A backstory post, sometime in the Fall of 2012...

I spend the next two months sending psychic Boat Messages to both Andrew and Leslie (another Vudu-Guru technique.  I begin revising my doodles to include pictures of Andrew and Leslie sailing around the world on my decks; I imagine Andrew and Leslie imagining the same experience.  When Andrew and Leslie decide to check tea leaves, it is my painting of all three of us they see in the bottom of their mugs.  Yep, I did that.  The eight ball was a lucky touch, and honestly, I don’t know about that whole “See a snake” trick Leslie pulled, but whatever works!  I have to call them back to me.

On October 5, we received the purchase offer.  “$90,000.”  I read over Steve-the-Chainsmoker-Broker’s shoulder.  I recoil.  “$90,000, an insult!”  I huff, then I pout, then I huff again.  

“Now, now, Sonrisa, you know how it goes.  It’s just part of the dance.  Leslie is a lawyer, and lawyers will always take you through the negotiation tango.”  

I’m so annoyed, I am not really listening to Steve until I hear the word “lawyer”.  “Leslie’s a lawyer?”  I ask.  “What does Andrew do?”  

“Uhhhh…” Steve scratches his chin, looks skyward then thumbs through the offer paperwork.  “Yeah, I think he said he’s a Chemical Engineer.”  

Engineer!  A Lawyer and an Engineer!  This lucky break repairs my broken ego and I completely forget about the opening volley.  It’s meant to be.  I just know, now, that it’s meant to be.  What are the chances that I requested an Engineer and Lawyer, and then Neptune actually finds me an Engineer and a Lawyer? He wouldn’t tease me like this, would he?  I decide to let my owners focus on the numbers.  I don’t care what my purchase price is, really, do I?  

They fiddled about for almost a month, then Steve gives me the good news.  Survey and Seatrial are scheduled for early November.   All sails up, Andrew hands the helm over to Leslie.  We slide out of the San Diego harbor into open ocean, a nice breeze.  We tool around, steering through all points of sail.  I’m on my best behavior, and luckily, the Ocean is, too.  We have a firm breeze, and very few waves: my wheelhouse!  I glide along perfectly balanced, Leslie barely has to touch my steering wheel to keep me on track.  Soon, we are returning into the bay sailing up wind in twenty knots.  Leslie stands with either foot braced on my Lazarettes, peeking over the dodger.  I am blasting along at 9 knots. (This is fast in Sailboat Speed!)  We are rather heeled (or tipped) over, my side rail not quite in the water but sliding over the edge like a knife blade along a sharpening block.  Steve-the-Chainsmoker-Broker looks back and laughs: “Go Leslie!” He says.  She has a smile fro ear to ear.  My owner is perched on my back stern looking a bit irritable, and suddenly, I remember myself.  Right…I have to be careful.  Don’t want to break anything on sea trial, they might not want to buy me.

I cling to all my bits and pieces.  Behind Point Loma, the wind calms and my steep heel flattens.  We all lean back and relax for the rest of the trip back into my sales berth. 

That afternoon, after Andrew and Leslie departed to go relax at the hotel and enjoy dinner at Humpheries, my owner and I sit together in the perfect San Diego November sun.  My owner grumbles.  He doesn’t say it, but I suspect I know what he's thinking... “These whippersnappers.  They are inexperienced.  They sail aggressively, too.  If they sail like that in the open sea, they will break everything.”  

My mood darkens. I won’t break!  I’m strong.  But then I remember, the Ocean is always stronger.  I had been having so much fun, I didn’t think of this.  Now, I’m nervous.  It’s true.  If we sail full sail up like crazy people out in the middle of the Ocean, I might be able to hold it together for a while, but eventually, some little part or piece will break, then maybe another.  It wouldn’t matter if we were close to shore, but out there?  There is no where to fix a broken piece.  Do I really want to be sailed by racers? Racers can be a bit impatient.  I have racing pedigree (in the 80s several of my sisters won round the world races!), but I, personally, haven’t done much racing.  Those of my Sisters who do race, race marathons rather than sprints.  I don't want to fret, I hate fretting.  I seem ungrateful.  Neptune has fulfilled almost all of my requests, remember?  A lawyer and an engineer who want to sail around the world and who understand my Spinnaker!  It can’t be wrong.

Maybe I can teach them patience.  We can’t expect perfection from the start, can we?  I like Andrew.  He seems very smart and he has a good soul, I can tell.  Leslie seems like the wild card, though.  She seems pretty fun on the surface, gung-ho maybe, but I sense a softness of uncertainty in her.  I barely sleep that night, nervous of what their Survey process might reveal - in both me and them.  I've come this far, I can't let a foolishness about "fate" distract me.  If I find out Andrew and Leslie are packed with bananas, I still must back out!