ARRRRRRRR!!! (Which is pirate for "Hey, what's up?)

Squinty thing, aren't I?

Most people (and by most, I mean about seven) wonder how a girl who grew up landlocked in eastern Kansas ended up a beach hound. The answer is… I’m not sure. I didn’t even dip my toes in the sea until I was 19 and on spring break with my fiancée. My parents didn’t do beach vacations- something about the Cuban military jets that escorted them across airspace on their flight to Jamaica turned them off of international travel. We did the Vegas thing, all Circus Circus and Shirley Temples.  . I suppose if you think about it, though, I’ve always been a water baby, even if it was just the big old concrete hole in the ground we called a community pool, or hanging out at the lake on a Sunday afternoon.

I’m still landlocked, but I bolt for the coast whenever my meager travel budget will allow. The rest of the time I content myself with being the Captain of this wayward ship. It’s a hell of a job just keeping the thing upright. I’m also the ship’s Quartermaster- yeah, I’m the one breaking up brawls, doling out the booty, and delegating who picks up what socks. Trust me, that’s a bigger battle than most people would think.

I run a crew of six here on the inland sea. Eric’s my First Mate. In truth, he thinks he’s the Captain, but please, child. Sometimes I let him wear the hat and tell the neighbors to walk the plank, just to make him feel good. It’s pretty cute. We’ve got two little Buccaneers- well, they’re not so little anymore. The big one is eleven and, well, he’s eleven. One minute he’s happy, the next minute I’m pretty sure he’s making a shank out of baseball cards and the internal mechanism of a broken iPod. In other words, he’s the perfect pirate! The littler one just turned six, is called “The Monkey” for a reason, and asks at least weekly when we get to go to Jamaica. God bless that child.

Security is maintained by thre e of the most ferocious (read: sleepy and fat) furballs on the planet. Try to board this ship and Jessie will gas you, Maggie will pee on you, and Jake the Wonder Cat will go all Chuck Norris on your ass. I’m sorry, but you can not defeat his kung-fu.

The Jolly Roger has been  hoisted, and you’ve got permission to come aboard, Interwebz. I promise, we won’t throw you off. Well, I won’t. I’m not speaking for The Monkey or Jake.