Notes From the Peanut Gallery

Dissatisfied Reader writes:

           How blase we have become. That title is not up to your usual high standards. If you do not
           want to call it Passage to Oz (parts I, II etc.) you can still do better than "Moving the Boat".
           You crossed the Coral Sea, [...] for the love of Pete.

I realize this was a friendly, joking note. I do. But I think this topic is worth explaining, so I am going to pretend this was a serious criticism. And it's nice to know that people aren't shy about expressing themselves around here. Don't let the quality slip, people! Keep me honest!

Tackling Leaks and Selling the Dream

Amy: Girls, they are going to be here in half an hour.  I need you to tidy up the cockpit.

Indy: Who?

Amy: Those people... Dave's friends. Like we talked about at breakfast? It doesn't matter. Just tidy up.

Indy & Stylish: Okay, Mom.

Papillon: Hee hee hee.

Amy: Why are you laughing?  Let's see, I need to cut up some baguette--

Papillon: I have a surprise for you.

Amy: What? No. No surprises. I have an unknown quantity of Kiwis arriving in thirty minutes.  I have to finish getting ready.

[pause]

Amy: What is that dripping noise?

Papillon: Chortle!

Amy: Girls! I need to take the companionway stairs off.  Don't come down this... girls?

[Looks outside. The girls are playing with friends on the dock.]

Amy: Stylish and Indy! Get this cockpit tidied!  And don't come down the... never mind.

[Puts in boards to avoid a fall. Removes stairs. Removes floorboard. Locates drip with a flashlight.]

Amy: Why is it dripping there? The water isn't running.  The sump pump is off.  Everything is off.

[Removes two more floorboards. Sticks head into bilge.]

Amy: Okay, it is coming from somewhere forward on the port side. Hmm. I did laundry earlier; maybe the hose leaked.

[Checks laundry locker. Dry as a bone.]

Amy: Let's try the galley.

[Removes galley floorboard. A small river is running aft.]

Amy. Aha.  By which I mean, unprintable.

[Looks at the salon.  Removing the port side floorboard necessitates removing two other floorboards first and judicious use of a shim.]

-creeeaaaak-

Amy: [balancing the six-foot board]  There we go.  And let's see what we UNPRINTABLE!

Dealing With Bureaucracy, French-Style

It is a strange truth that, the longer you stay in a country, the more irritating their bureaucracy becomes. Maybe the French are just tired of me and want to speed me on my way.  Maybe I'm just burnt out on doing taxes and taking ever-more-hideous passport photos for visa applications.  Or maybe I just don't see eye to eye with these upholders of the Napoleonic Code.

A few weeks ago, I found a notice in my mailbox that a registered letter was waiting for me at the post office. I was bound to need some iron-clad identification, so I scooped up my passport and carte de sejour, waited for the designated pick-up time, and wandered over.

I eventually found my way to special guichet 15, where, as all the world knows, registered letters reside.  I handed over my notice and my ID, and waited to be sent home.

Cruising Talk: A Translation Guide

What is this woman talking about?

I hope everyone has read Michael Robertson's The Complete Guide to Caring for a Cruiser in this month's Sail.  If not, go on; I'll wait.  Back?  Okay.  Michael's article is a timely reminder that cruisers are, to put it kindly, a little different.  But I feel compelled to add on to his fine work.  Communicating with cruisers can be a challenge, whether you are a friend, relative, cruising spouse or simply a normal person.  Below you will find some common points of misunderstanding.  I hope this translation guide helps you to talk to the cruisers in your life.

Cruiser:  "Could you help me out here, Mavis?"
Cruising Spouse:  "Sure thing, Pete."
What the Cruising Spouse hears:  Pete needs some minor assistance for a few minutes.
What the Cruiser hears:  "Pete, it would give me the utmost pleasure to be your assistant/slave for the next eight hours."
Lesson:  Before agreeing to help a cruiser, ask for clarification regarding time, difficulty and dirtiness level expected.  Then triple it.

Hold that flashlight steady for me, would you?

Naming Names: What Should I Call My Boat?

I'm still collecting questions for my Q&A, so don't feel like you're too late.  Leave a comment on the original post, or drop me a line.  No query too small to be considered!

Q:  What should I name my boat?
A:  I'm glad you asked.  Choosing a boat name is a bigger deal than you think, especially if you are cruising.  Why?  Because, dear reader, when you move aboard, you lose your own name, and become your boat name. Before you name your boat, you need to ask yourself two questions: 1. Is it easy to read and understand? 2. Do I like it enough that I can live with being called this every day?

Let's knock through this with imaginary cruising couple, John and Betsy.

Sending Missives From the Front

As a kid, I was a mail hound.  I loved getting letters.  I had pen pals all over the place, and a good chunk of my allowance went into buying fancy paper so I could write them back and get more mail in return.  I still think getting mail is fun.  And now that we are in a warm place again, Mom has been on a Postcard Mission.

The girls and I sat down and made a list.  Some friends, some family, some school - anyone we thought might smile to get a colourful picture in their mailbox some misty, moisty morning a few weeks from now.  Then off to the Tabac.

The shopkeeper stared at our stack of cards.  "Vingt-cinq?  You want twenty-five cards?"
"Yes.  No.  Stylish, I forgot someone - go grab another card.  Vingt-six, s'il vous plait."

Reaching Racing Saturation

I'm wearing my headlamp - that means I'm actually working, not taking a break.

Everyone needs a way to unwind.  Absolutely, they do.  Reading.  Running.  Ping pong.  Sailing, for example. But here we sit, still fixing our rig, and ways to relax are thin on the ground.  We've read all our books.  We've walked all of the scenic walks.  We can't swim here.  There is no wind, so we can't break out the sailing dinghy.  And so we fall back on that old standby, the internet.

Sometime during the Gangnam Style era, the girls introduced their father to YouTube.  Erik has never been a computer person; until that point, I'm pretty sure he thought computers were strictly for Excel, Power point, and Halo.  But now he has discovered that he can find sailing blogs.  And sailing photos.  And sailing videos.

Three Weddings on a Distant Shore

When I was six years old, I slept over at a friend’s house to watch The Royal Wedding.  I refer, of course, to Prince Charles and Lady Diana.  I remember it being A Big Deal in that distant, background way that kids treat all events not directly related to themselves.  Meaning, it was something adults wouldn’t stop talking about.  The closest I came to being interested in the proceedings was that I had a pretty picture of Lady Diana cut out from the Globe and Mail, which I liked because my mother had the same hairstyle.

The big day came, and my friend’s mother dragged us out of bed at some ungodly hour to sit in front of the television.  And the wedding went on and on.  I am blessed with minimal patience, and I remember wondering when they were going to just get on with it.  I guess the church was neat, and Lady-now-Princess Diana wore a fancy dress, and I suppose there must have been singing.  But my friend and I squirmed and sighed and wriggled on the carpet until we couldn’t stand it any longer, and we ran out to play in the backyard.  And that was my first electronic wedding.