Marz at Sea: "This is already hilarious."

Marz flew away at 7 a.m. this morning to Seafarers School.
She called when she arrived a couple hours later, waiting by the baggage carousels for the school van to pick up her and the other new students.
"I see other people wandering around in new steel-toe boots," she said. "I bet they're going too."

Just now she texted from the van,

"This is already hilarious."

Oh, thank God.
I can go with few qualms to the highfalutin birthday of an opera-loving cat-owner where I know nobody, knowing more or less what to expect, but I had NO idea who or what Marz was facing going to merchant mariners school.
She wasn't much worried--figured they'd be like her seven brothers who work in the military or oil fields or carpentry...

I'm not sure she'd thought it'd be hilarious, though there were intimations: 
contact she's had with the school has been quasi-slapstick.
Instructions on admission forms, for instance, warned that you had to fill everything out in detail.
When she'd called to say she didn't have some piece of information, she was told, "Oh, that part isn't really important."

What is this, a Fisher Price outfit?

Below: Marz holding an FP boat I gave her; bink in concussion gear (to block light) to her right

I'm super proud of Marz and super eager to hear all about the school, but they keep you busy--washing dishes, scrubbing decks, and standing imaginary guard at midnight.
Also classes such as Ship Familiarization (colloquially, Ship Fam), First Aid, and Fire Fighting class, where they put you in a fireproof room and set a bale of hay on fire.
"At sea, it's just the crew," they emphasize.

This first stage is on land and lasts three months. Then there are two training voyages.
I'm hoping she can come home for Christmas, because I'm getting a tree! And making pot roast, like I always used to do.

On my tenth day here in my new place, I'm starting to wash away that place I lived before. The longer I'm away, the worse the emotional tenor there seems in retrospect.
I don't even want to go back to pick up my big armchair: I wouldn't either, except Marz left her unicycle there too, and I want to retrieve that for her. She might want to take it on a ship!

I have today off, and I have so many little things to do, like buy a broom and dust pan, and vinegar and baking soda.
And keep reading A Midsummer Night's Dream, which I just started.

I wasn't necessarily going to reread AMND for the girlettes' production, instead drawing on my memories, but just glancing at it I got sucked in.

I'd totally forgotten it's Puck who says,
"Lord, what fools these mortals be."