Eighteen!

It was a gorgeous day 18 years ago; sunny,

mild, and a long long day in the hospital.  Like

so many monumental events, I remember it like

it was yesterday.  Happy Birthday Sweetheart!

Now I need to find a restaurant that serves duck.

It's getting closer!

Sailing with the McG's last August.  Braveheart at

the helm. I love it when someone else drives!  We

were on our way to Tice's Shoal and a Five O'Clock

somewhere session.  A bottle of red wine was 

spilled in the cockpit and it looked like a crime

scene.  Only crime was that wine was spilled!

Our guests reacted quickly and a fresh bottle was

uncorked and poured  in no time.  Life is good.

Je Crois Entendre Encore

Just because

Cheap is good

This wine practically jumped from its bin into my shopping cart.

These days, how can you pass up a wine that calls itself Premium

California Table Wine?  At $6.49 a bottle, I had to try it.

Well, it was okay.  I was really trying to find a redeeming quality

about it, but it was just okay.  Sure, the closer you got to the

bottom, the better it tasted.  But in the long run, if a friend shows

up at your door with one or two better bottles, the Cheap Red

Wine is gonna be poured into the pot behind it to make sauce.

One of the reasons I shop with frugality is the need

to be able to swing the Yacht Club fees for the

upcoming season.  According to Tillerman, "My kind

of club! Club membership at $40 a year is exactly the

kind of solution that we need to encourage more people

 to get involved in sailing."  I would pay forty bucks just

to say that I'm friends with these people.  They enjoy the

act of simply being with other people who like sailing as

they themselves do.  Everything else is gravy.  I can't

frickin wait until the first race.  And the party afterward.

http://toyc.org/toyc/home.html,

http://toyc.org/toyc/photos/Pages/Hats_of_TOYC.html#13

Random house photos

Winter of 1942.  I always thought it was cool

to go to the shore in the winter.  It was so quiet,

so desolate, so hard to imagine running out on the

dock with a crabnet in bare feet.  Summer always

came though, and it felt like it never had left.

Summer of 1946.  Norman Rockwell anyone?  That was Dad,

pre-Mom.  Snappers (baby bluefish) were and still are so

easy to catch.   Long bamboo pole, line, hook, bobber, and

spearing for bait.  Throw it in and pull them out.

Dad's dog, but nobody wrote the year on the

back of the photo.  I also don't recall his name,

but it may have well been Lucky, since not every

dog had a shore house.