"Less Words, More Pictures"

Such was the recent critique of a loyal blog reader. "All these words...so dull!"

Said by an English teacher, ironically. If we English majors can't encourage one another to write, what of the rest of the world?


Very well -- if it's a picture the people want, then I will give the people a picture. Unfortunately, I was stuck in the office today, but this is the view of what Newport Beach looked like today.




If it stays in the 70s, I might just rent a sailboat of my own and get some extra cash advertising private whale-watching tours off the coast. Which would you prefer: A privately (although amateurly) manned wind-powered sailboat, or an overcrowded fishing trawler spewing gas and all sorts of noise into the ocean? Our pleasant encounters with dolphins and sea lions in summers past speak for themselves.

~~~

Now that all you living in arctic climes have had your obligatory photo slide show, I will resume my text-based commentary on my life.*


*(this entire post should be read with tongue firmly planted in cheek)

In the "Life Isn't Fair" Category,

The Philosophress and I went sailing today, since it was 80 degrees and all out here.

Here's what I am discovering: life is more enjoyable when I can take breaks from the banking (not exactly on the list of things I excel at) to putter around and compose newsletters on the computer (one of the things I would do full-time if it paid a living wage).

Currently, it's just on a volunteer basis, because for the first time in my life, I'm officially popular -- having been elected recently to the board of the local Notre Dame Alumni Club (with at least 75% of the precincts reporting). In grade school, I was always the dorky kid with glasses and tall striped socks running for Student Council Secretary that had super-cool flourescent campaign posters but a nerdy and decidedly unfunny speech each year during the school assembly. Now they've asked me to edit the quarterly newsletter, which means I legitimately can spend copious amounts of time obsessing over margin width, kerning, and font selection, not to mention the fact that the pen (or, in the 21st century, my "delete" key) is mightier than the sword when it comes to editing articles.

Suffice to say, the club newsletter will be proofread and uniform this issue, with further redesign elements coming next quarter. And it gives my mind a chance to craft something out of words instead of numbers, which is a welcome change of pace.

Sailing (Mis)Adventures

*Sigh*

So I went sailing today.

That’s not the source of the sigh. That comes later. Last week’s sailing class was tremendous. The Philosophress and I expertly piloted our boat up and down the channel, even getting very near to the open ocean, before our classmates behind us shouted at us that we probably should turn around. Boo. Hiss.

Since The Philosophress is in Canadia (intentional misspelling) for the week, I flew solo at class. Well actually, that’s not exactly true—I was paired with Robert, who is quite a friendly fellow. The wind was super-gusty today, and quite challenging. You know you’re in for a fun day when someone who’s been sailing for 20 years casts off from the dock and immediately runs straight into the rocks. The waves were crashing into the jetty and spraying over the top; there were whitecaps in the harbor, and at times the wind was swirling so it appeared to be coming from the shore. Good times.

So the wind is tricky, but Robert and I are handling things pretty well. We switch “driving” a couple times, and as he and I go to change places, a rather large gust of wind hits our boat. I’m pretty sure we did all the right things—I let out the sail (so it won’t catch any more wind), turned the boat into the wind (sailing directly into the wind is the quickest way to find yourself stuck), and Robert and I are leaning waaay out over the starboard side to compensate for the boat heeling to the port side, but to no avail.

Over goes the boat, and into the drink we go. Good thing for 90+ weather and warmer waters, since it actually felt quite pleasant for the first 10 minutes or so. Oh yes, this was only the beginning of our travails. Robert tried hanging onto the boat, which itself isn’t a terrible idea, but then the mast likes to find the bottom of the harbor. While that’s going on, the current (remember the whitecaps?) takes us directly into the rocks. So our instructor comes over in a small outboard motorboat and we spend about 25 minutes trying to get out from the rocks without smashing boats, smashing limbs, or getting the sail caught in the motor’s propeller. Finally, Captain-Jack-Sparrow-in-red-boardshorts rolls up in a dinghy to assist, and within 5 minutes we have the boat towed away from the rocks, I help pull the mast out of the oil/muck/sludge at the bottom of the harbor channel and he single-handedly gets our boat back upright. (See The Philosophress’ dissertation on how to right a sailboat here)

So our main instructor finally pulls up in a second power boat (he was helping the other 2 boats that had capsized further up the channel...I told you it was a windy day), and he pulls me into his boat, and Robert hops up into the other boat. Captain Jack bids us adieu, but because our boat has taken on so much water, it’s likely to capsize again so I hop in to provide balance while it gets towed back to the dock.

All of this would have been fine if I hadn’t lost my wedding ring.

Oh yes...you know those cheap $8 Old Navy sandals? Yep, they float right to the top of the water. So do cheap sunglasses and those Nalgene water bottles. So did I, thanks to my life jacket, leaving me to concentrate on avoiding being crushed against rocks, getting tangled up in seaweed, and staying clear of the outboard motor. But with all of our time spent in the cold water (mid-60s), my fingers shrunk just enough. I was cognizant of this the entire time, so I was checking my finger repeatedly and kept making a fist while in the water, but when I got into the power boat (after helping to get the mast free of the seaweed and out of the water), it was gone.

So now the question becomes whether I should tell The Philosophress a tall-tale, or do I just chalk it up to experience? I guess know I know never to wear wedding rings while sailing. And it could have been worse, since of the two, mine was the more economically priced.

Boy, I guess they weren’t kidding when they said I’d be spending the week as a bachelor ;)