Getting Serious, sort of...

Today I lost my first adult tooth.
Not bad, at the age of 65.

The lower right molar was still solidly rooted to its location, but was giving me such pain that I opted for the extraction. The maxillary nerve was inflamed and I had lost my appetite, and most of my sleep, and all of my patience in the several days preceding. Pain pills couldn't get the job done. So I'm back on antibiotics again, and most of the pain is gone along with the tooth. My dentista, Doctora Maria in the town of Empalme, is a fine person as well as the area's best dentist. A deep cleaning and the extraction was about $50 US.

The veneers are ready for my two front teeth. These teeth were cracking down the middle, lengthwise, and would eventually break and cause pain and a general ugliness.  They had already absorbed years of tannic acid stains from my coffee addiction and looked pretty bad to begin with. Dra. Maria charged me about $250 each for these dental caps and all the associated labor. If I want, I can go in tomorrow and have them installed. All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.

Tomorrow night is a benefit concert produced by my two friends, Bobby and Leslie Sahlen. It might be nice to have my smile fixed for that. The 1st Mate and I are getting comp tickets because we'll be performing in their concert in January or February. We've already starting selecting the three melodies we'll do. We like the song, "It's Probably Me" by Sting, even though it's not jazz... but I'm working on an arrangement that will push it in that direction a little. The concerts are designed to benefit local orphanages.

On the Flash front...
I've hired Beto, a 15 year old boy from Guaymas to help me on the Flash. Right now we're cutting brush and weeds that popped up after the rains. Today I also got the 1971 VW van running. It, with the pickup truck, have been stored on the ranchito lot since last fall when I sailed Bliss south to Zihuatanejo.

Also, a naval architect/mechanical engineer is volunteering some design work on the Flash. Mike Capitain read my post about the Flash on boatdesign.net and my plans to employ a diesel-electric propulsion system. He's been sending me some 3d renderings and he's offering his expertise for the time being. I've also had offers of help from some gringo carpenters who are interested in the project.

I'm staying in San Carlos this winter to put some time and energy into the Flash and it looks promising.

Belay That...

belay |biˈlā|verb [ trans. ]1 fix (a running rope) around a cleat, pin, rock, or other object, to secure it.• secure (a mountaineer) in this way : he belayed his partner across the ice| [ intrans. ] it is possible to belay here.2 [usu. in imperative ] Nautical slang stop; enough! : “Belay that, mister. Man your post.”

I've had experience with addictions, and one feature of the addict's landscape is that after a length of time in recovery, the horror of addiction and toxic living doesn't seem so bad after all. For the unsuspecting, the unexperienced or the uneducated it leads back to another round of temporary joy, then indulgence, misery, wreckage, loss and finally if one is lucky, recovery. If unlucky, death, imprisonment, permanent disability, and/or complete poverty.

Nothing to mess with.


"My name is Jim. I'm a boataholic...."
Is my relationship with boats the same thing as an addiction to say, drugs or alcohol? I don't know. Though I find that after several months ashore, living in relative comfort, with an abundance of all the things not provided while aboard (unlimited food and fresh water, electric power, space, security, stability, companionship, communication, tools and equipment, easy and fast transportation, replacement parts, professional assistance, entertainment, medical help and supplies, etc), I want to go sailing.


Boating is expensive, and I attenuate the costs by doing most of my own work. It enables me to understand the systems that I might have to repair while underway. And repairing those things without anything on that long list in the preceding paragraph.

It has made me competent in a number of things, and has illuminated my shortcomings. (The repair of electronics and things that require welding and/or machining go to the shop.) I also do my own installations and I have completely rewired BLISS and will rewire her again now that I know a few more things... It's more work than I want to do though. It seems that the ratio between enjoyment of the vessel and the work to keep her fully functional has shifted out of balance. Way out of balance.

It's my fault. Rather than accept the limitations imposed by the nature of sailing a small yacht, I have added a lot things that I thought would make life aboard more pleasurable. I've increased the load on the electrical system with all my gadgets that I now need to have 500 pounds of batteries, a backup generator, fancy regulators and meters, inverters (convert battery voltage to household current), solar panels and wind generators (and their structures) and miles of additional wiring throughout the boat. All this stuff wears out or breaks down and costs money to fix or replace, and all of it requires my time and labor to install and uninstall, to run it out to a repair shop or sit down with my tools and soldering gun and an internet connection to find the repair info if I can't figure it out myself.

Gone is the serenity and happy-go-lucky joy of my first boat.


I'm reminded of a time I spent with my brother back in Pennsylvania in the early 70s. He was buying high quality surplus electrical cords with a good standard grounded plug on one end and some obsolete, funny connection on the other. He would take a hatchet and chop off the obsolete connector and then sell the perfectly functional cord to a company that needed them for a 300% markup. He called it de-manufacturing.


I need to apply that same logic here.


There may still be joy left in the old girl yet, after I wipe off all the make-up and lipstick, and remove the implants and tummy-tucks.

Poor Mexico... except for Carlos, that is...

Today Forbes Magazine named Mexico telcom owner, Carlos Slim, the "World's Richest Man," edging out Bill Gates and Warren Buffet for the honor. Poor Carlos has only 53.3 billion dollars to rub together.

Carlos Slim, 70, world's richest man. At 64, I am not.

But I've got 6 whole years to catch up to him.

And since we're on the subject of Mexico and money, I was enjoying an imaginary scene in my head where, Mexico and Germany are having a conversation. Mexico says to Germany, "No thanks for the work ethic, but we like the polkas!"

In other Non-News:
I've been sewing up a storm down in Barra, putting in long days to recondition the dodger that we had made for us in San Carlos. The threads are breaking from the sun and abrasion by the boom as it swings across the top, sometimes dragging an unhoisted mainsail with it. Also there was a place where I put my elbow through the sunbrella. It didn't bother me so much at the time since it kept me from falling overboard, but the unsightly hole has been repaired with some white naugahyde I had onboard. I did both sides with the nauga so it looks better. The entire aft portion had to be rebuilt because of abrasion, accumulated crud, and a switch from snaps to zippers for the sunbrella awning I built as part of the cockpit enclosure. Also I'm building a screen windshield that will zip into/onto the front to knock down the wind. It's a dark green and is a lot easier to see through than the tan colored stuff I used for the enclosure... and the enclosure itself will need some restitching and webbing replacement (nylon webbing turns into dust in Mexico's glaring sun), but the enclosure has done a fine job of keeping the sun off my lily-white (not really) skin. There's really nothing to photograph now, just piles of green fabric laying around a sewing machine. Whereas Carlos has piles of green money just laying around. Wanna' trade?

A new (permanent?) home for BLISS

I went out to the GREEN FLASH as promised and gave a pint of blood to the local insect population before scampering back to the house with a five gallon paint container filled with polyurethane foam to act as a temporary mooring buoy.

Then it was off to the bay in the dinghy to move the boat one last time. We've been on four different moorings in as many months, until we heard that Vincenzo, owner of the charter boat BRAVO was the guy to see about putting in a mooring. Two weeks and $500 later, we now have a home for BLISS.
Vincenzo (do they call him Vinnie?) will relocate the mooring if we want, so that's a good thing. He tells me the mooring consists of a block of concrete four by six feet, three feet high.

Next up, I'm going to see if I can find instruction online on how to build a proper mooring ball.