If it’s meant to be…
They divorced, after a million years of marriage, 23 years ago.
It’ll be…
He got remarried. She got remarried.
His second wife died. Her second husband died.
It’ll be…
This summer, after not seeing one another or interacting in any way for 23 years, they saw one another again at their first grandchild’s wedding.
Which *could have been* disastrous.
Except…
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So I’d be lying if I said I *understood* how humans got to the top of the food chain, m’kay?
Because SO. MANY. THINGS. that should be common sense are just… opposite. They are, in fact, common blunders.
And while blundering about on land is one thing…
Blundering your way through a water activity is really just NOT the thing to do.
Case in point: My spouse is a volunteer for an on-water agency whose purpose and function is water safety and distress response. For various reasons (including, to be blunt, idiotic management by the uniformed branch with which this organization is affiliated), he has had {a} a lot of training in rescue but has {b} rarely been able to apply that training. Such was not the case over the weekend, however, when — surprise, surprise (read: this is not a surprise AT ALL, it happens all the time) — someone did not engage their brain before engaging the motor on their Bayliner.
Which resulted in: My husband and his team came upon a “vessel in distress” — outfitted with five individuals who were not wearing PFDs, only one individual with a phone (which had a dead battery), and among the lot there was only one [1] flare (which they were waving haphazardly toward the shore, where nobody was likely to see them because nobody was there) and there was no working radio to be found. The problem? (I mean… The entire scenario is a problem, right? But the *actual* problem, like, the reason for the flare waving…) They were out of gas.
People. Please.
Out of gas.
And “I thought there was enough” was not even an attempted excuse because once he started explaining (“Well, I had enough to get to our fishing spot and back but once we got there, I had to turn around and go back for something and then go back out again…”) even THIS genius could figure out that somewhere along the line — probably when he went double the distance he was gassed up for and back again — he should have refueled.
SO.
If you’re planning to go 50 miles in your car, and you know you have enough gas for 50 miles only…
You would either stop at 50 miles or you would add gas before attempting to go another 50 miles further, yes?
Apparently people don’t think of this when their ‘car’ is a boat.
Anywhoo…
Ain’t nobody perfect.
But if you’re gonna be imperfect, you don’t have to go whole hog.
And if you’re gonna go whole hog on imperfection, don’t do it in a boat.
M’kay?
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I’ve called it a ship — a misnomer, for sure — but mostly I call it The Cute TugTM.
It is over 40 years old (as are we), with a small stack and a broad beam (familiar? yes), and despite the efforts of wind and waves and wake, it holds steady. (Just so.)
It rocks a bit, though.
Sometimes while at dock and another boat crosses behind.
Other times while at dock and inside the boat we snatch small opportunities to catch up on activities in which out participation seems to have fallen behind.
The kinds of activities, for instance, which require the baring of behinds.
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