OK. Add 3 Magnificent Frigate birds and 1 Royal Tern to my list of seabirds seen this trip out... both of which have deeply forked tail feathers, but the Frigate birds have a wingspan of about 4 feet! Big birds! I always loved watching the Royal Terns on the beach when growing up on Tybee- very cool to see one in a completely different perspective. I am so glad I brought Peter Harrison's "Seabirds of the World." Don't go to sea without it!
The countdown has begun. I have 18 days and a wake-up until I am free-at-last, free-at-last, with the added twist that I may not be relieved if they can't find my relief. Which would not quite be free-at-last... but I'm counting, regardless. Chances are that if they told me I had no relief I'd walk off the ship anyway...
My inner-asshole- also known as my "blatant asshole" after about 100 days at sea- has been enjoying pushing this excuse-for-a-boatswain under the bus as often and publicly as possible ever since he came back aboard after those two months we were in the shipyard. This methodology for training-your-supervisor is typically a war of attrition, one in which each scar on his "tit-for" is matched by a scar on my "for-tat," but he's so feckless and inept, so grossly unqualified for the job, and incapable of managing The Gang, that each attempted attack on my "for-tat" has merely become a self-inflicted wound on his part...
Alright. That's it. Enough gloating... today I was the nail and tomorrow I get to be the hammer. And a few more after than and my incarceration will come to an end and then Laura will have to train me all over again.
The countdown has begun. I have 18 days and a wake-up until I am free-at-last, free-at-last, with the added twist that I may not be relieved if they can't find my relief. Which would not quite be free-at-last... but I'm counting, regardless. Chances are that if they told me I had no relief I'd walk off the ship anyway...
My inner-asshole- also known as my "blatant asshole" after about 100 days at sea- has been enjoying pushing this excuse-for-a-boatswain under the bus as often and publicly as possible ever since he came back aboard after those two months we were in the shipyard. This methodology for training-your-supervisor is typically a war of attrition, one in which each scar on his "tit-for" is matched by a scar on my "for-tat," but he's so feckless and inept, so grossly unqualified for the job, and incapable of managing The Gang, that each attempted attack on my "for-tat" has merely become a self-inflicted wound on his part...
Alright. That's it. Enough gloating... today I was the nail and tomorrow I get to be the hammer. And a few more after than and my incarceration will come to an end and then Laura will have to train me all over again.
