Disclaimer

From the Log . . .

On the following morning, November 21st, we left at dawn for Ensendad de Los Muertos, a distance of about 45 miles directly into the wind. The first leg of the journey stood us well out to sea past the point that make up the bay or small cove know as Los Frailles. On our second tack we stood along the southern beach of Los Palmas Bay. This bay is approximately 30 miles in length and has along it’s southern shore, two large rivers that enter into the bay that are filled with palms. I could not see from the boat just what kind of palms they were, but they have, both coconut and date palms in this area. There is a small town called Buena Vista that is located on the shore near one of the river entrances. It makes a beautiful appearance from the sea.

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I'm at home this morning, posting from my personal computer, the one that doesn't automatically connect to the server of the corporate headquarters, whose server is identified by Google Analytics as 'Great Lakes'. Not the one that has all this software that monitors my every keystroke. With IT security guys looking for keywords that would indicate nefarious, unauthorized activity. (Oops, I just edited this blog from the wrong computer . . .)

I can use all kinds of language that might get me into trouble and only have to worry about Homeland Security. Those wimps are nothing compared to the corporate headquarter goons. I work for a 40 billion dollar company that doesn't need to be bailed out. They are actually profitable, even in this economy.

I can beg or hint at my desire to get a pirate hat and turn a sailboat into an amusement park.

And my readers will understand.

I'm at home, the rest of my project team knows this, even the manager that grinds his teeth every time my name comes up. I'm waiting for an important package from FedEx Ground. I know they'll be delivering it, the tracking computer God said so. But hey, it could be delivered in the next minute, or 8 o'clock tonight.

Aaargh.

And I'm sailing this Weekend! Yeah! I won't be 'Skipper Of Record' (SOR), that unlucky fellow has never had me on board, I don't know the other crew (except for the Admiral).

And it's going to be warm. WOW, all that clenching of fists has paid off.

And I'll be on a J105, in a semi competitive environment. If the idiot at the helm (even if it's me) runs into something, it's not my responsibility.

Hey! I can close my eyes and do foredeck! Yippie!

We're going to fly the 'kite'.

And today, at home, I can pull up maps and charts and blog to my hearts content.

Hmmm, my charting software is on that other computer . . .

But if I disable it's transmitter, and don't allow it to connect via a wire . . .

Bradley, how do I find that log file that records my keystrokes?

Bradley?

BRAAAAADLEY!

Where are you?

I need you!

He's probably cuddled up with his girlfriend.

sheeesh, girlfriends are such a distraction to my young nerdy, geeky friends.