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Just a Cup of Coffee – The Love Story of Princess Rosebud and her Captain –...
Today: Sometimes he’s here, sometimes he’s not. That’s the life of a tugboat captain’s wife. Right now he’s not.. The Wedding: February 21, 1994 Our song, our first dance as husband and wife....
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Just a Cup of Coffee – Part Two
Just a Cup of Coffee…the true love story of Princess Rosebud and her tugboat man. Click to read Part One HERE (This might take a while, grab your hankies, it could have been broken up into three parts,...
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Tormenting Husbands is FUN
When my tugboat man goes out to sea, communication is limited to email and cell phone, and even that depends upon what part of the world he’s in. Sometimes, there’s no cell at all and I’ll only...
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Hairy Hanukkah Harry and The Story of Hanukkah 2012
Forget elf shaming, try a little Hanukkah Harry Guilt! (Not gelt). This post is a time machine back to the year twenty-twelve, but it’s the only one I have for Hanukkah. That year I was all alone....
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How I Feel When Tugboat Man Comes Home
http://en.es-static.us/upl/2012/09/moon_8-31-2012_Priya_Kumar_Muscat_Masqat_Oman.jpeg Easy Friday post, got a minute or two to write ‘cos he’s out surfing OF COURSE. Tugboat man’s deffo my soulmate;...
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Being a Mariner’s Wife is a Constant State of Worry
Woke up to this terse email from my tugboat man: P.S. What he means by “go in” is sailing into a safe port, but now the weather is swirling all around him, and best practices dictate staying offshore....
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if you love someone…
“If you love someone more than anything, the distance only matters to the mind, not the heart.” I saw this posted on Facebook and it seems so very true—and helpful to remember at those times when we...
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This is the life of a tugboat captain’s wife…
My tugboat man departed mid-September for what was supposed to be a six-week assignment. In the world of the merchant mariner, that’s easy; a piece of cake. He’s still not home and what’s today’s date?...
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my part-time marriage
You know what I hate more than my tugboat man’s delays that prevent him from coming home? I really hate all the people who don’t stop asking me when he’s coming home and give me a sort of a snarkly...
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Burying the Lede. Again.
Picture this: last evening at 5pm…I’m still sick with the flu (but recovering) on the sofa in my flannel jammies, the ones with happy little owls sprinkled all over a turquoise background, drinking...
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