The Girl was astounded to find me stitchin’ up a hole in my britches. “You… you can sew?”, she said. Turns out, her mom was too busy huffin’ a bong to teach her much of anything, and Home Economics was deemed “sexist and demeaning” years ago by rich broads who have maids to do their housework. In the real world of bluewater sailing, if the spinnaker shreds itself, you’re done racing; if the jenny blows out, why, you’ll be a long time getting’ home (high-dollar outfits with a spare suit o’ sails excepted) lessen’ you can sew.
PS: If she says, “Who’s Jenny?”, you have a golden opportunity to mention what that lovely lass would gladly do for all the brave sailormen. If she thinks your ability to sew is funny, you call her a cab. NOTE: If she thinks your ability to sew is funny but can touch her head with her heels, you still call her a cab. In the morning.
For the lubbers: “jenny”= Genoa jib = 60% of hull speed when the wind is abaft the beam (sloop rig). Got it?