The Anecdotal Life Part. 77
This is a rather apt quote by Robert Benchley I found for Easter Sunday, especially this very chilly Easter Sunday. "You might think that after 1000's of years of coming up too soon and getting frozen, the crocus family would have had some sense knocked into it." Actually, our crocuses here in Maryland arrive earlier than Easter Sunday, and this quote would be truer for Michigan. ( I always have to think in two states, being somewhat bifurcated in my devotion )We are already awash with pink and yellow stuff. However, as the French say, " C'est joliment froid". ( it's darn cold ).
I had no sympathy for our batch of crocuses though, not after hiring two extraordinary Mexicans to help me paint the bottom of my boat a couple of weeks back. The night before we were to begin this venture, I sat on a straight backed chair in the middle of their bare living room in Westminster, Maryland trying to explain in my peculiar, misbegotten Spanish (acquired from all the four and five-year-olds to whom I had taught English ), that they would need to wear masks. I endeavored very earnestly get across to them how deadly the paint was and how cold it would be. Several times. It didn't help that I had just traveled the whole way westward across Maryland after heading all the way East that morning to an art class and was feeling fairly groggy having driven head on for two hours into one of the worst storms we had in months as I traversed the state. So I got lost. The wind and rain blasted the windshield so furiously that visibility was minimal and hanging on to the wheel with both hands, critical. I overshot Westminster, my destination, and stumbled into the outskirts of Frederick where I pulled over to a rest area and a cop pulled in too. I knew he couldn't be after me for speeding so I wiggled my finger to indicate I needed to talk to him and rolled down the window. He rolled down his. I said " I'm lost. I am always lost. I lost Westminster." He kept his professional face on even though I was a hair away from hysterics and proceeded to give me simple directions, three times, on how to go back and do it right. I did do it all right and was prepared to walk into Pauline's house complaining the whole way up the path when I saw four huge trees down in her yard so I shut my mouth and commiserated instead. I stayed overnight in her beleaguered house and then early the next morning traveled all the way back across Maryland again to the Chesapeake, had the Mexicans scrape the barnacles, sand the entire, thirty-four-foot bottom, use the noxious black paint, spray another type of no less, noxious paint on the metal parts that the barnacles had attacked the worst, and then delivered these two semi-frozen workers at their door all the way over again on the western side of Maryland, and made my way back to my own home once more across the state to Annapolis. Five complete trips in all. I realized I was beginning to understand the geography of our state much better (how could I not?) and it was about time, having lived here since 1968.
The paint job had gone well, largely due to their ability to work like the devil. No matter what I had said about their jackets being too light, they had just smiled and jumped in the car to go, no matter what I said about wearing the masks, they tossed them aside when I wasn't looking. Trust me I was wearing three jackets and was well upwind of the paint fumes. I felt like some horrible slave owner, but really couldn't have gotten that done by myself. They had been incredible workers and I paid them extra. All in all it was half what the marina would have charged. The bottom did look something like an American crazy quilt, but they did it thoroughly.... and " it can't be seen from a galloping horse.", as we say "Up North". Next year I hope I can have a more professional job done. But this should do. So far I have had no calls from any of the innumerable critics at the marina. My next task is to get a Captain for the journey down the Chesapeake to my new marina by the Bay Bridge. Sounds so easy in comparison doesn't it? Never is though. They are a complicated bunch to deal with at times. My previous captains are all tied up with intracoastal deliveries. But ,oh lucky me, the other night I had a dinner , during which an experienced Captain and friend offered help in that regard. It was hard not to jump over the dinner rolls with pen and paper and sign him up on the spot. If we get a couple of hurdles cleared, we may have a deal.
Copyright: March 23, 2008.
I had no sympathy for our batch of crocuses though, not after hiring two extraordinary Mexicans to help me paint the bottom of my boat a couple of weeks back. The night before we were to begin this venture, I sat on a straight backed chair in the middle of their bare living room in Westminster, Maryland trying to explain in my peculiar, misbegotten Spanish (acquired from all the four and five-year-olds to whom I had taught English ), that they would need to wear masks. I endeavored very earnestly get across to them how deadly the paint was and how cold it would be. Several times. It didn't help that I had just traveled the whole way westward across Maryland after heading all the way East that morning to an art class and was feeling fairly groggy having driven head on for two hours into one of the worst storms we had in months as I traversed the state. So I got lost. The wind and rain blasted the windshield so furiously that visibility was minimal and hanging on to the wheel with both hands, critical. I overshot Westminster, my destination, and stumbled into the outskirts of Frederick where I pulled over to a rest area and a cop pulled in too. I knew he couldn't be after me for speeding so I wiggled my finger to indicate I needed to talk to him and rolled down the window. He rolled down his. I said " I'm lost. I am always lost. I lost Westminster." He kept his professional face on even though I was a hair away from hysterics and proceeded to give me simple directions, three times, on how to go back and do it right. I did do it all right and was prepared to walk into Pauline's house complaining the whole way up the path when I saw four huge trees down in her yard so I shut my mouth and commiserated instead. I stayed overnight in her beleaguered house and then early the next morning traveled all the way back across Maryland again to the Chesapeake, had the Mexicans scrape the barnacles, sand the entire, thirty-four-foot bottom, use the noxious black paint, spray another type of no less, noxious paint on the metal parts that the barnacles had attacked the worst, and then delivered these two semi-frozen workers at their door all the way over again on the western side of Maryland, and made my way back to my own home once more across the state to Annapolis. Five complete trips in all. I realized I was beginning to understand the geography of our state much better (how could I not?) and it was about time, having lived here since 1968.
The paint job had gone well, largely due to their ability to work like the devil. No matter what I had said about their jackets being too light, they had just smiled and jumped in the car to go, no matter what I said about wearing the masks, they tossed them aside when I wasn't looking. Trust me I was wearing three jackets and was well upwind of the paint fumes. I felt like some horrible slave owner, but really couldn't have gotten that done by myself. They had been incredible workers and I paid them extra. All in all it was half what the marina would have charged. The bottom did look something like an American crazy quilt, but they did it thoroughly.... and " it can't be seen from a galloping horse.", as we say "Up North". Next year I hope I can have a more professional job done. But this should do. So far I have had no calls from any of the innumerable critics at the marina. My next task is to get a Captain for the journey down the Chesapeake to my new marina by the Bay Bridge. Sounds so easy in comparison doesn't it? Never is though. They are a complicated bunch to deal with at times. My previous captains are all tied up with intracoastal deliveries. But ,oh lucky me, the other night I had a dinner , during which an experienced Captain and friend offered help in that regard. It was hard not to jump over the dinner rolls with pen and paper and sign him up on the spot. If we get a couple of hurdles cleared, we may have a deal.
Copyright: March 23, 2008.
posted by The Anecdotal Life at 5:36 AM
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