Thursday, June 12, 2014
Every summer, our yacht club throws a Tapas Party... no, not a topless party; although, now that I think of it, my father-in-law has shown up for this party twice in the last three years wearing a pot-leaf sarong and a coconut bra/lei. Anyway, this party indulges the sailor's curiosity in all of us by allowing each yacht club member the chance to open up their boats to the public and, in turn, check out those of others members. Joel and I attempt to participate in this party every year. We spend the day packing away the evidence of whichever project we've been working on, hauling it up to the truck in a dock cart, scrubbing everything down, and doing our best to minimize the areas of utter chaos. Though we still ended up doing all these things again last weekend, this year felt different. As I pulled out my camera to snap some shots to share with my in-laws who couldn't make it this year, I didn't feel like I had to angle the camera to hide anything. In fact, I was so flushed with pride that I ended up staying on our boat the whole evening, answering questions about the boat design and the work we've done. For the first time in these almost 4.5 years, my boat feels more like a home than anywhere else in the world. So, I'm going to attach some pictures here from the last couple tapas parties so you can see the difference too. I'd ask you to pardon my gloating, but in all honesty, I'm far too proud of Joel and my accomplishments to feel guilty.