I'm not a 'smiler'. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of what I am about to relate.
When I say “I'm not a 'smiler'” what I mean is that I rarely smile. I am often accused of looking angry. I am not often angry I just seem to portray that emotion.
There are, however, at least three activities in which I participate that cause my frown to turn upside-down.
I am an avid SCUBA diver and usually sport a broad smile when I have spat out my reg upon surfacing.
The second activity that causes a Cheshire Cat reaction is sailing. In light winds or heavy (especially heavy!) I sport a ****-eating grin, or, more frequently, a full-toothed beam. Whether motoring or under canvas, as long as there's water under my keel and a tiller in my hand I sport an ear-to-ear smile. Why I have this reaction, I don't know. For all the reasons that have been mentioned: the freedom; the sounds; the challenge; the scenery; the company; all of the above. And what allows me to experience this joy? My boat! So I would have to say that my smile covers the ten things I love about my boat.
My boat is like a beautiful woman – not beautiful in the plastic, botox, silicone-injected, unattainable media-created, fantastical, illusionary portrayal of 'beauty'. Beautiful in the wholesome, girl-next-door, mother-of-your children reality of true 'beauty'. She's not what could be considered 'sleek', but she has curves in all the right places. She sags a bit where she used to be pert, but this just gives her character. She's responsive but not cowed: she let's you know if you are not treating her with the respect she deserves. She provides comfort and shelter. She is happy to serve and appreciates being served. She is generous and demanding. And she makes me smile!
I won't discuss the third activity that makes me smile.
1989 Hunter 30'
Southern Georgian Bay
The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever. - Jacques Yves Cousteau