Life Styles of The Rich and Famous

Tiger Point Marina, N30 41.50 W081 27.25

(6/1/05) When I became a wealthy owner of a luxury yacht, I inherited an image to live up to. I should be spending my afternoons on the deck, dressed in a brilliant white shirt with an alligator on the pocket. I would drink quinine water and swap stories with William F. Buckley Junior. and my other wasp friends.

Today, after sanding the ablative blue paint from Tarwathie’s bottom, I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. “Wow! What a blue beard,” I remarked to myself. Actually I was blue from head to toe with the most toxic dust that money can buy and that the government will allow. I walked around the marina a bit trying to make jokes with people I met about Bluebeard the Sailor. Three people in a row said, “Not Bluebeard. Smurf.” By the way, NYISO readers of my blog should ask Steve Balser about his sailing story when he was blue from head to foot.

It took me an hour in the shower to get that toxic stuff. Off. Now my skin is scrubbed raw. Ah this lifestyle of the rich and famous is great. Come to think of it. I could be at work pushing out some meaningless report from the project-planning tool. This is better. Much better.

Tomorrow I’m invited to fika with Ingmar and his Swedish friend. Fika is Swedish for “sit around a table, drink coffee and chat.” I learned today that Ingmar worked for ASEA Atom just like I did. He was a pipe welder at the construction sites, while I diddled with computers back at the headquarters.