what with him being a bird and all, there's always the vertical option, and he can relocate from mast to mast in near-silence. Still, he hasn't been blasting me with that terrible noise even when he does get the jump on me, and I take it as a sign that we are now known and welcome inhabitants of his dock.
Whoop... he's squawking about something outside right now. Did Timmy fall down the well? I'd better go check.
Friday, September 18, 2009
New normals
When I was a child, if I woke up before the rest of the household (at least during the cooler months of the year) I would wait until our forced air heat came on before making the noisy climb down from my bunk bed to the floor so as not to wake anyone else. If I moved around thereafter, reading or playing quietly, I would similarly wait for one of the heating cycles. Often as not, I would park myself over one of the heat vents, sometimes using a blanket to form a sort of one-man teepee to trap and funnel the warm air.
I find myself reverting to those patterns these days, waiting to get up in the morning until our space heater kicks in so as not to disturb Mandy. Then I turn it up all the way, increasing both heat and white noise in our small cabin area, and turn in toward my nook back at the nav desk to stay toasty while I putter around at my computer.
I've been waking up early remembering odd dreams lately. Last week, I was a character, the narrator, in a Nick Hornby novel. I woke up with vague memories of articulating my strategy for keeping a map of the homes of my favorite rock stars, but using false names for each of them so that if the map should fall into the wrong hands, it couldn't be used as a guide for stalkers or other nefarious agents. It's just exhausting to dream that sort of thing... you wonder if that's where he gets it.
Before that, I had woken early another morning having dreamt of reading a terrific Terry Pratchett novel, remembering the clever plot and several inventively written scenes revolving around a civilization with only one book which was added to piecemeal over the generations, only to realize that he had never written such a novel at all. If he does come out with it I will be torn between suing for infringement or hanging out my shingle as a telephone psychic.
I'm hoping that sleep patterns and other basics will get back to normal now that we have gotten the house ready to rent out, but I am slowly realizing that I am going to need new normals now. The summer has been a whirlwind and maybe that is what was needed to break us out of our old life before settling in to the new one; the boat seems a haven now, rather than a limitation. Although we are still finding places to stow all the last-minute stuff that we discovered we "must" have with us (I expect much of this stuff will disappear soon enough; having grabbed it up in haste and panic like a drowning man clutches at a life ring, we will likely cast it aside just as he might when he finds himself in much shallower water than he imagined) it seems much more manageable than a household full of such stuff. Things have their place here, and everything has to be in its place, or the disarray is obvious. It's a bit like those big tool boards they use in kanban manufacturing systems, where outlines are drawn or cut in precisely the shape of each tool, so that anything out of place is immediately missed and can be located and restored. If you see anything sitting on a settee or table in here, it's not where it is supposed to be, and needs to be put away.
There is tremendous comfort in that, even though the "away" places are not yet all as well organized as they might be. The knowledge that everything we have is there for a reason and goes someplace in particular, and that we can push it all back away from the dock at any time and go wherever we want with it is reassuring... something that can be controlled in otherwise uncontrollable times.
In some ways I know that this is misleading; there will still be externalities to deal with even living aboard. Making a living, managing assets, and so forth will not simply go away. But it's been remarkably easy for Mandy to produce much of her material while we are out and about, and as I move more toward supporting her business and focusing on time-limited, narrowly focused engagements in my own, I have to think it will all work out okay for me, too.
There are lifestyle issues; it can be very damp and every item aboard must be guarded in some way against being wrecked by water inadvertently. It's cramped and confined, especially for me. I have found a suitable work space, wedging myself into the nav desk area, and I don't hit my head on the overhead or companionway hatch much anymore, but I'm simply never going to fit well in the tiny shower/head. We went to the Boats Afloat show last week and I was incredibly envious of all the new, large interiors on display there.
But it's still new enough, or different enough, to be a little bit magical, and it's compensation enough for now to feel the boat rocking gently beneath you as you wake up in the morning, to see the sun reflecting off the water on the late summer afternoons, to hear laughter and see lights in the portholes around the marina as evening falls and to feel very tucked in and secure in your own boat.
I find myself reverting to those patterns these days, waiting to get up in the morning until our space heater kicks in so as not to disturb Mandy. Then I turn it up all the way, increasing both heat and white noise in our small cabin area, and turn in toward my nook back at the nav desk to stay toasty while I putter around at my computer.
I've been waking up early remembering odd dreams lately. Last week, I was a character, the narrator, in a Nick Hornby novel. I woke up with vague memories of articulating my strategy for keeping a map of the homes of my favorite rock stars, but using false names for each of them so that if the map should fall into the wrong hands, it couldn't be used as a guide for stalkers or other nefarious agents. It's just exhausting to dream that sort of thing... you wonder if that's where he gets it.
Before that, I had woken early another morning having dreamt of reading a terrific Terry Pratchett novel, remembering the clever plot and several inventively written scenes revolving around a civilization with only one book which was added to piecemeal over the generations, only to realize that he had never written such a novel at all. If he does come out with it I will be torn between suing for infringement or hanging out my shingle as a telephone psychic.
I'm hoping that sleep patterns and other basics will get back to normal now that we have gotten the house ready to rent out, but I am slowly realizing that I am going to need new normals now. The summer has been a whirlwind and maybe that is what was needed to break us out of our old life before settling in to the new one; the boat seems a haven now, rather than a limitation. Although we are still finding places to stow all the last-minute stuff that we discovered we "must" have with us (I expect much of this stuff will disappear soon enough; having grabbed it up in haste and panic like a drowning man clutches at a life ring, we will likely cast it aside just as he might when he finds himself in much shallower water than he imagined) it seems much more manageable than a household full of such stuff. Things have their place here, and everything has to be in its place, or the disarray is obvious. It's a bit like those big tool boards they use in kanban manufacturing systems, where outlines are drawn or cut in precisely the shape of each tool, so that anything out of place is immediately missed and can be located and restored. If you see anything sitting on a settee or table in here, it's not where it is supposed to be, and needs to be put away.
There is tremendous comfort in that, even though the "away" places are not yet all as well organized as they might be. The knowledge that everything we have is there for a reason and goes someplace in particular, and that we can push it all back away from the dock at any time and go wherever we want with it is reassuring... something that can be controlled in otherwise uncontrollable times.
In some ways I know that this is misleading; there will still be externalities to deal with even living aboard. Making a living, managing assets, and so forth will not simply go away. But it's been remarkably easy for Mandy to produce much of her material while we are out and about, and as I move more toward supporting her business and focusing on time-limited, narrowly focused engagements in my own, I have to think it will all work out okay for me, too.
There are lifestyle issues; it can be very damp and every item aboard must be guarded in some way against being wrecked by water inadvertently. It's cramped and confined, especially for me. I have found a suitable work space, wedging myself into the nav desk area, and I don't hit my head on the overhead or companionway hatch much anymore, but I'm simply never going to fit well in the tiny shower/head. We went to the Boats Afloat show last week and I was incredibly envious of all the new, large interiors on display there.
But it's still new enough, or different enough, to be a little bit magical, and it's compensation enough for now to feel the boat rocking gently beneath you as you wake up in the morning, to see the sun reflecting off the water on the late summer afternoons, to hear laughter and see lights in the portholes around the marina as evening falls and to feel very tucked in and secure in your own boat.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Catching up
What with all the running around we have been doing since we got back from the honeymoon, it hardly seems as if we actually are back... we've just slipped off into some parallel universe where we have no home and no permanence but simply slide from one hectic journey into the next with short pit-stops in half-familiar boats and houses.
I mentioned the yacht club event that we attended the week after we got back; after that, we scrambled around catching up on work for a week and then a friend and I attended PAX here in Seattle the following Friday (exposing ourselves to swine flu in the process, apparently... I feel fine, though. achoo!). The next morning, Mandy and I got up early and drove to Spokane, where we stopped off to check out our recently minted lawyer friend Loyd's new digs and our friend Don's ongoing remodeling project (both looked good), then continued on to a family camp out up on the St. Joe River in northern Idaho. It was a little drizzly, on and off, but we had a good time and got to catch up with a lot of family we have not seen in a couple of years.
Coming back through Spokane on Monday, I got a text message saying another friend had fallen and broken her ankle. Apparently there had been rain on both sides of the mountains, and she had slipped on some slick stairs and smashed it up pretty good. I got to see the films later after helping her get to a doctor's appointment--they were pretty ugly, chunks were off floating around randomly in places where there aren't supposed to be any chunks. She had surgery last night and got a skyscraper's worth of hardware installed but she'll be laid up for a while.
So this week has been a lot of running around in between helping with that situation and Mandy have another presentation in Federal Way today. We're supposed to be getting the house cleaned up and cleared out and ready to rent, but our time has been available here in such limited chunks that we aren't making much progress... or if we are, it doesn't really look like it.
Tomorrow we'll get a truck load of stuff off to storage though, and hopefully that will help. I plan to get everything that we want to hang on to stored, and then go through and just shovel everything that is left into the truck to go to either Goodwill or the dump. Our goal is to get everything clean enough to have potential renters able to start looking at it by the fifteenth. We had better, because the Lake Union Boats Afloat show starts the next day, and I plan on attending. Of course, we're missing out on the annual Wooden Boat festival in Port Townsend this weekend, but that is at least partially because I thought (or had been told, by someone who ought to have known better!) that it was last weekend and not this one.
Anyway, we're staying busy, but we're not making a lot of progress. Hopefully next week will change all that.
I mentioned the yacht club event that we attended the week after we got back; after that, we scrambled around catching up on work for a week and then a friend and I attended PAX here in Seattle the following Friday (exposing ourselves to swine flu in the process, apparently... I feel fine, though. achoo!). The next morning, Mandy and I got up early and drove to Spokane, where we stopped off to check out our recently minted lawyer friend Loyd's new digs and our friend Don's ongoing remodeling project (both looked good), then continued on to a family camp out up on the St. Joe River in northern Idaho. It was a little drizzly, on and off, but we had a good time and got to catch up with a lot of family we have not seen in a couple of years.
Coming back through Spokane on Monday, I got a text message saying another friend had fallen and broken her ankle. Apparently there had been rain on both sides of the mountains, and she had slipped on some slick stairs and smashed it up pretty good. I got to see the films later after helping her get to a doctor's appointment--they were pretty ugly, chunks were off floating around randomly in places where there aren't supposed to be any chunks. She had surgery last night and got a skyscraper's worth of hardware installed but she'll be laid up for a while.
So this week has been a lot of running around in between helping with that situation and Mandy have another presentation in Federal Way today. We're supposed to be getting the house cleaned up and cleared out and ready to rent, but our time has been available here in such limited chunks that we aren't making much progress... or if we are, it doesn't really look like it.
Tomorrow we'll get a truck load of stuff off to storage though, and hopefully that will help. I plan to get everything that we want to hang on to stored, and then go through and just shovel everything that is left into the truck to go to either Goodwill or the dump. Our goal is to get everything clean enough to have potential renters able to start looking at it by the fifteenth. We had better, because the Lake Union Boats Afloat show starts the next day, and I plan on attending. Of course, we're missing out on the annual Wooden Boat festival in Port Townsend this weekend, but that is at least partially because I thought (or had been told, by someone who ought to have known better!) that it was last weekend and not this one.
Anyway, we're staying busy, but we're not making a lot of progress. Hopefully next week will change all that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)