The Race That's Not a Race

I know I've told you about my father's sailboat before and how he threw me and my sister off the back to practice rescue drills. What I haven't told you, though, is how one time he kicked us off his boat during a two day regatta. After the first day he wasn't doing so hot and was annoyed as heck, I'm sure, by our incessant giggling, so he left us at the marina the second day of the race and ended up coming in first place, sans crew. I don't sail any more because my husband is afflicted with the worst motion sickness I've ever seen. He gets seasick if he looks at the double rocking chairs at Walmart, for Heaven's sake. I miss sailing, though, and, if Daddy were still alive, I'd like to tie him to the helm of a sailboat (with any number of those knots he was so hellbent for me to learn) and make him to let us crew for him in the "Race That's Not a Race" around Lido Key, Florida. The race begins with a whistle blow and everyone scrambles to get in their boats and navigate the Lido Beach shoreline, Big Pass, Bird Key, the Ringling Bridge and back to the Sarasota Sailing Squadron. Each racer estimates the time it will take to finish the course and those closest to their estimated times are the winners. Watches are not allowed, however, and it's more of a party than a race, anyhow. I know Lee Ann and I would have a blast, and Daddy did loosen up a little bit in his old age. I think, if we cranked up some Buffet tunes and gave him a bottle of rum, he'd be just fine. This painting is called Race Around Lido, and it's 14 X 14 mixed media on canvas)for Inspiration Avenue and Three Muses)