The Anecdotal Life Part. 70

A variety of issues rattling around in my brain. One , the most recent and nerve wracking was the shutting down of my boat. Just in the nick of time it was too, since as I drove in, the huge crane and crew were closing in on all boats on Pier A. It didn't seem to be stopping "Fitzhugh" the great blue heron from his appointed rounds among the frog population. I , on the other hand, couldn't afford the luxury of his timing and patience. My boat needed double checking , things removed, things put square of the floor and especially the isinglass on the outside needed cleaning off since a huge cover was going over it all that could rub against any dirt on the isinglass and scratch it. One likes to have clean, clear isinglass to see through. This one does anyway. I could visualize the boat up in the air, swinging from the crane and things flying every which way. It isn't in actuality quite as bad as it sounds. The huge supporting belts under the boat ( I have no idea what they are called) help keep it in place. Still.....
I asked dumb blond question no. 199 and that may be a conservative estimate, and asked could they , when power washing down the boat, wash the isinglass? Shock and dismay fluttered across the mechanic's face and then he composed himself and gave me a straight answer. " No, he said, "that would blow a hole in it." Eeek, said I, please forget it." Well, I could tell he'd never forget it. I knew I just contributed a great deal of grist for the rumor mill. So he suggested, among other things, to get a soft mop and use a proper isinglass cleaner. Amazingly, I had both, but it didn't go smoothly. I knew it would be tough. Start with the gusts of wind, dropping temperatures, the fact that no matter how I stretched I couldn't get the upper reaches of the front corners. Furthermore, as I hosed it all down initially, I was getting soaked. I'd worn several layers thankfully, and aside from the jeans, it soaked through only three on my upper body. Then the unthinkable happened. I have tried so hard never to let it happen. The mop went overboard. As it sank, my heart went south with it. The boater next to me in about a year and a half's time had had to replace struts or props three times. He was verging on suicidal that last round. I did everything I could to grab for it, but was no where near getting to it. It threatened to slide under his boat. I ran for my boat pole, because the top of the mop had some air in it, keeping it two inches above the water. It took twenty minutes of fishing and swearing and praying. I managed to wrap weeds around the boat pole, which I then swirled around the mop and brought it to the side. Then I used the boat hook to snag the contraption that squeezed the mop dry and hauled it up. I sat on the deck. Thanked God thoroughly and closed down the boat and trudged down the pier past the crew who were silently and obviously controlling their mirth. I didn't care. I looked like hell and I didn't care. I had just saved the day and had done my best. I've said it before and I'll say it again, " it ain't easy being green".
Copyright: November 9, 2007