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Sassea Sails

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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

 

 

Validation

About 8 years ago in the tiny town of Chesapeake City an aspiring sailor took the time out of her day to drive a long way to meet me at the dock. A stranger, a gal named Suky, who I read about wanted to get to know me.  Meeting Suky  was the first validation I received as a solo sailor. All my friends, family and colleagues knew of my adventure but it was Suky who made me feel accepted into the world of solo sailing.  Now that I am on respite from sailing it is reading about Suky’s adventures that keeps my dream of sailing alone offshore alive.

Another respected sailor is Sherry McCampbell. I remain in awe of her perseverance to stick with her goal to sail around the world. The days when Sherry and I walked the beaches of Indialantic, Florida are as vivid as if they are still happening. We jabbered with each sandy step. Sherry wanted and found a compatible mate, who she married.  Me, I took the solo route. And, then, I fell into lust over a man who still makes my knees shake when he smiles at me.

While Sherry and her husband Dave are now about halfway around the world, after six years into their ten year circumnavigation, I am learning the ropes of being an unmarried housewife, a fraulein, living at the rural, arid gateway to the Rocky Mountains with a man I adore. Admittedly I am somewhat embarrassed  that I have yet to finish my solo circumnavigation.  Reflecting on the morning Suky showed up at the passage between the Delaware and Chesapeake Rivers which substantiated my need to have someone else  belief that I have the ability to sail where, when and how I choose to navigate the world.

In my heart I know I will sail again. It is in my soul (and my budget)…

 

 

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, , ,

Subscribe or Unsubscribe

With the passing of one life’s chapter and onto a chilling new one, the dilemma of which subscriptions to keep and which ones to let drift off is haunting. It is like saying goodbye to friends. Keeping them takes time. How many newsletters can I read each month?

My commitment to make use of the anticipated days, weeks and hours spent indoors in front of the wood burning stove or up in the loft contemplating the stillness of a fourteen thousand foot high mountain peak needs to be honored. If I am going to devote 4 – 6 hours a day writing I have to be more selective in choosing what to read.

Reading about my life’s passions is inspiring. It is a double edge sword. I don’t want to miss an opportunity to stay active while garnering insights. Yet, I want to avoid distractions. With ADHD comes the constant interruption. There is a movie about a dog who perpetually chases squirrels. Squirrels have become my token to remind me to stay put. In fact I bought a little ceramic squirrel for my herb garden. It was easy to decide to take him from the hot, humid swamp land to the frigid below freezing temperatures where he will reside at 7000 feet above sea level. Maybe he will perch himself on the windowsill where the view of Spanish Peaks beckons me to climb.

Back to subscriptions, it is with sadness that I bid my membership with the East Coast Sailing Association Adieu. I already cancelled my membership with the Melbourne Yacht Club last year. Recently, I resigned from the Board of Directors with the Museum of the Everglades.

Thankfully the internet allows connection with these three groups. Although I won’t get the privileged membership benefits, it is consoling to know that even when one unsubscribes, they can still stay up to date.

 

 

Regretful Remembrance of Viet Nam

Regretfully, my involvement and recollection of the year my older brother, Harry spent in Viet Nam was devoid of the man’s inhumanity to man. What I remember is once a month mom and I would bake chocolate chip cookies, pack them in a box littered with miniature marshmallows and send them to Harry. His letters reflected the appreciation of him and those in his command for the treat. Most of the cookies he jeered after his return home were ‘unbroken. “…and the marshmallows were like the icing on the cake.”

Recently while enjoying the company of a new friend, Linda S., we talked about our memories of View Nam. When I told her about using the marshmallows to cushion the chocolate chip cookies. She seemed amazed. “What a great idea,” she clambered. “Much better than using those styrofoam nuggets.”

In memory of Harry and all those he shared the cookies with I am baking several batches of cookies. One for Linda S., one for my sister, one for our younger brother, and one for Harry’s Vietnamese friend. I wish I had done more.

Sincerity versus Integrity

Regretfully I did not document the source of an interesting concept; that is the difference between sincerity and integrity. Accordingly sincerity relates to intent whereas integrity relates to the action. For example, a man invites a woman out on a date. At the time of the asking he truly wants her to be by his side, to accompany him to said event. The event doesn’t matter in this situation. Rather we are focusing on the sincerity with which he invited her. This situation could be between two friends, a parent and a child, or even a teacher and a student.

The point is at the time of the invitation the intent was clear and desirable. Then, something happens and for whatever reason the person doing the inviting or the one agreeing to the date changes their mind. Perhaps something better comes along, perhaps the invitation was forgotten. Again, why one of the parties changes their mind is not important. What is important that one of the parties did not keep their word. Though sincere about asking, their mind changing reflects their integrity.

Regardless of how sincere one is when making a plan, the integrity is demonstrated in the follow through. Does this make sense? Does it help narrow down the description of someone? One can be sincere with less than desirable integrity. Or so stated the source which I failed to document…While I am sincere in the message perhaps my integrity with giving credit where credit is due is not so strong.

Comments? Questions? Let me know: sailorhiker@gmail.com

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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