Rule of Three
Editor’s Note: Written in early July while we were still on the inside passage.
Laureen says, “If three things go wrong, don’t do it. The karma is bad.” This is Laureen’s Rule of Three. Laureen is a wise woman in many ways. Yet, at the core I think this may be a very important part of the secret sauce which makes her such a successful woman.
We here on Don Quixote would probably have never made it out of the house, let alone on to the boat, off the dock, and up the Strait, had we paid even the slightest attention to the Rule of Three. Now, however, that we are veterans of several months of breaking things, we are starting to selectively implement threeness.
For example, last night we abandoned Lagoon Cove in favor of Cutter Cove:
* We potentially anchored too close to a rock which might show up on low tide. Sure we could move, but...
* The marina harbormaster was decidedly unfriendly when we thought to come visit other boaters at the Happy Hour. It’s not like we asked to eat their munchies or drink their drinks, just sit on the dock with other boaters, but...
* A friendly couple on a powerboat put out some god awful amount of rope rode so as soon as the tide turned they floated as neat as you please into our laps. Fortunately, Dr C spotted them about 3 feet before their stern slid between our bows and under the tramp. We could mess with our anchor and ask them to take in their rode, but...
Then there was our plan to stern tie in Blind Bay:
* The wind
* The tide
* The verticality of the cliff on which Dr C wanted me to tie it.
We could also look at my ambition to engage in amateur theatrics:
* Mera does all parts with an English accent, even the Russian ones
* I can’t find my drama book... I think Aeron absconded with it
* Dr C runs and hides when people come to visit the boat.
If three things go wrong -- even if you could either fix all three or the three are entirely unrelated -- the gods are trying to tell you something. They are smacking you on the forehead with a loud karmic, “NO.” It behooves the smart cruiser to listen closely to these otherworldly voices. They are infinitely more intelligent then the girls’ flower fairies who tell advise us on clothing accessories, moderately more accurate than the Canadian Marine weather forecasts, and at least as consistent as the advice tendered by fellow travelers on where to get cheap beer.
Bread? Out of bread flour, forgot the sour dough starter the night before, can’t find the salt. No bread.
Swimming? Jellies surrounding the boat, can’t find Jaime’s suit top, Aeron slips on the deck and scraps her knee. No swimming.
Cruising? Can’t get the commercial loan, economy tanking, alternator died, food costs soaring, Jaime’s turning into a teenager 3 years early, ... ... ... ...
Toast’s Rule of Three: *cover ears* I’m not listening I’m not listening I’m not listening!
Laureen says, “If three things go wrong, don’t do it. The karma is bad.” This is Laureen’s Rule of Three. Laureen is a wise woman in many ways. Yet, at the core I think this may be a very important part of the secret sauce which makes her such a successful woman.
We here on Don Quixote would probably have never made it out of the house, let alone on to the boat, off the dock, and up the Strait, had we paid even the slightest attention to the Rule of Three. Now, however, that we are veterans of several months of breaking things, we are starting to selectively implement threeness.
For example, last night we abandoned Lagoon Cove in favor of Cutter Cove:
* We potentially anchored too close to a rock which might show up on low tide. Sure we could move, but...
* The marina harbormaster was decidedly unfriendly when we thought to come visit other boaters at the Happy Hour. It’s not like we asked to eat their munchies or drink their drinks, just sit on the dock with other boaters, but...
* A friendly couple on a powerboat put out some god awful amount of rope rode so as soon as the tide turned they floated as neat as you please into our laps. Fortunately, Dr C spotted them about 3 feet before their stern slid between our bows and under the tramp. We could mess with our anchor and ask them to take in their rode, but...
Then there was our plan to stern tie in Blind Bay:
* The wind
* The tide
* The verticality of the cliff on which Dr C wanted me to tie it.
We could also look at my ambition to engage in amateur theatrics:
* Mera does all parts with an English accent, even the Russian ones
* I can’t find my drama book... I think Aeron absconded with it
* Dr C runs and hides when people come to visit the boat.
If three things go wrong -- even if you could either fix all three or the three are entirely unrelated -- the gods are trying to tell you something. They are smacking you on the forehead with a loud karmic, “NO.” It behooves the smart cruiser to listen closely to these otherworldly voices. They are infinitely more intelligent then the girls’ flower fairies who tell advise us on clothing accessories, moderately more accurate than the Canadian Marine weather forecasts, and at least as consistent as the advice tendered by fellow travelers on where to get cheap beer.
Bread? Out of bread flour, forgot the sour dough starter the night before, can’t find the salt. No bread.
Swimming? Jellies surrounding the boat, can’t find Jaime’s suit top, Aeron slips on the deck and scraps her knee. No swimming.
Cruising? Can’t get the commercial loan, economy tanking, alternator died, food costs soaring, Jaime’s turning into a teenager 3 years early, ... ... ... ...
Toast’s Rule of Three: *cover ears* I’m not listening I’m not listening I’m not listening!