I Have Confidence (Right?)

This was taken by Susan Michini, photographer
and list-maker extraordinaire (www.michini.com). 

This morning I awoke, giddy and terrified to the realization that by nightfall I would be on the boat. Does every sailor, every sea cook, feel this way before stepping aboard a new vessel?

I feel a bit like Maria from The Sound of Music, in that scene where she leaves the abbey.

"I've always longed for adventure,
To do the things I never dared.
Now here I am facing adventure
Then why am I so scared?"

What will the galley be like, I wonder? Will there be a knife magnet? Bins for sugar and flour? How big will the freezer and fridge be? Will I have to leave an empty space in the middle of the shelves so the cold can sink down to the bottom like I did on the Neverland? Will there be a crockpot? (Yesterday Susan suggested picking one up at the nearest Goodwill if there isn't.) How long will the current cook stay on after I arrive? Where will I sleep? Will anyone be waiting up for me when I arrive?


A Lot To Do
When not worrying over these small details, I am spending the 13.5 hour train ride to Savannah listening to an audiobook (Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil), eating dining car food, watching the last half of Inception, and making lists for the coming days and weeks.

Here is an inventory so far:
- Things to do on the train
- Things to do in Savannah
- Things I want to talk to the captain about
- Books to read
- Meals: breakfast/lunch/dinner/snacks/desserts (including a special list for St.Patrick's Day)

The first list (Things To Do on the Train) goes like this:
- Plan meals/grocery list
- Listen to book
- Research meals onboard privateers in 1812
- Plan days, making room for running and writing
- Write blog post describing how it feels to be yet again setting off into the unknown

I don't have a way to upload images, so you'll just have to imagine me, dressed in my rain boots and marine coat, a giant backpack on my back, an old green satchel-like purse around my neck, my computer bag on one shoulder, dragging a roller bag through a train station to a cab outside that will take me the last three miles to the riverfront. Here a boat, though its masts are invisible in the dark, emits light through its galley windows revealing several silhouettes. See? You didn't need the photo.