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All our crap below Wildie.

Well it hasn’t been an easy few weeks, they don’t call it livin’ on the hard for nothing.
But these words from James Altucher comfort me:

In your heads, right now, is that desert. The stories we tell ourselves that create not only who we are but who we aren’t: the excuses, the fears, the angers, the anxieties.

People on every side laugh at you for trying. But they don’t know why you are doing things. What motives you have. Only you do.

Experience is the desert. Belongings are the chains. Adversity is the desert. Opinions of others are the sand traps.

Everyday, one foot in front of the other.

Crossing the desert.

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Two-and-a-half years of entropy have taken its toll on her.

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The hull cleaned up and bottom painted. Port Supply sent us the wrong colored bottom paint, so Wildie has a little black dress now.

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Getting ready to be splashed.

To water.

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