The Secret is OUT!

Hello LilyOnTheLam.Com Readers:

After my beloved cat Mr. Lo passed away last December, there has been a terrible, gossip-mongering rumor that I have adopted a kitten named Colonel Rufus T. Chibs (a.k.a. Chibby) and have put him to work ghost-writing my blog.

I am here to emphatically deny that this is taking place.  

As we all know, cats can't use computers.  

I hope this puts an end to the drama surrounding the legitimacy and authorship of my blog posts.

Pay no attention to this picture!  It is not evidence of anything!

It is also my sister Squidge's birthday today.  Sleeping kittens everywhere wish you a Happy Birthday, Squidgie Lou!

Colonel Rufus T. Chibs - Military hero?

The Universe is Speaking

Hello LilyOnTheLam.Com Readers!

While I was on vacation, I hit the 50,000 page views mark.  Now I know other blogs may get this per day or per hour or per millisecond, but for me it's an achievement.  So thank you for making LilyOnTheLam.Com part of your daily recommended allowance of web surfing!

I am about 10 blog posts behind in my British Virgin Islands series- but rest assured, I will soon be updating the current posts with pictures and writing up the stories from the second half of the BVI trip.  So stay tuned to LilyOnTheLam.Com!  (The Near Death by Caterpillar on Cooper Island blog post has been updated with pictures already.  Check it out here!)

Now on to today's blog ...

Ninety-seven percent of the time, I try to be a cold, stoic biatch - like Meryl Streep's character in "The Devil Wears Prada."  Um, ok - maybe more like Octavia Spencer's character Minnie in "The Help."  But underneath it all, I do have a warm, mushy, cheesy interior - one that has an appreciation for really bad, sappy, emotional chick flicks.  (Please don't tell my secret!)  

One really bad movie that I really love is Matthew Perry and Salma Hayek's ridiculous 100% imitation cheez fest "Fools Rush In."  According to the movie's Wiki page (really, it needed a Wiki page???), the movie cost $20 million to make (again - REALLY?) and brought in $29 million.  I am going to spare you the ridiculous plot line synopsis (that's what the Wiki page is for!), however there is a scene where Matthew Perry's character realizes that Salma Hayek's character's belief in signs from the Universe is correct and if you just look all around you, you will see the messages.  One of the movie's recurring messages is that "there are signs everywhere."   

As cheez-a-licious as "Fools Rush In" is, I do think that the Universe does send us signals or messages.  I also believe that most of us are too distracted to notice these signs.  As a lover of Greek Mythology, I like to think that there are supernatural beings that are helping to put these signs out there.  I also believe that every now and again these message senders get supremely pissed off that their messages are being ignored.  I believe that every now and again, they amp up their work and send incredibly clear signs that even the most distracted person cannot help but notice.  

If I were a preaching woman, I would say that the theme of this blog post is "Pull your head out of the sand (or your arse) and look around you for signs from the Universe."  But I am not a preaching woman.  So the theme of this blog post could very well be "There are signs everywhere but not a lot of themes everywhere."

Instead of preaching, I will tell you two stories and leave you to draw your own conclusions.  You're welcome.

I was at Foxy's Tamarind Bar and Grill on the island of Jost Van Dyke in the British Virgin Islands.  I loooooove Foxy's because they probably have the best gift store merchandise in the BVI.  Every shopportunity matters!  I am ALL about the gift shop.  I seriously am considering opening a gift shop in my condo.  Who wouldn't want a "Lily's House of Cats" t-shirt to take home?  Christmas is just around the corner, people!  Time to BUY! 

My sister took a picture with the legendary Foxy himself ... out of respect for her, you only get to see her shoulder.  But it's an impressive shoulder ...

When visiting Foxy's Tamarind Bar and Grill, many visitors bring a flag or t-shirt (or even a hat or bra) that they autograph and have posted on the ceiling.  (Why not?)  

I took my sister Squidge to Foxy's and we loaded up on souvenirs and clothing.  GIFT SHOP!  Afterward, we headed to the open air, sand floor restaurant for lunch.  I sat down on the wooden bench and ordered a Banana Bushwhacker (which unfortunately was not as good as a regular Bushwhacker drink).  I was feeling very content - we had just spent 11 nights on the fabulous Yacht Promenade trimaran sailing charter and we had 3 more days of vacation on land before heading back to the continental United States.  

Prior to the vacation, I had been feeling extremely burned out.  I was incredibly happy that the vacation had completely recharged my emotional batteries.  I stretched my incredibly tanned arms and looked up at the ceiling to see the flags that had been posted above our table.  My heart caught in my throat at the sight of the flag above me.  

The flag was the name and logo of my corporate giant employer.

Seriously?  What the heck?  What are the odds of THAT happening?  I'm on VACATION!  My mellow feeling of being emotionally recharged took a nose dive.  

Just the name of my company above my head was like the cold hand of death tapping me on the shoulder.  But as my sister Squidge and I had been watching the amazingly good HBO series "Game of Thrones" at night on the Yacht Promenade, I will quote a wonderful scene - "There is only one thing we say to Death ... `Not today.'" 

I squinted at the corporate flag above my head, reminded myself that I had 3 days left of vacation and hissed at the flag: "NOT TODAY!"

When I returned from vacation, I was having issues with my work computer.  I work from home but we do have a local office in Tampa Bay about 20 minutes away from me.  I spent several hours with Level One and Level Two Deskside "Support" before I was told that I needed to go in to the local office for further assistance.  Due to a heavy meeting schedule, I decided to go in to the office the next day.  

I am very spoiled working from home.  My usual "work uniform" is an Old Navy tank top and shorts.  The thought of having to get "dressed up" to go into the office just for an IT issue made me pout like a middle school girl.  But I did it and dealt with the rain and traffic on the commute in to the office.  And thanked my lucky stars that I did not have to do this every day.  

While I was at the office, a tornado touched down basically a few blocks from my condo.  Check out this spectacular picture of the storm along the Bay.  I returned home.  Luckily for me, there was no damage and my beloved pets were safe and sound.  Seeing that my home office has one wall of windows that were facing the tornado site, had the winds been stronger I could have been lacerated and julienned by shards of glass.  But for my trip to the office, I was blissfully unaware of the tornado as it was happening.  Not today, Death, not today.

I'll let you draw your own conclusions to these "signs" from the Universe, as I stated before I am not a preaching woman. (Ha!)  

But I will say that I do believe there are signs everywhere.  You just need to slow down and look for them.  

  

Don't Ask For Whom The Conch Blows, It Blows for Thee - Part Three of Day Six in the British Virgin Islands

Hello LilyOnTheLam.Com Readers:

This is Part Three of Day Six of my vacation in my British Virgin Islands!  Yes, an epic three blog posts on ONE DAY - but hey it was Valentine's Day!  Now if you've been reading my other BVI posts, you'll know that I have been having some compatibility problems between blogger.com and my iPad, so the pictures that accompany these blog posts will be posted in a couple weeks - so read now and check back later for the pictures!

When we last left our BVI heroines, Squidge and Lily were at the Leverick Bay hotel beachfront bar.  Squidge, lover of ginger beer, ordered a Dark and Stormy.  I went back to my favorite BBC - Bailey's Irish Cream, Banana and Coconut.  We were enjoying the sun when a gentleman in a Captain's hat and orange tropical shirt walked by.  Squidge and I snapped our necks to attention.  Squidge looked at me, with eyes wide and said "Is that Michael Beans?"  I squinted across the bar and said "I think so - it's been four years since I have seen him."  We watched as bar patrons got up and extended their hands to shake hands with the man.  Squidge took this as proof positive that it was Michael Beans.

Now for those of you wondering "Who the heck is Michael Beans?" - let me pause and fill you in.  "The Legendary Michael Beans" is a local BVI entertainer and philanthropist.  Think Jimmy Buffet but in Pirate Gear who says "Arrrrrrrrrrr" a lot.  Michael Beans does an interactive Happy Hour show that is a must see in the British Virgin Islands.  Sitting at a table with my happy toes in warm sand with people all around us in Pirate Gear, shaking bottles filled with rocks as our own maracas to play along with Michael Beans' guitar and harmonica.  

But what makes Michael Beans even more special to me on my trip to the BVI is that my shipmate on the Yacht Promenade, Miss B, is Michael Beans' number one fan.  In fact she has her own code name, "The Bean Stalker."  She loves Michael Beans in a deep and personal way.  She has a poster of him at her house and she thinks he is the most handsome man.  When we boarded the Yacht Promenade, Miss B announced that Michael Beans is looking more and more like George Clooney every day.  The rest of our shipmates, who have seen Michael Beans, shot each other puzzled looks - George Clooney?  Miss B sighed with a contented smile and said "He's soooo handsome."  Ever since that proclamation, at various parts of the trip each of our shipmates had imitated the deep sigh and the "He's sooooooo handsome" refrain.  Squidge and I practically use it as our "good night" to each other.  

Michael Beans is also a philanthropist - he has an organization called "Pirates with a Porpoise" (yes Porpoise-- ARRRRRRRRR!)  Money raised is now helping 171 children in Haiti go to school and get fed two meals a day.  So not only are you having an amazing time enjoying Michael Beans' Happy Arrrrrrrrrrr pirate Happy Hour show, you can also donate money to help children.  Talk about a win-win.

When you travel with Miss B, the talk of Michael Beans comes quite liberally ("He's sooooo handsome!").  Not only did we have some Michael Beans songs playing and preparatory conch blowing practice, but we marveled at how we would be spending our Valentine's Day with the man Miss B's husband calls her boyfriend.  Could it be more perfect?  

So Squidge and I were there at Leverick Bay, seeing a man that we were pretty sure was Michael Beans.  He walked up to the pirate-themed stage and was sound-checking the equipment.  Feeling quite tipsy after I believe five frozen drinks at this point, I toddled off through the sand to the beach stage.  I asked the gentleman doing the sound check "Are you Michael Beans?"  He looked at me and said "I will be in about an hour (when the show starts)."  I laughed (did I mention I was tipsy?) and said "Our friend -- who is your number one fan - is coming to the show tonight.  Could you give her a shout out?"  He asked who my friend was and I said Miss B's name.  He looked thoughtful and sincere and repeated Miss B's name twice and then said "Hey, you don't mean THE BEAN STALKER, do you?"  My face lit up - Michael Beans remembered Miss B!  I jumped up and down (did I mention I was tipsy?) and said "YES! YES!  THE BEAN STALKER!"  He was very happy to hear she would be at the show and said "bless her heart" for her love and support of his music.  

Michael Beans also recommended that we reserve a table so Miss B could sit up close.  I was very grateful for the recommendation because my liquor-addled mind was not thinking logistics.  I asked the waitress if she could put a reserved sign on a table for us - she asked me my name and I said, please write down Miss B's name, the Bean Stalker.  The waitress wrote down: "Miss B Bean's Stocker."  Close enough!

A good-looking, but cheesy and drunken boat Captain started trying to make conversation with me when he heard me say "Bean Stalker."  But honestly I could have said "Chili cheese Fritos" and this Cheesy Captain would have somehow found his way into the conversation.  He was probably early to mid 30's, tall, tan and lanky - but he just breathed and sighed "DOUCHE BAG."  While he was good-looking, I knew any time spent with this man would be no good.  I had visions of waking up from a rufie coma in the hold of some boat with all my orifices violated.  Not exactly what you want in a vacation!  I headed back to the table and told Squidge of the exchange.  We then watched Captain Cheesy Douchebag work his charms on a sunburned tourist in a tropical halter and matching long skirt.  Squidge and I took bets on whether the Captain could close the deal.  Eventually the Captain and the tourist left together.  But then we noticed a few minutes later, the Captain jumping on a small fishing boat and leaving alone.  Or at least I hope he was alone ... maybe the tourist was laying on the floor amidst tackle boxes.

At this point in the day, with my head spinning, I realized it was probably best to switch to water.  I was laughing uncontrollably at EVERYTHING and Squidge was shooting me the "You're a sloppy drunk" looks.  We were waiting until the Yacht Promenade came into Leverick Bay - as the rest of the boat went for a dive while Squidge and I went to The Baths.  The Michael Beans Happy Arrrrrr show started at 5 p.m.  I surmised that Captain Chad would probably bring the guests in at 4:59 p.m. - didn't he know the importance of Michael Beans to Miss B?  I told Squidge that Miss B would be very happy that we had a table reserved.

The great thing about sailing on Yacht Promenade is that it is always easy to find the boat amidst all the sailboats.  I have never ever seen another trimaran in the BVI - and the Yacht Promenade has two masts which makes it easy to spot between the bevy of single-masted, mono hulls.  I told Squidge to look for three hulls and two masts and she'd be able to spot the Promenade right away.  And sure enough, Squidge yelled out - I see it coming!  From the distance, we watched Felix on the bow of the boat assisting with the anchoring.  Eventually, we saw Miss B, Miss E and Miss D in the dinghy with Felix.  They were dressed in Caribbean colors - hot lime green, cool turquoise and a coral pink.  They were all beautiful for Michael Beans.  ("He's sooooo handsome!")

I greeted the dinghy while Squidge held the reserved table.  I grabbed Miss B's hand to help her up on to the dock, however in her excitement to see Michael Beans - her leg went forward instead of climbing up and she smacked her leg against the dock.  But that was not going to slow down Miss B.  She was very grateful that we had a table reserved, because as I had anticipated she had been quite nervous that we would not get good seats since they were arriving a minute before the show started.  Squidge and I went back with Felix on the dinghy so we could shower and then catch the second half of the Michael Beans show.  Miss M, having seen Michael Beans at least 12 times, decided to stay on the boat.  She and the crew enjoyed strawberry and chocolate daiquiris and a snack for Happy Hour.  Squidge and I showered in record time and had Felix take us back to Jumbie's beach bar for the Michael Beans show.  We only missed about 35 minutes of the two hour show.  

I live in Tampa Bay which has an annual pirate festival called Gasparilla.  In keeping with the pirate theme, I have a gray shirt with gold and silver bling in the shape of a skull.  I knew it would be the perfect shirt for the Michael Beans show.  Miss B was very happy that I represented with the pirate theme.  The Michael Beans show is very interactive.  The guests on the Viking Storm all wore Viking helmets.  A large family from Denmark, celebrating their Grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary, all wore paper pirate hats.  Michael Beans invited people to come up and tell their favorite pirate jokes.  A Colorado woman from the Viking Storm sailboat told a joke I had never heard -- "How much did the pirate pay to get his ears pierced?"  Answer - "A buccaneer (a.k.a. a buck an ear.)"  

Squidge received her official Michael Beans indoctrination - she was shaking her shaker and shouting ARRRRR!  On one song, the audience all waved their hands in a swishing motion.  For another song, we did our own version of the YMCA gesticulations while singing "Down in Soper's Hole." (A location near the West End of Tortola.)

Toward the end of the Happy Arrrrrrrrrr came the moment of truth - the men's and women's conch blowing contest.  Miss E was at the ready!  The men went first.  The Danish man celebrating his 50th wedding anniversary blew the conch for 50 seconds.  We all cheered both his breath capacity AND his reaching the magic number 50.  However the winner on the men's team was a young trumpet player from Colorado who blew the conch for 78 seconds.  

By the time the women blew the conch, Michael Beans was not officiating as well as he should.  Miss E totally won the women's conch blowing contest with 40 seconds of blowing but the screaming Danish friends and family insisted it was a tie.  (Hey Denmark, STOP CHEATING!)  So Miss E good-naturedly agreed to a "blow off."  Miss E blew the conch again in a solid, strong blast of noise.  The Danish woman made what we call "conch farts" - a pathetic, disruptive stream of toots, toots, toots - and the Danish fans declared the Danish woman the winner.  I declare again - CHEATERS!

Michael Beans was selling souvenir pennant flags that he would autograph for you.  Miss B, Miss E and Miss D went up to get their pictures taken with Michael Beans.  Squidge and I decided that we could live our life without having a picture taken with Michael, so we stayed at the table and watched the sheer look of joy and ecstasy on Miss B's face as she posed for a picture with Michael Beans.

Felix came back on the dinghy and joined us for a beer before we hopped back in the dinghy to head back to the Yacht Promenade.  We could see Michael Beans still standing on the beach talking to fans.  Then we heard someone blow the conch.  Miss B yelled out "I'll blow it in the morning, Michael!"  Then she looked bashful and said "Ohhh that sounded naughty."  We all burst out in hysterics at her unintended sexual innuendo.    I, being classy and discreet, immediately told Miss M and the crew about Miss B's promise to blow it in the morning in mega-decibel tones.

Captain Chad was working the grill for dinner - grilled tuna steaks, potatoes and a light, fluffy blueberry cheesecake for dessert.  The grilled tuna steaks were bigger than our heads and none of us could finish our portions.  Miss E handed out Valentine's themed boxes of Sweet Tarts.  How nice of her to bring us a Valentine's from the States!  I wish I had done something as well - but all I could think about were chocolates that would melt in the BVI heat.

From somewhere in the dark night, we heard someone blowing a conch shell.  Miss B grabbed the conch from the cockpit of the trimaran and blew back.  A promise in the night for her beloved Michael Beans on Valentine's Day.

But since Miss B could not spend the rest of the evening with Michael Beans, we made due with the next best thing - our singing crew member Felix and some night fishing.  Felix had baited the poles and Squidge caught two big fish right away!  Hard to believe she had never been fishing before she boarded the Yacht Promenade and now she caught two in rapid succession.

Michael Beans' boat was moored down a ways from us.  Even in the pitch black night, we saw Michael Beans boat pulling up anchor and starting to sail away.  He has a large boat and we wondered how he could navigate in the dark.  Felix grabbed the spotlight and we shined mock morse code messages at Michael's boat as we yelled "Michael, come back!  You forgot Miss B!!!"

Squidge was falling asleep while holding her fishing pole.  I told her to go to bed.  The two easy caught fish had misled us.  Neither Miss B, Felix or I caught anything - even while Felix was using Captain Bazza's "Rod of Success."  Felix started singing Rod Stewart songs to go with the "Rod of Success."  Then he moved to Phil Collins songs.  Felix has a very nice voice.  I would join in, but my voice sounds like someone is strangling a parrot - a parrot with a really bad singing voice.

Felix told us stories of life in his home on the island of Domenica (not to be confused with the Dominican Republic, all you Americans who did not get a proper geography class).

It was a cooler night, so Squidge and I kept the overhead hatch in our cabin open to take advantage of the night air.  After we both settled in to our bunks, we heard the sudden patter of a strong rain.  I leaped out of the bunk to close the hatch.  Squidge popped open one eye and said "Nice work!" before falling asleep.

And our Valentine's evening in the BVI came to an end.

Top of the Baths and The Most Beautiful View in the World - Part Two of Day Six in the British Virgin Islands

Hello LilyOnTheLam.Com Readers:

This is part eight in a 9,200,345 part series on my vacation to the British Virgin Islands.  It is also Part Two of my blog post about Day Six of the trip.  Eight, two, six - it's like the magic numbers on the TV show "Lost" but with significantly less viewers.

A note to those who haven't seen my previous posts - having some issues loading my pictures via my iPad so check back in a couple weeks to see the glorious photos that accompany these posts.

So where did we leave off from yesterday's post?  Asian-French fusion lunch and a near miss death by raging caterpillar ... ah yes, it's all coming back to me.  On this particular sailing charter of the Yacht Promenade, my sister Squidge is the only guest who has never been to the BVI and the only guest who had never previously before been on the sailboat.  As such, there are a couple "must see" places that I wanted to make sure Squidge saw (whether she wanted to or not).  One of those places was "The Baths" - an area on Virgin Gorda where there are large boulders and a cave.  If my limited knowledge of history is correct, the reason it is called "The Baths" is because the slave traders would take their "goods" (a.k.a. human beings) to the baths to have them washed up before sale.  Today, "The Baths" is a chain of large boulders where you walk, crawl and climb through to get to Devil's Bay beach.  (FYI, my knowledge of the BVI history is second or thirdhand, so I make no guarantees on its accuracy.  Hopefully the BVI stories I hear are NOT like my telling Squidge that the tallest building in the Middle East is called the Wiz Khalifa.)  

Felix and Jessica took Squidge and I to the beach on the "starting end" of The Baths by dinghy.  We got out of the dinghy and trudged through the soft white sand to the entrance of The Baths.  Squidge looked at me puzzled and I said "Crawl through those rocks" but she did it.  Then we walked further and spotted a wooden structure between the rocks.  To help the tourists, the BVI tourism board or whomever - added ropes and stairs and ladder-type structures to help the less than agile climbers get through the boulders with minimal scrapes and damage.  I was very glad that I was wearing my rash guard because at almost 5'9" I cannot make myself as compact as the shorties when climbing through tiny holes between boulders.  At one point I felt a sharp scrape across the top of my back when hunched over.  Without my rashguard, I am quite sure I would have been bloody.      

We climbed up and down the giant boulders.  Inbetween the climbs were shallow tide pools.  On one large boulder there was a rope attached to help you gently climb down without slipping down and turning your buttocks into a gory mess.  Tourists with cocktails in hand were utterly confused at this somewhat physical tour site.  One woman looked at us and said "Is this The Baths?"  I looked at her, somewhat cockeyed and said "Yep, you're in The Baths. You're right in the middle of it."  Other tourists gathered around me - evidently I was the only person who had ever been to The Baths before.  More cocktail-holding tourists asked if there were short cuts - did they have to climb through all the rocks.  I pointed out the swimming short cut that went around The Baths instead of through.  I received many a welcome thank you - evidently the cocktail-swigging tourists had had enough of geology and history.

Squidge and I finished our trek through the boulders and ended up on the other side of the beach next to the "Poor Man's Bar."  I showed Squidge Devil's Bay before we started the on land climb to "The Top of the Baths."  The walkway up to the top of the hill is a series of wood-braced dirt steps with a couple pathways through rock formations.  Your reward for this climb is a beautifully landscaped area with a freshwater pool, a restaurant and bar, several shops and a salon - in case you want a post-climb pedicure.  There is a foot bath before you reach the freshwater pool so you can leave the sand from Devil's Bay behind and not drag it into the pool.

It was quite hot - you forget how much cooler the weather is when you live on a sailboat.    We decided that a drink was in order first.  Squidge ordered a frozen mango daiquiri.  She opted for a non-alcoholic virgin variety due to the heat.  I was not as smart and ordered a Strawberry Shortcake drink - amaretto, strawberries and ice cream blended.  Even though I also ordered a bottle of water to help with hydration, I drank the frozen alcoholic drink much too fast.  Then I ordered a BBC - a frozen drink with banana, Bailey's Irish Cream and Coconut Cream.  Delicious, but again alcohol plus heat is not a good combination.  

We decided to order an appetizer so I could have some carbs to cushion the alcohol.  We ordered the combo fritters platter - conch, crab and spinach fritters.  Out from the kitchen came a plate with six mini donuts.  The spinach ones were a lush green.  The world's tiniest lime wedge accompanied the platter as well as some unknown flavor dipping sauce.  The crab ones were our 2nd favorite and the conch ones were just OK.  The only conch fritters I like in the entire world are Captain Kerry's vegetable and conch fritters.  She pulverizes the conch in a blender so that you have the wonderful briny flavor without the rubbery chewiness.

After our drink and snack, Squidge headed to the freshwater pool at the Top of the Baths, while I took pictures.  I love the wide variety of colors of flowers.  The Top of the Baths wins my "Best Landscaping" award.  It really does feel like paradise as you sit on top of a mountain looking down on The Baths and the Bay - and watching the sailboats going to and fro.  

If you tire of the billion dollar view, there is a shop that sells gorgeous resort wear, an art gallery, a spa and then of course a souvenir shop that sells t-shirts, Sunny Caribee spices and hot sauce, sunscreen and other BVI touristy items.  The souvenir shop also has a massive boulder on the inside of the shop - they basically built the store around the rock.  Never forget you are at The Baths!

I eventually persuaded Squidge to leave the beautiful freshwater pool so that we could catch a cab to head over to Leverick Bay to meet the Yacht Promenade.  We walked to the parking lot next to the Top of the Baths.  A cab driver was flirting with a woman who worked at the National Parks visitor desk.  We paid $30 to take the scenic route over the mountain to Leverick Bay.  I have no idea if this is cheap or expensive.  Everything here seems to be $30.  The taxi driver called out to the lady that he would be coming back for her after he dropped us off.  She asked him what his name was and he said "You'll have to wait to find out when I come back."  Evidently this is some sort of Virgin Gorda flirting technique.

Captain Chad had told us that the taxi ride from The Baths to Leverick Bay would have incredible views.  We had given him a skeptical look, as if he were trying to oversell that we should take a cab to meet them instead of having the boat wait for us.  But what do you know, the fluffy-haired, good-looking Charter Captain was absolutely correct.  This taxi ride was one of the most scenic I had ever taken.  

We started off on the taxi ride and after about 2 blocks, the taxi driver said he should probably stop for gas.  I agreed that that was a good thing.  He passed a sweets shop called "Lily's Sweet Retreat."  I was happy to see such a well-named site - AND selling sugary products.  Win-win.  Squidge said I should jump out and take a picture - but I was content sitting in the taxi as the driver pumped gas.  Squidge asked me if I had ever been in a cab that had to stop for gas - I said "sadly yes, I have taken taxis in many a third world nation."  Squidge said this was a first for her.  I told her if she continued to travel, it would not be the last time.  

The ride was filled with rises and climbs on narrow roads.  We were at the top of Virgin Gorda and it felt like the whole world was laid out before us.  This was probably as close to majestic as I would ever feel - the panorama ahead of us felt like our whole lives were ahead of us, brimming with possibility and promise.  I felt like anything could happen when you were this high up gazing across the beautiful, sparkling masses of land and water.

Not everything was smooth sailing on the taxi drive, our driver took the small bending roads a little too fast for my tastes at times and the seat belts quickly went on.  On a couple of the very tight roads, I grabbed Squidge's hand as if I could save her if her door swung open over a cliff.  

I can't even describe how beautiful this ride was.  An avid fan of Greek Mythology, I felt like we were riding along the narrow spine of a giant green beast and gazing upon a sea kingdom on both sides.  Perhaps we were Sea Princesses and the island of Virgin Gorda was our mythical sailing beast.  When Squidge and I stayed at the Village Cay hotel, there was a boat named Kraken in the adjacent marina.  As a consequence, I had been yelling "RELEASE THE KRAKEN!" at inappropriate times and with annoying frequency.  It was my own version of Kraken-Tourette's.  

Our taxi driver was very nice and pointed out various landmarks.  At one of the higher points, we could see Sir Richard Branson's Necker Island.  Must be nice to own your own island in the BVI.  This is my third trip to the British Virgin Islands - each time I have the goal to somehow meet Sir Richard Branson and he would be so enthralled by meeting me, that he would hire me to be his house manager and would build me a separate guesthouse for myself and the cats - and I would spend the rest of my life on Necker Island.  So far this has not yet happened, but I stay optimistic.

Eventually we arrived at Leverick Bay.  There is a small resort hotel near the beach where "The Legendary Michael Beans" plays for Happy Hour.  Except Michael Beans is a Pirate and so it's actually called "Happy Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."  We were early to meet the boat by almost an hour and a half.  We went to the resort's spa to see if they had any open pedicure appointments.  In typical Murphy's nail law, the ruby red nail polish on my big toe had a big chip in it about one hour after I boarded the boat.  Like "The Princess and the Pea," the bare spot on my big toe was causing me considerable bother.  The resort spa was completely empty, but the woman behind the desk said they had no open appointments - but to come back at maybe 5 or maybe 5:30 or maybe 6 and check again then.  Squidge and I shot each other a look and left the spa.  Squidge whispered "Island Time" as we were leaving.  So true!

Stay tuned tomorrow for Part Three of Day Six!

The Marauding Caterpillar - Part One of Day Six of a British Virgin Islands Adventure

Attention!  Pictures have been added to this post - hooray!

Hello LilyOnTheLam.Com Readers:

This is part seven of the epic saga of my vacation in the British Virgin Islands.  Today's blog post is "Part One of Day Six" - so yes, part seven, part one, day six ... lots of numbers going around here.  But I suspect you are calm enough and mature enough to handle it.    

You can find other blog posts about the British Virgin Islands and Yacht Promenade, the sailing charter, by clicking on the links on the left-hand side of the blog.  If my blog were a boat, that would be the port-side, people.  Look, I'm a sailor!    

When Squidge and I went to sleep Wednesday night, she informed me of two things - One - that Mr. Cucaracha (the cockroach-like bug in our room) did not deserve a name.  Squidge apparently has a zero tolerance stance on kindness toward insects.  And number two -- to make sure I wake her up for breakfast.  Evidently Squidge must have known that our Valentine's Day breakfast would be Eggs Benedict.  

When we were on Salt Island on Wednesday, I realized that we had not been on land since Sunday.  Surprisingly I did not miss it at all!  It was a beautiful morning in the BVI for the start of Valentine's Day.  Living on a sailboat, the temperatures tend to be up to 10 degrees cooler than on land and no mosquitos.  In other words, heaven.  The breezes off the water are like having your own personal cabana boy fanning you at all times.  OK, maybe not as slick as that ... but darn close.  

Captain Chad took the dinghy to the dock of Salt Island and was jumping rope while we ate our Eggs Benedict.  I found the idea of eating rich Hollandaise sauce while a tan, buff man works out to be quite decadent.  Actually from the angle I was sitting on the boat, I couldn't see Captain Chad working out while I ate my roasted potatoes and Eggs Benedict.  My tablemates relayed the play by play of Chad's morning workout.  Which was probably better for me - my heart can't handle BOTH rich Hollandaise sauce AND a fluffy-haired, good-looking man working out in front of me.  My cardiovascular system is just not that strong!

Since the sea glass hunt was slim pickings on Wednesday, Captain Chad had offered to take us to Haulover Bay on Cooper Island for what he deemed to be some "good beach combing."  My inner slug told me to stay on the boat, but Squidge was going to go beach combing - so I decided that I should do the sisterly thing and join along - even though I am almost done with my Tyler Hamilton book and really wanted to just lay on the bow and finish it.

Chad and Jessica took us on the dinghy over to Cooper Island.  The shore at Haulover Bay is filled with large rocks and we slowly motored the dinghy in trying to find the best spot to jump off on to the rocks, as there was no way to land the dinghy on the beach without cutting up the motor and the bottom of the dinghy.  

We aimed for some rocks that look the least slimy and slick.  Jessica hopped out the dinghy like a seasoned pro and pulled the rope line to keep it steady as we tentatively climbed out upon the large sun-baked boulders.  

Having the grace and elegance of a herd of rhinos wearing ill-fitting ballet shoes, I am always scared of falling on my face when jumping in and out of the dinghy.  Perhaps in my next life, I will have a better sense of balance - but in this one, I am a weeble wobble that likes to fall down ... a lot.

All six guests managed to make it out of the dinghy without injury of pride or body.  Captain Chad had told us to cut through the mangroves to the beach on the other side of the island to find the "spectacular beach" with "good beach combing."  The first time I went on a hike with the crew of the Yacht Promenade back in 2007, Richard the 6'5" Brit, brought a machete.  I looked over at blonde, tan, young, significantly shorter Jessica and wondered if she was hiding a machete in her bikini.  

The ground on this particular stretch of Cooper Island is not so much dirt but an ever-shifting slippery minefield of old coral and jagged rock.  You had to be careful of where you stepped because you could inadvertently cause a mini avalanche - and the only victims of the rock slide would be your bare feet.  Squidge and I wore our aqua shoes- which did have a suitable rubber bottom, but if you landed on a piece of jagged coral the wrong way you could definitely feel it through your shoe.  I walked delicately and carefully at about one mile an hour.  

Up ahead the "path" (a term I use very loosely) wound through the mangroves - gnarled, dried out bush-style trees weaved over the rocks like a wicked witch's bony, sharp fingers clasping with glee at the thought of a fattened Hansel and Gretel for dinner.  

We bent over to avoid the slivered, aged wood while still trying to find the stable pieces of coral to step upon.  We looked like a marching army of tentative stepping hunchbacks.  We were a line of well-nourished Gretels slowly ambling to their doom.  Being almost 5'9" even when I bend over, I am quite tall.  I could feel the sharp branches scraping my rash guard shirt.  If the witch's fingers were checking if I was plump enough for eating, I could almost hear the wind cackling "DINNER'S SERVED!"  

We continued to make our way through the rocks, coral, piercing trees and thorny foliage.  With each step you could hear the coral falling in a cascade of hollow scraping and clanking.  Before setting my foot down, I would survey the ashen, sun-bleached coral and wonder "Is this the right foothold?  Will this rock stay steady and hold my weight or will this choice be the one that sets a rockslide in motion and twists my ankle?"  

In the beginning of the trip, I am always ubercautious of doing anything that would ruin my trip.  I slather sunscreen on, wear cover ups and am incredibly careful to not get hurt.  By the end of the trip, I'll be jumping around like a howler monkey on crack.  But at the beginning of a trip, I walk like a little old church-loving granny.

To help balance our walking on shifting rock, we tried to gingerly hold on to the dried out branches above us.  Unfortunately the branches were so covered in slivers that they resembled porcupines.  The patchwork of dead tree limbs were also deceiving.  You could not tell which branches were actually attached to a tree and which ones were fallen driftwood, until you grabbed one with the bulk of your weight and found it slipping away, leaving you unsupported and pitched forward.

Eventually all seven of us (six guests and Jessica), made it through to the other side of Cooper Island.  Despite my Steinbeck-esque description, I will fess up that it was about a 5-10 minute walk - not the epic odyssey you might believe from my words.  We could now stand upright after crawling through the mangroves and witch fingers.  We were on a stretch of beach with the most glorious waters ... and the most glorious garbage.  

Captain Chad had sent us to the Garbage Beach.  

It was the windward side of the island, so everything and anything that was blown off boats (or sadly dumped from boats) ended up here.  Flip flops, a torn up fisherman's boot, frayed ropes, netting and a zillion water bottles were strewn across the jagged rocks.  I was suddenly in an anti-pollution, pro-recycling television commercial.  

Being a complete diva, I was annoyed that I had not listened to my inner slug and stayed on the boat.  I had walked like a hunchback and dared a thousand slivers for THIS?  The others set about combing the rocks for hidden treasure.  I stood indignantly on the shifting coral and pouted.  I spent an impoverished childhood dumpster diving for "treasure."  I knew there was nothing to be found on this beach!  Eventually I would start taking pictures - there were baby sea shells attached to everything.  I saw a coconut with shells attached.  If I would not be taking away treasure from this beach, I would at least take away good pictures.

While I had given up on collecting any treasure, Squidge was taken her role as scavenger seriously.  She combed the entire length of the garbage field - um, I mean rock beach - and squatted down between the corals, combing every inch.  I took pictures of her with my zoom and admired her tenacity, but chose not to follow in her footsteps.

Between the entire gang, two pieces of sea glass were collected from Cooper Island.  Squidge found a couple neat seashells.  On the way back, Miss B shouted out to Miss M - "By your foot!  It's moving!  LOOK!  LOOK!"  

Miss M froze and surveyed the area around her.  By the urgency in Miss B's voice, it was quite clear that there must be a cross between Godzilla and the Loch Ness Monster behind Miss M.  But after ardent scanning, no sea beast could be found.  

Miss B kept shouting "LOOK!  RIGHT THERE! BETWEEN THE ROCKS!"  

I kept my eyes peeled on the rocks and saw nothing.  Finally Miss B said "LOOK - LOOK - it's a caterpillar."  Miss M started laughing -- all this commotion for a caterpillar!  She kept walking, seemingly glad that she had so easily avoided this "near encounter with catastrophe."  

I looked down where Miss B was pointing and sure enough - a big, fat caterpillar with a blazing red head was twisting itself like a slinky through the rocks.  I chuckled and took a few pictures.  

Miss B kept walking and soon I was alone with the caterpillar and my camera.  The caterpillar raised itself up as if looking around to see if we were truly alone.  After it determined we were, it straighten its body out into a long, skinnier line and then started charging toward me.  Evidently, this caterpillar was sick of the paparazzi and it was going to go all John McEnroe or Mel Gibson on me.  I straightened up and skipped off between the fast shifting coral pieces to avoid an ass-beating from a red-headed caterpillar.

I was soon back at Haulover Bay.  Miss M and Miss B were splashing in the clear water pools between the boulders, oblivious to the fact that we were almost killed by a marauding caterpillar.  I decided not to share the news that we had narrowly escaped death's hungry clutches and instead stripped off my rashguard and stepped into the cool water.  Everything is sweeter after you avoid death by caterpillar.

The rest of our Garbage Beach scouting party eventually joined us.  Captain Chad came back out on the dinghy and we gingerly climbed the boulders and cautiously leaped in.  

We motored back to the Yacht Promenade.  Squidge showed me the shells she had collected and I showed her the pictures of the homicidal caterpillar.  Captain Chad asked how our treasure hunting went - we looked at him and said "GARBAGE BEACH!"    He said "So for your beach COMBING, you want a perfectly pristine beach that only has the treasures you're looking for on it?"  I looked him dead in the eye and said "YES!"

Captain Chad looked back at me with what some may say is pity and derision, but I am going to reclassify it and say he was looking at me with admiration and a soft, melty crush.  Denial is not just a river in Egypt, my friends ... 

For lunch, we had teriyaki chicken caesar pitas.  I think Captain Chad was on a fusion kick - creamy Caesar salad with bacon pieces layered with pineapple and teriyaki chicken in fluffy pita pockets.  A combination I probably would not have ever come up with, but it was interesting and hearty.  And after nearly dying at the multitude of hands (feet?) of a caterpillar, I was happy for the meal.

During lunch, we began motoring to the island of Virgin Gorda - the fat Virgin.  Squidge and I would be going to "The Baths" while the rest of the boat would go toward the SCUBA spots and meet us at Leverick Bay later.

Check in tomorrow for Part Two of Day Six ... The Baths and a very special Valentine's Evening ...        

Salt Island, Sea Glass and 25.8 Seconds of Conch Blowing - Day Five of a British Virgin Islands Adventure

Hello LilyOnTheLam.Com Readers:

This is Part Six in my blog posts about my vacation in the British Virgin Islands.  I am writing this in the "cockpit" of the Yacht Promenade - a trimaran sailing charter.  It is 7:38 p.m. and I am listening to The Smiths' song "This Charming Man."  I just took a much needed shower and I am hoping the cool night air dries my hair before dinner.  I hate being without a hair dryer - but having a hair dryer on a sailboat is tres cheesy ... so wet-headed I must be!   If you want the full effect of this blog post, get yourself on a trimaran, wet down your hair, crank up The Smiths and read along. ;-)

Wow, a fish just jumped out of the water and flew for a second before diving back into the water.  Boy. what fish will do to get a shout out in a blog!

I slept soundly last night but had what I have now deemed to be a Benadryl nightmare -- I dreamed that my sister wanted to leave the boat so she hired a helicopter to come pick her up and take her back to the States - and then left me with the $20,000 price tag.  I woke up really angry.  I looked over at my sleeping sister and shook my finger at her - NO HELICOPTERS FOR YOU!  And then I went back to sleep.

It was around 9:30 a.m. when I pulled myself out of bed.  Squidge and I have cemented ourselves as the last two on the boat to get up every day.  We wear the title with honor.  I decided to let Squidge sleep in - this was her vacation after all.  I grabbed some fruit, yogurt, granola and two pieces of cinnamon toast for breakfast.  CARBO-LOADING.  I never eat that many carbs and sugars for breakfast, but I rationalized that it was my vacation after all too.  

Captain Chad said they were closing up the breakfast items but that he would make Squidge breakfast when she awoke.  (Very sweet.)  I informed him that he might be making breakfast for Squidge at 3 p.m.  He said that it would be no problem.  (Again, very sweet - did I happen to mention the fluffy-haired Captain of this sailing charter is very nice?  I'm obsessed with Captain Chad's hair.  I plan on shaving his head before I leave this trip.  I figure I can fashion a mock-chia pet of some sort ... a Chad Pet, to take back to the States with me.)

Squidge eventually appeared upstairs - in her sixonetwo tank top.  612 is the area code for Minneapolis.  Squidge grew up in the 651 area code, but now lives in 612.  She informed me that 612 is cool and 651 is not.  I grew up in the 612 area code - perhaps that is why I am so freaking cool.

Captain Chad brought Squidge a plate with two fried eggs, some ham and 2 slices of toast buttered.  The other guests looked at the hand-delivered plate and said "Hey, we didn't get any ham!  We didn't get such a nice plate!  Squidge is obviously Chad's favorite."  Squidge just happily ate her eggs ... not the first time this Princess has received VIP service.  She's absolutely used to the Princess treatment.

After breakfast, we would be sailing away from Peter Island and toward Salt Island so the SCUBA divers in our group could dive the wreck of the Rhone-- one of the shipwreck sites you must see if you are in the BVI.  The water is so clear that even if you snorkel you can at least see the top of the wreck.  

I was continuing to read my Tyler Hamilton book - which I must say I am thoroughly engrossed with and fascinated with both the world of competitive cycling and doping.  Squidge decided she was going to lay on the trampoline (the netting between the hulls of the trimaran) as the boat sailed along.  I decided that since I was already in a swimsuit, I should be on the trampoline as well.  We laid on our bellies and watched the trimaran skip along the waves with big white sails full of the warm BVI wind.  For some unknown reason (severe head trauma?), I sang Bob Marley songs in a mouse voice- changing choice words with the word "cheese."  Squidge looked at me like I was two bricks of Gouda short of a cheese house.  I just kept singing in a squeaky mouse voice.

I watched the activity on Tortola ahead of us.  It seemed like we were in our own world - no jobs, no school, no responsibilities - only laying on the trampoline, getting tan, digesting our breakfast and watching the world go by.

After sailing for quite some time, Captain Chad and Felix pulled in the sails and we started motoring toward Salt Island.  At the faster speed, more waves were splashing up through the netting of the trampoline.  Squidge and I laughed loudly as we became more and more saturated from the spray.  Finally we had had enough waterboarding and made our way closer to the cockpit of the boat.  I stretched out on the deck and let the sun dry me.  I looked down at my arms and a fine coating of white powder appeared - salt!  Natural exfoliation, courtesy of the BVI.

We arrived off the coast of Salt Island near the site of the Rhone shipwreck.  Felix and Jessica took turns tending to barbecue chicken on the grill attached to the back of the trimaran.  Lunch was bacon, barbecue chicken, rolls and leftover chicken and mushroom pasta from last night's dinner.  Everything was great, but the barbecue chicken was particularly delicious.  

After lunch and some sun, the SCUBA divers got their gear together to do the Rhone dive.  Miss B got in a "noodle chair" - a floating chair and crew member Jessica went into the water to keep her company.  They had a tow line so they could pull themselves back to the boat.  Jessica brought Miss B a beer - what a great crew member!  Can't float without a beer!

Since Squidge passed out last night after reeling in a fish, she decided to stay on the boat, laying in the shade and work on her organic chemistry homework.  I kicked back on the bow. enjoying the sun and reading more of my Tyler Hamilton book.

The SCUBA divers saw some sea turtles around the shipwreck.  I can't wait to see their video of the dive.  We then pulled up anchor and motored to the other side of Salt Island - one of my favorite places in the world.  Salt Island sends a pound of salt every year to the Queen of England as their tax tribute to the Queen.  Sadly the local caretaker who lived on the island had passed away.  I had met him in 2007.  He was sick and at the hospital when I was back in 2009.  He passed away in 2012.  I visited his grave and paid my respects.  This side of Salt Island also had the cemetery for the victims of the Rhone wreck.  But why I like Salt Island so much is that it is one of the best places to find sea glass.  Back in the days of the pirates, ships would anchor near the calm cove of Salt Island for the night.  They would drink it up and throw their bottles (rum?) into the sea.  The waters would shine up the rough edges of the broken shards of glass and they would wash up upon the sea - frosted smooth treasures.  

Because Salt Island is so well-known for its sea glass, sometimes you can find some great finds and other times the beach has been well-picked over.  The rocks along the coastline in front of the Rhone victims cemetery is a good place to look for pieces of sea glass that have been wedged between the rocks when the tide comes in.

Felix took five of us in the dinghy over to the dock on Salt Island.  The water was too rough for a beach landing, so we climbed the dock like a ladder and Felix passed us our shoes and bags.  When I am on a sailing charter, I never wear shoes - but for sea glass combing on Salt Island I bring aqua shoes.  Squidge and I bought Sporti brand aqua shoes from SwimOutlet.com for $12.99 - they worked much better than a pair I had purchased for much more at Land's End.  

Squidge and the other ladies went to the right of the dock toward the Rhone victims cemetery to look for sea glass.  I went to the left ... I didn't need the competition for finding sea glass, heh heh.  Miss D likes to find blue sea glass to match her tropical-themed bedroom.  I am partial to green pieces of sea glass.  People drink on Salt Island, so up on the beaches you'll find lots of shattered bottles.  We call this "new glass" and do not pick it up - it's still jagged and sharp.  I prefer the thick pieces of glasses, frosted and smoothed by the sea - ones that conjure images of 1800's Pirates getting drunk amongst piles of pilfered booty.

I found a beautiful conch shell in the water and placed it on the dock to dry out in the sun.  I am always tempted to take home conch shells, but being from Florida I already have a large amount of sea shells in my house.  This Salt Island visit is all about the sea glass.  Since I have been to Salt Island before, I had given Squidge a heads up to bring aqua shoes and a plastic ziplock bag to collect the sea glass treasures.  We combed the beach and filled our gallon-sized bags about 1/3 full.  It was slim pickings on Salt Island today.  We then went to pay our respects to the bodies buried on Salt Island and then walked down to the salt flats.  The water level was high which was a welcome sight - when the water level is low the salt flats emit a stinky, putrid smell.  The water had a white ring along the waterline upon the beach - pure salt.  

The other guests signaled Felix to come pick them up, but Squidge wanted to stay on the island a bit longer.  I took photos of the beginning sunset and some great silhouette shots of Squidge dancing along the shore.  There was a large sailboat in front of the Yacht Promenade.  I could hear them all the way from the island.  Corporate party boat.  Why doesn't my company have a BVI party sailboat?  

By the way, I am now listening to "Summer Skin" by Death Cab For Cutie.  One of my favorite "deep thoughts" songs ... I am sitting here watching Captain Chad grill kabobs for dinner, the slow rolling water and the twinkling lights on Tortola.  I would be having deep thoughts while listening to the "Summer Skin," but Captain Chad is grilling shirtless and so I am a bit distracted.  Not a lot of deep thinking going on when staring at a really nice tanned chest ... just saying.  (Captain Chad just came back from escorting a night dive - he usually isn't just cooking shirtless.)

After Squidge rolled in the rising tide for about twenty more minutes - assuring that she was thoroughly coated in sand, we decided to head back to the boat.  I waved to the Yacht Promenade and Felix saw me and waved back.  He hopped into the dinghy and picked us up on the dock.  It was a quick ride back to the Yacht Promenade.  I stood on the side of the boat and hosed the sand off me, then off of Squidge and our aqua shoes and then hosed down the deck.  I think we brought half the beach back with us ... sand everywhere.  

It was cocktail hour on the Yacht Promenade.  Captain Chad brought us towels and today's featured cocktail.  I think it's called a banana boat, but I named it the Chocolate Chad.  It was chocolate and banana and some sort of liquor and pieces of chocolate frozen in it and whipped cream and I think a dash of love.  It was FANTASTIC.  The snack of the day was a tray of crackers with various cheeses and meats (canapes?)  Yum-a-licious.  After drying off, we joined the ladies and joined in on the munchies.  

After the sunset, our SCUBA divers put on their dive skins and wet suits and geared up for a night dive.  Squidge and I headed to the showers to scrub the remaining hidden sand off our bodies.  It felt good to be properly clean!  Afterward, Squidge headed to our cabin to do her organic chemistry homework and I came to the cockpit to work on my blog.  Eventually the SCUBA divers came back from their night dive - they had a great time and Captain Chad shifted gears from Dive Master to Master Chef, leaving Felix to put away the air tanks.   

And here I am typing ... oops the first bell rang ... means 5 or 10 minutes to dinner.  Talk about timing, eh?  Squidge will probably forego night fishing tonight to finish working on her organic chemistry.  I will probably fish for a little while.  I get impatient, but perhaps I'll play some music to keep me occupied.  And there's also my book ... did I mention I am obsessed with it?  I am!  ;-)

Squidge just popped up from the cabin - when people hear the first bell, they come up to get their drinks ready.  A ginger beer for me, a Sprite for Squidge.  Thanks for reading along so far ... I'll write more after dinner!

9:50 p.m.  Jessica and Felix are cleaning up, getting the boat ready for tomorrow.  Our charter of guests tend to turn in early - I have been on hard-partying sailing charters and my liver is grateful that this group of guests is pretty mellow.  We expend our energy during the day and then turn in early.  Squidge is in our cabin doing her organic chemistry homework.  Two days ago I saw a small bug in our room - a cross between a silverfish and a cockroach.  I tried to kill it, but it evaded me.  When I told Squidge about the bug, she was NOT happy.  Somehow I didn't realize my sister was not a friend of bugs.  She worried about the bug getting into bed with her or crawling into her mouth while she was asleep.  

So tonight when we went down to our cabin after dinner, she was sitting on her bed and I was standing in front of the sink (really only room for one person to be standing in the small cabin at one time).  I looked over and saw the same bug from a couple days before -- crawling on Squidge's bed.  I tried to kill it, but again it was too fast for me.  Squidge started freaking out.  I tried to pretend that I did kill it but she demanded to see the corpse - and I had to fess up that it was not smooshed in the tissue I held in my hand.  Squidge began ranting about how now it would crawl into her mouth.  She left the cabin to go to the bathroom and I said in a not very reassuring voice that I would find the bug and kill it before I got back.  She said that I better!  

I looked around her mattress and sheets - no sign of the bug, who I had now named Mr. Cucaracha.  Which Squidge did NOT find amusing.  When Squidge returned from the bathroom, I just shook my head in shame.  Evidently, I would not be the insect killer heroine of this story.  Squidge shook out her sheets and took her pillow out of the pillowcase.  She peered into the pillowcase and said "Are you in there?"  As if Mr. Cucaracha could speak! 

I decided to leave the cabin to let Squidge study in peace.  I hoped that Mr. Cucaracha would not attack while I was away.  I came up on deck in the cockpit.  This is one of my favorite places to sit at night - the cockpit is illuminated with white twinkly lights - like Christmas lights encased in plastic tubes.  Everything just glows in the dark night.  The moon is but a bottom sliver crescent and the stars are so bright here in the absence of much artificial light.  Felix, done for the day, is enjoying a beer and looking out at the water.  Sometimes I like to sleep on the boat's trampoline - letting the slow, gentle rocking of the boat cradle me to a blissful slumber.

So where were we before the tale of Mr. Cucaracha?  Ahhh yes, dinner time.  Captain Chad had grilled steak and shrimp kabobs that he served with roasted potatoes and sour cream.  They were very delicious.  I seriously love anything grilled.  I know the char is supposed to be carcinogenic, but gosh darn it - it tastes good!  We gobbled down the food as the SCUBA divers told us about their night dive.  I hadn't realized that they went back to the shipwreck of the Rhone to do their night dive.  A shipwreck at night - I would have been freaked out from the eerieness.  I was very proud of Miss D, who received her SCUBA certification before the British Virgin Islands trip.  This was her fourth dive of the trip and her first ever night dive.  She is very brave and adventurous!  Evidently there were a lot of sharp-spined sea urchins around the shipwreck and luckily none of our divers were gored.

Miss D said that Captain Chad held her hand as they did the night SCUBA dive because she was scared - this being her first night dive and at an eerie shipwreck site too!  I wonder if I tell Captain Chad that I am scared while suntanning if he'll hold my hand too.  Hahahhahahah .... ;-)  

Miss B is extra-excited that we'll be seeing her favorite singer Michael Beans on Valentine's Day.  One of the aspects of Michael Beans' show is that each table blows a conch shell to see who can blow it the longest.  Despite my grade school clarinet playing, I can't blow a conch shell to save my life.  It is my tragic failing that I must own.  Sigh ...  Miss B grabbed a conch shell from the helm and said that we must all practice for tomorrow's big show.  Squidge, the youngest of the guests, had to start first.  She slid the conch to Miss B and said "I need a demonstration first."  Touche, Squidge.  

Miss E demonstrated and everyone at the table gave tips on lip positions and the proper method to blow.  Miss B asked Captain Chad to put on some Michael Beans songs to get us in the mood.  We passed along the conch and as a group, we were not as stellar as Miss B would have liked.  But then Miss E, a SCUBA diver, took a deep breath and she blew into the conch making a trumpeting noise for 25.8 seconds straight!  That lady can sure blow a conch!  Miss B nodded approvingly - Miss E would be our representative for any conch blowing at tomorrow's Michael Beans show.  Thank goodness, I was afraid Miss B would exile us all to the boat and not allow us to go if we couldn't blow the conch! 

Miss D, our newest SCUBA diver, has had water in her ears since after the night dive.  Squidge, a former competitive swimmer, showed her how to shake her head to try to get the water out.  However it did not help.  Jessica went to get Q-tips and rubbing alcohol - the alcohol will help dry out the water in the ear canal.  Miss B called out "And bring a shot glass!"  As if we had finished off all the alcohol on the boat and were now moving on to doing shots of rubbing alcohol!  (By the way, the Yacht Promenade has so much alcohol on it - I think all guests would die of liver failure before all the liquor was polished off!)  

Miss D and Miss E each grabbed a Q-tip and dipped it into the shot glass of rubbing alcohol and began applying it to their ears.  Squidge leaned in and grabbed one too.  I looked at her puzzled ... Squidge hadn't even swam today, much less dove.  She just laughed and said "My ears need cleaning too!"  Crazy Squidge.

After the conch blowing and the rubbing alcohol shots, the guests were exhausted.  Even Miss B, an avid fisherwoman, told Felix she just wasn't up for night fishing.  But she asked Felix to join us for a drink instead - so we had a last nightcap before everyone went to their cabins.  When the guests go to bed, so do the crew - sleep is precious and they are working non-stop.

And now here I am ... 10:20 p.m., sitting in the cockpit, enjoying the cool sea breeze under the white lights.  Occasionally I can hear laughter from the corporate party boat anchored maybe 150 feet away, but I have my headphones on - so the interruptions are minimal.  It is so peaceful.  Captain Bazza's boat, "Buoy Boy" is anchored behind the Yacht Promenade.  I watch it bob gently on the slow rolling waves,  Its anchor light illuminating its open cockpit.  It's like our mini lighthouse.  

I can't see Salt Island anymore, even though we are anchored in swimming distance from it.  There isn't any electricity on the island that I know of and now that the caretaker has passed away, I don't think anyone lives on the island anymore.  I wonder if I could disconnect - do without electricity and running water, living on an island.  Seeing that I am sitting on an electrically lit sailboat on an iPad with wifi, listening to my 5th generation iPod Touch ... I think it would be a challenge, to say the least.

There are 11 people currently on this trimaran (two more will arrive Saturday) and yet right now I feel like I am the only person here.  Everyone else-- guests and crew-- are in their cabins.  Towels and diving wetsuits sway in the night breeze from the improvised clothes line.  I swear if I listen closely I can hear my soul whispering to me.  The secrets of the Universe are waiting to unfold to us, if we only stop to listen.