Rhubarb Pie

Fun trip.

Sherry!

I went sailing during my trip!  Now I'm a sailor, like you.  We'll have so much to talk about.  I did this sailing during a regatta, so we were racing and shit.  It was pretty fun.  I got to help.  I was a grinder, winding up the ropes that aren't called ropes onboard because they have to be called something different apparently.  This is the ignorant brute force position I am so well suited for.  On instruction, I also switched to the high side, which I enjoyed.  I don't usually get to help out just by having mass. 

Sherry, there's something you've never mentioned.  Surely you've noticed, but maybe you are used to it?  Or perhaps it doesn't happen in Maine.  Sherry, a lot of the time, the boat was sideways in the water.  Not flat, with a pleasant horizontal deck.  Sideways, tilted, sometimes substantially so.  Hon, I am not used to that.  Usually when my transportation is angled far from horizontal, I expect things to be very wrong within seconds.  I mostly got used to it, but am still a little suspicious of the whole idea.  I liked the flat parts, and the idea we were moving without a motor. 

My trip was great.  I ate fish after all.  It was delicious.  I ate piles and piles of tropical fruits and went to gorgeous beach after gorgeous beach.  I was by Ali's side for a week straight.  Sadly, the weightlifting competition was after I left. I took a million pictures, including pictures during the race.  So I have lots and lots of pictures of tiny white triangular smudges on the horizon that I know you'll want to see.  I took the picture below the fold during our victory lunch, back in the harbor after the regatta.

I'll tell you if I eat fish.

Did I tell you, hon? I'm going to the Caribbean on Friday to see Ali! Do you remember Ali, my most beloved roommate of two years ago? She is nearly done with her Peace Corps stint, so I need to visit her fast. We've been sending passionate love letters to each other, about our anticipation and excitement. I swear, if I got emails like this from a man, I would know we were about to be married. Anyway, I've missed her so very much and as lovely as tropical islands sound, am far more excited to see Ali.

I think I am prepared for the trip. Like every summer, I have been steadily working on my base tan. I'm allergic to SPF, so I much prefer to slowly get dark enough that I don't need sunscreen. I am ashamed that I have actually sunburned a few times this year, which I consider amateurish, sloppy work. Still, I am fairly dark, and ready for quite a bit of sun exposure. I have also carefully considered my reading material. There is no possible way I can carry enough books for the ten day trip. I can't even carry enough books for the travel time. I am forced to face the prospect of downtime without reading materials or internets. There is always conversation with Ali and fruity alcoholic drinks, but I might still have empty beach minutes to fill with contemplation, which is on the slippery slope to introspection and reflection. No one wants that, but one must be brave and admit the possibility. I am bringing a paper diary, in which I might write things, with a pen.

Those are the decisions I can make in advance, but I've been struggling with two other questions, neither of which I can settle until I get there. The first is the question of whether to eat fish. I’ve been vegetarian twenty years, but if I were ever going to eat fish, surely freshly caught in the Caribbean is the time and place. Given my ongoing jones for protein, I'm sure it would be that much more delicious. I’ll have to see how I feel at the time. The other question is whether to pick up an island boy.