Annapol-ish

Oy. Maryland. I’d love to see its statistics on hypertension from sodium overload. If I never see another steamed crab, it’ll be too soon.

So, I spent this whole past weekend cruising around the Chesapeake in my grandparents’ yacht. Drove the yacht a bit too. It’s, um… “relaxing”. To put it another way, having captained a yacht, I now see how sailing would be a lot of fun.

It was entirely too easy to fall asleep on the boat. Any activity that has me wanting to take a nap if I so much as sit down for a while is not something I could make a lifestyle out of.

Sleeping on the boat, though, was good sleeping. We stayed overnight in a slip on the Eastern Port of Annapolis. We had wanted a downtown slip, which would have been fun people-watching, but evidently there was a tri-athlon this past weekend and everybody and their two dogs were already there.

I’m starting to get a sense of how to define activities such as yachting in terms of the lifestyle they accompany, because these things only make sense in context. Specifically, yachting does not suit the ninja lifestyle, but it does definitely suit the “I’ve had a hard life and now I’ve earned the right to do and think about nothing in particular” lifestyle.

Annapolis is a very interesting place, in a sort of “wow, you could be a real history geek or a real oblivious nihilist here” kind of way. I love the old buildings, the tiny streets and alleyways, the expertly crafted traditional pottery, and all of that lovely stuff. There are even a few great independent coffee shops, bookstores, and creative restaurants, a few of which I shall be reviewing later.

What I don’t love is the near impossibility of getting in touch with any of the interesting stuff I’m coming to rely on in the Bay Area. Taiko drumming? Raw food restaurants? Trapeze lessons? Keep dreaming.

Got a lot of writing and thinking done though. I’m writing down huge lists of things I want to learn about, which is something I’ve never done before, and it’s actually comforting. Because, while there are about 60 separate things currently on my list of things I could easily be quite happy studying and experimenting with, and at least 140 more just waiting to re-emerge from the cuckolds of my brain while my pen is in hand, it actually feels somewhat finite! Whereas before, my interests and pursuits seemed like a never-ending gushing-forth of unquenchable mind-desire.

Why, there must be hundreds of thousands of things I’m NOT interested in! That’s fantastic news.

Speaking of desire, I never met a couple of people more interested in going out to eat just for the sake of it than my grandparents. My grandmother routinely says “I’m not hungry” but then orders THE most fried, least-real-food-like item from the appetizer menu, just to be social, but also nibbles bits of meat and sauces off other people’s plates. She’s probably completely destroyed her stomach acidity and is unable to feel real hunger anymore or digest anything properly.

*Sigh*. They’re good people, nice to get to know. I may as well close with another cliche: nice to visit, wouldn’t want to live here.

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