Amy must be a saint to put up with all that.
How could you let them do that [go sailing with small children]?
Dear friends, today we will take a trip through the rocky country of second-hand comments. It is difficult terrain, and I fear I am strapping on my driving goggles for my benefit alone. But I am going to give it a try.
|Sailormoon-Indy and I have a few things to say.|
The two comments at the top of this page are the most-often-reported comments I get via family members who have been discussing our trip with the outside world. (And isn’t that sad? Not, “Wow! They must be having so much fun!”, or, “Gosh, am I jealous. I’d love to visit so many interesting places.”
Let’s deal with Amy’s sainthood first. I realize that I invite some of that. I like telling funny stories about life aboard. And as everyone knows, bad things are funnier than good things, or even regular things. I’ve posted a lot of pictures lately about our zone of destruction. And I’m sure, if read a certain way, it sounds like I’m moaning. The trouble with humour is that you have to recognize it. (Or write it well, so maybe I've just failed in my attempts.)
But you know what? If I really minded, it wouldn’t be happening. Not any of it. Not the painting, not the fridge, not the boat, if it comes to that. I suppose what really gets my goat about this comment is that it implies that I am only a helpless bystander in this operation. It presents Erik as an overbearing ogre forcing the unwilling crew to do his will. It presents me as a powerless generic female with no will of my own or ability to change events. I’ll tell you, it boils my potatoes just to write those words. They are categorically untrue.
I don’t want to have to post a disclaimer on the blog that states: “These posts are intended to be a humorous retelling of real events.” And, really, you don’t need that, do you? You are smart and interesting and have a sense of humor, right? Right. So let’s all just keep that in mind. And if people give you the head shake and start feeling sorry for poor Amy, you don’t have to set them straight. Just don’t tell me about it.
As for comment two, this one cracks me up. Friends of the Heckle & Jeckle set often trot this one out. To which I say: really? As though I were a 14-year old girl with minimal judgement running off to join the circus with my wall-eyed 21-year old boyfriend with a dubious employment history and a prison record. People. In case it escaped your notice, Erik and I are quickly closing in on middle age. We are intelligent, educated people capable of gathering facts, calculating risk and following best practices. I maintain we are safer on Papillon than we would be commuting to work each day. So don’t fret, grandparent-ly types. And don’t judge our parents harshly for (sigh) “letting us go.”
Now. All that was very stressful. So, to finish on a high note: fiesta! We had the painters and their families aboard on Saturday, and a wonderful time was had by all. I now have an iTunes playlist filled with Colombian ballads (there is a big obsession with mi corazon around here), and a freezer full of deditos, little finger-like bread products filled with cheese. Yum! The girls and I love them.
|Fiesta, fiesta, fiesta with our wonderful Colombian friends.|
We depart shortly for the San Blas islands in Panama, where, I'm told, the water is clear and the internet non-existent. I'll try to post via SSB, but the photos, alas, will have to wait. Until then...