A story from our first year on the boat …
“I’m splicing a line.”
“Kinda looks like macrame without the beads”, I say laughing. My husband is not laughing. It’s not that he doesn’t have a sense of humour, it’s that I am lacking in appreciation for the fine art of tying knots.
“I made a plant hanger once.” I said.
For a moment I consider how a plant hanger would look in our boat and decide I don’t need something else to bump my head on. My husband is concentrating on his knot and I leave him to his work.
I loose patience when I don’t grasp a new concept quickly. So when we were practising tying two half hitches around the table legs during Power Squadron’s Safe Boating course, I decided that ropes were not going to be my thing, but it inspired my husband.
A few days later, cozy inside the diesel-warmed boat while it poured rain outside, my husband pulled out some rope and a book called, The Marlinspike Sailor. “What’ya doing?” “I’m making a leash for the dog.”
That’s pretty cool I think. I take the book and thumb through the pages. Who knew you could make cool things out of rope? A few more moments of silence – always a dangerous situation for my husband because he knows my wheels are spinning on some crazy tangent.
“I could make that!” pointing to the mat on page 43.
“What are you going to do with a mat?”
It’s really not the point, but I take his comment into consideration and think of something else that might be more useful.
“I know, I can make some beaded curtains.”
Now I’ve caught his attention and he puts down his rope and studies me with curiosity. It’s funny how you can be married for so long and still not be aware of each other’s tastes in interior decorating.
If I had been born 10 years earlier I would have been one of those girls, arms outstretched twirling in the mud at Woodstock. My enthusiasm for knots and ropes is increasing as I imagine beaded curtains dividing the state room from the galley.
The reverie is broken when the he says, “I don’t think beaded curtains would be very practical.”
He knows how to get me to compromise. Play the “practical” card – appeal to my sense of reason as it is stronger than my sense of fancy. “I suppose you’re right.” More silence.
I imagine I hear a slight sigh coming from the corner of the boat when I pull out my knitting needles. “What ‘ya making?”