Sunday, July 30, 2000

10:43 p.m. Proof, proof, proofy-proof proof that I'm (#1) the best wife in the world. I (#1) was out there, to be sure. Sailing, sailing, over the (ahem) ocean blue. The bounding main. The really bouncing main. This photo does not do me (#1) justice. Not at all, not at all.

And might I mention, while I'm on the subject, that there was nary a murmur out of me. Hardly any complaining, little whining ... I was the very soul of goodness and fare thee well. On the dais of wives who get rewarded, there's a platform with my name on it.

And let me tell you, we hit a rough patch or two.

Now, this photo was taken as we were on our way back into the harbor, after we'd cleared the breakwater and the wind had died down. Previously, no one was hoisting a camera, believe me. First of all, let me point out that both the sails are up.

That means: two sails, #2 and #3. They both have to be attached and unattached to the mast each time. They have dirty old ropes coming off of them that have to be yanked and cleated and held onto for dear life. They whizz back and forth over your head, which is hardly protected by my beloved, but flimsy cap.

(Also, I have a big, shrimp-cocktail-sauce-colored life preserver around my being at all times, so the the sharks can easily identify a helpless, easily digested tidbit.)

So, you've got the big, invisible wind filling up the sails (#2 & #3). Now for the tricky parts. Notice the horizon (#4) and how it's tilted? Askew? Pitched at a wholly unnatural angle? Imagine looking at that all afternoon, and you will have some idea of my stomach right now as I type this. Also, if I put both my hands on the desk and close my eyes, I can feel the room move. That's not good.

So, we're out there. Igor is in bliss. Heaven on earth. Sea birds -- either pelicans or gulls -- who knows? Gray and swooping. And there are waves. Swell. So, we need a goal, because ... because ... staying home and reading a good book was not goal enough for Igor. So, we sail (which doesn't mean what you think -- we don't skim across a mirror lake, but rather rise and fall, rise and fall, up up up and down, tilt, tippy, yawl ... and the little squint of land is small and very far away.

So, we work our way out to a lonely green metal buoy that is covered with sea lions. Ok. That's ok. There's a bell on the buoy and I think it might make a good photo, so I aim and try to focus while holding on to the pitching and the heaving side of the boat ... and of course my batteries have died and we're getting closer and closer to the sea lions and all the extra batteries are in the pit of hell (#5) below.

I've been in there before. I know what happens. It's evil. The floor comes up and the sides cave in and your stomach leaves your body and flops in the tiny metal sink. But I wanted the picture, dammit. So I tried to go down there and I got one battery before my knees gave out.

Now, sometimes that works. I don't believe that batteries really have anything in them in the first place -- if they did, why would "dead" batteries weigh exactly the same as live ones? People say they run out of juice. I say -- all you have to do is rearrange them like the shells in Three Card Monte and they work just fine.

So I replaced one battery and tried to focus again ... and believe you me, if I'd taken the shot, you'd be seeing it here -------.

So now, we're all the way out there and I'm totally sea sick and we've got a really really long way home and the wind is dying down and the sun is going in and ...

... and that's why I'm the best wife in the world.

And it's also why I just came from my very favorite restaurant in the world with a nice doggie bag of extra halibut for tomorrow.

Quid pro quo. It's a beautiful system.