Sassea Sails


Money Isn’t the Problem

Newer cars that use a key fob present a challenge. When your key and fob are misplaced the dealer will charge about $300 to replace it. With no choice but to pay the fee it becomes an unfortunate expense that hurts. Then, the dealer adds the proverbial salt on the wound. The vehicle must be transported to the dealer. Even with free road side assistance, the ordeal becomes a serious dilemma when the key fob is misplaced on a week-end.

When my key turned up missing early on a Saturday morning. I was annoyed. Later in the day I planned to meet with a dear friend whom I haven’t seen in several years and who I might not see again for more years to come. Finding the key fob became stressful after an hour of searching. I was visiting with another friend who had to go to work so for a while I was alone retracing every step I had taken from my last remembrance of holding the key.

Another hour went by when another helpful soul aided in the search. We shuffled our feet in the grass, got on our bellies to look under the car with the missing key and another car parked in the same driveway. Despite my 100 % recollection of returning from a beach walk when I last saw the key fob. Four hours of searching in and around the car where I swore I last saw the fob on the back bumper where I placed it while putting items in the rear section of my week old Subaru Crosstrek began to take its toll.

Still, I decided to walk back to the beach. Maybe I was confused. After all I began my beach walk at first light when the dawn is breaking. Now it was nearing noon. The sun was overhead with barely a cloud in the sky. Every gleam in the grass, every shine in the sand became a ray of hope. Another hour went by. No fob.

By five o’clock in the afternoon I was resigned to ordering a replacement fob and the prospect of calling roadside assistance to tow my car to the dealer on Tuesday. What P____ me off was I would be stranded all day Sunday and Monday without being able to combine the business and pleasure which brought about this mini vacation. The thought of getting my new blue Crosstrek towed would be embarrassing.

Sleep would not come easy. Medatating to calm myself was futile. My appetite deserted me. With the help of a low dose of benadryl I drifted off to sleep. It was a deep sleep. Though I woke up at my usual 5:30 am I felt rested with a renewed sense of hope. Before anyone else in the house was roused my plan was made.

Uber would get me to the airport where I would rent a car allowing me to drive the 250 miles back to my house where two spare keys were sitting atop of my jewelry box. Nearing home I sent a message to my beau telling him I would be home shortly because I needed to get a spare key. It was one of those situations a kid finds themselves in when caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

About ten miles from putting my hands on the spares, my phone rang. My misplaced key  fob was found. My mind started to race as I cancelled the cruise control that held me at 70 mph for the past 3 1/2 hours. Bouncing to a stop as I crossed onto the shoulder of the road I could feel sweat on my brow. Not wanting to admit my carelessness conflicted with my conviction to tell the truth. So, admittedly I made up a little white lie. Kind of a reverse embellishment. Patiently and deliberately I typed each letter of a follow up letter with benevolence promising myself that at some time in the future I would tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. No one was being hurt by message. I just felt a need to save face. After all missing the opportunity to visit long time friends because I had spent one day searching for the misplaced key and another day driving for eight hours straight, save one stop for fuel. Like the cost of the fob, the cost of the fuel and car rental was inconsequential. It was the precious time lost. Time that cannot be replaced. Time, that precious commodity that I was abusing due to my carelessness was priceless. The disappointment of not spending time with people who have been such a good influence on my life has been the saddest consequence.

Soon I will be moving half way across the country. Tomorrow I am cramming a few more visits sandwiched between getting the paperwork and money transferred to close on a new house is nervously anticipated. Between the emotion of saying good-byes with the excitement of securing the bond between my beau and I with the joint ownership of a house that is destined to be our home. A cozy cabin like salt box far from the ocean we have spent our adult lives savoring awaits us between the New Mexico desert and the eastern forefront of the Rocky Mountains.

Ay, the breathtaking view of Spanish Peaks, the forested four acres  surrounding our house, and the romance of creating another chapter in our lives aboard the s/v Coupleship, on the hard,,,, MMMM, just switching my thoughts to the future displaced all the drama and stress of the lost fob…..



Listen, I don’t like it and I am finally admitting or at least acknowledging my preference for not engaging in it. This confession was spurred while reading about a friend who posted her ‘talk’ about sailing. This gal, Sherry McCampbell, is an accomplished sailor, both as a racer and a half way around the world cruiser. And I know her on a personal level. That leads me to believe that at the least I owe it to her to hear what she has to say. Truth though, is I don’t care to listen to what other people are doing. I want to be the one doing not listening.

I rarely enjoy listening to audio books or lectures by politicians or teachers or radio show hosts. It just isn’t my forte. I don’t enjoy church sermons. I have to expend too much energy to listen to the daily doings of friends. I can listen for a minute or two, maybe even 3 or 4. Listening was my worst skill as a counselor. And, boy do I interrupt.

Like I said listening isn’t my forte. No disrespect intended. I know people have a lot of interesting and enlightening things I can learn from. Demonstrating and even better engaging me in the lesson are favored. For example, want me to know about your sailing experience, take me with you. Want to show me how to play a tune on the piano, have me play along with you. Walking while talking works.

Perhaps it is that hyperactivity that makes me want to move, fidget or get up to go to the bathroom while people are yapping at a party. Definitely you will see me circulating at a social event because staying still and listening are difficult.

I am not complaining nor do I want anyone to feel bad if I don’t listen because I do want to hear what others say. Ay, but if you sing me a song I can sway to or silently sing along; now that is my style….

Thanks for listening,,,,


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.

Residing myself to, never mind

Here I go changing my mind again. Up until I read a comment for a long time sailing friend I had convinced myself to sell my 17 foot trimaran.  It is such a user friendly craft. Then again, living at 7000 feet in southeastern Colorado makes me wonder if the sailing vessel can with stand the cold. What will happen to the structure of the boat. The motor, too will have to live outside in freezing temperatures for months at a time. The hulls are molded plastic like the popular kayaks. Guess I’ll do some research.

Tomorrow I will be car shopping to allow me to tow my boat. So, why get rid of it? What heck am I thinking?  Buying a house without a garage in snow country doesn’t make much sense especially knowing it will be the end of summer 2018 before the garage is built. Considering that Ron’s house hasn’t sold, maybe we should stay here all winter. I don’t know what I want.

Some days I tell myself to just stay home and get on with writing my tales of woe. Other days I long for the wind in my hair, the camaraderie on the water, and the exhilaration of a day of fun in the sun. Is this really a reflection of my being a gemini? The ying and the yang. Why can’t I be like others who know what they want. Why can’t I focus my thoughts to write a coherent story?

One thing at a time, let me get the car capable of towing. Then, consider towing it to Cedar Key for a week of sailing with like minded folks. Putting first things first that makes sense. Though busboy (VW beetle convertible) is a fun car to drive and a joy to even look at, she just isn’t conducive for living in snow country and/or taking my little sailboat here, there, and everywhere.

After two hours of just messing around on Facebook, writing this blog, and avoiding exercise, it is time to stand up make a plan for tomorrow. Price shop cars, , , eat a nice veggie omelet for breakfast, work out, go to the museum, then car shop and lastly, visit the genius bar at the Apple Store. It does help when I blog in a quiet ranting, non critical way. Thanks to any and all who read and/or send me feedback.

Women Who Change Their Mind

Justifying a sudden change in lifestyle as the result of an inadequate supply of confidence an idea finally entered the conscious part of my mind which is helping to ease the embarrassment and concern for regret. “Women Who Sail” is a popular website that is inspires and educates, in a relaxed atmosphere. Indeed the posts inspired me to write about sailing on land. After all, the whole premise for is the metaphorical application of sailing. Relating sailing a boat to sailing in a recreational vehicle, soaring over clouds, or even navigating a relationship makes for fun and interesting ideas.

Women do more than sail. To piggyback on that theme a blog on Sasseasails has just been added, “Women Who Change Their Mind.”  Maybe there is already a site with that title. Best do some research before posting.

…Ay, heck maybe posting it first than waiting for responses is the way to go….



Bulls Face Their Foe

Having read John F. Burnett’s book, “Uncivilized Beasts and Shameless Hellions” taught me an unexpected truth. The book is divided into eleven chapters. Each chapter depicts an experience John had while working as a radio reporter for National Public Radio. While each story is told with the alacrity for which NPR journalists are known, it was in his story about bullfighting that a quote by Matador Martinez stirred my emotions.


According to Martinez, as quoted by Burnett,

The bull is more noble than many people. His eyes say that he is about to charge you, that he wants to kill you. Humans will not look you in the eyes before they betray you.” 

Although most betrayals by humans do not end in death, they do end in hurt feelings.  Is it courageous to be honest at the risk of hurting someone’s feelings?  Is it cowardly to carry out the act of betrayal without so much as a word to the one being  betrayed. Would you rather be a bull and look into the eyes of the one you will bring forth unwanted news?  Or would you rather be a wolf in sheep’s clothing? You know the kind of person who greets you with a smile and says something like, “Oh, how nice to see you.” Then do something they know you will not like.

Regardless of your take on the Bull versus Human method of interaction, Burnett’s book brings to light an interesting perspective about what it is like to be a journalist covering stories such as bullfighting, death row, war, and natural disasters.

Ignorance & Arrogance

“You can’t dispel ignorance with arrogance.”

Heard on a radio news broadcast

Seems similar to the inability to teach someone who is knowledgeable…


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:

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.

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