I’ve found, time and again, that no plan is the best plan. This weekend was a perfect proof of that theory. On Friday night we still didn’t know where we were going. Would we go back to our old tried and true anchorage (Horseshoe Cove) or brave the sail-in-sail-out anchorage at Aquatic Park? Would we prioritize getting a good view of the fireworks, shoreside activities, or visiting with friends? As it turns out, we managed all three. ...
New parents, new lovers, newly converted, people discovering a great new ashram, sport, hobby, or any other infatuation. We all share a common stigma. Most people want us to just shut up already. There is something about falling in love that puts a shine so bright on us that makes some people just want to turn us off. What kind of trips me out about this phenomenon is that it is socially accepted that shining too brightly is annoying (at best). Like new parents who just can’t stop talking about their beautiful perfect babies are somehow rubbing the rest of our noses in it. I was that guy (okay, I’m always that guy). I couldn’t stop talking about my kids. Even now, I have to remind myself mid-emote, that the general contractor of our new headquarters really doesn’t care, he was just being polite. ...
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how the kids’ childhoods will differ from their contemporaries as a result of this wild adventure we’re about to embark upon. Ruby understands that there are many things we will be giving up to go sailing around the world but I don’t think she’s got the context to understand it fully yet. The following are some of the experiences that Ruby and Olive might never share with their peers. ...
“Mom, can we read a story about someone who knows something is scary or hard and does it anyway?” Ruby and I have been reading from “Bringing Out Their Best: Values Education and Character Development through Traditional Tales,” by Norma J. Livo. The book is organized in groups of stories about love, responsibility, compassion, cooperation and more. In it are traditional stories from around the world written in the most basic way with no embellishment and no pictures or illustrations. I know that Ruby can’t be told what to do or how to act but I’m pretty sure that she can learn these values through story telling. Tonight we read about perseverance. ...
Sunday morning in Paradise Cove is glorious. The wind and swell from the previous night is gone and even the feeble dawn sun is enough to warm us in our PJs as we lounge in the cockpit. Ruby, Olive, and I eat breakfast and let Vick sleep. The kids dress and ask if they could go in the dingy for a while. Ruby rows (tethered) back and forth to Convivia’s transom while I observe from the cockpit. Within a few minutes she asks to go freely. I hop aboard and let Ruby row me around the anchorage. She rowes Olive and I to shore and we spend a half hour playing on the beach, finding ladybugs, searching for the best sea glass, skipping stones and destroying sandcastles. ...
I was just updating my privacy settings on Facebook and found this Note from a year ago yesterday. I have played exactly two of these “games” on Facebook and this is the one that I took seriously. I decided to repost it here, today, partly because I think it’s neat that I wrote it a year ago (almost exactly) and partly because I think I would write pretty much the same thing today. Also, as I mention in the list, I long to be undersood. ...
Fifteen years ago today Victoria drove a borrowed truck, with her limited possessions into Brattleboro, Vermont to join me on what would be our first, longest, and most significant adventure together. I can still feel the crisp chill of the pre-winter air as I chatted nervously with one of the local crazies and awaited her arrival. Separated by hundreds of miles, without money or transportation, our relationship had just barely survived what we now know to have been its darkest hour. In the weeks preceding her arrival we had actually split up. Our friends, family, and advisors were in accord that our love was destined for disaster. We knew with unflappable, unassailable conviction that there was something about the other that we needed to explore, to know, and to grow from. This confidence and desire to grow together, it turns out, has been the foundation of our relationship. ...
Last week was hard. I’m not sure what aspect of the work/life package was hardest, but it wasn’t just me. The whole family was under strain. By Friday I knew we needed a reset. “We’re going sailing tomorrow,” I told Vick as we were cleaning up from dinner. Saturday morning, we all woke up early and got moving. I’m glad we didn’t set the timer because the clean-up may have taken more than one hour. Still by 11ish we were ready to get under way. I was fiddling with something on deck when our friend and fellow cruiser Carl stopped by. “You guys going out today?” she asked. “Yup, probably out to the Gate and back, it looks like a great day for it, want to come along?” “No thanks, we’re going out too. After I pick Christina up, we’re going to drop anchor at Clipper Cove, do you want to go too?” At this point I’m thinking, “Victoria would never go for this.” but when she popped her head out and asked what we were talking about I implored Carl to talk her into it. I was relieved when I noticed the signs of her wheels turning as she figured out what we would need to do to get ready. “I guess we’ll need ice,” she finally said. ...
Can critically evaluating your relationship lead to a happier healthier self while simultaneously improving the relationship?
“It looks like the rain has let up a bit, should we make a run for it?” I asked, equivocating. “Its probably as good as any time,” Dad replied. We had been enduring monsoon rains for hours, holed up first at the Cafe del Mar and later at Abba. It was getting late and we still had to pack. So we made a dash for it and, as if cued by some rueful sadistic god, the rain intensified. Too late to change course, we soldiered into the torrent. Dad helped my pull my bike out of the muddy garbage heap. I was ankle deep in brown water and suddenly grateful that I was: a) wearing my sandals; and b) immunized against Hep A. ...
After getting situated in our hotel room, the first order of business was to get a couple of motorcycles so we might regain a modicum of control over our adventure. Dad had an aesthetic interest in the Royal Enfield. So we asked our host if he could arrange such a thing. After a little back and forth on the details he went off to see what he could do. A few minutes later he came back with the details and within 30 minutes we were staring at two of the most beaten up bikes left in India. The first Royal Enfield bikes were built in India in 1955, and I suspect that ours were from the first batch. ...