My husband and I are now certified sailors.

Much to my disappointment, this does not come with a theme song (ala Jimmy Buffet) or even a margarita maker. It does come with breezes across the cheeks (hopefully only the facial ones), the reflection of the sun from the water, and the power to wield natural elements.

Our first evening, the teacher gave us a two-hour classroom session on terms and navigational rules and rigging instructions. My husband analyzed the engineering behind it all, asking astute questions about instruments and wind and the like.

I jotted down notes for a short story, or perhaps a novel. Who knew that sailing would provide such fodder! Such rich metaphors!

The nerd in me shone forth. So many sailing phrases begat common idioms in our everyday language, like "in irons" (although sailors took this phrase from being in chains).

Then Saturday, we had our first session on boat. Preparing the boat to sail itself intimidated me. Also, I’d forgotten how bad I am at knowing my right from my left. In real life, I’d finally gotten over this by picturing everything at the piano. "Turn left," someone would say, and I’d have to pretend I was playing a musical phrase with my left hand to determine which direction they meant.

I suppose that would work on the sailboat, but it takes too long. Plus, no one says, "Turn left." Oh, no. That would be too easy. We have to have our own vocabulary. We say things like "head up" (meaning go into the wind, which could be right or left, depending on if you’re on a starboard tack or port tack) or "fall away" to go downwind (or sometimes "chase the waves").

Then there’s the whole port and starboard thing. Here’s what I learned about that, though. Most people remember that port is left (from the stern of the boat looking toward the bow, or the front part) and starboard is right. Not me. Then I’d have to first figure out which is left and which is right. My secret? We always use red sheets (because we never ever say the word "ropes") for the jib sail on the port side and green for the starboard side. Port wine is red.

To steer, you can’t simply turn a wheel in the direction you want to go like you would in a car. You have to figure out which way the wind is coming from, how to trim the sails, and how to guide it with the tiller (which, for the record, you push in the opposite direction–yeah, get that instinct down).

But Sunday, I felt more comfortable with this. My thought process sped up, though I wouldn’t call it instinct yet. 

So there you have it, the story of my weekend on the water. Expect an onslaught of sailing metaphors. I’m halfway to pirate now.