The Anecdotal Life Part. 12

It's the bleary-eyed blog express this morning and my hand which has been steadily healing from knuckle replacements seems to have forgotten how to type this particular a.m.. I figure with carbon in one hand and titanium wires in my insides; I am "Borg".
My son's wedding in California was a gas. Totally "cool beans" as my youngest would say. I told everybody and that includes a bunch of strangers in the hallway, that I went to my son's wedding and a "dance broke out". Do you remember the dance in the movie "Chocolate" with Judy Dench and Johnny Depp? Well, it was equally joyful. Everybody went bonkers and all at once. I headed right into the fray and by the first fast number I was fairly certain I had thrown my hip out. I said as much to a delightful aunt from the "Iowa"clan, who had hobbled out there into the middle of the melee (regardless of bad knees) and she said," well, get right back in there and you can throw it back in." Sound advice, I thought, and kept on dancing with anybody that showed up. Had to chuck my shoes and then find them at the end which was difficult considering my condition, the time of night, and the fact that the few dancing fools who soldiered on threatened to up-end me as I crawled around the perimeter of the dance floor looking for said items.
Went back to my hotel smiling to myself and gave a silent thanks to Mark and "netter" for concocting such a grand plan, to Eric and Stephen for just about everything you could think of, and to California for being the super party place that it is.
Copyright: May 31, 2006.

The Anecdotal Life Part.11

Yesterday A.M. everything that could float was huddled in the Annapolis Harbor. The Blue Angels were buzzing the capitol, skimming in low over all those brave little boats and ripping over my roof! You think I'm kidding about their proximity to my roof? I could read the lettering on the underbelly of that bad boy. Last week it was fireworks for the mid's graduation.
I was congratulating myself on a world class view when I looked over at building 680 of the Watergate Apartments and saw an Hispanic painting crew on the fifth floor even to mine. They were rapidly hiking their equipment to the roof where for a short time, Hispanics ruled.
My cat, Catherine sat stoically through it all, but kept that "what wazzat?"expression on her face. Winston, my other cat, booked for some inner recess.
I used to see the Blue Angels yearly up in Michigan when, on orders from my elderly father, we would hike ourselves over to Traverse Bay and "watch em rip." Pop ruled when it came to airplane viewing. As long as I could remember, everytime he herded all five of us with Mom into the car on Sunday for the weekly ride to somewhere, we ended up at the airport. So for me it was a heartfelt obligation to leave off packing for my son's wedding in California and take time to enjoy what is always a spectacular show.
Copyright: May 24, 2006

The Anecdotal Life Part.10

CONTINUED FROM BLOG NO. 9.
One of these was the depth finder. This is a fine thing to have. For once, "blond as I am" I knew of its importance having just come down from Barnegat Bay where they have some of the shiftiest sandbars you'd ever not want to encounter.
However, at this point, my electronics friend had the good sense to see I was on overload and thus ended lesson no. 1. He zipped down the ladder and over the side probably to laugh quietly to himself, but I am used to that.
I drove to Beltsville, babbling to myself the whole way, for my "Author's" meeting that was, thank God, peaceful and congenial. Getting a glimpse of what I needed to learn had left me pretty flabbergasted. I made it home to Annapolis to have my heart broken over a horse named Barbaro. What an upsy downsy day. Thank goodness I have a blog to tell it all to. My cats are tired of hearing it all.
Copyright: May 21, 2006. P.S. If you want to leave a comment and I wish you would, you can only do so on the most current blog. You can refer back on the current blog to any past blog if you wish.

The Anecdotal Life Part.9

After a night of waking up in a cold sweat I made it up to Goose Harbor and the boat by 9:30 a.m. on Saturday. I was unable to connect with a gentleman named John who had offered up himself and his wife as teachers for my education in piloting my boat. I should have been more careful in my communications for times for us to meet. I figured I was stuck.
However, there's always something to do on a boat. I jumped on board and found my insurance papers and went to the marina to replace my boat pole which had been stolen. (Definitely not at the Goose Harbor marina where security is great.) As I came back I was approached by another fellow boater who had experience with electronics. These are people that need to be treated with the utmost care and respect. Even I knew that. Electronics people, carpenters, good mechanics, computer experts, and plumbers are national treasures.
He swung himself on board and flew up to the flybridge (or so it seemed to me)and plunged right in to a rapidly delivered lecture on the overwhelming array of dials before my eyes. At a couple of points I made him stop so that I could repeat the information. It was kinda like memorizing a table setting. A hair easier than that because the dials were duplicated on each side. However, what made it all a little nervous making was the fact all those dials were crucial to one's survival. Voltage, temperature, oil, rpms, and ooh, let us not forget the first and most critical to not being blown off the planet, the cute little switch near the those rudder thingamajigs, called the blower switch. It clears the gasoline fumes out so that when one turns on the engines one can avoid going kapowee.
I have a fume detector, but we thought it wasn't working until I ran below to the fuse and switch panel ( probably there exists a better name for that too),pushed a switch and lo and behold it was doing it's job. Mental note to myself," turn it on even before the blower switch Honey!"
Then dear Lord , we opened the electronics box. Had to have come from Greece and a chick named Pandora for sure. I knew I was on overload in terms of info and anxiety , but at least we named what I would need to learn.
TO BE CONTINUED IN BLOG NO.10

The Anecdotal Life Part.8

Mother's day with my youngest son produced the usual round of great stories. Storytelling in my family is a fairly competitive business. It takes some doing to wrestle " the mike" away from the pack to be able to get a word in. Eric is beginning to compete with the best of them. Namely, Grandpa, who could "knock em out" for an hour or more at any given time or place.
In this story it must be said first that Eric has "betrayed" our familial pattern of poverty and moved "uptown" in D.C. Not that anyone begrudges him. He pays his dues in a prestigious, but exhausting job. He travels the world over and like Marco Polo comes back to tell us what he saw.
For instance, in Albania he discovered that the Albanians have the highest number of Mercedes automobiles per capita than anywhere else in the world ( though it's my personal opinion, Annapolis would run a close second),but these are all stolen. The finance minister bought a Mercedes and had to get it serviced in Greece. They impounded it because, it too, proved to be a stolen vehicle.....just in case you were looking for your Mercedes.
His next story was closer to home, next door in fact, involving a young couple we will call Jeanie and Horace. They are a nice, courteous pair and good neighbors. In the neighborhood is a sweet, fragile, elderly lady who has notably, slender little legs. They are fond of her, as is everyone, but very quietly, between Jeanie and Horace at least, she is referred to as "birdlegs". Of course, they would never say such a thing to her face.
One afternoon Jeanie was giving a piano lesson to a small girl who is her student, when the wall of the front room exploded behind them and a Buick pulled up beside the piano and stopped. Jeanie turned and looked in the window. Somewhat startled she blurted, "birdlegs!" She immediately collected herself, stood up, and opened the car door, took the stunned woman by the hand along with her student and escorted them both to the kitchen. She closed the door on the front room, made coffee for herself and her unexpected company, poured milk for the child and they all chatted for a time.
I thought that was a classy recovery, if somewhat unbelievable.
Copyright: May 17, 2006

The Anecdotal Life Part.7

Short shrift today. It's Mother's day and I am the designated mommy. My youngest son and I are headed to the boat at Goose Harbor with a fitness center friend from India in tow. I tried to get someone to give me a lesson today so we all could learn, but no dice.
My hand is healing and my tooth no longer clanging in my head. Got that fixed Thursday. Whew. Sooo, yesterday I went to Easton to recover my art life for the first time since late February. Since pen work would hurt as yet, I began decoupage using prints by Klimt on large wooden trays. Most cutting work today, but heaven to me. Nearly cried from relief to be back in the large studio that the Easton Museum offers for free on Saturday. All of it felt as though the love of my life came walking back through the door. As I listened to two artist friends talking about their work, I thought," now that's my kind of music" and for a while I escaped into what is for me, a magical parallel universe. You should be so lucky.
Copyright: May 14, 2006

The Anecdotal Life Part.6

More about the boat particularly since I am going up to Goose Harbor on Mother's day with my son Eric and have dinner on the boat or on the wonderful cottage-like porch the yacht club put together. Their little beach near the harbor opening is so untrammeled by civilization; it has a simple and comforting serenity.
I thought I got the boat to be near my, then, army boyfriend..." ah, youth", but there was no real excuse for my decision except sheer caprice. I really wanted a boat.
The appraiser said the boat was in above average condition when I bought it. Next time they will have to say " it's perfect lady, perfect". But even then the marina salesman I talked to in early April said he'd just brought in a brand new boat for a customer and just prior to the client's arrival they blew a head on the engine in a trial run.( Sounds like I knew what a head was doesn't it?) To myself I was thinking," oh, that could be nasty" and then as he went on I realized he wasn't talking about "that head" but the one in the engine. I do know what an engine could cost. We will be sitting in the salon on top of two crusador engines,(250's) that don't want to run over 3200 rpms or they will start over heating. Well, me too.
However, there is nothing like just sitting in the salon, looking up at blue sky, and seeing an occasional osprey wheeling giddily over head. All you can hear is the water having an amiable conversation with the boat and all of that lulling you into the sweetest afternoon nap you'll ever have.
Copyright: May 10th, 2006

The Anecdotal Life Part.5

Shoulda called this the "Blonde Boater's Blog", or "Private Benjamin of the Boating World Here", but not forever I hope. I wear and have worn several hats. I paint, I write, I complain, and I have campaigned (which may be a sophisticated form of complaining). I used to teach and test children for their language proficiency.
As a boater, however, I am soooo green and "it's not easy being green". Add to that that I am single, blonde and not tall. Very suspect in the boating world. I can't swim energetically or for very long. I am afraid of deep water, putting my head under, and falling in; so I bought a boat. A thirty four foot, 1988 Silverton with a flybridge and brand new isinglass. A fortuitous storm in New Jersey took out my aging isinglass and Boat U.S. A. paid for half on the new. A lot of things were taken out in New Jersey: two sets of binoculars, two teak and canvass chairs, all my expensive new lines, four new life jackets, my cute new welcome sign, a large blue storage box, my only boat pole, brand new charts and I forget the rest. Forget worrying about the pirates of the Carribean, except for the fact they may have deposited all their progeny on the New Jersey shore. I have moved my boat south to Goose Harbor on the northwestern shore of the good ol Chesapeake. I used to have a house on Deal Island on the Chesapeake and I've missed it. The other night I joined the Goose Harbor Yacht Club for fifty bucks. My kind of yacht club. General opening meeting lasted all of 20 minutes and then they broke for beer. More on them later. I am now through enough repairs and simple household tasks to begin to learn how to pilot " The King and Queen of Diamonds". I understand there is an enormous yacht, so big as to be almost an ocean liner, with the same name. No problem, my boat's name is in red letters with Annapolis, Md. as the given port. I bet I just cleared out the northwestern area of the Chesapeake with the announcement that I will be out there bouncing along. Not to worry, I will have help and lessons, hopefully several. In the meantime I am going to dash over to the Annapolis Harbor with two friends and try to get a glimpse of the Volvo Race start.
Copyright: May 7, 2006

The Anecdotal Life Part.4

My house deal is at the home inspection stage. I will never understand some people's thinking or probably their arrogance. If the seller turns out to be disabled or elderly; then I'll eat my words, but if not .... Basically, the systems in the house are very sound, as is the house. New roof, good heat pump, water heater are all that you would hope for. Carpets are good, not excellent but good. Flooring in entryway, kitchen, and hall is lovely. BUT! Here's what I don't get. The master bathroom tub looks to be the original from when the place was built. (1980) Parts of fixtures missing or leaking and it's a mess. The bathroom, however, looks adorable. Nice sink top BUT underneath it was totally torn up in big heaped up chunks. While the refrig and stove were fine, the washer and dryer were housed in a filthy enclosure that a large brown spider ran out of when I opened the door. The attic ceiling had been redone for great ventilation but the few floorboards that were in place were piled up with debris. So I bargained and came out pretty well. I would have been happier if I'd gotten two more items, but I was aware the price was relatively low to begin with. The radon report hasn't come back yet, nor the termite inspection. So we'll see, I guess.
The fun part is the setting. In a small friendly court, on the end, next to a little woods that really shelters the house from the sun and is a great barrier from another housing development. Fronted with large, red and white azalea bushes in full array and along the side of the place, lilies of the valleys and other flowers yet to be identified. A new brick porch is in a cozy ( yea, no grass to be mowed) patio. But, here we go again, the back fence is new, the side fence is a wreck. Fortunately, it's a short fence.
Moneywise, I will make it by the "skin of my teeth" and wonder if living on what looks to be a cul de sac, only square, will be like living in "The Burbs" that was so hysterically depicted in an old Tom Hanks movie. Maybe I oughta check with the garbage man or the mailman. In the movie the garbage man declared " I told you everybody in these cul de sacs was crazy". That may not be an exact quote, but that's the gist of it. Wish me luck.
Copyright: May 3, 2006.