10-7: Downrigging--A Highlight Reel

Boy, it's been a while! Allow me to explain myself by elucidating the insanity that has been the downrigging process--taking off all the sails, all the ropes, all the heads (fun process, that), all the pumps--everything but the kitchen sink. And we thought real hard about removing that too.

And what better way to do that than a montage! By all means, I encourage you to read this with something jaunty and constructive--howsabout "The House That Jack Built" by Aretha Franklin, or maybe "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" by Otis Redding. Got it queued up? Good!

Still didn't stop us from spitting over the side.

• First thing's first: we dry docked the Grace, and it was fucking awesome. Less awesome was listening to not one, but two hilariously uncommunicative captains (the Admiral and the owner of the dry-dock, who I suppose we'll call The Commodore) shouting orders and watching them verbally duke it out.
• Consequently, I totally lived in a boat-treehouse for a week. Check it out on the left!
• While walking around the Shop looking for painting supplies I come across--inevitably--the Conan hammer from a few posts ago. "What else do we need?" the Admiral asked aloud, as we readied to load things into the truck. As a joke, I gesture to the hammer. He looks for a minute. "Grab it." I paused. "What for?" He shrugged. "In case employees get out of line." I laughed, and started away. Looking at nothing in particular, he quietly, unambiguously put it in my pile and walked away.
• Using the hammer (hell with it--I'm naming it Hullcleaver) to pound caulking irons an inch into the ship's crevasses in an attempt to seal up any leaks. Thing hasn't sunk yet, so I guess it worked!
• Picasso, signaling me to pound the iron by yelling "BONK!" because really, the thing is pure Looney Toons gold.
• What scientific standards refer to as "an unholy fuckton" of lead paint on a good amount of my skin. Which might explain why you're getting this post in bullet points. At least I didn't get any in my eye!
• Definitely got some acid in my eye. While walking along the scaffolding, a piece of wood came up on an unlashed section and sent me backwards. Did the same with the jar of phosphoric acid in my hand. I responded by emptying a water bottle into it, then climbing into the shower fully clothed and having a staring contest with the faucet for twenty minutes (I won!)
• Plenty of fun times laying under the 200-ton ship scraping barnacles off of the keel. It's kind of like hanging out in a cave, but it smells much worse.
• The Admiral's temper gradually fraying has been a source of boundless entertainment. Upon attempting to show Picasso how to whip a line (cinch the end of a rope with sewing thread/needle to keep it from coming undone): "You take it like this...*pinches it tight*, wrap some duct tape around it...*wraps a few inches on the end*, cut it here...*cuts it short*, and you COME BACK NEXT SEASON AND LEARN THE REST! *throws it to the ground and storms away*". Nothing like a boss with a sense of humor.
• Last but not least, carrying away the entire bathroom contents of both the Merc and the Grace:

What a shitty situation.