“It’s supposed to rain this weekend,” I’m not interested in sailing when its raining and not at all warm yet like it should be.
“But its going to be windy! 15-20 knots!” Geoffrey wants to go sailing, rain and thunderstorms or not.

And it was a beautiful, sunny day when we got out in the boat with just enough breeze to make the sailing fun. Mom came along with her dog Savannah, who was enjoying the wind in her face and the tons and tons of birds on the lake. Mom was amazed at how well she took to the boat, not having problems with the bouncing and the leaning of the boat.

We were enjoying our sail when suddenly a gust of wind hit the boat. Geoffrey released the sails and we turned to the side, the boat behaving perfectly as it was supposed to. Ahead we could see a dark gray cloud sweeping down. Geoffrey cut on the motor as I pulled down the sails and we raced across the lake to the little marina with a burger joint in it we were headed to for lunch.

After burgers and chips (no fries, apparently a squirrel got into the transformer and blew the power on the deep fryer), we headed back out to our little sailboat, which was rocking along against the dock. We threw off the lines and decided to race the next storm back to the dock.

Of course, we couldn’t sail faster that the storm was coming, so it caught up to us about halfway back across the lake. Geoff assured us he could handle the boat by himself, so mom and I crawled into the little cabin of the boat and Savannah insisted that she was going to come along. She was just wet enough to eminate a good wet-dog-stink from all her fur. Mom threatened her with a bath, but she ignored this and curled up on the sailbag, happy to be out of the wet.

As soon as the storm calmed down, I opened the top and ejected the stinky dog. She was none-too-amused by this and scratched at the window in the door, indicating she would far rather be inside than out with her otherwise beloved Geoffrey. So we let her back in and opened the inside windows to try and get the wet-dog-stink out of the cabin. By the time we pulled up to the dock, the storm had past and it was a beautiful, sunny day once again.

“There’s no place better to be on a rainy day than in the cabin of a boat,” Geoff says as we pull up to the dock and start to unload the boat.
“Well then,” mom says, gathering up Savannah, “I’ll go home and y’all can go back out in the middle of the lake and drop anchor.”
“Nah, that cabin is cramped and I want a warm shower,” I reply. Geoff agrees, at least on the warm shower part. Poor boy got soaked through. The boat needs a bigger cabin…with a little shower…I’m thinking 38′ would be nice…

For my IS class we’re learning how to program in HTML – rather old school for me, but it lead to me looking through all my old websites and some great fun. From the time I was in middle school up through when I started grad school, I completely changed the look and feel of my website every 3 to 6 months. And then there were the tons of sub-sites that were created and then forgotten. The quotes pages from professors. The Ashen Prose D&D club. The German club. NetMerlin (complete with stick figure profiles!). And tons upon tons of pictures. Every site was completely different and designed with much love and care. I’d forgotten how much fun it was!

My site for the IS class is significantly less exciting, but maybe all this website playing will inspire me to give my site one last final makeover before I graduate and get a real job.

Oh, and on my blog I used to count the number of speeding policemen I’d seen. This now amuses me greatly.

Beautiful weather and I’m stuck sitting in a classroom for eight hours a day. This in itself is what makes Bridge the Gap an evil, evil program. Spring break and I’ll spend more time in a class room in two days than I normally spend in a week. All the while the sun is shining for almost the first time this year and I want nothing more than to get outside.

Today after Geoff picked me up, I insisted that we had to spend the remaining hour of sunlight outside. Somewhere, anywhere. So he drove us down to the dam end of Riverfront Park and we walked out to the overlook, watching the water spill over the top of the dam while Geoffrey explained the purpose of this to me.

After a while, one of the park rangers came down with some people offering a tour of the fish ladder. Ok, sure, why not? He takes us around to the gated off area and lets us walk down the fish ladder. You can see under the grate where the fish can climb up a foot of water and then take a break in the protected areas. He also shows us the window all the fish swim by so that the local biologist can count them (and also how the window is marked off in boxes so no fish stories will result from the counting…”I saw a fish this big…”).

“This is where the catfish wait,” our guide tells us, pointing to one step in the ladder, “and gobble up the shad as they pass. And behind you, that rock is where the snakes sit with their heads out of water while they feast. And of course there are gulls and herons and other birds that feed off the fish trying to come up the dam.”

Geoffrey and I walk past the NO FISHING sign at the end of the dam.

“So basically, every animal in the park except humans can fish here. Feast off the fish buffet as the fish are neatly channeled through for the eating pleasure of the snapping turtles, the snakes, the bigger fish, the birds and whatever other hungry fish-eating wildlife there might be.” Geoffrey agrees and then starts explaining how hydro-electric dams work. I’m still trying to decide whether the fish ladder is an improvement for the fish or not. Maybe they can get higher up in the river, but the odds are pretty bad.

Finally! The weather warmed up enough for Geoffrey and I to take the boat out this weekend. We were hoping for warm weather and light winds, but it wasn’t quite warm enough and the wind couldn’t make up its mind whether to let us sail or not. I was glad I had a jacket and was happy to cuddle up while we switched from sail power to motor power and back…like all the other sailboats out on the lake.

“Geoff, isn’t that boat headed downwind?” I point to a lovely white cruiser off our bow. Geoffrey trains his new spyglass that direction and identifies the type of boat, number of people on board and what they are drinking. I have much less talent with the telescope.
“Yes, they are, but their sails are wrong. Must be why they’re moving so slow.” We watch the boat with its sails fully rigged but pulled in straight, unable to catch any wind, slowly motor towards us.

“They’re cheating!” Geoff declares just as the low hum of a diesel motor catches my ear.
“Then why are their sails even up?” I ask.
“They look pretty?” The couple on the other boat salutes us with their beer cans. Must be nice to have a boat big enough to have a head on board…

…I got Geoff the pirate flag, maybe for his next birthday I’ll get him the brass cannon and let him go capture us a bigger boat…

From our honeymoon. Geoffrey, “Get me a pirate flag and a brass cannon and I’ll show you how to get a bigger boat.”

For the last several weekends, Geoffrey and I headed down to his farm so that he could plow. This really is exactly like it sounds. Farm. Tractor. Middle of nowhere. Lots of trucks. Bumpy dirt roads with no streetlamps and huge potholes.

The first weekend we were down there, I spent all day relaxing and reading and generally enjoying myself. When Geoffrey came in that evening, I was ready to go do something fun.

“There’s nothing to do around here.” Geoffrey’s tired and his hands are scratched from cutting things.
“No, surely, lets go get ice cream!” Everywhere has ice cream, right?
“There’s nowhere to get ice cream here. But lets go. I’ll show you what there is to do here.” He washes his hands, puts on a clean (plaid) shirt and we get in the truck.

After about ten minutes of driving (field on one side, woods on the other – turn – field on other side, woods beyond) we come to a small bar on the lake.

“This is it.” Geoffrey pulls up and we watch as drunk young men stumble off their pontoon boats and into the bar. “This is what people do around here on the weekend.” We drive around some more and then go home.

The next weekend we’re headed back down, almost to the house, when Geoffrey spots some lights out in one of his fields. He throws the truck into reverse, backs up and shines his lights out into the field until the car that’s at the other end pulls out and drives towards us. Geoff circles around and catches them.

“What are you doing in my field?” Geoff calls out the window. In the other little station wagon are two women.
“We were looking at the mud puddle back there. I was hoping it had dried up, but its still there.” There is some debate and hostility until Geoff has established that these are his fields and the woman has established that she does live in the area and wasn’t getting into trouble.

“So that’s what people do here on the weekend for fun, huh? Look at mud puddles.” I find this somewhat amusing.
“Oh, she was probably just trying to find a way to spy on her husband,” Geoff’s mom tells me.

Apparently her husband lives in the woods. Has lived there for years. Has a nice little camp set up back there. All the neighbors know about it. And she just wanted to know if the mud puddle had cleared off the path so she could go spy on him.

So, if you live in the middle of a farm in the middle of absolutely nowhere, for weekend amusement you and your friend go spy on your husband that lives in the woods. Huh. Well, my husband doesn’t live in the woods (except occasionally when he and the guys go hiking) and I hope that it stays that way. So I’m going to have to keep looking for what I want to do on those farm weekend nights.