Part of my problem is but I don't really have any super close friends where I live. I'm grateful for Sarasota and everything that it brought to me, but somehow I haven't established any physical soulmates here. I realize that social media is a poor substitute for true intimate connection, but it's probably one of the reasons that I gravitate towards it is my feeling of aloneness here. It's not like everything that I read on Facebook or Instagram moves me personally, but often I come across an intellectual or humorous friend who informs me or lifts my spirit or suddenly makes me feel closer. When I get off the Internet, I look around me at my mess of the house the things I need to get done.

It's a big bad world out there.  Far too many distractions.  So I've decided to take refuge, for a day, a week, a month... who knows for how long?  Right here in my little Ginsblog part of the universe.  It's not that I instead couldn't be interacting with my very loved (or less loved) ones on Facebook and elsewhere.  The fact is I could probably get absorbed in that all day long. 
What do I hope to cover here?

Ginsblog: Whats going on in the here and now
Lawsuits:  they are finally heading somewhere!  Every day, describe at least one of them.
The Compassionate Landlady:  Tales from the Rugged Rental Realms
Family Ongoings: What's going on for the Ginsberg-Klemmt world
Throwback Thursday: far reaching memory day... back back back... stories from the days of yore.
Including photos and scans from the file cabinet.

Time to sleep.

I haven't written here for years.  It's like an old dark country house I used to visit, thinking someday I might even plant a garden here, put up some curtains, and make it home.  Never happened.  Resentment must still be seething from my mantra.  "Comon, I had a blog before the word blog was even invented!  But now it's time to get over that.

Today is our 24th anniversary and my last married year before I turn 50.  Growing up, I always thought 50 year old women were grandmothers, not moms of 10 year old children like I am.  I also thought it was too depressing to have kids too early, so I started late, never thinking about how it might cramp my style to be a middle age mom of an elementary school kid.  Many of my friends who had kids early have the parenting part out of the way.  I'm in no way resentful.  In fact, I wouldn't want it any other way.

My life is one big mixup of  the war between literature and litigation, between writing memoir and rental management.  And now tax season looms.

"If your tired of starting over stop giving up."

Attn: Jeff Dotson, CFO/CIO at Shapes Total Fitness for Women, Tampa

Dear Mr. Dotson,
Here is a lovely photo of the motivational quote on the back wall of your Bee Ridge fitness club.

"If your tired of starting over stop giving up."

I realize we are all trying to get rid of the tire around our waist...
I have politely pointed out the spelling error to Crunch employees for over 6 months.

This letter is to attest to the fact that you, Mr. Dotson, stated to me that the above grammatically incorrect sentence has been approved by your corporate offices and will not be taken down because your company wants to foster an environment of "No Judgements/ No Judgments."

No, this is not an alternative English spelling issue.

My requests to admit your error and improve your intellectual image were met by both you and others in your corporate office with defensive and even offensive responses.

"This isn't a library, lady."
"Who cares, anyhow?"

Quite frankly, many of us do care.

A prompt response would be appreciated. If a higher up corporate entity wishes to chime in, I welcome that.

And you think your tired.

Blame the half a cup of coffee. Blame the hard work that has paid off thus far.
 I had an epiphany.
We have three kids ages 13 11 and 7. We have a 50 foot aluminum sloop.
We have investments which will, if we work hard for another XX amount of months and organize well, will allow for cash flow. Where am I getting? I smell a cruise on the horizon. I say 2 maybe three years max. All three kids, Achim and I back Out There. It was meant to be.
You can take the technomad and make her stationary for awhile, but the techno will sooner or later turn her mad until the NO-mad rears her head again. Everything will be Different, of course. It's a different world, politically, technologically, economically... and my family is different, too. Bigger, for one thing. One main difference is, when you have something to conserve, one does become more.. conservative. I have no need for complete open endedness.
I may even create a "schedule" or itinerary, complete with a date for completion.
 Always thought that sounded sucky.
Now it gives the cruise a kind of segmented quality that allows for the specialness of the lifestyle to come to the forefront, since you know it's temporary. I'm thinking one year. We likely won't visit the natives or do anything too insane like a northwest passage. But I will get my kids off the traditional grid and have us living in close quarters experiencing that lifestyle together, and they can either reject it or embrace it. I guess I wanted to let you know that the seed was planted and I'm going to integrate that seed into my next year's plannings.
 My kids are in a special full time gifted school and I want to integrate the experience with their education (as if that could somehow be severed anyhow).

Love, an original Technomads (1996) Erika Ginsberg-Klemmt
don't be fooled by the pic... we haven't done much sailing together since this photo from 6/11.

What a journey.
I've been spared.
Whether I believe in a guardian angel or not doesn't matter: an angel saved me from death.
My naivity would have killed me.
We bought a condo and I was in the attic.
The previous owner had left lots of stuff in the attic and I was getting the stuff out.
No one,
no one,
no one has ever told me:
you can't just walk anywhere in an attic.
One minute I was hovered over a box, the next second the floor/ceiling caved in under my weight and I was face down on the living room floor. All the weight taken by my jaw.
I've smashed four or more molars, we won't know for a month because my jaw was fractured in 2 places and needed to be wired shut.

I hadn't been 48 hours back from my fantastc three week trip to Austria.

I didn't mention the 8 stitches to my chin and that my front tooth went through my lower lip, bending it in so much as likely to need root canal.

I am in a peacful painful place. Gratitutde is pouring from every cell as I heal.
I love life with a deep intensity and greatfulness.
Love has flowed from every crevice of this great earth to help me heal.
I feel so much luck.
If I had fallen any other way on my head, you wouldn't want to know what state I would be in. Today, Facebook is Mine. It's my Face. It's my life. I could cry my beautiful 5 year old daughter to sleep in my arms in the kitchen tonight. I could make love to my incredible husband. Yes, I recommend everyone break their jaw if that's what it takes to feel this...
PRAISE be to LIFE!

letter I received from an old copain

Since I'm on FB, I've wanted to share a letter I received from an old boyfriend to whom I sent one of my good ol' newsletters:
Paris September 6, 1986
Erika, I'm sorry, but I'm very disappointed by this letter-writing system: I don't like being taken "en masse," with a letter which does not reflect a relationship between TWO PEOPLE.
I understand that this is an American methode, but I truly disapprove! (especially type-written)
How could you send a letter to several people, even though each person is so different in their complicity and in personality.
I send you kisses nonetheless, but I will only respond again if you write to me like a human being and non like a number. Kiss on the cheek, Laurent

So: here's my personal message to you, Laurent: Have we come a long way, baby?

Jammin to Common Sense, summer 2009. Totally unchronological. So what.

Where are you, ARI? You'll be SORRY!

Story of my son going missing... Published in the local paper, The South Gator.

During a Myakka State Park boat tour last February, a seasoned guide explained to us that the distance between the alligator's eyes and nostrils in inches is an estimate in feet to the alligator's total length.

Yesterday morning, Achim came up from his office to tell me that there was a large gator in our pond.

The week before, we had seen what we thought was a small gator, and thought little of it.


This time, however, we looked at what we could see of the head. It looked like there must be close to a foot between the wider and narrower ends of the trapezoid making up this reptilian face.

A little research online helped me to determine what to do:



"Generally, alligators may be considered a nuisance when they are at least four feet in length and pose a threat to people or their pets or property."

So in this case, this gator was double the minimum size. Did it pose a threat to us? Well, it was right at the edge of our property, hunting. I sat for over an hour, watching this floating head almost at my feet. We were having a kids bash on Sunday, and my three will be out of school in a week. Did I really want to wait until this giant gator 'posed a threat?'

The gator has been living in Sarasota for longer than we have. The gator was in his natural habitat. I struggled with the decision we had to make. We made it, and called.

The trapper came with what seemed to be two kids and maybe grandpa. With very few words and just a few minutes of quick, swift pulls, Sarasota Dundee had the lasso around the gator's neck. He yanked the beast out of the pond, threw a towel across the gator's eyes and had the snout wrapped up with electric tape.


It happened so quick I didn't have time to say, "wait! I change my mind! Let my children risk swimming with a 9 footer! I can't do this to such a majestic creature!" But it was too late; the trapper had his catch.

The only words he exchanged with me was the reply to why he didn't fight more: "this gator is tired."

He focused on the job of dragging the beast over the lawn to the front yard, where they heaved the wrapped up animal in the back of his white pickup and was gone.

I felt like our neighbors were booing and hissing. We were the perpetrators, the wildlife killers. These were neighbors who either had no small children or didn't live on the water. In fact, we are the only people on this body of water, as far as we can see, with children.

Can anyone understand why we needed to call 866-FWC-GATOR? Am I simply to tell my kids not to go near the water, period? It was a sad sight, but I learned that they have "harvested" 9,733 such gator in 2008 alone. That's 26 of these every day! From what I understand, gator are not an endangered species. And I promise, if I see a sweet little gator in my pond, I'll leave it alone. But after all is said and done, I feel relieved that I don't have to fear for life and limb every time I open the screen door to the backyard (this gator would have had the screen door for lunch.)


That's how I feel. How the gator and its family feels, I couldn't tell you.

I’ve been missing the good ol’ days.

The strange thing is I know for a fact that I’m living the good ol’ days. How do I know that as a fact? Simple: every phase I’ve lived in my life, up until now, has been the good ol’ days. So why should that fact stop now?
I started digitizing my life textually around 1994; I have my old, handwritten diaries up until then. I started digitizing image-wise around 2003. This memory- catching, whether per diary, email, digital snapshot, has made available memories which all make me sentimental. I have no doubt in my mind that, ten years from now, I will think back on these days, with three small children, as another phase of the good ol’ days. This makes me feel good this May first morning.

Why am I stuck on Facebook all day these days?

Perhaps because the past seems so glamorous, more so than the laundry, shopping list, dishes, homework shuffle I'm contending with now.

The phases of life have struck me so hard lately it's as if I'm not thoroughly feeling the warm sun on my skin or the sweetness of the sugar.

I think of my own mom. She didn't ask herself so many damn questions! Why is that? She just did. I shot out from between her legs and was there to contend with, not to ponder, test, probe, experiment analyze, fear, loathe and focus on.

Not that I focus on my kids; I obviously don't otherwise how the hell would I be writing this email to you? Someone says miserable people go through their lives feeling either guilt or resentment. If I focus on them: resentment. If I don't: guilt. hat a joke. And they become the brunt of it.

Take this morning for example. There's my 7 year old son, sitting at the counter eating his dry graham cracker cereal. He refuses to put milk in his cereal, never have, never will. He won't sit at the table with Maeva and Antonia because, he says, something stinks over there, and it's just "too complicated." Mom is rushing around the kitchen, making Maeva's lunch, worrying about whether Toni took her Omega 3s, thinking about how she has to walk the dog... and I look at his bare feet under the counter. No shoes on yet. And where's his backpack? I go to his room: A bear pit! I just cleaned it for him last week, that ungrateful little oinker! With pencil sharpenings all over the floor mixed in with clothes and books and blankets and other sludge. No, no backpack in there... there it is, in the living room bay window, his homework strewn all over the place. I start screaming at him! Ari! What is this! And your hair's not combed! And you didn't write in your reading log (the guy reads novels already but they make him write what book and how many minutes in this damn log) and look at your spelling choices! you didn't do them right! and and and! I keep going, I'm on a rollercoaster of Nag.
I hate you, mom.

Yes, I know, I am hateful at that moment. Resentment crashes up against guilt, creating waves of darkness, the darkness that at best is the fodder for sitcom conflicts and at worst the motive for Lizzie Borden. All the self help books, all the yoga, breathing exercises, affirmations, massage therapy, all the wisdom of the ages and knowledge of human behavior, nothing can stop me from wanting to throw both him and myself out that brand new casement bay window that cost us more than a ski vacation in Austria, including the flight.

But I hold back. I withdraw. I pack up Maeva's lunch, I get her dressed against all her protests. I bargain and bicker and bribe and manipulate and prepare until we are all in the minivan.

Then I drive those little mo'fo' to school. God I love em.

Saw Barack Obama Today in Dunedin (N of Clearwater, FL)

THERE IS HOPE!!!

Forwarded to me from my friend Margit Pirsch

Once upon a time in Alaska...check this out. I wanted to hug each and every woman there!
W o w! Look at these pictures of a great bunch of people, carrying home-made signs…

ASK YOUR TV STATIONS WHY WE DIDN'T GET TO SEE THE BIGGEST RALLY IN ALASKA ?

Enjoy….pass it on!

[The] Alaska Women Reject Palin rally was to be held outside on the lawn in front of the Loussac Library in midtown Anchorage. Home made signs were encouraged, and the idea was to make a statement that Sarah Palin does not speak for all Alaska women, or men. I had no idea what to expect.

The rally was organized by a small group of women, talking over coffee. It made me wonder what other things have started with small groups of women talking over coffee. It's probably an impressive list. These women hatched the plan, printed up flyers, posted them around town, and sent notices to local media outlets. One of those media outlets was KBYR radio, home of Eddie Burke, a long-time uber-conservative Anchorage talk show host. Turns out that Eddie Burke not only announced the rally, but called the people who planned to attend the rally "a bunch of socialist baby-killing maggots," and read the home phone numbers of the organizers aloud over the air, urging listeners to call and tell them what they thought. The women, of course, received some nasty, harassing and threatening messages.

I felt a bit apprehensive. I'd been disappointed before by the turnout at other rallies. Basically, in Anchorage, if you can get 25 people to show up at an event, it's a success. So, I thought to myself, if we can actually get 100 people there that aren't sent by Eddie Burke, we'll be doing good. A real statement will have been made. I confess, I still had a mental image of 15 demonstrators surrounded by hundreds of menacing "socialist baby-killing maggot" haters.

It's a good thing I wasn't tailgating when I saw the crowd in front of the library or I would have ended up in somebody's trunk. When I got there, about 20 minutes early, the line of sign wavers stretched the full length of the library grounds, along the edge of the road, 6 or 7 people deep! I could hardly find a place to park. I nabbed one of the last spots in the library lot, and as I got out of the car and started walking, people seemed to join in from every direction, carrying signs.

Never, have I seen anything like it in my 17 and a half years living in Anchorage. The organizers had someone walk the rally with a counter, and they clicked off well over 1400 people (not including the 90 counter-demonstrators). This was the biggest political rally ever, in the history of the state. I was absolutely stunned. The second most amazing thing is how many people honked and gave the thumbs up as they drove by. And even those that didn't honk looked wide-eyed and awe-struck at the huge crowd that was growing by the minute. This just doesn't happen here.


Then, the infamous Eddie Burke showed up. He tried to talk to the media, and was instantly surrounded by a group of 20 people who started shouting O-BA-MA so loud he couldn't be heard. Then passing cars started honking in a rhythmic pattern of 3, like the Obama chant, while the crowd cheered, hooted and waved their signs high.



So, if you've been doing the math… Yes. The Alaska Women Reject Palin rally was significantly bigger than Palin's rally that got all the national media coverage! So take heart, sit back, and enjoy the photo gallery.
Feel free to spread the pictures around to anyone who needs to know that Sarah Palin most definitely does not speak for all Alaskans. The citizens of Alaska , who know her best, have things to say.

First Posting in over a year...

Where to start? Considering I used to consider myself a "writer," I now feel like I can barely walk around the block I'm so out of writing shape. I think this has to do with the constant guilt that I should be doing something else, like making dinner for the kids or putting them to bed or sorting the CDs from music from CD ROMS or cleaning off our desk or washing the floor or laundry or SOMETHING useful.

I'm not complaining, but I guess it's true that I never stop. I listen to lots of NPR lately and avoid the TV. I've tried revolutionizing my google startpage so that I don't get this whole partisan crap but I think the only way is to remove yourself completely from it all.

I've slowly been pulled into this Facebook thing. It's proved fun for reconnecting with old souls. But you can only do so much of that stuff.

For those of you who never saw my "Swapshop Hawaii" film, you can now enjoy it online.

I've split it into 5 parts and is best viewed with high speed internet access.

The links to the film are as follows, in this order:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFXE5FN7pko

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_l0fHNMn5I4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U79acKikzTs

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w_MpE6fdn_I

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=84rqIQBew7w

Enjoy the show, would love your comments!

Weihnachtsmarkt in Luebeck

Thinking about starting back up in here is different than actually doing it. Here it is, a random day where nothing happened except I started back up this blog almost 2 years since my lsat posting. Gotta start somewhere.

SO I might as well start with the Weihnachtsmarkt in Luebeck. We had been warned that it would be packed, and packed it was. Amy, our dear Australian temporary Kindermaedschen and girlfriend reluctantly joined us on the Ferris wheel.

So here is Toni, Ari and Maeva being dragged around the town by foot, stroller, backpack, bus and train.

we made it!!!

We are here in Charlotteville!

YAY!

More to come, just wanted to let y'all know!

love the pangaea crew

a day before landfall?

The end of this passage approaches us in a flurry of numbers and sky. Fate has played a few bittersweet tricks on us in the last 48 hours weather wise. It goes from tropical hot with little puffs of wind to squally heavy rainfall with winds from all sides. On the one hand, Achim and Coby want to get there sooner than later, but reefing and unreefing isn't their idea of excellent recreation after 2 weeks of almost no sleep. So, for example, we just let out more genoa, and we can probably ride this new speed for a few hours, until the next squall comes in and they have to wrench themselves back out to trim...

The kids, meanwhile, are little go to sleep wake up playing pooping machines. I'm amazed at how they both find things to amuse themselves even in these rocky rolly, mommy ain't gonna help conditions. Toni came in a few minutes ago, for example, proudly showing off a sailboat she made out of pink, blue and yellow drinking straws and tape.

"Arts and Crafts," she announces. Legos fly around the cabins along with uncapped felt pens, naked Barbie and Ken dolls, handmade flowers with pipe cleaners. I've given up tidying around them, opting instead for watching the clock's time to go mixed in with a bad thriller and making B L and D for hungry men, less hungry sweet-toothed kids and a noshy mamma.

So, what has it been like? As you will see from the sound of our various updates, my experience aboard may take a different hue than that described by Coby... but we're in the same boat! A lot of time rolling back and forth. An amazement at the amount of vast expanses of water. A feeling of closeness for us with the kids. An excitement to be seeing land again, and not just any land... an enchanted one. We love Tobago and are thrilled to be reuniting with the people (the Daniels and keens-Dumas families in particular) and place (you name it, if it's on Tobago we miss it!)

We have our work cut out for us once we land... but no major deadlines! We hope to keep it that way, too. The first thing I hope to do once we throw the anchor overboard is to jump into the crystal clear waters of Charlotteville.

Today we will eat the last of our prized dorado. Never did catch another bite after that one, but one big one is better than none. I feel so good about everything we've accomplished. Even the bickering between Achim and myself, and with him being so tired believe me there's plenty, has surprisingly became less important and substantial rather than being magnified by our pending landfall. In the old days of cruising, our bumping of heads used to cloud the beauty and enjoyment of the whole experience. I guess my life feels fuller now, and I realize that this too, shall pass, and we won't remember the little moanings and groanings, just the big, swooping, sailing picture. At least that's what I hope.

In the last days, it's been fun to get emails from my parents and sisters. We are organizing a kind of family get together on Tobago for end of March beginning of April. it's great to hear them all into it and know that this is something special we have to look forward to. Not to mention Coby's wife Margit who should be arriving to be with us in about 2 weeks. Carnival begins on the 6th of February and we will be there for that, too!

So looking forward, looking backward, looking all around us even in the moment... it's been a wild ride, and it's no where near over yet! But at least THIS part of the passage is!

Achim says: I'm so grateful for how everything has worked so far. Best crew, best boat!

kisses from a waterlogged chickadee
175 miles to go
12 11 'N
57 38' W

Landfall, not poetry

It's in sight.
We have to motor. No wind at all.
Almost there
What else to say? Birds now dot the horizon.
Kids are happy.
Caught a Gigantic dorado (called dolphin fish around here) and now the freezer is stuffed with fishmeat.
We hope our friends will make it out to Charlotteville to greet us.

All is well, healthy happy.

40 miles and counting, The Pangaea Crew!