Things We Lose. Things We Keep.

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Franny in the Daffodil Rhodie

Tonight we said goodbye to our beautiful Australian Shepherd, Francesca.

At almost sixteen years old, we have been trying to prepare ourselves for this day for the better part of a year with middling success. As other milestones in our lives passed, we all wondered if this would be the last time we would enjoy them with Franny. We marked as small triumphs the days that Francesca saw; Andrew’s return from Europe, Coming home from vacation, this year’s Thanksgiving dinner. Amazingly, Franny slowed but never gave up enjoying her life until this past week, when she could no longer walk under her own power.

Franny and Michael play Tug O War

Franny and Michael play Tug O War

We are grateful that all of us could be with her as our veterinarian gently helped Francesca to die. Andrew, Claire, Melissa and myself were able to stay with Franny for her last breaths; petting her and crying until she was gone. It was as good a death as any of us could hope for; surrounded by those we love and those that love us.

Portrait of an Aussie as a Young Dog

Portrait of an Aussie as a Young Dog

Many of our posts center on our efforts to simplify our lives; to reduce the hold our busy, shore based world has on us as we strive to become full time cruisers. Tonight, our lives are indeed less complicated but we are poorer for what we have lost.

But this is what we keep. Memories of nearly sixteen years, marveling at Francesca’s intelligence, beauty and grace. She has been at the center of our family’s collective life for so long that it is impossible to recount Claire and Andrew’s childhood without her. She was there for Melissa and me when those same children grew up, went to college and had lives of their own.

That is what we keep.

Francesca did what all great dogs do; she made us better people.

Franny and Andrew on Moonrise

Franny and Andrew on Moonrise

Boat Night

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Well, it’s come to this. It isn’t enough that I serve my addicted brain by spending my own

A boat we actually looked at on the inside.

time cruising Yachtworld. Now I’ve  begun to include my husband in the deal. Addiction, after all, is usually a family affair. So it should have come as no surprise to me that our ‘date night’ would have been more accurately termed ‘boat night’. Ah, sweet mystery of life!

No, dear reader, rather than address my addiction head on, admitting my lack of power over it and making amends to those I may have hurt while in the throes of my longings, I now reveal to you my secret shame: I actually made an appointment with someone who strikes fear in the pocketbook of thrifty boat lovers everywhere, someone who is so bold with his knowledge of the addiction process that he can introduce price creep without batting an eyelash. This person sits smack in the middle of the supply chain of boats both new and used, controlling access to the very substance that makes me quiver like jelly. No, I’m not talking about my husband. I speak, of course, about THE YACHT BROKER.

There is no help for the addicted boat shopper in the world of used boats. There is no such thing as ‘Boat Shoppers Anonymous’. Worse still, other boaters tend to simply commiserate with you and nod knowingly. They are no help at all. So, you see,  I really had no choice but to meet with the enabling and friendly yacht broker, Lee Youngblood of Gig Harbor Yachts. Thanks to Lee we began looking at real boats in our price range. More about that sad fact later. Lee willingly braved the cold to show us several boats, including a Swanson 44, an Islander 36, a Pearson 365, and the outside of a couple of other boats like a Wauquiez Pretorian and a Lafitte 44 that was out of our price range. Price creep, anyone?  I’ll be posting my thoughts on these boats on the ‘Boats’ page.

One of the boats we toured.

After our visite des bateaux, (as they say in France), on the cold December docks, we enjoyed a lovely dinner at Anthony’s at Shilshole Marina in Seattle. Then, thanks, again, to the completely enabling Lee, we capped the evening off by attending our first ever meeting of the Puget Sound Cruising Club. We enjoyed a slide presentation by Ken and Susan FitzGerald who shared their experiences cruising to French Polynesia and back. We were impressed by the friendliness of the group and the wealth of experience and knowledge represented.

However, none of these people was going to be impressed with my little shopping problem. One very nice lady asked if we were experiencing ‘sticker shock’ and when we confirmed that we were, she shook her head knowingly. That’s as far as we got in terms of sympathy. It’s not that as a group they are unkind, it’s that they are all in the same boat as we are, no pun intended. We get it. We understand now.

What sailors look like when they're excited. Note measuring cups in Mike's hand.

We did have a rather karmic moment that gives me hope, however. It went like this: After the mid-meeting coffee break, they did the drawing for door prizes. There were lots of people there, so I wasn’t really all that interested. Four door prizes, maybe 150 people there. Know what I mean? I don’t get too excited about these things.  Here’s the actual conversation that took place. You be the judge of the karma involved:

Mike, turning to me: So, which prize do you want?

Me, unimpressed: What do you mean?

Mike, knowingly: Which of the doorprizes do you want?

Me, bored: You mean if you win?

Mike, smug: No, I mean which of them do you want WHEN I win.

Me, smartly: Oh sure! Okay, I’ll play your little game.  I want the collapsible measuring…

Announcer: NUMBER 900!

Me, in falsetto whisper: cups.

Mike went to collect his prize, secure in his ability to manifest.

After allowing this show of utter mastery of the universal laws of manifestation to sink in, I have only one response to this event: Where is my million dollars, Mr. Prize Winner?

What they were all so excited about. Something to do with anchoring or something like that.

Boat Lust and Teeth Gnashing

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I fear I have an addiction. No, I’m not into drinking or doing mind-altering drugs. But I continue to engage in an activity that, by its very nature, is probably not good for me and makes me feel weepy and frantic at times. It’s like one minute I’m on a magic carpet and the next minute I’m in a tumbling free fall until I come smack down to earth. Still, I continue, knowing this will happen again and again. I feel somewhat powerless in the face of this behavior. I don’t exactly ‘hide’ this behavior from my husband or friends, not exactly, but other signs of addiction are mounting. I spend more and more time engaging in the behavior. I neglect other parts of my life in order to give myself wholly to this endeavor. It owns me, heart and soul.  I speak, of course, of looking at boats on Yachtworld.com.

Okay, so I'm doing it again. What's your point?

I can spend literally hours at a time cruising the Yachtworld pages. I have a running list of boats I like, most of which are not even listed anymore. I compare the boats available in the Great Lakes region to the ones available on the East coast, to those in California, to those in my own Pacific Northwest (where I will have to pay about 9% sales tax on a boat! Damn! That’s going to cut into the budget seriously!).  I consider the wisdom of buying a boat in Mexico or Canada.

But, hey, I’m doing research! I mean, I do learn a lot about what I like and don’t like about each boat. I guess you could say that all of this looking is helping us narrow down what’s important to us. But mostly it makes me feel like whining.

In spite of myself I’ve experienced price creep in my longings. I started out keeping my searches to a reasonable price of 50,000$. Yes, that IS a lot of money. But not for a sailboat. It’s not going to buy you much of a sailboat. So I upped it to 75,000$.  That buys a bit more. That will buy a boat that is workable for our little plan, but will still need substantial upgrading if I want to feel safe and prepared at sea, which I do.

Like all good addictions, that wasn’t enough. Soon I had to increase the price to $100,000. I hear all the gasps of pain from you readers, especially those of you who are not owned by boats. It’s a crazy amount of money. But this will basically be our HOUSE for a number of years if all goes as planned. Does it still sound like too much? Yeah. That’s what I thought, too. So I started looking at boats between 100,000 and 200,000$. Did you catch that complete disconnect there?  Dear God there are some beautiful floating houses out there. Now I’m REALLY flying out of my league. Way, way out.

Not even close to my price range.

The day is coming when the shopping needs to end and a decision needs to be made. I think we are getting closer to making that decision to buy a different boat, my addiction not withstanding. The money we’re spending on a boat now needs to be spent on a boat that will take us to Mexico and beyond in the future. This is only logical, people. It must have been that logic that caused me to fall completely in love with an Oyster39 center cockpit for sale up in Sydney BC. I had looked at the boat on line couple of times before and thought it looked very nice, not to mention that Oyster yachts have a fine reputation as blue water cruisers. And the price was right, too. Unbelievable.

So here is where the teeth gnashing comes in. I contacted the broker, only to be told that an offer had been written on the boat THE DAY BEFORE! Oh my dear GOD in Heaven!! Teeth gnashing doesn’t even begin to cover it. There was wailing and carrying on and tearing of hair, at least inside my head. There were visions of me prostrate on the ground, praying to whatever little gods are in charge of boat-buying to save that boat for us. I believe wheedling and deal-making may have been involved. There began to be actual praying that the sale would fall through for whatever poor soul is buying our boat. How unworthy of me! I had to pull myself up short. And believe me when I say it was HARD! I still have my moments. Sniff.

So I fear I have willingly bought a ticket for the worst kind of roller coaster. Last time I rode a roller coaster I had vertigo for a week. I had trouble telling where the ground was. I’d wake up in the night and clutch the bed, thinking I was falling.  Let’s hope this experience is not more of the same. I’d like to keep my sanity intact. Meanwhile, Mike is holding onto his wallet for dear life.

I tell you, this is important research!