Not sure what got into the water last weekend, but I must have seen a hundred screamin’ neon landlubbers milling around Sloan’s Waterway making pouty-fish faces into their camera boxes at sunset. Things got even stranger the next day when I heard rumblings about some kind of powerful siren or cult leader called “Taylor” who
Day 134. Still moored at Port Sloan. Last week’s tornado left our galley door tattered and our provisions soggy. Luckily, I overheard some locals at the Mestizo Brew Cantina speakin’ of a Wheat festival nearby that promised fresh beer and merry tunes. We gathered our empty wheat sacks in hopes of procuring some flour and
I’d been holed up in Port Sloan for so long waiting for clear passage that my sea legs shriveled up like salted slugs and my mind started to feel like a drunken boatswain had tied my brain stem in a clove hitch. Any good sailor knows when you get a case of the galley grumps,
Ahoy, mateys! This salty sea captain has a tale to tell. While tossing back some ales at ye old Edgewater Inn, one of my galley gal-pals invited me to go pickling with her the following day at the park! Unsure how to take her offer and not wanting to offend, I paused to think. I
Ahoy there mateys! Your humble Captain is mooring near Sloan’s Lake for the winter, and I had the privilege of hosting the Senior Valentine’s Bingo Extravaganza in the fair City of Edgewater on Feb. 10. It was a night to be remembered, filled with the sounds of Lionel Richie and Celine Dion, and the smell
