A seagull plunked a white gift on the dock railing near where the Soupster rested his arm – a near miss. “If humans could take a cue from the seabirds and be that casual about our process of elimination…” the Soupster thought out loud.
“Then there would be no “American Idol” or “Survivor,” said Sarah, stepping to the scene.
“Fine day,” the Soupster answered in greeting. “Whatsoever bringeth Miss Sarah harborward?”
Sarah laughed. “I was looking at boats to buy. I’ve got the boat bug.”
“Hole in the water where you throw money,” cautioned the Soupster. “And that’s after you throw a big wad to begin with.”
“I know, I know, she said. “I thought I had figured out how to beat that first part through magic, but it just didn’t work out.”
“Magic?” asked the Soupster, definitely interested.
“Well, positive thinking anyway,” Sarah said. “My crazy friend Ward got this book about positive thinking and he went around thinking positively about everything.”
“Oh, I definitely couldn’t do that,” said the Soupster, conscious of the depths of his cynicism.
“Ward appointed himself my fitness coach,” she continued. “My mental fitness coach.”
“It started with me wanting to lose five pounds to win a bet with my buddy, Jill,” Sarah said. “This was last winter and losing even five pounds is hard. Ward told me to imagine myself in a size 12 dress, so I did. I even went down to Lincoln Street and held a few up in the mirror and just ignored the stuff leaking out from the sides.”
“But it worked!,” she said to the Soupster’s questioning glance. “Then I told Ward I was getting behind on my bills and he said to imagine going up to my boss and asking for a raise. So I did that day and night for a month. And my boss just gave it to me, I didn’t even have to ask!”
“What about the boat bug?” asked the Soupster.
Here, Sarah chuckled and shook her head. “I told Ward and he had me studying brochures to envision exactly the boat I wanted. I figured 27 feet would be sweet with a forward berth. Good visibility. I wanted to sit up high in the pilothouse and have a stand- up head,”
“Not together!” joked the Soupster.
“Hah,” said Sarah. “Seriously, I named my boat Sarah Too. I imagined going out after work for quick spins. Picnics on islands, Fresh salmon steaks. Rocking to sleep on a gentle tide.”
“And one day, there was Sarah Too. The exact boat I had been imagining. Parked on a trailer in my neighbor’s driveway.”
“What did Ward say?” asked the Soupster.
“He blamed me,” said Sarah. “He said I was supposed to imagine the Sarah Too in my driveway!”
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