Dearest Earthlings, another Tuesday is upon us.
Nearly one year ago, I boarded a 275-foot yacht in the Bahamas with a former client and did whatever people professional people do on yachts, for seven days. There were eleven civilians and twenty-five crew. Of the civilians in our party, I was the only woman. Four floors of Restoration Hardware decor. A tasteful combination of mega furniture on a mega yacht.
My room was not some dodgy, below-deck ship room. You probably guessed that by now. It was Four Seasons-esque. One day I tripped over a woman shining the floor in one of the 22 bathrooms on board. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” I said. I thought, “Holy shit. This story says it all.”
I never rode the elevator, but I did ride the jet skis and the SEABOB. Breakfast was anything our hearts desired, from omelets to crepes to chilaquiles and yogurt parfaits. Every day, lunch and dinner were several courses of yum. I was told by the host of the boat, if I wanted a cake baked for me at 2 am, the crew would oblige. (They’d hate me, but they’d do it.)
Our every need was tended to.
On arrival day, I placed my sandals in a basket and didn’t use the word shoes until the day I departed. Also on arrival day, my clothes were unpacked, steamed, and hung while I lounged on deck—probably with a smoothie or oysters (but not together). On departure day, the crew packed my bags in expert fashion the way professional organizers do.
The reason I was there and how it transpired is a long story that I won’t go into now. I know it’s annoying. Maybe someday. Suffice it to say, the trip was unforgettable and the people aboard were lovely. Despite the extreme distance I have from the luxury, the start-up, and the influx of money mentality—one year later, my life is divine. Perhaps, more so.
Much more importantly, my mom passed away nearly two years ago. As we get closer to April 27th at 3:52 pm, I’ll pay tribute, though she’s woven throughout every word I write, whether about her or a yacht. She was a wordsmith.
This yacht opportunity isn’t likely to come around again. She was one in a million. My mom, too. 💕
The Results are In
Last week, 55 of you said you were grateful I share so damn much in this newsletter so you can feel normal or informed or both. This is good. We’re on track and in sync. (And at least 55 people read my newsletter.)
The Title of This Story
If you’re a Smartless listener, you may recognize the title of this week’s newsletter as coming from this week’s Smartless with Ben Affleck. If not, here’s what: If You Wouldn't Do It Tomorrow, the Answer Is No means.
When you’re asked to do something in the future, say three months from now, you say no, thank you if you wouldn’t accept that same invitation if it were tomorrow. Ask yourself:
If it were on the calendar for tomorrow, would I wish it were canceled? If the answer is yes, pass.
It’s that easy.
For the record, the man who offered this nugget was Ben Affleck who receives several more invitations than you or I do, but the matter applies to us anyway. For events, and you can ask yourself if you’d choose a thing all over again. Would I buy it tomorrow? Would I like this person if this is who they were tomorrow, not six months from now? Would I say yes to this or that all over again?
Very smart advice. Thank you, Bennifer!
Screen the Sun
Supergoop fans, there’s an alternative.
Joe, specifically Trader Joe, has a near-identical facial sunscreen for a fraction of the price.
These are chemical sunscreens. If chemicals aren’t your jam, I get it. Natural is preferred, but it’s nice knowing there’s a decent sunscreen for a reasonable price out there—IMHO.
Beef
I started watching this series and I’m enjoying it. Captivating review, isn’t it? Thought I’d keep it short. You have a series to watch.
Wishing you a beautiful evening. Yours truly, Simone (no middle name) Silverstein
Grateful for health, and curiosity.
I am grateful I was raised in Marin county. Mt Tam ❤️