Things I Need, In Addition To Laser Hair Removal.

Surely, slowly, and then quickly, my money’s flowing into a big watery hole known as Lake Wylie.

When I bought my little Sea-Ray, my trusty salesman (and I say that without a trace of facetiousness), Matt, told me I wouldn’t need a thing. He gave me a complete boater’s package, including four lifejackets, 100 feet of line, an anchor, a fire extinguisher (I know, right?) and a full tank of gas. With all that – not to mention the boat -- Matt was sure I wouldn’t need a thing.

Huh. Is it possible that Matt's never met me?

In two short weeks of boat ownership, the kids and I have already identified a myriad of necessities, including:

•  Skis, wakeboards, inner tubes
•  A tow line, for all those skis, wakeboards and inner tubes
•  A dry box, for stashing that impressive boat registration -- and those water-sensitive cell phones.)
•  A new cooler, on wheels
•  Coozies, preferably embellished with “Feminine Wiles," and "Accepting Donations"
•  An unsinkable, "unlosable" bottle opener
•  A waterproof camera, ideally one that automatically erases images of 47-year-old women who have the gumption – or poor judgment -- to wear bathing suits
•  Photoshop for Mac, in the event the camera malfunctions, failing to delete images of 47-year-old women in bathing suits

•  Champagne, multiple bottles for christening and consuming
•  Laser hair removal. (Legs are mandatory. Underarms, optional.)
•  A pop-up grill, portable potty and on-deck icemaker.

OK. Just kidding about that last bit. The grill, that is, not the laser hair removal, because there is nothing like the stark light of day, reflected off the shimmering surface of Lake Wylie, to illuminate every spikey follicle of stubble that emerged as the boat was being “splashed.” “Splashed” is boat-speak for “put into the water.” Turns out there's a lot more to being boat-fluent than "starboard" and "port."

Cougar Bait, who actually knows how to drive a boat, has come to our rescue with skis, a tow line and dry box.  But there's no end to the amount of money you can spend on a boat.  Just ask the folks at West Marine.  There is, however, one thing money can't buy -- a name.


Yep, our boat still needs a name.

Apparently, it’s bad luck to have a nameless boat. So here are a few of the ones we’re floating around. (Ha! “Floating"! Not quite boat-speak, but still.)

• Wiles Thing
• Worth Wiles
• Cheri’s Jubilee
• Always Write
• Scratch Pad
• Feminine Wiles
• What's For Dinner?
• Cougar Bait
• The Boat

Honest. It was easier to name Son and Darling Daughter than this 20-and-a-half-foot Sport.

It was also plenty easy to come up with this Tuna & Cannellini Bean Salad, which I'll be taking out on The Boat this week. Whatever her name is.

Tuna & Cannellini Bean Salad

1 can good quality tuna, packed in olive oil, undrained
1 can cannellini beans, rinsed and drained
1/2 cup chopped red onion
1 handful of parsley, chopped
2 tablespoons capers, drained
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1-2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon coarse ground pepper
4-5 cups romaine lettuce, coarsely chopped

Stir together all ingredients except lettuce. Season to taste with kosher salt. (May not need, depending on the saltiness of the tuna.) Chill well. Toss with lettuce and serve.

Hitting The Books. Naming The Boat.

It's exam week Chez Wiles.

So instead of boating –our new favorite pastime -- everybody’s studying.

That doesn’t mean we’re laying low.  Far from it.  Studying Chez Wiles is no quiet, introspective restrained activity.  It’s aggressive, expansive and territorial -- more Alexander the Great than Henry David Thoreau. 

Each kid, naturally, staked out his or her own room first.  Then, Son took over the dining room table.  Daughter claimed the sunroom -- floor, futon and bookshelves -- and set up a whiteboard for math problems.  Son’s study materials sprawled from his bedroom floor, into his bathroom, and onto a corner of the kitchen table.  DD took over some of the stairs and a kitchen counter.  On occasion, she even taped notes to the glass shower door.  At this point, the only household surfaces not yet encrusted with index cards, review sheets, notebooks, textbooks and eraser crumbs are, mysteriously, their desks.  And the cat.

Not that I’m complaining.  To be sure, studying – in whatever form -- is better than the alternative, which in our house is watching Glee, Facebooking, playing the guitar, ripsticking, playing basketball, ripsticking while playing basketball, or putting the cat in the dryer.

Through it all, my role is to grease the track.  Make sure the laundry is done.  Make sure the pantry is stocked.  Make sure each of them gets to their various exams on time (and on the right day, which could be the greater challenge).  And make sure I don’t serve a single meal that could prompt the suspiciously asked, “What’s that?”

So -- no new recipes today.  Instead, we’re all about comfort food – family favorites like Not So Dirty Rice, Waffles of Insane Greatness, and the beloved Sausage Pasta.  Hmm.  Looks as if all three of these meals involve the kids' favorite food group -- sausage.  I'll have to try to do better.  But not this week.

Next week, though, game on.  Fish.  Vegetables.  Anti-oxidants.  Whole fiber.  And very likely, spinach parading as parsley.  Plus, we still have to name the boat.  And maybe, just maybe, learn to drive it!

For A Good Time, Just Add Water.

I opened a bank account yesterday. Kinda.

It’s out in the middle of Lake Wylie. Sorta.

Yep. It’s one of those “liquid” bank accounts – a hole in the water into which you pour money without hopes of ever making a withdrawal. I bought a boat.

I’d been pondering it for some time now. There’s nothing like the freedom and fun you can have out on the water. I grew up on the water, on the beach, on the docks, in the creeks – boating, skiing, cruising, fishing. To me, it feels like an essential part of childhood, and at ages 15 and 13, Son and Darling Daughter won’t be “kids” much longer. As rising 8th and 10th graders, they won’t even be with me much longer. (Son’s clearly-stated college choice is “away.” Followed by, “Do they have colleges in Colorado?")

Plus, it’s that time of year when it seems as if every commencement speaker on the nightly news is urging new graduates to “pursue their dreams.” True, I haven’t matriculated in over 25 years. Still, my dream has always been to use “matriculate” in a sentence. And to have a boat. So now I have one.

This, despite the face that there are at least three good reasons I shouldn’t have done it. First, I didn’t “buy” a boat. I went into debt for one. Second, the boating season isn’t all that long. I know, because I tried to justify the expense by dividing it by the number of times we could get on the water each summer before Darling Daughter graduates from high school in 2015. That kind of math never adds up. And third, well, the truth is, I don’t know how to drive a boat.

As Son’s seventh grade teacher would say, it’s time for me to man up.

It's also time to get cooking, because I can’t think of boating without thinking of food.

When I was a kid, we’d eat a PBJ on the bike ride to the Yacht Club (which is not at all what you think it is), knock on the bar window, put a can of Coke on Daddy’s tab, and think we were gourmands.

That’s one dream that has changed. Nowadays, I think icy beers, hunks of juicy watermelon and French bread and cool, refreshing salads – something like this Shrimp and Cucumber Salad with Dilled Yogurt Dressing.

But first, can someone show me how to run this thing? And what happens if you push that red button?

Shrimp and Cucumber Salad
The salad is easy to assemble, but you have to begin a couple of hours in advance, to allow time for straining the yogurt.
8 ounces plain Greek yogurt, strained
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons fresh chopped dill
2-3 tablespoons fresh minced chives
pinch of ground cayenne pepper
generous grinding of fresh black pepper
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 seedless cucumber, peeled, quartered lengthwise, sliced thickly
1 pound peeled, cooked shrimp, cut into bites and chilled
1 rib of celery, chopped fine and chilled
Leaves of Bibb or butter lettuce

To strain yogurt, line a sieve with a paper coffee filter. Spoon in yogurt and allow to stand for at least two hours, to drain off extra liquid. Remaining yogurt will be very thick and creamy. In large mixing bowl, stir yogurt, lemon juice, dill and peppers together and set aside. Put cucumber slices in sieve, sprinkle with kosher salt, and allow to drain about 30 minutes. (This keeps the salad from getting too watery.) Stir drained cucumber, shrimp and celery into yogurt dressing. Serve, chilled, over lettuce leaves.