Someone once got a tattoo of a phoenix to symbolize her rising up to be bigger and better than before. I doubt that person had this in mind but maybe, just maybe, her new tattoo also symbolizes my bad ass ocean going racing career rising from the ashes where it has sat dormant on the bottom of the Pacific.
Holy crap, that's good news to my scores of readers! And me, it's good news for me too. Maybe not for the boat and crew that's stuck with me on board but they don't know that yet.
So, I'm going to put my name on the Pac Cup crew list, see if I can wrangle a boat some other way and hopefully 10 or so months from now set forth to Kaneohe the slow way.
It's not like I'm not prepared. I dusted off the old life jacket a few weeks ago to sail around the Bay with my cousin and his friend Joe. I used some nautical terms, I pulled on some lines, I peered intently at the windvane, and lamented the wind shadow of Angel Island. Just like the old days.
Ah, the old days. After deciding to relive my youth, I took a stroll down memory lane by looking over pictures -- when I was young, exceptionally good looking, sailing to Hawaii and wearing a cool racing watch.
Umm, where the h3ll is my racing watch? It did cool things like count down to the start, keep really good time, wake me up every four hours whether I wanted to or not, match my suspenders (no, wait, that's a harness), and immediately identify me as a part of the cool kids club.
This might be the only thing that can keep me from sailing to Hawaii again. I need a watch, my fitbit will only depress me as I fail to hit 10,000 steps on a 40-50 foot boat. So, my first order of business will be to go shopping. Then put my name on the crew list. Then make myself indispensable for my future Capitan. Then sail to Hawaii.