Which I Really Don't Have Time to Write.

I've been meaning to inform my local readers that the boats are in town for the Rose Festival. They've been in town all week, actually; I've just been too busy to blog. It's my last week of work, you see, and many things which have been put off can be put off no longer. And there's this other work-related conferencey thing I'm doing on top of that. And the boats are in town. Note that the timing on all this is just really wretched.

Anyway, I did get to visit them briefly last Sunday. I also got to crew for a sail last night, with my uncle and cousin as guests, and a good time was had by all. I'm always aghast at how much I forget about how to sail the Chieftain, and then in the next moment I'm astonished by the things I remember that I didn't even know I knew. Anyway, I'll be there all day Saturday too, helping with dockside tours 9 to 5, so feel free to wander down and say hi. If you're up for facing the Rose Festival crowds, that is, and I certainly don't blame you if you aren't.

I'm so tired. There's no good reason for me to steal time from other activities and go work on boats this week. It's not like I won't get my fill of that later this year, even to the point where I'll yearn to be off the boat. The best explanation I have to offer for this compulsion is something an old sailor told me in Long Beach last winter.

I was returning to the boat with a couple of my fellow sailors after an evening on the town, and this scruffy old salt struck up a conversation with us. (We didn't know him from any other sketchy guy wandering the docks, but later discovered he's something of a legend among tall ship sailors.) As we made our way back up the ramp to the boat, winding up the conversation, he asked us, suddenly assuming an Irish accent for reasons known only to himself, "So, ye been bit in the arse yet?"

The question confused us. Finally I got it: "Oh, you mean bit by the boat bug? The sailing bug?"

"Yeah. Ye been bit in the arse yet?"

We replied in the affirmative.

"Ah, well then ye're fooked," he said, shaking his head with grim satisfaction. "Ye're fooked."