Q . . . quit with the serious tone for today, quirky has ushered itself in, and questions . . . I always have questions.    Oh . . . and the fifth letter in the title “c” rather than “t,” I’ve erroneously misspelled that several times  since this series began.  Right now I need the therapy of making fun of myself.

First question:  I hadn’t previously noticed the hydraulic device between the wheelhouse  and the staple (?) on Laura K.  Anyone have ideas?

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As Eagle Atlanta headed into the Kills yesterday, I noticed someone on the portside bridgewing cleaning or mopping.

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Never noticed someone doing that before.

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I’m always looking for signage that, although it may make sense in some contexts, seems quirky.    When I saw this in Mystic the other week, I wondered who or what precipitous submarines might be dropping off . . . and where the nearest pick up point might be.  Well, not really.  But wouldn’t “Warning:  Steep dropoff” be more to the point?  Am I being too much of a wise-ass of late July here?

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Ah . . . one of my favorite type of signs:  ship names.  Take your pick at World Yacht . . . ride on a princess or a temptress.  If you know me, you know which I’d choose.  And while we’re on the topic of passenger ships (for which Old Salt has coined the acronym WOWO vessels) check this comparison out here.

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A new sailing ship has offered proverbial “three-hour tours” from Pier 17 along the East River.  Clipper City is the name.  Previously, they operated out of Baltimore;  they’re here now, but judging by the miniscule white-painted sign indicating that, I suspect they could leave town, slap on some new paint, and have a new port before the paint was dry.

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Last foto:  a 1905 tug named Sea Lion.  I had noticed the foto on Waterlogged, a blog done by a Vancouver-based blogging friend named Tana. Let me digress from my story, though, to point you to a fascinating adventure Sea Lion was involved with 95 years ago:  the Komogata Maru incident!!!  Read it here.  Colonialism, racism, and battle on the high seas (of the harbor).

Back to Tana’s foto though:  each time I looked at the text and foto, though, I read Sea Loin.  I said it couldn’t be, looked again, read it wrong again. . . .  Oh, it’s sad what happens to has started happening to my eyes and perception, misfires between the synapses.  I have bifocals already, but although they correct quite well, more areas of vision are starting to need correction.

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Which brings me back to medications, which I don’t use.  For now.  Thank the water gods and goddesses.  But as my processes start slowing down in the quagmire of aging, I’m vowing to laugh more.

I’ll gallivant off again tomorrow, . . . getting sea legs while pursuing sea loins, or hobgoblins.

Except for Tana’s, all fotos by Will Van Dorp.

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