Sassea Sails



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

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:



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?

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.


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, , ,

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.

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:

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.







On the Sea of Life, Part II

As stated in the Sea of Life Part I blog entry, each line I read in the poem below was questioned. My brain kept repeating, ‘what if’ until it reached such a crescendo that I had to literally get out of my easy chair and write about it to help quell the voices within. Each line in the poem as it was presented are in the left column. On the right is my response as I rationalize my behavior in order to make sense out of my choices.  At the least doing so became an interesting insight into my cynicism. . . Let me know your thoughts . . .

There is so much more to life than finding someone who will want you, or being sad over someone who doesn’t What if finding someone who will want you is fulfilling? Ever watch the gleam in the eyes of people in their 70s or 80s holding hands as they stroll along?

Sadness is a normal part of rejection in our bitter sweet life. What if one allows a limited amount of time to be sad while allowing time to be happy in each day. What if I quit being sad over my husband’s death? That would be the ultimate sadness….

There is a lot of wonderful time to be spent discovering yourself without hoping someone will fall in love with you along the way What if I have spent my life discovering myself without hoping someone will fall in love with me along the way, but what if my being is overwhelmed with the quest to taste love’s lasting pleasure?
And it doesn’t need to be painful or empty What if we need pain to feel relief?
You need to fill yourself up with love What if it gets tiring? What if a message from a friend adds to fulfillment?
Not anyone else What if others want to add love to your life?
Become a whole being on your own What if you are a whole being? What if being whole needs defining?
Go on adventures What if my adult life has been an adventure? Buying my own sailboat, teaching myself how to sail, sailing solo from Bermuda to Florida? These are not adventures,,,, surfing in Jeffreys Baai, trekking the Lares Valley
Fall asleep in the woods with friends What if I have slept in the woods with friends and along?
Wander around the city at night What if I spent more nights I can remember or count wandering the streets of New York City? It doesn’t get more citied than New York…
Sit in a coffee shop on your own What if I spent many a morning or mid day sitting in a coffee shop alone? What if I told you at age 21 I did so in the French Quarter? Just sipping a latte watching others come and go?
Write on bathroom stalls Yea, what if I told you I have written on walls around the world?
Leave notes in library books What if I have written and continue to leave notes in books I read, whether in the library or in a campground, marina book swap.
Dress up for yourself What if I took a pix of myself wearing my brand new size 27 stretch skinny jeans, that I proudly sasshaed around in, and didn’t need a complement to stick my chin up, and boobs out, cause I knew I looked good!
Give to others What if I continually donate time and money to others?
Smile a lot What if I smile most of the day? Even when I was at Linda’s I practiced the wonderful mantra she shared with me, “chin up, boobs out, smile, smile, smile.
Do all things with love What if I believe I do all things with love? I avoid judgement… I respond
Don’t romanticize life like you can’t survive without love What if romanticizing just comes into my brain? I can survive, I will survive, that is not an issue. What if I choose to survive with a mate with whom there is mutual love?
Live for yourself What if living for myself is the only way I can live? Indeed I firmly believe everyone does. Even Mother Theresa lived for herself; her way of living for herself meant helping the poor, indigant and ill.
Be happy on your own What if I can be happy on my own but the daunting ‘work’ to live on my own is eased with the loving companionship of a mate
It isn’t less beautiful, Promise What if beauty is in the eye of the beholder


On the Sea of Life, Part I

The next chapter in my life begins, like previous ones, with the end in mind; sort of. As Covey postulates one needs to know where they want to be in order to navigate an efficient course to arrive at their preferred destination. What if one doesn’t know where they want to end up? What if one wants to meander through life one day at a time?

Years ago as part of professional development I participated in a workshop that illustrated three different types of people. Those who asked themselves one of three key questions: What if? How?  Why? Instinctively, before the lecturer gave details about each of those categories, I knew I was a ‘what if’ person. Always when faced with a challenge I ask what if?

This has been especially true when faced with a challenge to do what others indicate is something I either don’t have the talent for or something that could be harmful. An example is my present situation. Despite the odds of making a life with someone who has twice denounced me I ask, “What if this time, we make it work out? A previous decision I made regarding the purchase of a boat in a foreign third world country was, “What if this boat truly becomes a classic?” More significantly was when I asked myself, “What if I make it around the world.”

In simpler situations I ask, “What if I buy a VW bug?” What if I buy another musical instrument?” Of course, the haunting question at age 69 is “What if the stock market crashes?” Regardless of the situation though my thoughts are more concerned with the What ifs, rather than the how to do something, or the why.

Which of these questions do you frequent? Test yourself during the next week and please feel free to share your responses. Throughout your day question what you are doing or what you are going to do. For example, let’s say you are going to exercise by walking two miles. Then, see which question comes to mind:

Why are you going for a walk?  How are you going to walk?  What if you walk _____?

Question Possible Response
What are you going to do to get healthy? Go for a two mile walk.
How are you going to get healthy Walk and lift weights.
What if you do something different than on previous occasions Maybe it will be more fun.

The point is to determine what questions you ask yourself. The reason I brought this topic up is because a friend sent me a poem about how I need to love and cherish myself rather than look to another for validation. Yet, as I read each line, my brain interjects, “yea, but what if…” To see how the poem transpires see the next post entitled, “Sea of Life Part II.”


Like a Shaken Beer Can…

“I can’t do this anymore,” are the words that instantly reverberated in my mind. “What, what you are saying?” I quizzed. “We need to end this, I can’t do it,” was his reply. ” Another question from me, “You mean us, I thought we were going to live together until we die.” In a kind of innocent voice he offered, “Well we can end it now or we can finish the trip first.”

It was those words, end it now that flipped my top. Like an explosive 12 ounce beer, the bottled emotion exploded from my heart and my gut. “End it!” I shrieked in horror. It is the last thing I wanted. I had become so happy with my life and lived each day thinking of ways to enrich our bond. Now, I learn it was only working for me. With authority and assertiveness, I squealed, “If we are going to end it, we need to end it now.” At the same time I felt the devastation of a love gone bad. How I wanted to calm down, but if it was over, I couldn’t continue to go on a three month vacation. I had to find a residence. I had to again start a new life. And then, like a summer squall the tears flowed for hours as he drove and drove, nearly non-stop back from whence we came.

Three weeks later and there is a constant urge to send a text, to practice playing the Shadow of Your Smile on my piano. All the while the reality seems that I will  not spend the rest of my life with this handsome man who brought so much calmness and efficiency into my life. A man who I longed to kiss good night each night.  A man who would leave me, who for whatever reason just couldn’t keep joy in his heart when I was present. Like a microburst, in a split second it was over. Or is it?

And so, at age 69 I sit on the seat in the airport waiting the arrival of my sister. To refrain from stalking him, bothering him, or being a whiny chasing female I distract myself by:  practicing French using the online DuoLingo Language Program, write up this blog entry, and perhaps work on my journal organization. In simple terms it is said another one bites the dust as I focus on a life on my own. I failed at making this relationship work. I blew up like a cork on an aged bottle of champagne. The damage to the relationship would be akin to putting the alcohol back in its container. After all, he too seemed to be overwhelmed by the emotional outburst and just wanted me gone. I was like an out of control freight train, or a wounded deer that wanted to run far and fast away from the hunter.

Yet, in my imagination when I look up from the computer screen, I see him the way I saw him when he arrived in the airport in the Dominican Republic. I see him coming to get me while at the same time I am awake to the reality that he will . . .


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