Happy Friday the 13th!

Posted on March 13, 2020March 11, 2020 by Carol J. Post

I’m not superstitious. I walk under ladders, have two black cats and got married on June 13^th. And yes, it was a Friday.

In our house, Friday the 13^th is a day to celebrate. And when that Friday the 13^th falls during the month of June, it’s doubly special. The last time that happened was 2014. It won’t happen again until 2025. Some people told us we were crazy planning a wedding for Friday the 13^th. But everything went off without a hitch. Well, almost.

At the time, my husband-to-be was in the Florida National Guard. Right before we were going to order his ring, riots broke out in the Liberty City part of Miami, and his unit was activated. By the time he was able to come back home, we were running out of time. We got the ring ordered, but it didn’t arrive until the Monday after our wedding. So we ended up borrowing one. In all of our wedding pictures, my husband is wearing my ex-boyfriend’s ring!

Sometime back, I booked a transatlantic cruise for our anniversary. The last ship we were on, the top deck was deck 13. It was where they had putt-putt golf, basketball courts, the rock climbing wall and several other activities. In checking out the floor plan of the ship we’ll be going on this time, it goes from deck 12 to deck 14. There is no deck 13.

superstition — Image by b0red from Pixabay

The fear of the number 13 is a real thing—it’s called triskaidekaphobia. A lot of skyscrapers have no 13^th floor, because even if the owner of the building doesn’t have the phobia, they choose to avoid problems with superstitious tenants. In China, in addition to floor 13, they’ll sometimes also skip floors 4 and 14, because of the similarity between the pronunciation of the words “four” and “death” in Chinese.

At least in America, the superstitious only have one number to avoid. Two if you count 666. But that would be a topic for a whole different post.

It’s Zaturday – Kitty Melodies!

Posted on March 7, 2020March 5, 2020 by Carol J. Post

It’s Zaturday, the day we (Ziggy and Zorro) take over Mommy’s blog!

Ziggy here. Zorro and I have this cool thing at our home in Florida. Mommy calls it a piano, and it makes really neat sounds. Mommy and Daddy both know how to play it. Zorro and I do, too, but it doesn’t sound the same as when Mommy and Daddy play. We still think it sounds good, though.

Sometimes Mommy closes the lid on our piano. When that happens, Zorro and I can’t get it to make any sounds. But it’s a comfy place to stretch out. It’s also a perfect spot to watch things outside, because there are two sliding glass doors on the other side of the room.

We have fun watching the birds. Cats usually like to chase birds, but not these kind. These are huge! There are squirrels out there, too. They run around and climb the trees. If Mommy would let us out, Zorro and I would chase them, but we’d stay away from those birds.

Okay, I got sidetracked. (Zorro says I’m easily distracted.) I was talking about playing the piano thing. Mommy told us about a famous cat who has a song named after him. Domenico Scarlotti claimed that his cat Pulcinella helped him compose his Fugue in G Minor. So it’s known as The Cat Fugue. Scarlotti didn’t call it that, but other people have. Zorro and I think it’s a great name.

We’re hoping that Mommy and Daddy write a song and name it after us. Actually, Mommy just plays, but Daddy makes up music. (He calls it composing.) When he writes a song about his favorite cats, he can’t call it The Cat Fugue, because that’s already taken. But how about Ziggy’s Song? Hmmm, has a nice ring, doesn’t it?

musical notes — Photo by Robert Proksa from FreeImages

Leap Day – Fun Facts

Posted on February 29, 2020February 23, 2020 by Carol J. Post

I’ve never met anyone born on Leap Day, but a friend of mine and his twin brother came really close. My friend John was born on February 28, 1956. A few hours later and he would have been celebrating his 16^th birthday today instead of having celebrated his 64^th yesterday. In actuality, the odds of being born on Leap Day are 1 in 1,461.

Leap Day happens almost every four years. Did you notice I said “almost”? Years that end in “00” but aren’t divisible by 400 don’t have a Leap Day. Most of us will never see it in our lifetime. The last time this happened was the year 1900. We won’t skip Leap Day again until the year 2100.

So why the weird finagling with the calendar? We know the earth orbits the sun approximately every 365¼ days. It’s this “approximately” that messes us up. The real number is 365.242189. So if we skip Leap Day three times every 400 years, we hit it right on.

A few other fun facts about Leap Day:

1. People born on Leap Day are called “leaplings” or “leapers.” In Hong Kong, the legal birthday of a leapling is March 1. In New Zealand, it’s February 28.

2. There’s a club for people born on February 29—The Honor Society of Leap Year Babies. The club has more than 10,000 members worldwide.

3. One in five engaged couples in Greece will avoid marrying during a leap year because they believe it’s bad luck.

4. In Finland, it’s supposed to be good luck for a woman to propose on Leap Day. If her boyfriend refuses her proposal, he is required to pay her a fine—enough fabric to make a skirt.

5. In Ireland, the man who refuses a Leap Day proposal must buy her a silk gown.

6. And there’s a movie about it. In the 2010 romantic comedy Leap Year, a woman travels to Ireland to propose to her boyfriend on Leap Day, which tradition says he has to accept.

So, ladies, if you’ve gotten tired of your special someone to propose, today’s your day. For everyone else, however you choose to celebrate this holiday that comes around only once every four years, have fun!

It’s Zaturday – A Furry Computer Hacker!

Posted on February 27, 2020February 23, 2020 by Carol J. Post

Zorro here. It’s Zaturday! Well, it’s actually Zurzday. Ziggy and I are having to do our Zaturday post two days early. Mommy says we got preempted. I don’t know that word, but supposedly this Zaturday is a special day. Mommy says it’s Leap Day. What makes it special is that it only comes once every four years. That means the last Leap Day happened before I was even born. And Ziggy was so little, he wouldn’t remember it.

Weruva Hmm, if it’s a really special day, maybe Mommy and Daddy will do something extra nice for us (nicer than the normal stuff). Like maybe they’ll give us some extra food and pour tuna juice over it.

Or put some more catnip in our toy.

Right now, Mommy is working on her computer. She does that a lot. I don’t mind, though, because she usually lets me sleep in her lap or curl up on a chair next to her. Sometimes Ziggy jumps up on the table and runs across the computer while Mommy is typing. That puts funny things on her screen and she yells at him.

I wish she would let me play on the keyboard, but she always closes the lid when she gets up. She does that because of Midnight, an old kitty we had when Mommy first adopted me. Mommy left her computer open when she and Daddy went out for dinner. (They fed us before they left. Mommy’s good that way. In fact, she always feeds Ziggy and me before she eats.)

Black cat Okay, back to the computer story. When it got later and Mommy and Daddy still weren’t home, Midnight decided to play on Mommy’s computer. I told him not to, but he did it anyway. I guess he figured he didn’t have to listen to me because he was a lot more mature.

I stayed as far away as I could, because I didn’t want to get blamed. When Mommy and Daddy got home, Midnight was still on the table, lying next to the computer. Mommy ran over, shooed him off the table and checked what she’d been working on. I could tell by her reaction that Midnight had messed it up. I don’t understand everything he did, but Mommy did a Facebook post talking about it. Here’s what she said:

While I was enjoying dinner, Midnight was making changes to my current manuscript. He added several lines of gibberish, deleted some of the stuff I had written, moved chunks of text around, then did a “save as” (F12), naming the file “kkk.” (Probably stands for “kitty-kitty-kitty.”) Fortunately, I had track changes turned on, so I was able to reject everything the cat had done.

Mommy hasn’t left her computer open since. So Ziggy and I have to find other ways to get into trouble. Ziggy is better at that than I am.

It’s Zaturday – Night Moves!

Posted on February 22, 2020February 19, 2020 by Carol J. Post

Ziggy here. Earlier this week, Mommy wanted to know if cats are nocturnal, so she asked The Google. I’m not sure what a Google is. It must be a really smart person who knows everything, because Mommy is always asking him questions. He even knows about kitties. Mommy learned that my mega-kitty cousins are nocturnal. Although housecats like us aren’t truly nocturnal, we are more active at night than in the daytime. I could have told Mommy that, and she wouldn’t have had to disturb Mr. Google.

It makes sense that cats would be nocturnal, because we can see pretty good in the dark. Although we can’t see in total darkness (it’s not like we have our own built-in night vision goggles), we need only one-sixth the amount of light that Mommy and Daddy need to be able to see.

Ziggy and I spend a lot of the day napping. That’s because we’re recharging our batteries. Right at Mommy and Daddy’s bedtime is when they get to full charge. It happens when Mommy goes into the bathroom to brush her teeth. First, Zorro jumps into the bathtub and chases his tail. You can hear him all over the house. Mommy says it sounds like a herd of elephants in there. When I jump in, he pounces on me. Then we both go flying out of there and chase each other around the house for a while.

We like to wrestle on the bed, too. When we do that, Mommy shoos us out of the room. Another fun thing to do is play in the blinds in front of the sliding glass doors. There are sliding glass doors in the living room and the bedrooms, so there are plenty of blinds to choose from. And they make the coolest sound. But Mommy doesn’t think so when she’s trying to go to sleep, and she yells at us. I guess people aren’t nocturnal, because Mommy gets grumpy at bedtime.

Eventually Zorro gets tired out and goes to bed. He likes to get under the covers and curl up against Mommy’s tummy. Then there’s nobody for me to play with. It’s really boring then. Everything’s dark and quiet, so I figure I might as well go curl up somewhere. But eventually everybody gets up and it’s fun again.

Now it’s morning, Zorro and I have enjoyed our yummy breakfast, and it’s time for our first nap. We’ll take five or six more. Then tonight we’ll be fully charged and ready to play!

National Love Your Pet Day

Posted on February 20, 2020February 19, 2020 by Carol J. Post

girl and dog — Image by pisauikan from Pixabay

Today is Love Your Pet Day. What an awesome holiday!

Over the years, our pets have included a golden retriever/chow mix, two long-haired dachshund sisters, an iguana and numerous cats. All of our pets have been rescues (except the iguana). Right now we have two black cats who are regularly part of my social media posts and who even take over my blog once a week.

I don’t think there has ever been a time in my life when I’ve been without at least one cat or dog. Granted, they can be a lot of work, but when they look at you with love in their eyes, it makes it all worthwhile.

Besides all the love and joy pets bring into our lives, there are also health benefits:

cats — Suki relaxing with her buddy Itsy after a tiring game of fetch

sailing — Morgan enjoying an outing on the sailboat

More exercise

Especially if the pet is a dog. Walking, running, playing frisbee or fetch keep both you and your pet in shape. We never could get our long-haired dachshunds to play fetch, but our Siamese cat Suki had a little rubber mouse she would bring to us to throw. She’d tear off after it then bring it back and drop it at our feet. This would keep up until we finally wore her out. Or maybe she wore us out.

Stress relief and help with depression

What is more soothing than listening to a cat purr or having a dog lying next to you with its head in your lap? Studies have found that being around pets actually reduces cortisol levels (the stress hormone). Pets can make us smile when we’re feeling down, too. The National Institute of Mental Health recognizes animal-assisted therapy as a treatment for depression and other mood disorders.

Image by fernando zhiminaicela from Pixabay

Lower blood pressure, less risk of stroke and lower risk of heart attacks

A study of hospitalized heart patients found that dogs decreased their blood pressure by about 10%. Other researchers suggest owning a cat cuts a person’s risk of having a stroke by one-third. And yet another study found that people with cats were 40% less likely to have a fatal heart attack. Scientists aren’t sure whether it’s the pets’ calming effects that make the difference or whether people who choose pets are at less risk of heart attack and more stress-free naturally. Either way, it sounds like a really good excuse to adopt a dog or cat!

Allergy prevention

Worried about allergies? Having pets in your home when your children are young can decrease their risk of developing allergies later. A seven-year study of almost 500 children found that those who were exposed to pets as babies, were half as likely to develop allergies and asthma.

For 13 of the most heartwarming pet stories of the past decade, check out this post. Warning: It’ll make you cry!

In honor of this great holiday, how about giving Fido or Fluffy an extra treat? They deserve it.

Love is a Beautiful Thing

Posted on February 14, 2020February 9, 2020 by Carol J. Post

rose — Image by S. Hermann & F. Richter from Pixabay

As romance authors, love is often forefront in our minds. Today, a lot of the rest of the world is joining us.

One part of my job that I always find fun is coming up with unique and sometimes humorous ways to bring my couples together. We refer to that first meeting as the “meet-cute,” which is defined as “an amusing or charming first encounter between two characters that leads to the development of a romantic relationship between them.” I have my own meet-cute, which, though not especially humorous, is a little unique.

When I met my husband, it was love at first sight. Well, maybe not love, but definitely a good amount of interest. My best friend had invited me to her church singles group Christmas party, and when I saw him standing across the church yard, I was hooked. I asked her to introduce us. We began to talk, and it didn’t take long for the subject of the conversation to turn to music.

I told him that I play and teach piano, and he said he had seen me play somewhere. I named a couple of places. When I mentioned performing in the Young Artists Concert with the Lakeland Symphony Orchestra a year and a half earlier, he said, “That’s it! You played Mendelssohn’s Piano Concerto in G Minor!” I decided I was dealing with a man who was really passionate about music. Or a stalker. As it turned out, he played the French horn with the Lakeland Symphony Orchestra and accompanied me at that concert.

Two weeks passed before we had our first date. Two and a half months later, we were engaged, and two and a half months after that, we were married. It’s been almost 40 years, and we’re still making music together. (Except now it’s at church rather than in a concert hall.)

For several heartwarming love stories that give The Notebook a run for its money, check out this post from Good Housekeeping.

It’s Zaturday – Kitty Toys, Yay!

Posted on February 8, 2020February 12, 2020 by Carol J. Post

It’s Zaturday, the day we (Ziggy and Zorro) take over Mommy’s blog.

Ziggy here. Zorro and I love to play. He’s three and I’m four. According to the Purina Cat Chow chart, that’s 28 and 32 in people years. We’re still young enough to enjoy toys. A lot. And when the toys we have get pushed under the furniture and we can’t reach them anymore, we look for other things to play with.

Zorro is pretty weird. I don’t understand some of the things he likes to play with. Like the paper coming out of the printer. It doesn’t matter where he is in the house. When he hears it start up, I’d better get out of the way, because he’ll just about run me over getting to it. Cat playing

The other day, Zorro walked out of the bathroom carrying Mommy’s toothbrush. I just looked at him like he was crazy. I have more discerning tastes than that. Like a piece of paper crumpled into a ball. When Mommy throws that down the hall, I can’t resist. Mommy’s hair is fun, too. It’s long and sometimes falls into my face when she picks me up. For some reason, Mommy scolds me when I swat at it.

But one of my favorite toys is this. When I hit the ball, it goes ‘round and ‘round. What’s even cooler, though, is the cardboard stuff in the middle. It feels so good on my feet. I sharpen my claws on it, and Mommy doesn’t yell at me like she does when I tear up the furniture or the woodwork.

cats with catnip But what really makes this toy the bomb is when Mommy or Daddy sprinkle catnip into the cardboard stuff. Aaaah, maaannn! Cats are supposed to act proud and independent. Cool and collected. Disinterested. But something about that stuff just makes us lose all dignity. I can’t resist it. Zorro can’t, either.

It’s been a while since our humans added it, so the smell is pretty much gone. We can walk over to the toy, bat the ball around a few times or sharpen our claws on the cardboard and walk away, still keeping our pride and dignity. As it should be.

Wait. Daddy just got a plastic bag out of the drawer. Is it…I think it’s…yes! It is! Outa my way, Zorro!

I-love-it-I-love-it-I-love-it!

Aaaahh… *long relaxed sigh*

It’s Zaturday – Bath Time!

Posted on February 1, 2020January 29, 2020 by Carol J. Post

It’s Zaturday, the day we (Ziggy and Zorro) take over Mommy’s blog.

Zorro here. I just finished my morning bath. One of them, anyway. I’ll be taking several. Ziggy will, too. We pride ourselves on staying really clean.

Mommy says cat saliva has a deodorizing agent in it that helps keep cats clean. That’s why when I lick Mommy’s hand, it doesn’t smell bad. Unless I just finished eating. Then she says I have catfood breath. I’m not sure why that’s a bad thing.

We get lots of benefits from grooming ourselves. Besides keeping us clean, it helps cool us down on hot days. And it feels really good. Our saliva helps heal injuries, too. But Ziggy and I haven’t had any booboos since Mommy and Daddy adopted us, because we never go outside.

Cats grooming I think I spend half my awake time licking myself. The other half I spend licking Ziggy. Cleaning Ziggy isn’t as easy as cleaning myself, because he has long hair. Sometimes I swallow too much of it and get an upset tummy.

The other night, that happened while Mommy was sleeping. And since I always sleep curled up against her, guess where I was. Yep. I didn’t know Mommy could move so fast, especially coming out of a dead sleep.

One time, though, Mommy said it was a good thing that I threw up. We had just left North Carolina to come back to Florida, and I got carsick. When we got to the place with lots of cars and big trucks (Mommy calls it Atlanta), there was a bad accident. Mommy said God was watching out for us. If she wouldn’t have stopped to clean up the car, we might have been in that accident, and that’s the reason I threw up. But I think the reason was those curves. Curves always make me feel woozy.

But I feel good now. In fact, I think it’s time for another bath.

Maiden Mishap

Posted on January 28, 2020January 21, 2020 by Carol J. Post

Anyone who has read my bio knows that one of the activities I really enjoy is sailing. We’ve cruised several areas around Florida but have a couple of favorites. One is Charlotte Harbor, in the Southwest portion of Florida. This is the setting for my current work in progress, a story for Love Inspired Suspense that takes place in the aftermath of a hurricane and features a search and rescue dog. Although we weathered some pretty good thunderstorms on our little sailboat, we never faced a hurricane.

In spite of good weather, though, our first trip didn’t go at all like we’d planned. I recently came across this short piece I’d written years ago about our maiden voyage. I figured I’d share it with you.

Boat on tranquil water — Image by Mikele Designer from Pixabay

Clean air. White beaches. Blue water. Salt spray. Seagull poop. Boating takes a person away from the worries of the world better than anything I know. Anything legal, anyway. Just being on the water has a way of soothing frayed nerves and untangling the knots created by everyday life. It’s no wonder so many people hit the water every chance they get.

My husband, Chris, and I started our sailing days on a Compac 16, then moved up to a San Juan 21 and finally a MacGregor 26. We are now what some might consider “seasoned sailors.” But that hasn’t always been the case.

We purchased the Compac from Chris’s uncle, who gave us a short lesson on a local lake. Then we began planning our first overnight cruise, our maiden voyage. We packed our little boat with all the necessities—bedding, clothes, Port-a-Pot, plenty of books and games so we wouldn’t get bored, lots of extra food and water in case we got lost at sea, and the dog to protect us if we happened upon some drug smugglers.

Our point of launch was Burnt Store Marina at Punta Gorda, Florida, where we encountered our first problem. When Uncle Owen launched the boat, a gentle push had sent her floating free, but now that we were on our own, the boat seemed permanently attached to the trailer. We tugged and pushed until we almost ruptured something. Then some guy felt sorry for us (or maybe he was just waiting to use the ramp), and the three of us managed to get her launched.

Our next major task was to crank the motor, a 3.5-horsepower hunk of metal which had been resurrected from the scrap heap. After several minutes of cranking, it finally sputtered to life, and we were at last ready to begin our three-day cruise.

We motored out of the marina then set sail – and waited. It didn’t take us long to discover a basic law of sailing: Sailboats don’t work very well without wind. For the next several hours, we sailed-uh, I mean drifted slowly across Charlotte Harbor. As the sun sank low in the sky, I heated our supper, a favorite casserole I had prepared at home. I was almost finished when I had a disturbing thought.

Me: What are we having for supper?

Chris: Shipwreck. Why?

Me: Think about it.

By the time we all finished our shipwreck, it was just about dark, so we headed toward Devilfish Key, where we had decided to spend the night. Before reaching our destination, however, we experienced another basic law of sailing: A sailboat that has a fixed keel and a two-foot draft requires a water depth of two feet plus.

Our sailing lesson didn’t include the “What to do if you run aground” chapter, so we began discussing our options. Chris thought about getting out to see if he could push us free, but not knowing what lurked beneath the dark surface, preferred to keep his feet in the boat.

At last we decided that if we could heel the boat, our two-foot draft would become even shallower. So we moved the dog, toolbox, ice chest, captain, first mate and crew to the same side of the boat and started the motor. Our ploy was successful, but after running aground a second time, we abandoned our plans to reach Devilfish Key, motored about 100 yards off the shoal, and set anchor.

Our daughters, 7-year-old Kristi and 2-year-old Andrea, went promptly to sleep in a small bed in the bow under the anchor well, and I stretched out on my bunk. Chris, however, when faced with the task of unloading his bed, chose instead to sleep in the cockpit with the dog.

Thirty minutes passed. Then the wind, which had been conspicuously absent all afternoon, suddenly made an appearance, and we discovered we were anchored on the windward side of an island. The boat began to rock violently, and I looked through the open hatch at Chris who lay with one arm and leg over the side of the boat, trying to keep from falling off the cockpit seat onto the dog.

Kristi slept peacefully while several feet of anchor line uncoiled on her head, and Andrea sat up clutching her stomach. “Mommy, I don’t feel good.”

That was all the encouragement we needed to find another anchorage. We pulled up anchor, raised the sails, and found we had a pretty decent breeze. Andrea’s shipwreck stayed where it was supposed to, and I decided sailing might be enjoyable after all.

A 4-second green marker flashed just about due east of us, and we set a course for that. Some time later, we saw a white light flashing every 2 to 2.5 seconds a good distance away on our rear starboard quarter. The chart showed only red and green beacons, no white, so we decided our mysterious light was a new channel marker. Then it sailed past us on our starboard side.

“Must be some kind of boat,” Chris said.

When we looked for the light again several minutes later, it had moved to our port side. It was circling us. At that moment I found that the presence of the dog wasn’t quite the comfort I had anticipated. Chris continued to study the chart trying to find out where in the heck we were, and I kept sailing toward our green beacon. The next time I found the mysterious light, it hovered eerily above the water directly behind us.

“Chris,” I whispered. “Look!” I closed my eyes and waited for the command-“Beam ’em up, Scotty.” Chris, though, saw a shaft extending from the light to the water and decided it had to be a submarine periscope. (When alone on the water in the middle of the night, the mind plays tricks.) We held our breaths as the threatening object loomed closer. Then Chris realized with relief that we were not being circled by an alien spaceship, nor were we going to be attacked by a Russian sub. We were in the middle of Charlotte Harbor in a shipping channel, and our roving white light was actually a stationary mid-channel marker. The closer we got to the middle of the channel, the stronger the current and the less forward motion we made. Near the center, we were actually sailing backwards. Relieved to have the mystery of the roving white light solved, but disappointed to find that we had been diligently sailing for almost two hours and hadn’t really gone anywhere, we changed course and headed for the nearest island.

The next morning, we awoke refreshed and ready to face another day on the water. After a quick trip to shore for the dog, we set sail and headed for the mouth of Charlotte Harbor. Our plans were to sail to the Gulf side of Cayo Costa and spend the day at the beach.

We had almost reached the mouth of the harbor when we saw two barges moving toward us from the Gulf. The closer they got, the bigger they looked, and we decided that it might be to our advantage to get out of their way. Since we had almost as much wind as we had the day before, a hasty retreat under sail wasn’t likely. I kept my fingers crossed, and to our surprise, the motor roared to life after only two pulls on the rope. Our relief was short-lived, however, when we realized we weren’t moving. Chris killed the motor and leaned over the back of the boat. The propeller was gone. Fortunately, both barges passed without incident, but we decided we would be pushing our luck if we didn’t turn back.

Two hours later, it was mid-afternoon, and we still sat at the mouth of the harbor. At that point, we knew we couldn’t put it off any longer – it was time to break out the paddles. When loaded with two adults, two children, one large dog, and three months of supplies, a 16-foot Compac seems incredibly small. When paddling one, it feels huge.

The next two hours, we built up our triceps and made very little progress. I won’t elaborate on what Chris had to say at this point about the wonderful sport of sailing, but I will say that he was able to think of a hundred places he would rather be – at work, at the dentist, behind the lawnmower, under the lawnmower…

At last a small breeze began to blow, so we put away the paddles and cruised along at the blinding speed of one knot. At dusk, we reached a peaceful little cove and anchored with two other sailboats, 40-footers whose dinghies were almost as big as our boat. We enjoyed a quiet dinner, then a bedtime snack of popcorn and hot chocolate.

The next morning, we paddled out of the anchorage. Once away from the protection of the island, we were hit with 20-knot winds. Several other sailboats moved about the harbor, a sight we hadn’t seen the prior two days. Perfect sailing weather. However, the sensation of suddenly tilting 25 or 30 degrees seemed more terrifying than fun. We took down the jib, stuffed the dog into the cabin next to the Port-a-Pot, and continued to sail. I began making plans in the event we should capsize.

“I’ll get the kids,” I said. They, of course, wore life jackets. “You rescue the dog. She’ll be trapped in the cabin under 30 pounds of you-know-what.”

We never did capsize and, over the next three hours, gradually gained confidence, though not enough to venture outside of Charlotte Harbor. At noon, we turned back toward Burnt Store Marina. Our “cruise” wouldn’t be over until we reached the ramp, something that was going to involve two hours of paddling, maneuvering around all the other boats.

We were just coming into the channel to the marina when a sailor with a new F-27 was motoring out. He looked over at us, working industriously, paddling our Compac 16.

“Need a tow?” he hollered.

He didn’t have to ask twice.