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Sassea Sails

SAILING, METAPHORS, ADVENTURE,

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Metaphorically Speaking

Sailing as a metaphor for life combines my passion for sailing with my chosen lifestyle.
At the moment three phrases dance around my brain.
Other thoughts drift by like the clouds in the sky.

Sail don’t drift
Pissing in the wind
They Call me the Breeze

Late in the Day

Does anyone know who wrote and/or recorded this song? It reminds me of a ballad by Loretta Lynn or Patsy Cline or maybe even Willie Nelson.  The words in italics are my version.

Late in the day, When the shadows start to play

On our back door and up and down this mountain way.

I think back on the times, with our hands entwined

We sat talking low, late in the day.

It seems I was lucky to know, you were a good thing from the start

            Still you slipped through my fingers, the price we had to pay

Now on my own, doing the best I can each day

Now I’m alone without a plan, late in the day

Now I pour tea, without any ice

Put my feet up, close my eyes

Try hard to listen to what our heartsmight say

Try to find the rhyme that will take us back in time

And be with togetheranywhere, late in the day.

As I look out over top, of the houses and Spanish Peaks

As the sun sets, and another day winds down

My life is till the same, My heart can’t hide the pain

And my lips still call your name, late in the day.

My life is still the same

My heart can’t hide the pain

And my lips still call your name, late in the day.

 

 

 

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The Little Train That Could

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A friend from Everglades City, Judy, posted this comment in response to my last posting about changing WTF from its use of the f-bomb to an alternative mindset, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. She stated:  A creative mindset for making a positive reversal in life’s endeavors!

After reading Judy’s comment I was encouraged to change my thoughts and behavior. It seems my mind has become scattered. My goal to write a memoir keeps slipping down the priority list. There are so many things to do. To seriously write I need a clutter free desk. I need my kitchen table to look like it is ready for a meal and not for an  array of photos to be sorted.

 I want my backyard to look more inviting with the trash can and air conditioning condenser hidden by a nice concrete wall, I want the deck in the front yard to be adorned with selected stones taken from other areas of my wooded 4  acre lot. I want to socialize with friends who are going out of their way to keep me safe to enjoy life’s little pleasures. Then, there are the daily OM lessons I subscribed to. For pete’s sake I need to take the time to learn what OM stands for. Lastly, I need to stop thinking about buying the 40  foot trimaran I have my eye on until I get more information about it.

While thinking about what to think about I went downstairs to warm up my cup of joe. Peeking out the kitchen window I saw the little wooden train my friends, Debbie and Richard, convinced me to buy for $5 at yesterday’s garage sale. Since I first read the classic book, “The Little Train That Could,” it has been a favorite. During my career as a school counselor I frequently read it to students of all ages. Now, that great symbol of encouragement sits right alongside my driveway leading to my door.

While staring at the primary colored train my mind did make a positive reversal. With a  few deep breaths I made a mental list of my priorities. First, tidy up my desk so I can spend two hours focused on writing my memoir.  Second, go outside to put more blocks on the wall. Third, experiment with a 60s hairstyle for tonight’s sock hop. Three things are plenty for one day. All else will wait until tomorrow.

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**For those interested in learning more about this classic “children’s” story, written by Watty Piper – pen name for Arnold Munk, I encourage you to do a google search. I was happy to know that “The Little Train that Could” is ranked along with Alice in Wonderland as one of the top 100 children’s stories.

 

 

 

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WTF — A New Meaning

Photo taken by Ron Ouellette of Hiking Friends Polly n Chris on  4/27/18  West Spanish Peak Mountain

I stand corrected regarding my three previous blogs on WTF. Rather than continue to curse the injustice I felt when Ron did not wake from his sleep, my focus has shifted to a more tenable response. Last Thursday at high noon I was standing above the tree line on West Spanish Peak. Instinctively I shouted What the Fuck while remembering this was Ron’s last stand on our beloved mountain. With tears rushing from my eyes, down my cheeks and soaking my shirt I was enlightened by fellow hiker Debbie Gregory’s wry sense of humor. “WTF, you are right! We are in the middle of it,” she prophesied.

Awakened from my outburst by her raucous statement, I stared at her in disbelief.  Debbie explained. “You experienced a tragedy. That was yesterday. Tomorrow things will be better. Today, you are in the middle. Today is also Thursday, sandwiched between Wednesday and Friday. So, just think of WTF as being Wednesday, Thursday and Friday.”

As dimwitted as the explanation sounds, it reminds me to find humor and a more positive spin on life’s bitterness.  It is time I stopped cursing what I cannot change. I therefore declare that from this moment forward I will take the gifts I received from my past to build a preferred future.

 

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Let me Entertain Me…

A few days ago I took on the challenge to write extemporaneously about the word entertain. Today I found myself in a situation I did not like. It conjured up negative, anxious feelings as a result of two people not behaving the way I want them to. Thankfully, I turned my attention to physical activity as a way to dissuade behaving in a way I might regret like sailing upwind with the center board up.

After wheelbarrowing three loads of dead branches and other fallen twigs to our erosion prevention areas, I retreated to my office where the sun is so intense I have to wear my sunglasses to type this. Eventually I will have another area in the loft where I can write. For now, I will use the sun’s intensity to strengthen my resolve to find a humorous way to deal with the situation.

Accessing my sense of humor is how I will entertain my reaction to this situation. Sooner or later a verbal conversation will take place. I need some phrases to accurately express how I feel, what I think, and what I will do. In order to research an appropriate lexicon I need to leave this blog entry in search of self entertainment to deal with an otherwise day of beating to windward in a two foot chop and a 20 knot breeze on my Hobie 14.

Any ideas?  Feel free to comment on my blog or via my e-mail:  sassythesailor@gmail.com

 

 

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Standing Waves

fullsizeoutput_2bfbViewing the Spanish Peaks Mountain Range, from our loft window,  there was relief knowing I am not as far from sailing the great oceans of our world as I once feared. The old downhill ski resort clearly shows the trails of a once thriving playground for winter sports.   From about 15 miles away the scenery is a reminder of how I connected sailing and surfing to skiing during my two years on the slopes of New Hampshire.  The drudgingly slow and breathtaking steps when hiking up a mountain has some semblance to sailing upwind in a stiff blow when it is 2 am and all you really want to do is  climb into your bunk. To get that extra 1/4 knot of speed you crank the winch. Your inner voice repeats a common refrain, “just keep moving, slowly and steadily, you are almost there.” 

Unlike the rise and fall of the ocean’s swell the mountains are solidly held in place or so it may seem. The earth is in constant motion. It perpetually  spins on its own axis while traveling around the sun causing winds, currents and temperatures to change. Inevitably this results in the evolving landscapes around the world. An earthquake is an example of how pressure from deep beneath the earth’s surface creates one of the most wondrous and destructive forces, illustrating the ever-changing motion of mother earth. 

In this manner, it can be argued that those majestic snow-capped mountains seen outside my upstairs windows, are not static. Rather, due the the earth’s vibrations,  they can be considered standing waves whose movement can only be detected by a sophisticated seismograph. In contrast,  sailors and surfers expect a wave to continue its path. Without warning about the second the wave is expected to crest, it seems to pause, leaving the boat or surfer hovering in curious wonderment before the wave returns to its destined crash  into a thunderous roar.  

Do the waves actually stop moving? Do the mountains really move? Or, do I just need to rationalize my new lifestyle 2000 miles away from the ocean’s door?

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Getting Closer

Mile by mile, interstate by highway, town by town and city by city, is how we planned to explore northern New Mexico, Arizona,  and southern Colorado and Utah.  It was to be a pleasure trip with an eye out  for possible places to live.  Would you believe we chose the first house we noted had a ‘for sale’ sign posted in the driveway?  Rather than keep looking we scurried  to buy this love at first site 4 acre wooded lot with a cozy cabin like house on Buffalo Road.  Purchasing our first home together was an iterative process for which we made a plan.

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We transferred money from one bank to another then wrote an acceptable check to the realtor for the agreed amount of earnest money.  Ron and a local builder surveyed the structure of the house. They climbed up onto the roof then, they crept on their bellies in the crawl space under the house.  All the while I romped throughout the rooms and loft.  I peeked in the closets, cabinets and drawers.

Together Ron and I drove back to Everglades City.  He bought and installed window shades for the porch. He painted the porch, downstairs and staircase. I vacuumed, vacuumed, then vacuumed some more. We both packed,  packed, then packed some more.

I sold my Windrider 17,  my cute VW Beetle Convertible and a Fortress x7 anchor.  I purchased a 2018 blue Subaru Crosstrek.  I  rented a 5 x 8 ft uhaul trailer and  Ron rented a 6 x 12 uhaul trailer. We loaded both trailers. Ron left. About four hours later, after getting my dental work completed, I left.  Ron arrived at his brother Jack and sister-in-law Amy’s house in the afternoon. I spent the night at Linda and Mike’s then drove to Jack and Amy’s in the morning.

We had a traditional breakfast with ham, eggs, potatoes and grits at the local Waffle House. It was fun  visiting with Jack n Amy, Lauren, Kristen and Joan n Laddie. The next day we all attended the wedding of Jack and Amy’s son which honored the legal and pastoral blessing of two young adults, Kelsie and Dante.  The ceremony also symbolized the new life Ron and I are embarking on without the legal entanglements of a marriage license or religious involvement. Despite these differences, both the young couple and us oldsters,  have committed to love and cherish each other til death due them part.

Now after two days of driving, from Jacksonville to Little Rock, Ron and I already slithered into our sleeping bags. It isn’t even 6:45 pm. Yet, giggly as newlyweds, with our cherished good-night kiss we vowed to get on the road as early as 5 am. Being as we are half way to Walsenburg, why twaddle?. We are on a mission to cross the threshold of our new lifestyle.

Cheers and good wishes to all, , ,

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Water Outside not Inside

It is not the water surrounding your vessel that sinks it. It is the water that gets in that causes problems (usually through negligence). The important thing to remember is to not let the water in.

Similarly, don’t let stuff that needs to stay outside your heart and head get in. Negativity will weigh you down physically and emotionally. Fill your boat and your soul with good clean air and reminders of a healthy lifestyle.

These thoughts were noted by Ada Prieto Morgan on Patti Miller’s Facebook page. Thank you ladies for sharing.

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Woman Who Sail on Land

Woman Who Sail is a wonderful forum for communicating with others who share a similar interest. The site is largely composed of females who sail boats. As recently as today there was a reminder that there are many woman who sail through life, not just on boats. Take for example, Carol.

Carol lives in her recreational vehicle. Not the kind that is designed to float in water. Rather it is the type of vessel that is designed for travel on land. This puts Carol and the hundreds, perhaps thousands of other women who choose to navigate the world on land.

It is about sailing through life. Certainly the women who soar through the air in planes are also sailing. Maybe the terminology differs depending on the vessel, but still one is at the very least metaphorically sailing through life. At least that concept is helping me cope with my current choice to live on land while testing the waters aboard the s/v Coupleship.

Enough about me, for more inspiration about sailing on land check out Carol’s website:

http://hittingtheroad27.blogspot.com

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An Ah-ha …

Here is an idea whose time has come. It is regarding the challenge of two people deciding to share a residence. In this particular case we will describe the characters as neat freak and la-de-da. Specifically this article will discuss an idea of deciding who gets to take how much of a prized possession.

Neat freak adamantly controls the amount of space each person is allowed. The division of space is approximately a 60/40% split. La-de-da gets the extra space. When it comes to shoes, however, neat freak finds it difficult to understand why la-de-da has more than 20 pairs of shoes. As a result of three moves in two months La-De-Da is deciding which pairs to give up.

In the meantime a counter defense is needed.  When Neat Freak carries out the box of shoes words will puke out. These words might include, “You can’t take this many shoes?”, “Why do you need pink ones?” “One pair of shower shoes is all you need.”

Like I stated in the opening paragraph, the ah-ha moment had me drop one of the packing boxes. Then, hurriedly the laptop was put on the charger. This was followed with turning on the iPhone and connecting the personal hotspot in the ‘settings.’

So, here is the plan:  When Neat Freak makes a disparaging remark about the number of shoes, La-De-Da will whisper in an assertive, flirtatious tone with something like, ” Yes, there are a lot of shoes. Let’s limit the number to the same number of tools in your toolbox. Oh, yea, and about that bird you like on the kitchen table, we need to negotiate a better place. Like my dolls kept in the backroom, perhaps birdie can live in the man cave or outside on the deck or in the garden…..

Let me know what you think. 

Sassythesailor@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

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