12 minutes

Sometimes, just making a slight course correction is all I need.

From PortFolio's flybridge, with Dawn, Jay and Julee on July 4.

Daily meditation, for example. 

Last week I sat there, impatient, fidgety and distracted, even more than usual. So I changed my timer from 20 to 12 minutes. It's a number that has worked well for me over the years. Somehow that slight shift down has made it do-able again, and I look forward to the gift of those twelve minutes. Sometimes even twice in a row.

Speaking of the gift of minutes -- I let go of my Ipad last month, realizing that I could no longer control and enjoy it. My ADD brain had lost its ability to focus on anything for long, and my pokey finger was taking me into ridiculous time-sucking worlds. Happy to report that a month later I'm reading books again and not going to sleep with a headful of news.

Boat life is like real life: moments of calm, moments of chaos, mostly in between. I spend parts of each day and a couple of nights a week onboard. There is an inherent simplicity to a little house on the water: furniture built-ins and no room for more "stuff." Like any house, the chores list is continuous.

Everyday I learn something new, like when my neighbor Nancy fixed my air conditioner and I watched, aghast, as barnacles, shells and all kinds of sea life came out the end of clogged hoses. Or when I flushed the toilet and seaweed slid down the sides of the bowl. Or I looked outside to see who was knocking and it was a Sheepshead having a snack off my hull.

As Judy would say: "I love the surprises."

Along the seawall during last night's sunset bike ride.