So the night before the second book signing I spent time having one of my customary pre-performance panic attacks. Having gotten through the hazing of a first book signing and then only because of the some intrepid fans ( namely 12 great friends), I was fairly convinced that I would not ever, ever do it again. But no, an incoming email reminded me that I had signed up previously for a book signing at my fitness center, The Big Vanilla, in Severna Park. I couldn't go back on my word. Shoot, I had begged for a table among all the artists and vendors that were helping celebrate Member's Day. Therefore, I crawled out of bed at five a.m. Wednesday, April 14th, and just made it to the front door by seven, was enthusiastically greeted by the manager, my table ready and waiting, was covered with a lime-green cloth, balloons were hanging all around me and I found myself seated next to a young mother of three who was selling different carrying devices. She had decorated these bright and useful bags, boxes, carryalls, chairs and tables for young mothers to use when ferrying their children to and fro--probably to the beach. The place was packed. It was Mardi Gras. We were as happy as pigs up to their snouts in mud, helping each other sell, chatting up customers, taking over for each other on breaks, sharing food, buying each other's wares and cheering each other on. I had a "very large time" as my niece would say. We made great plans for working together again. We each had made a decent amount of sales. Gee Whiz! I could sell books.... and it was a gas to do so.
But ah, the vicissitudes of life. (Thank heaven for spell check, but aside from that, that word has always sounded like a vegetable you wouldn't want to eat. Well, take the word asparagus for that matter... take the asparagus while you're at it. Asparagus never sounded user friendly. Looks like a soggy snake besides. )Eating asparagus is one of the vicissitudes of life. More to the point (if she will just get to it) however, is the day after one has successfully completed a really life changing event i.e., the afore mentioned book signing; that is the cue for the vicissitudes to show up.
I crawled out of bed early, one more time!, and drove over to the Gingerville Yacht Center to get the details completed for moving the boat to a new port almost directly across the South River. I looked at the articles on the floor of the front seat, knowing I'd need to move all that junk to help the captain moving the boat get back to his car. I looked at the floor more carefully. Something caught my eye....AAAAggh. The quart can of red paint had rolled over onto it's side and all , I repeat, all the paint had poured out. I thought to myself, " this bodes ill." And I thought to myself he will sit in the back and I will take care of it when I "get home to Tara." I parked at the marina, headed down the dock and the captain leapt over onto dock from my boat ( God, I wish I could do that) and said the starboard engine was out. I wondered quietly to myself ," when has the starboard engine ever been successfully engaged when I planned on moving it?". So we left it in the slip, met with the mechanic, made plans for the next day when we could move it, and I toddled home to begin a two hour clean up of the car floor.
As it turned out, regarding the boat, during the winterizing process , some itsy-bitsy little thing had not been connected properly by a mechanic and fifty more dollars fixed that. Thank heaven. I did not need a new Crusador engine for something like $20,000 dollars. One of my two worst fears. Sinking being the other. My boat is still sitting there as I write until the captain can run back across the South River bridge and place me and it in a new slip where not-one-single, goldarned turn is needed to get out to the Chesapeake. How fine is that?
Copyright: April 18, 2010.
