Knot A Clew is the name of the sailboat I was on. Seriously.

Knot A Clew. It’s like they knew I was coming aboard.

“Knot A Clew”… I’m sure they named it after me. This should totally be my boat.

I don’t even need to make this stuff up, it just finds me. Like flies find fly paper.

“Not a clue” is the theme of my life, particularly when it comes to dating. Thankfully, this wasn’t a date.

Probably one of the better photos I’ve taken in a while – or will take for another long while. So much for that photography class in college. I knew that “B” was generous.

Two friends own this aptly named sailboat. They’ve just started a blog about their misadventures with the boat, The Misadventures of the SV Knot a Clew. Considering some of the hilarious stories they’ve already told me, it’s sure to be a funny blog. Plus, they use real cameras so their photos will be better than mine.

Setting Sail for San Jose Island

A few weeks ago when I was in Rockport, we all sailed around Aransas Bay and over to San Jose Island. San Jose is a large, privately owned island off the Texas coast. I’ve heard it is the only privately owned island in the area.

I have always wanted to own an island. Really, I think it would be awesome. I’d spend every day in bikinis and flip flops. Or just flip flops.

Dolphin swimming with the sailboat.

So, upon hearing about this island – the only privately owned island I’ve ever been even remotely near -  my thinking goes like this…

“Hmm, I haven’t won the lottery yet, so buying my own island isn’t an option at this time. But here’s a nice privately owned island, I wonder if there are any single men on it who like crazy blonds?”

Logical, right? Tell me Spock wouldn’t come to the same exact conclusion.

So what do you think this crazy blond blogger does? I find a phone number to the private estate and call them, of course. I ask if I could go on their island – just for a little bit. (You know, just long enough to bump into the owner or an eligible male relative there of.)

Yup, I have no shame or sense of propriety. But y’all knew that.

Surprisingly, they said ‘no’. They obviously don’t know who I am.

Or maybe they do.

So we took pictures from off shore. If you Google Map “San Jose Island, Texas” in satellite view you can zoom in on the houses and private airstrip. Wikipedia says it’s owned by oilman Sid W. Richardson.

San Jose Island and the private estate where the single men missed meeting a crazy blond blogger.

Note to eligible males from San Jose Island, or any other island owners: Hi! I like your island. You should totally invite me to come see it. Really. I’m only “contained crazy” which is basically harmless, and can actually be quite amusing. Or so I’m told.

My gracious hosts let me steer for a bit. They even took pity on my delicate stomach and didn’t do anything too crazy with the boat when I let them have back the tiller. The seas were a bit choppy on the return trip, but thanks to the marvels of modern medicine, I managed to keep down the fine lunch they provided.

What? Yes, I get seasick. That’s why I have an RV and not a boat.