Revelation!

It only took five solid days of rain. Okay, so being stuck in a strange house with two odd dogs and the world's fattest cat on a mountainside about 25 miles from my own home helped some. But you become impatient. "Revelation?" you say, with eyebrow lifted and that little bit of a smile that you get when you are humoring me. Yes. Revelation. Obviously, if you have stumbled upon (or been invited to) this blog, you know of my affection (affliction?) for sailboats. Especially during cold, wet, brown, snow-less North Carolina winters. (Your toe is tapping. Where was I going with this?) Yes. Revelation. One word.
Catamaran.
Oooo. I just got chills. Yes, catamaran! In my few years as an actual sailor, I confess that I rather looked down on them. They were so... light. We lived on our beautiful Shannon 50, dark, mysterious, serious cruising vessel that she was. Smallish ports designed to keep out the seas (good luck with that), lovely oak and teak paneling designed to make you feel like you were at home on the Pinta, and just enough room in the berth to make you feel very tall. She was lovely. But catamarans! They were broad! Bright! And good Lord, they had a real bed in them. Several, as a matter of fact. What Puritanical urge made me look down on them, I have no idea. Probably the same one that made my buy my tiny little house on the mud slope because it had nice stained glass windows. But I digress.
Cruising catamarans seem to be a relatively new breed. Most of the ones I have perused today have been built since the mid '80s, and I confess, rather look it. Spacey is the first word that comes to mind. They look more than a little like a bright white fiberglass Geordi la Forge or a nautical version of the Guggenheim. But my innately classical sense of style (no snorting, you) is overwhelmed by the second word that comes to mind. Spacious. And the third. Bright. Sunlight everywhere! O, dear me! One can see OUTSIDE from INSIDE. And really, isn't that a good half of what cruising is about? Hanging on the hook in a new harbor, puttering about making supper, humming a Jimmy Buffett tune, and LOOKING OUT at where it is your dream has carried you? (Okay, except that bit about the Jimmy Buffett tune.) Every one that I looked at today (like this one) whispered, "Buy me. I'll take you back to the Dry Tortugas and beyond."

Now all I need to figure out is how to sail one.