Sometimes a dull moment

We won 7 goats and a sheep. This little guy is trying to make it 8.
On stage. Surrounded by children.

Back when we worked traditional jobs, our daily routines made a lot of the days run together for me. These days, there's more variety. We might be winning a herd of goats at Bingo one day and then spending a good chunk of another killing houseflies. The buggers keep coming in droves. Wasn't flies one of the 7 plagues? I'm pretty sure.

Water balloon toss quickly deteriorated into a free-for-all.

These girls killed in the 3-legged race.

Conrad turned 8 and was very happy to be able to celebrate with friends from other boats. We ended up not moving to Carriacou because we weren't sure what Bertha was up to. Instead, we have been hanging out at the beach and pool, as well as leisurely crossing off small boat projects. Matt spent the better part of one morning cleaning growth from our bottom. This was our propeller after about a month in Prickly Bay.

 

 

The view through a couple fences and a full tennis court.

One day the swell was getting obnoxious and we fled the boat early to attend the Kids Frolic, which is one of the events leading up to the SpiceMas carnival. Groups of young people perform traditional song and dance numbers, as well as Soca steel pan music. The performances were entertaining but the whole process was frustrating.

 

The actual start time was about 2 hours after the advertised 11 a.m (which meant it was still setting up even though we initially went to the wrong location and walked a couple of extra miles). The ticket-buying process was so difficult that it was amazing that anyone actually attended the event. We were told by several people (including the person at the ticket booth) that you couldn't buy tickets at the gate but when the one and only ticket booth down the street couldn't print tickets, we learned that their solution was to walk up to the stadium and have someone up there print out a stack of tickets, which were then brought back to the booth for sale. 

 

So instead of waiting in the sun even longer, we went to the stadium and found that you could buy tickets. Or at least try to buy tickets.  The entrance consisted of a huge throng of people pushing towards the ticket booth and pre-paid entrance, both of which were in the same spot. Conrad kept yelling that he was getting crushed. Although he was being a bit dramatic--it wasn't soccer hooligan or rock concert level--it was an unpleasant experience in the heat of the midday sun.

 

When we got to our hard-won seats, they were butt-numbing slabs of concrete placed far from the action. Conrad and Mark were interested for awhile because of the colorful costumes, loud stomping and singing, and spewing of talcum powder. But it got too hot and crowded so we got ice-cream and cotton candy and left to play at a nearby park.

 

 

The view was much better outside the venue.

After spending all day walking around in the heat, we did what any sensible person would do: even more walking.  It was off to the Hash House Harriers run/walk. It was much more challenging than the last one we did, with almost 4 miles of hills to scramble up and down. If we had suggested to Mark and Conrad that we add this on to an already tiring day, we would have been accused of torturing them. But because their friend Noah was doing it, there were no issues.

 

By the way, there were lots of goats on this trail, one of which head-butted several participants in the rear end. Maybe it's for the best that we sold our goat herd.

 

We'll be moving the boat to St. Georges for a few days to better position ourselves for the carnival. From what we've heard, we have some loud and sleepless nights ahead of us.