We began our great adventure, the maiden voyage of the Adventuress, with fish guts.  Or more to the point, a flight delay due to fish guts.  Just about the time that seasoned fliers would expect that we would be pushing away from the gate, The Pilot Voice got on the intercom to announce that some unknown foreign substance had been found on the aircraft and that we were delayed until they figured out what it was and confirmed that the plane was safe.  We sat at the gate for an hour, during which time they announced that we would need to de-plane, and then hastily belayed that order.  Some time later, we got the all clear, and The Pilot Voice again got on the intercom to announce that the unknown foreign substance was fish guts from a leaking box of frozen fish.  Now over an hour delayed, we pushed away from the gate and were southward bound.

Luckily, the predicted turbulence never materialized.  I don’t know if there is some aeronautic ledger someplace that delays on the ground due to fish guts cancels out predicted turbulence, but I wasn’t about to complain.  We landed without incident, roughly an hour late.

In Houston.  Don’t get too excited yet.  If you don’t know, Texas is a BIG place.  The closest airport was still some hour’s drive away.  As Texans drive.  Like the Ghost Rider himself is chasing them, with flaming hair, ghostly chains, and the whole wrath of god bearing down.  Even at the late hour (2000 hours), the few vehicles on the road were bombing past us, as if we were little grannies dottering down the sidewalk.

Still, we made decent time and arrived at the marina in one piece.  And finally got to lay eyes on her.  When we had last seen her, she had not been named.  In the month since, lots had happened…. she got her name, and we bought the Internet.  Holy crow!  We bought the Internet.  Not joking.

At any rate, having an excess of energy from being confined in a flying metal tube for five hours and being two time zones displaced, the three of us got to work with gusto, unpacking boxes and stowing gear.  It was like Boater Christmas…

Here we are lost in the chaos.  And maybe I should take a moment here to say just who “we” are.  Robert and I are joined by our very good friend, Breck Dillard.  That’s Bee way in the back there.  Breck’s fabulous wife Ramona is holding down the fort and playing surrogate dog-mommy to Athena, whom I am sure is in the process of savaging every dog toy in their house.  A text update:

The ritual squeaking of every toy while Bailey remains glued to my side, then high stakes competition for lovies, taking of the night air (which involved going down the stairs like Siamese twins), followed by a sudden and unexplained joint barking frenzy, and resultant collapse and tucked in for the night has occurred.

Slowly Adventuress emerged from under our consumer excesses.  We were able to find our bedding, our toothbrushes and our berths, sweaty and exhausted.   (Maybe not excessive… after all, the boat is completely empty.  OK!  Who bought all these ziplock bags?!)