I am writing this the night before setting out on a great “adventure,” as my husband calls it. This post will go live tomorrow at noon, which means that as you are reading this, I will be sailing up the coast of Connecticut to a town called Guilford, where we will dock and spend the night before heading on to Fishers Island. What do I know about sailing? Nothing. What does my husband know about sailing? Less than I thought he did when he convinced me to spend our one week of vacation a year on this little sailing trek.
What’s funny about this is that when my husband first purchased this boat with his dad earlier in the year on the cheap, we had one little agreement: this was his thing, not mine, and while I would definitely share this hobby with him to some extent, this was NOT to become a major part of my life. Yet somehow, we have spent almost every free weekend of the summer out on our little red boat, cruising around the sound. Oh, and when you buy a boat on the cheap, be prepared for little “quirks.” Engine trouble makes it sound like an occasional occurrence… It’s more like sometimes we luck out and have Engine Startage. “Oh yeah, had a great day on the boat although we did have a little Engine Startage.”
And in case you missed it, I hate commuting by any means. So when you turn my vacation into ALL commute, well… let’s just say that I love my husband and this seems to be the only way to repay him for dealing with the joy that is me, a gift that never stops giving. When he first proposed the trip, my husband said it would be an 8-hour sail. When I seemed at peace with that, the time went up to 12. Then to 15. Now 20. Each way. Do the math, that’s 40 hours worth of sailing.
I will be basically useless on the boat as well. I don’t sail and I certainly don’t navigate. I can barely make it around the city without having to pull up Google maps on my blackberry. When we first moved to the city, my friend, Eunice, basically had to give me step-by-step subway and turn-by-turn walking directions before every night out on the town (of course I was always late, underestimating the time it would take to both get ready and arrive at the location).
Why will I be on this boat? Well, I’m going to keep my husband company and if the seas get rough, you can bank on the fact that my sarcasm will get rougher. Luckily, my angelic husband seems to find my sarcasm amusing and charming, which is why I married him, since most everyone else usually finds it annoying and distasteful. Basically, I’m comic relief and entertainment for our more than 20 hour trek. And with my recent poundage, I’m starting to become the Skipper to my husband’s Gilligan.
I’m also in charge of boating snacks:) Now we’re talking! Although I’m trying to keep it as non-potentially-stomach-irritating as possible since we try to keep the boat’s head (aka potty) to emergency use only. Translation: I’m going easy on the cheese this time around and only packing something mild… like a nice Comté or Emmental. Actually, chèvre usually agrees with me as well… Ok, so 3 cheeses! And some cured meats, maybe… some briney olives would be nice… can’t have saucisson sec without cornichons, either. And vodka – which can be used as a disinfectant! Or a sedative/anti-anxiety beverage should I forget how much I love my husband along the sail…
I will also be bringing with me my basil plant, à la Waterworld. It will be nice to have a little land with me since I am definitely a land-lover, but more importantly, Bisou Basil (named after my now favorite macarons from Bisousciao) is the first plant that I haven’t killed. In fact, my little Bisou Basil is THRIVING! Of course, now that I’ve gone and put my foot in my mouth…
So when we were about to leave the apartment (which is already occupied as we usually have boarders even when we’re there), I quickly ran back for my little BB. Yes, I could leave him to be cared for by others, but it’s hard for me to ask people to sing to him (yup, it’s a him) everyday for fear that they’ll think I’m a lunatic… ok, even MORE of a lunatic. And if I asked them to sing his favorite song, “You are my basil plant” (to the tune of “You Are My Sunshine”)… Well, it was just less taxing to strap a floatie on him and take him along. I should invent a little basil backpack carrier thing like they do for babies.
So if I don’t tweet or post something tomorrow night letting you know that we made it to Guilford safely, please alert the Coast Guard. A three hour tour…
Bisou Basil
Mindy's Recipe For Disaster 