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I’m on a Boat

7 Jun

The ocean is a scary place. I have a friend who has a phobia of large sea mammals. He will never take surfing lessons. Or jet ski, which I have done, in Alaska, where he is from. He once had a dream where he fell into the Orca tank at Seaworld and Willy proceeded to taunt him and encourage the audience to laugh at him and point.

Upon a recent trip to Sag Harbour/Greenport at the end of the unbelievably long Long Island, I thought a fear of the ocean a thing that plagued the unfortunate, the weak stomached. I was  wrong. I enjoy boats. I love being on the open sea, the salty air, even the birds…On this trip to the end of Long Island, a trip that was only supposed to take four hours, the boat escapade took nine. Not because of detours and sightseeing, a jolly stop somewhere along the Connecticut shoreline to have a local pint. Oh, no, no, no. This was due to abso-fricking riddick weather: ever-undulating waves, rain, wind and non-existent visibility.

Leaving the harbour at about 11:00 am and heading out, it’s only rainy. After we take an hour and a half to reach a port that is half an hour away, it’s evident that things are not looking good. My mother goes ashore to find some clam chowder. Not an unreasonable expedition. It is, however, a fruitless one. By this time, both my cousin, Richard, (captain amazing and owner of vessel, One Life) and my cousin-in-law, Edwin, are soaked. We had to open the top and that has brought the ocean in. I make them cups of hot chocolate. Within an hour, Edwin brings his back up into the sink on deck.

At some point later, while trying to go below deck, I manage to hit my front tooth on the pipe of the little sink in the “kitchen” area below deck. My tooth is spared, but I am officially over the boat ride. This is no longer fun, I am no longer sailing, I am in a human piñata and very soon I am going to fall out.

At about 3:30 pm, I’m sure we must be nearing our destination, I ask Richard to tell me when we’ve started our descent. He says it’s going to be a while yet. Not cool. The rocking has not stopped, the waves have not diminished and the rain has not eased up, for even a second. Alaska King Crab Fishermen, you do not get paid enough.
At sometime after 4, I go below deck and sit/lie in a cubby as close to the back of the boat as I can get. I somehow manage to fall asleep. I wake up cold and realize that I have been sitting on wet clothes. I am now soaked from the lower back down. Super.

I come out to the top deck nearing the 6:00 hour and become Richard’s navigator for the remainder of the trip. I search for red and green buoys, and check depth. At 7:40 pm we begin our descent. At this point, I can tell that we had about 10 minutes of sunlight left in the day.

At the house in Greenport, my aunt, my other cousins and cousin-in-law come rushing out, actually teary eyed. Columbus, I totally feel you with the whole reaching shore thing.

Much soup and lasagna later, we are dry and whole once again. And wha d’ya know, the rest of the weekend had Magritte-blue skies and placid  water. We celebrated my mom and my aunt’s birthdays, ate more food than most Ethiopian villages see in a year, watched the French Open final and had a really great time sailing back in the rightful four hours. I never say never, but that boat ride out comes pretty close.


This may or may not seem tame to the viewer, but it was casual sailor hell.

Entering green, green Greenport.

Humble abode, Greenport style.

I’m trying to say something poetic with this picture. I’m not sure what yet.

Something we all need.

Ah, the life. You only get one.

View from the back deck, dusk.

On the way out of town, turn left at the lighthouse.

House of Sand and Rock, Thimble Islands.


Stranger Style – And the Last Post till 2013…

15 Nov


What do you get when you pair stylishly tapered khaki pants with a crisp navy blazer, tasselled Oxford pumps, a cool Fedora Pork Pie hat, and a colour-pop scarf? A whole new style category…I like to call it Fem-Prep-Chic. And if you disagree with me, just check out the pocket square. ‘Nuff said.

As the title implies, SHTBC will be taking a little siesta till January 2013. So sleepy…time for a nap. (Yes, this blog is written by bears).

Till the new year!


P.S. To all the New Yorkers still affected by Sandy, the bears are thinking about you and sending love and support.

I like this website

27 Aug

This is my kind of website. Barb and Bear, an online gallery of emerging New York artists, curated by a masked duo who have trolled “every flea market, gallery, boutique, and back alley” to bring these pieces to one marketplace, for your shopping pleasure.

I like it.

Vive L’Art!


Awww Snap, Bermuda Week Again?

22 Aug

See how long this ‘week’ is lasting?

Yeah, it totally gets even more ridiculous. I can’t believe this is allowed on the Interwebs. Just today I gave a speech about, “if it’s not good enough for print, it’s not good enough for online.” Wow, it’s a really good thing I don’t run a newspaper. Whew. The world is a better place without me trying to publish to a national audience.

And on that note, brace yourselves…


Happy Being Jelly,


It’s Bermuda Week!!!

10 Jul

Ah, my, my, so many things have been happening…an ushering in of the termination of grad school, a week-long cruise to Bermuda with my BFF, and the reason for said cruise, my appointment as digital editor for Caribbean Travel and Life magazine. Yes, you heard right. Keep up, I’m not going to repeat myself. I particularly like the term “my appointment”. Quite dignified. Like a decision made by the Queen. I still can’t believe it either. I feel like a homeless person at a buffet. I keep waiting for someone to realize I don’t belong and politely escort me out. But until that happens, shiznazzle like this will continue…

That would be me. In Bermuda. Don’t hate.

Now you’re probably wondering how my enviable gallivanting across the Atlantic pertains to my fave stranger with candy, NYC. But that’s the thing, Jelly Beans, in addition to Boston, this cruise sets sail from New York City. Yeah, I know…NYC as a cruise port? Doesn’t seem plausible, but just googlemeister your way on over to Norwegian Cruise Lines and look for Bermuda and you’ll see your options. So one minute you can be in a screaming match with your cabbie on the West Side Highway, and the next you can be on the balcony of your stateroom, sipping a cocktail and out to glorious, glorious sea. It’s pretty tight.

But enough about my sweet job. View the full gallery at here.

Happy Hatin’


P.S. The good thing about having your own blog is that a “week” can last as long as you want…It’s going to be Bermuda Week for a hot second up in here.

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