“Sail Over to that Shrimpin’ Boat”
In my Gone Fishing post, I wrote extensively about my fear of water. Yet, here I am, settled into my “home away from home” for two weeks. Oriental, North Carolina is known as “the sailing capital of the Carolinas”.
Getting here was quite the road trip. That’s a story for another day.
Ferris’s Day Off
We are staying at the vacation home of Jack’s “brother-from-another-mother.” Jack’s college roommate is my husband’s true soulmate. For real, these two complete each other’s sentences. They talk to each other more frequently than Jack and I converse with one another — and we live together!
Our friend said, “you can use my real name as long as you don’t write any mean bullshit.” However, to protect the not-so-innocent, I’ll refer to him as “Ferris.” This is not a refence to the movie. Ferris is the name of one of the fabulously charming and slightly neurotic dogs that belong to this wonderful friend.
Ferris, the man, took two days from his busy life in Chapel Hill to meet up with us. He, like the rest of us, is pretty frazzled by the fast pace of career and raising children. Needless to say, we enjoyed a few cocktails and catching up.
Ferris grew up in a Massachusetts coastal town some 20 miles north of Boston. I asked him the other day how he developed his passion for sailing. As a landlubber, I’m curious to know if sailing had an intrinsic appeal to him or if it was acquired.
Being on the water is my happy place, Susan. I couldn’t not be on the water growing up where I did. My dad was a boating enthusiast. My mom liked boating. My childhood friends were all into boating. So, that was what I saw around me.
In college, though, I really got into sailing. It’s so serene. Some people find it boring. Me? Not at all. I don’t even need a destination. I just love being out on the water.
Sounds like it was a little bit nature and nurture. Well, lots of being out in nature, eh?
Rituals
Jack and Ferris exuded boyhood jubilance as we approached the dock. They described each boat we passed, admiring well crafted hulls and the lengths of masts. I learned that size matters in oh-so-many ways.
Anticipation grew with each step closer to Magnolia (an Alerion 28 for you boat people). She has beautiful lines with a striking blue hull. She surely turns heads at the marina.
The guys relished in taking the sail covers off, sorting the lines, and preparing our launch.
Untie that. Push that down. Lift that up. Snap that in. Secure those. Pull ‘em’ in. Stow that there. Got a hat? Lather on that sunscreen. Let’s go!
I appreciated the rituals they executed. In fact, I felt a little left out.
One of the elements of the roles I have have loved in my work-life is planning. As a learning experience designer, I‘ve relished the forethought and early stages of projects. I’m coming to the realization that whether I’m crafting an engaging educational module, writing a report analyzing a client’s needs, prepping a menu for a dinner with Jack, or mapping out our next weekend adventure, it’s the meticulous attention to detail that brings me joy.
Just like readying the sailboat with Jack and Ferris, the rituals of planning — setting goals, arranging resources, and anticipating challenges — are where the magic begins. It’s about creating a framework that allows spontaneity and discovery to flourish, ensuring every journey, whether in a virtual classroom or on the water, is a memorable one.
“Have You Tried Removing the Stick From Your Ass?”
We tried calling my niece, Rachel, from the road. We’d been driving so long and exhausted most topics of conversations that we started calling family members. Jack and I had to break up the monotony of the rows of corn, peanut plants, and “Jesus Loves You” billboards. We got her voicemail. In fact, we got lots of voicemail boxes. But, whatever…
Stretched out under some fans in the shade of the porch, I was happy to get a return call. Rachel filled me in on her internship. I provided a narrative of my visit with her grandmother.
Side note: My family nickname is Zsa Zsa. Yes, as in Gabor. I’m also known as The Zsa or, simply, Zsa. The name grew out of a joke when my sister and brother-in-law were thinking about what to name their baby and what name the baby would call me (i.e. Aunt Susan, Auntie Susan, Ciocia Susan…)
Once again, I found myself explaining to Rachel that I’m “getting better at this sabbatical thing” but that I’m still struggling to “really relax.” In hindsight, this was a very spoiled and obnoxious thing to say.
And then, in the most honest-yet-sarcastic-tone that permeates her genetics from the grandfather she never met then passed down to her via her mom, my sister, Rachel asked…
Well, Zsa, have you considered that you should try taking out that stick that’s up your ass?
The truth did not hurt. The truth was so fucking funny that tears streamed down my face as we both busted a gut laughing. I think I laughed so hard that the stick actually loosed up. Sometimes someone just needs to tell you to shut up and relax.
Thanks, Rach!
Cool Change
Mixed with the “tough love” from Rachel, I am finally chilling out. I don’t know if this change is attributed to our change in location or if it’s that we are approaching the end of our second month of sabbatical. Either way, I continue to take lessons away from our daily experiences.
Jack and I are big fans of 1970’s singer songwriters. Little River Band has a song called Cool Change (1979) that has resonated with me since going out with Jack and Ferris on the sailboat.
Time for a cool change
I know that it’s time for a cool change
And now that my life is so prearranged
I know that it’s time for a cool change
I’m not sold on the idea of purchasing a boat. I am growing more comfortable with the ebb and flow of tides and tacking to accommodate changing winds. I’ve also grown incredibly fond of pelicans.
More to come…