The Anecdotal Life Part. 28

How does one go from squashed flat to flatter? I am going to sell my boat. I am in over my head, financially, technically, and emotionally. I became attracted to the Captain who was trying to teach me how to pilot the boat and at the least, shall we say, congenial moment , let him know it. Well! He cleared that up and and my sinuses out by saying he'd only been helping me as an act of charity and I wasn't his type. However, my family and friends would have been delighted to know at least I finally fit in some category.
So, I intend to finish fixing it; sell it and move over to a more distant pier if I am able to buy a new and smaller boat. I like the marina and people that are there... a great deal, even though when massed together it's somewhat daunting to be a stranger. He also suggested a dinghy or a zodiac was about all I could handle. Whew. So I failed on several counts.
Of course, it's the letting go that's the fun part. I could only think of, when I could think, of Meg Ryan in the movie, "You've got mail". She had to sell her bookstore that had been in her life since she was a child. Obviously, I haven't had the boat that long, but it sure feels like it. It's the dream that went with it that has to go and I must go about the business of picking up the pieces of my ego, my marbles and learn how to do whatever must be done to pilot the next one on my own. A power squadron course will help. I've read that there are boats now that automatically get the boat up on plane. Maybe they have female teachers and I can stay out of trouble. Who cares if they have cute legs.
Copyright: August 31, 2006.

The Anecdotal Life Part. 27

I had considered promoting myself to Lieutenant Benjamin of the boatworld. hmm. Perhaps a tad precipitous on my part. I thought I was recovering from the boat move, and the house move too, but I think I am still in the squashed flat stage. My boat is beleagured with woes beyond my ken at this point. It's hellish when you have to stand and nod thoughtfully in front of a mechanic as he explains why the fram has defrillibulated from the thingamajig. Then there is the cost of the defrillabration. The more mysterious the part, the higher the price. I used to pride myself on knowing the difference between a Phillips head screwdriver and a flathead screwdriver. Ha. I said at the beginning , I think, of these blogs, that there are lots of ways to lose your virginity and buying a boat is one of them.
I can't even be on it right now because it may be loaded up with carbon monoxide. They are throwing a Pier Party on Pier C and I will have to sleep in my car. But an Element, my car, is set up for that. However, if that guy named Popeye shows up again, I may jump on the boat and inhale deeply.
I hate points in life where everything sits around half finished. The house and boat are like that. Some of the house things are understandable, some aren't. " Lady, all the screws that came with this door are stripped and we may have to send to Luxemborg to get replacements." " Don't worry about that fence honey; we'll just prop it back up for the party until the new sections come in from that Lebanese shipping yard." ( so we attached a large battalion of balloons to the seemingly resurrected fence and a huge gust of wind and rain hit just a half an hour into the shenanigans, blowing the entire section over onto the balloons, scaring the tar out of us with rapid fire explosions...No, no one was hurt.) Adding insult to explosion, we had to run for the new designed furniture and flags all decorating the patio and heave into them into the overcrowded living room, dumping dirt and debris on a newly cleaned carpet. But everyone LOVED the chairs; we had a great time and one friend, on seeing the debacle and having noted the storm was over, said, " Hey, I want to see this done; let's put it all back" and we did.
They LOVED the patio darlings.
Copyright: August 23, 2006

The Anecdotal Life Part. 26

I weighed in at 141 pounds today. If you'd like to lose weight easily; just let me know since I've lost my six and half pounds by scrubbing and cleaning my 34 ft. boat. (It has to be done on my boat, of course.) I seem to have gotten an uninvited company of "hanger-oners"(Can't figure out how one would spell that.) Namely, barnacles and zebra mussels up my pipes and over my bottom....as it were. Furthermore, the marina hadn't got around to fixing it yet. I went up to see about their progress on Tuesday and " nothing doing" as my dad would say. So I had no intention of wasting the gas it took me to get there and washed and washed and washed the boat. I was a wreck when I finished. But not my boat. It looked sooo fine! My new hand took all the work fairly well. Just pretty stiff and sore come morning.
But in this process I became reunited with my boat. I was fearful I would be swamped by old memories and had been avoiding staying over. I was mournful for about an hour , then OVER THAT!! I began to feel the serenity close in as the quiet tones of the water lapping against the hull seemed to be talking to me, telling me to relax, and be where I was, not in the past. And where I was, was grand. No one was around, the water was still, an orange colored, half-moon was coming up, and as I went out to clean off one last spot, I chanced upon a baby purple martin clinging to one of the lines. He had no other choice. He didn't have the feathers he needed to fly and somehow he had gotten that far. His parents were frantic. I figured to heck with it; it could be his boat too, and I tiptoed slowly backwards.
In the morning it was gorgeous. A blue heron was just fifteen feet from me, peering out from behind a piling as if to say, " Whatever are you doing here on a Wednesday! Nobody comes here on Wednesdays!" Except me. I loved it.
Copyright: August 15, 2006.

The Anecdotal Life Part: 25

Well, I flunked lesson four on boating Sunday. Absolutely, too much coming at me with moving into my new house and three additional factors threw me off as we began to enter the Chesapeake. One, there were people watching me and one felt hostile. So all of a sudden it felt like a performance or test. Two, I became aware how much it mattered to me what the Captain thought and that he had decidedly cute legs. It is and was a very inconvenient time to realize I was attracted to that dude. How does that happen anyway? It's like backing into a hot stove. The third and perhaps most insurpassable problem is that I am so confoundedly right-brained. Of course, the Captain is the complete opposite and expects orders to be followed. With any luck maybe I'll hate him in a week and then I'll be able to think straight. Not that they were unkind. At all.
They even went so far as to board my boat and offered to take it out to see what it's difficulties were. Oh, and "it had em". We barely made our way into the channel when we smelled burning rubber, blue smoke started pouring out of the starboard engine and we had to reverse course immediately and head for the dock.
A couple of things weren't my fault that day and were a real shock. The clash of two cultures on the bay was so obvious and frightening. Crab pots and nets littered the surface , threatening any boats trying navigate around and through that incredible maze. Having known the watermen of Deal Island and now seeing the desires and passion of boaters, I wondered how it could all possibly be reconciled. Also, as if another factor could be thrown into the mix, some dam had been emptied out or broken through, I didn't catch which, and subsequently tons and tons of debris and driftwood had poured over and just under the surface. Apparently, when this first occurred the Chesapeake looked brown all the way across in that area. It was being plowed into huge piles on the opposite shore near Tolchester. I couldn't believe how deadly and enormous many of the pieces were. So the Captain concentrated totally on dodging all terrifying flotsam and jetsam coming at us. I don't know how he did it. I thanked God I had given up in a panic and he'd taken over. Whew! Just another day on the Chesapeake. I need to go back a few squares and do some thinking.
Copyright: August 9, 2006

The Anecdotal Life Part. 24

Well, I made it outta of the apartment and into a little townhouse. I am currently facing what I call "the mountain" in the living room, kitchen, and two bedrooms. There is some lesson in life about having too much junk in all this, even though I jettisoned things as fast as I could go.At any rate, I don't want to hear about it.
My computer is not up and running and I have no TV service yet. I can't find the remotes anyway. I locked myself out once already. The mattress and boxsprings are not properly placed and threatening to fall over the side. I have tried three times to lift it and I can't. My cat was sick, but he's somewhat better, as is my back. The garbagemen made off with my garbage can and I don't know what I did wrong.
The home mortgage insurance company managed to make out two policies and tried to demand payment for the second. I got up at 5:30 a.m. to be at their door by 8:00 on that one. But the thing driving me craziest is the mosquito population. I have always held that Michigan, or Deal Island, Maryland mosquitos were the most vicious. Not any more! I have 14 large bites on my left calf alone. They seem to hear me park my car and come running to greet me. I could go on and on, but won't. Take my word for it and don't move in July or January.
A neighbor of mine in the apartment house I left, told me that in one of her moves, many of her friends pitched in to help. She had at the time three pair of shoes exactly alike. They decided to throw out two pair in their hurry and in doing so, left her with two left shoes; so she had none. Of course, they were her favorites, which is why she bought three pair in the first place.
A fellow artist told me she moved an enormous amount while her husband was in the service. One year they moved 15 times. She said, " Moving is hell. I have planned it to the inth degree and it was hell. I didn't plan it at all and it was hell. I once moved with the a full coffeepot in a wastebasket. Moving is hell; that's all there is to it." Couldn't have said it better myself.
Copyright: August 1, 2006.