Warm Water
While I was making my peanut butter and jelly crackers this morning, I decided I’m probably not going to own a yacht.
I’ve never had any specific dreams about yacht ownership, save the occasional picture of Jackie Kennedy Onassis with the scarf on her hair. I like wind, and maybe I would put my hair up in a scarf and wear a striped sweatshirt, but I’m not crazy about the sun.
It’s not the yacht so much as what the yacht represents. White pants, I always spill things on white pants. Is that a requirement for the yacht? Maybe that’s why while I was carefully placing my jelly between the peanut butter waves I had this epiphany.
Aside from the obvious initial cost of owning a massive boat, I’m not sure I’d want to deal with the maintenance. Sure, I could have a crew to take care of that for me, but what about the sunglasses?
Big, dark and round, I would have to wear sunglasses because people would expect that when they see me board my yacht. And the sun, that damn sun everywhere, I’d need sunglasses.
I hate sunglasses. I don’t like having anything on my face. I’m a full face to the world sort of person, and I don’t think that will work with the yacht.
Also, how big does this crew have to be? I’m not exactly a people person, and I’ve served my time in human resources. They’ll want benefits, I’m guessing, and time off. Lord, what if two of them don’t get along, or worse sleep together and then break-up? See, these are the things I think about when considering my yacht.
Maybe I’m being a Negative Nelly. Everyone wants a yacht, don’t they? To be super rich, wearing all white, and hiding behind super-chic sunglasses. People want a staff, someone to pour their drink, wash their pants, and fluff their pillows.
That’s the American Dream, isn’t it?
I like scallops and oysters. Those pants that fishermen wear are hot. And I like blue water, sort of.
That’s not enough. That must be why I figured no yacht this morning.
Maybe an island. I could still wear my jeans on an island. Is there mud on an island? I like dirt. Besides, Jack would never agree to a diamond-studded collar, but he loves to swim so an island might work.
A little boat could be an option too if I still want to put my hair in a scarf. Crackers go with a small boat.
Everything in our culture says, “go big or go home.” I’ll most likely continue choosing to go home, but you never know. I could wake up tomorrow and be all Pitbull-get-me-a-yacht. Life is fun that way.
The bikini. Oh Lord, I forgot about the bikini if I choose yacht life. Maybe I should lay off the peanut butter, just in case.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Cool Sheets.
If you give me your yacht, I’ll find you a stunt double to stand-in for you and we’ll take a lot of pictures of your double without stains, or if you like, your double can be involved in a scandal with a scarf, a hat, and a minor repairable shipwreck on an island with buried pirate treasure which you’ll have to supply for digging up for the cameras, but you’ll be vicariously famous with plausible deniability if necessary.
Some other problems with having a yacht: mal-de-mer (the yacht owner’s phrase for puking over the side), pirates, ship wrecks….good decision not to get one!
you could get a small yacht and sail it yourself. Wearing jeans.
Always thought a small island would be great fun. LIttle house, swimming cats, NO large noisy boats allowed…but you’re right, the white pants and sunglasses might be a stretch. Im as bad, anything I wear ends up looking like what i had for lunch, and I can never find sunglasses that don’t fall off.
Oh, now you have me thinking about that island. I could compromise, with a tiny house right next to an inlet. Loon. Needs loons. And the cats.
Good choice. I can tell you that none of the dozens of yachts I’ve ever owned have satisfied me, given the upkeep and the crew maintenance issues. But let me say this, too: Beware of island life, especially if you’re hoping for some privacy. It seems that everyone (and I do mean ev-er-y-one) that comes sailing by feels free to sail on up to your dock, tie up their yacht and come exploring, thus relieving you of any hopes for privacy you may have erroneously entertained.
Best bet: heavily forested mountaintops. I’ve seen some photos of deserts that looked pretty good, too. Both are pretty low maintenance, no crew required, and you never have to give a second thought to what you’re wearing.
I could give you a whole treatise on the realities of yacht ownership and expectations, but I won’t. A yacht is a pleasure boat so any small boat could be considered a yacht. Personally, the largest sailboat my husband owned was a 31-foot Westerly Berwick, a twin-keeled sailboat made in Great Britain. I never wore white pants, but I wore hats and sunglasses, and lost more than a few overboard with the breeze really kicked up. We don’t have it any more. Between my seasickness and his back surgery, we gave away the boat a few years ago. Now, we only have a Porta-boat, a boat that folds up for storage. We can carry it down to the lake, launch it on the beach, and paddle around the protected part of Lake Erie.
By the way, I think you could rock the scarf and glasses look, Tracy. ~nan
I love this – don’t you think it’s freeing to step away from what everyone thinks is the American Dream? I might like the white pants and striped sweatshirt though!
I really, really like this one, Tracy—probably that’s why I don’t have a yacht either, but I do live on an Island 🙂 I never knew there was so much involved to owning a yacht—I do like to eat peanut butter and jelly, but I definitely stay away from bikinis too. Stop thinking so much as it’s making my brain hurt 🙁 Just enjoy Jack and your crackers! PS: Thanks for the smile in my rainy day. . . .