My neighbor across the street owns a boat. John is a 74-year-old shop teacher who is always on the move. During our dreary Oregon winters, he’s in New Zealand (where it’s summer), doing volunteer work on a series of farms. During the summer, he motors around southeast Alaska on his 38-foot boat. (He’s here for a couple of weeks in April, and then again for three months in the fall, but otherwise he’s on the move.)
John’s a generous guy, and for several years he’s been bugging me and Kris to spend a couple of weeks on his boat. This sort of thing just doesn’t interest Kris, but I like the idea of puttering around Alaska. I’ve been waiting for the free time to do so, and I finally found it. Last week, Mac and I ditched Real Life to spend ten days with John on Prime Time.
Here’s a typical morning at Rosings Park: I get up at 5:30, spend a few minutes checking e-mail and blog comments, pull on my workout clothes, and then head out the door for the gym. At the gym, I strain and sweat, and then I drive home to take a shower. After the shower, I have a bite to eat.
And through it all, there are cats. Okay, there aren’t any cats at the gym or in the car, but the rest of the time, there are cats. Too many cats. And often the cats are being bad. Here, for example, are Toto and Max demonstrating their favorite badnesses:
Yes, Toto loves to be on Kris’ computer. Usually she just sits upright on it, in classic cat pose. Apparently she’s decided it makes a nice bed, too. And Max? Well, he loves to jump into the window box, stretch against the screen, and then stare at us as we work in the kitchen. What a meatball.
No wonder I leave home as soon as possible so I can go get some work done at the office.