We arrived in San Diego February 8, 2016 at 11:30 p.m. to make Sonrisa our new home. Over the last three years she grew more and more like home, now, she just is home. We gathered up one load of crap from the car, and wheeled two fully loaded carts down the dock.
Then, we went directly to bed. I slept so soundly that when I first regained consciousness I wasn't sure where I was. "What is this wonderfully cozy place?" I thought, "Oh yes! This is home!" The sun was already up and warm. San Diego welcomed us with an 80 degree day. We sat in Sonrisa's cockpit on our comfy beanbags, drank our coffee and held a quick planning meeting: (1) unload the car, wine being the highest priority before the heat ruins it; (2) pack everything into Sonrisa; (3) Get the dinghy registration numbers on the dinghy; (4) stop working at 5 and head out on a sunset, dinghy cruise.
And we were off. I was in charge of trying to organize and pack everything onto the boat. Most of what we brought was the leftover food in the freezer and the pantry. Much processing is required to figure out which hidey-hole to stick everything into. All cans must be labeled with sharpie in case the labels wear off, and everything must be packed in a manner that will not break, burst open or otherwise cause mayhem when the boat starts rolling around. Not an easy task, but someone has to do it. For the most part, Andrew stayed away, giving me full reign of the organizational process.
By the time we returned with everything from the car, every last space in the boat was filled with a glorious mess. After the house, I am starting to feel like this process will never end. It's a little overwhelming, but I'm like Dory in Finding Nemo: "Just keep packing, just keep packing." Keep the faith, it will all find a place somewhere. I prepare a spreadsheet so I can keep track of where I put everything. I am a vacuum sealing, can labeling, spreadsheet organizing maniac.
Around 5, Andrew insists that I take a break, and we head out on our dinghy cruise with the last scoche of scotch in the bottom of one bottle. (YAY! One less thing to pack!) The air was cool, but perfect. The porta-bote planed nicely, and we sped into the bay. The west-face of the cityscape glowed with the reflection of the last light of day; one lone sailboat silently slid along in the foreground...
I had to get a picture of that! So, we caught up to the sailboat and took a few shots. We shouted out to the sailboat owners to get their phone number to send a photo over, then circled around and headed back. Just like dinghy pirates. The narrowest slit of a moon was rising over Point Loma. What a perfect day.
My boat is still a mess though.