I wanted to shake up my life and go sailing (or learn on the job, so-to-speak) so headed to Florida to crew on a catamaran. This is about how it went or, rather, didn't - and my life since. Hopefully it will lead to a catamaran on the clear aqua blue waters of the Caribbean Sea, watching the sunset, a coconut rum and coke in hand. You must START AT THE BEGINNING of the blog, April 2009, to get the whole story...

Wednesday, August 4, 2010


Spent another lovely day in Vancouver with family from England.

I decided to park my car at the ACFC office (with their permission) and catch the SkyTrain in the rest of the way. I no sooner stepped off the train than my phone rang and it was Ashleigh, just arriving with everyone off the SeaBus.

We walked through Gas Town, where Geoff was ecstatic to see the "Cowboy" store there, and then headed off to the waterfront where Geoff and Rob had a seaplane tour booked. Geoff almost didn't make it on as the ticket agent, in a tiny replica of a real airport, wanted to see photo ID and he didn't have any on him. For a scenic tour. Really?? They finally made an exception and gave him a boarding pass. We saw them off and then headed to Cardero's to have drinks and an appetizer while waiting for the guys to join us for a late lunch.

The walk over was along the water by the marina and we saw some fabulous boats. It set me to longing - again - to be out on the water in the Caribbean.

We were seated in the restaurant but then moved to the lounge to wait for a table out on the deck. Ashleigh and I shared the Forno Baked Flatbread: goat cheese, sundried tomato, caramelized onions, arugula and it was amazing. I will have to try to replicate it at some point.

The guys were late back from their plane ride and Ashleigh was getting anxious, but soon we spotted their plane coming in over the bridge. They were in a very distinctive red and white (in the pattern of the Canadian flag) plane so they were easy to spot. When they arrived at the restaurant, they both loved the flight and Geoff was wishing he could do that all day, every day.

After a fabulous lunch on the patio, they left to go to Stanley Park and the aquarium and I went off to Dress Sew - a huge store full of every kind of sewing need possible - to find some elastic for Shonah's shoes for the wedding. The store they were ordered in from have a stupid way of converting European sizes. On every chart online, a size 41 is our 9 1/2. Le Chateau takes whatever the size is, subtract 30 and that's the size. So for them, a 41 is an 11. Well, guess what? The 41 didn't fit Shonah at all. So now we have to have them stretched and then the elastic at the buckle extended. I don't think the 39 the bride ordered for the girl in California who's feet are a size 9 is going to fit hers either. When we went back to the store to see if they ordered the wrong size by mistake, and they explained, I said "You do realize that every time a shoe is ordered from you it will never fit." They didn't seem to care.

By the time I walked all over town yesterday, my feet were killing me. I certainly wore the wrong shoes. And on the SkyTrain ride to my car, I had to stand all the way. I remember when, as a kid, I was made to stand on the bus if an adult came on board and there were no seats left. Now, here I am an adult and I am still standing when there are kids in the seats. Doesn't seem fair. I guess that's what happens when you're born a decade or so before the whole world decides to throw out good manners. I'd love to live in an age where men stood when women entered the room, where they pulled out your chair, and where they gave up their seat for you. I got a taste of that when I was in Palm Springs and it was lovely.
All photographs are mine and not to be copied without express permission from me (click on them to see the large version).
Some names have been changed to protect my butt.

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