Listening to "Social Aid and Pleasure Club" by The Subdudes
Last saturday I spent the day cleaning and scraping the engine in preparation to paint, but after careful consideration that has been put on hold. Drake and I realized that we needed to be able to turn on the engine at various times during the process and, since we are on the hard, that is not possible right now. Fear not! I was able to transition rather smoothly into another task that was sorely needed, namely painting the hull.
Now, I have to say that when I told my friends that I was moving onto a boat most of them pictured beautiful blue water, sunsets near a lovely island paradise, and a Mai Tai always in hand. One friend even expressed concern that I would fall victim to something she referred to as "rum fatigue" and suggested we beef up my tolerance immediately. I hate to disappoint them, but my reality is quite different from that rosy facade. You are more likely to find me cleaning, scraping, sanding, or editing than lounging in the cockpit with a drink at hand. The only time I have gotten any sun lately has been while riding my bike to West Marine or scrubbing the deck. Or painting...
|a close up of Drake rolling on the topside paint|
Drake and I have spent the last several days painting Paragon, and the whole process is nearing completion. Drake attacked the topsides since the rather toxic and nefarious concoction of paint and mixers freaks me out. It creates a beautiful finish, but I wouldn't want to stand in an enclosed room with this stuff unless I had a serious desire to kill off some brain cells. He also painted an initial blue coat of paint on the hull to show me where the paint needed to go while I followed with two coats of red. Weather cooperated a bit by staying at or under 90˚F/32˚C, but the heat was still overwhelming at times. As I raised the roller to apply a coat of paint I could feel rivers of sweat escaping my protective plastic gloves and running down my arms. Never before had I realized that I could sweat so profusely from my hands, however, the hard work was justified when I saw the finished product.
|look at that reflection...|
|roll and tip...|
With shiny new topsides and a demure red hull, Paragon is beginning to look like the travelin' lady I have always pictured. She is a phoenix arising from her thirty-six year old ashes and, my, what a beauty. I start preparing the boot stripe to be painted tomorrow which brings us one step closer to getting back in the water and heading north.
|look at that finish|