DONE!

After four days of soon, soon, soon, they gave us the check at 4:00 p.m. this afternoon and said, "Don't cash it until it's recorded at the courthouse!"

So began another countdown. On Friday, the bank closes at 6:00 p.m.

At 5:30, I drove to the bank, just in case.

At 5:40, I got the call. GO.

5:41. Done.

This one's on the house!

CLOSING IN

We walked to the beach after dinner tonight. As we approached the Atlantic access, we walked straight into a rainbow.

The photo would have shown you the brighter, more full rainbow, but when we went back for the camera we found we had locked ourselves out of the apartment. By the time that was resolved, the rainbow had dissolved. Still seemed like a good omen, locked door aside.

The closing didn't go down today either. They think it will be tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Or is it Somewhere Over the Rainbow? We need a good "today" song.

Our life's movie soundtrack is a work in progress.

THE DOOR IS STILL AJAR

Finally, the day we've been waiting for. The end of our countdown to the house closing.

We're out. It's official.

At 8:00 this morning, we moved Isabella to her new temporary slip. I rarely get to see her underway, and as I waited on the new dock, she rounded the bend and took my breath away. I know she's my boat, which clouds my judgment a bit, but I have to say, she does look beautiful, doesn't she? (Photo credit: Jim Breshears, who also put on that spring line for us. THANKS!)

With Isabella safely tucked away, I finalized the last few details at the house: Deke removed the platform bed from Dylan's room; I threw the last bits of junk in the car, loaded the last of the trash and rolled it out to the street.

With the house now finally empty and clean, I handed over the keys.

Chip and I met at our lawyer's office to sign paperwork. The last remaining chore would be to pick up our check in the afternoon.

The call came, but there was no check. A minor detail delayed the closing until tomorrow.

COUNTDOWN: 1 day to house closing.

Call off the celebration.

UPDATE:
--Found a home for more than half of our leftover paints -- a huge relief to green souls.

TRAINING GROUND

COUNTDOWN: One day to house closing
The ascent was not feeling so metaphorical as we carried box after box up the 20 steps (Hillary's Step?) to Camp III, aka our new apartment, in the sweltering heat and humidity. It was a struggle, but I only used one oxygen tank. (Kidding.)

As it turns out this little pad across the street from the ocean is proving to be good training for living aboard. In boatlike fashion, storage is minimal. There's only one closet and no storage space except for kitchen cabinets. The shower is so tiny you can barely turn around. There's no dishwasher, washer or dryer. We're stopping short at turning off the AC, but you get the idea.
Two of our chores at Camp III include 1) sorting and shrinking our book collection and 2) streamlining in the clothing department -- and it does look like a department by boat standards.

To a land dweller's eye, we have almost nothing, but boaters would cackle and mock. Part of our training here will be to release our death grip on more junk. That alarming photo below shows the area we call Keeper's Galley. It's the collection of things we imagine taking on the boat. Can you imagine showing up on the dock with that?

The burgundy bins in the foreground hold tax files and photo albums. They will be going to New Jersey with Chip's parents this week, so it's not quite as bad as it looks, but still, we do have some work to do.

UPDATE:
--With closing tomorrow, we are nearing closure at the house. Our friend Deke is removing the platform bed. Joe is picking up the sewing machine for Jenniffer. We have two bins of paint to ferry to the dumpster and ...
--We loaded all Isabella's accoutrement back onboard: spinnaker pole, staysail boom, sails, anchors, manuals, etc.
--Moved the Windvane and wind generator to Jim and Dana's.

ON THE MOVE

As we were loading the cars to move today, my cell phone rang. It was our neighbor Ruth.

"You need some help? You can't move in that little white car! I've got a truck!"

It took a while, but I explained to her that as much as we appreciated the offer, we really didn't have much stuff to move.

"I can come on over with the truck. You can't move in a little car!"

Yes, we can.

My estimate about one load of furniture plus two carloads was a little short, but not by much.

We're in. Our little apartment by the beach.

DEEP SADNESS: My heart is so heavy today, I can barely type. My friend Linton Weeks and his wife Jan lost their two sons, Holt, 20, and Stone, 24, in a tragic car accident Thursday night. I hope that all our outstretched hands can lift even one small ounce of their immense grief.

RANDOM CONVERSATIONS

Yesterday an American Express representative called Chip to ask if he wanted a credit card. He said no.

The conversation went something like this:

AMEX: "We're doing a survey. Can you tell me why not?"

CHIP: "It's a long story."

AMEX: "Are you having financial issues?"

CHIP: "No."

AMEX: "Credit problems?"

CHIP: "I'm in the process of selling all my belongings and moving onto a sailboat."

Pause.

AMEX: "Umm ... uh ... Okay, bye."

----

A woman, Erin and her two-year-old son Toby came to look at our dresser. Our conversation went like this:

ERIN: "What kind of boat is that?"

TAMMY: "A Downeast."

ERIN: "We have a Westsail."

TAMMY: "No fucking way!" (Okay, I just thought that.) "REALLY? We almost got a Westsail!"

ERIN: "We live on it in Manteo."

TAMMY: "You're freakin' kidding me!" (I thought) "REALLY?"

I would have been less surprised if she told me she lived in a shoebox.

She is moving into a townhouse until they go cruising again in a few years, which is why she bought some of our furniture. It's going to a kindred home.

UPDATE:
--Transferred phone to new apartment.
--Puzzling over mail. Will forward it to wine shop but trying to get off mailing lists.
--FINISHED cds. 1909 items in iTunes.
--Sold that IKEA chair, the dresser, table, hamper ....

SHRINK, SHRINK NOT

Whew. Big progress in getting small today.

Eighteen boxes and $84.82 later, I'm finished with Tammy's Shopping Channel on Facebook! I had an absolute blast connecting with friends and then sending my treasures out the door. They went to Virginia, New Mexico, Minnesota, Mississippi, Texas, Vermont, Florida, Missouri, Arizona and Arkansas.

With those boxes out of the way, I loaded the car with our most recent molting of clothing and the last box of stuff for my sister.

Most of the cabinets are empty as is the coat closet and the loft. The ficus tree has gone to its new home. The house is getting deliciously echo-y.

Somebody told me on the phone today that I was so "lucky" to be going sailing. Boy, that really ticks me off. This has nothing to do with "luck." It is about planning, hard work and sacrifice. Where was luck when we were working 7 days a week that first year our business was open? Where was luck when we were working every Christmas Eve and doing inventory on New Year's Day? Where was luck these last nine months waiting for our house and business to sell in the worst economic crisis in decades? No, this is not luck. This is about endurance, focus and not shrinking back when the goal seems too distant.

No. We are not lucky to be going sailing.

But if there is luck anywhere in our lives, it's that we share a persistent lifelong dream to live on the water and the tenacity to do whatever is required to get us there, together.

UPDATE:
--Put a bunch more CDs in iTunes.
--Packed up all our boat books.
--Down to only ONE MORE THING to box and ship.
--Tranferred the phone to the new apartment.