“Let’s do some more sailing together,” I said to Margaret last November, over dinner preparations at her house. “You, me, Kate, and Kim. Wouldn’t that be great?”
For me, Maine means getting on a boat with almost no internet or cell phone reception, plenty of food, and easy sails between harbors where the closest company is an osprey fishing for dinner.
Greetings from Annapolis, MD: in mid-August, most sailors would’ve stayed in Newport.
One of the most challenging aspects of being a writer, especially in today’s world, is that we must wear at least three hats.
It’s been a busy year since “Oliver’s Surprise” went to press.
“…If you ever get annoyed, look at me I’m self-employed. I love to work at nothing all day.”
Canvas work can be a nice change of pace.
When I formally retired from Olympic sailing (and most importantly, sold my two Ynglings), Paul and I took ownership of a 1938 Herreshoff Marlin. At just over twenty feet long, “Matsya” (Sanskrit for “God of the Fishes”) is big enough to take a few friends