The Anecdotal Life Part. 105
Wild leaps from one life to another seem to be occurring. I hope it's all good for the brain. It seems like those specialists who are interested in energizing the brain think whatever jerks you around mentally does it. Owning a boat certainly does that.
When last seen I was facing the stern of said vessel which was at last firmly ensconced in a slip in the Anchorage Marina in Baltimore. My boat looked terrible, having been in a marina which was catching dirt from a highway up above it.... I think, and also because the unfriendly North wind had blown a goodly amount of the water back out to the Chesapeake twice that summer and my boat sat in some fairly slimy, very low water. It ruined the boat at the waterline. Lines to the fenders and the fenders looked sickening. Now the trick was to clear it all off without hauling out. I had cleaned the boat before I left except I couldn't reach that waterline and it was hopeless to deal with the fenders until I was in clear water. Furthermore water pressure from the hose had also been useless and I hurt my arm trying the impossible.
The miracle solution happened just before I left Pier 7 when a dock hand who had helped me with my lines, heard my plight, and being in need of extra work, signed on for the job. He had been working with a team or by himself , I wasn't certain. Who cared? I was beyond delighted. We drove North to the harbor and spent a few days , me inside, him outside. Unbelievably, using a stiff brush, he scrubbed my 34 ft. boat and washed it, three complete times. We had great water pressure, and decent weather at last. The isinglass on the bridge began to lose it's layers of whitish gunk , the waterline began to disappear and I couldn't contain my simple joy as my boat sat shining in the sun. I was singing, "We are champions of the world!" My cleaner was a maniac for details and perfection. He refused to give up til the waterline was truly all but gone. I refused to give up on the isinglass and begged him to try one more time (round 4) and in spite of past dire warnings from my less than positive, mysterious, not to be named mentor, we succeeded. There is a little more to go but now I know it's possible. To his credit, my mentor did mention that Mother's Plastic Polish, (no, not spit ) applied in the spring with a special polishing attachment to the drill, might finish the job to our satisfaction. I had been so depressed about my boat. Together with this cleaning and really great help with the marina's dock crew for winterization and repair, I knew I had landed in the right place. It is odd sometimes how little things falling together can give one a sense of hope. I left my boat in it's watery, winter bed and toddled home.
My home needed a transformation of another sort since company was coming from L.A. on December the first for Christmas. It is my cherished task (even though I grouse )to recreate my small townhouse into a miniature Disneyland of lights as one steps inside the door. Granted it is a very funky looking Disneyland, but there it is all the same. .... Somehow we will manage to squeeze in Thanksgiving before they arrive. It astounds me how you can be lying around bored after Halloween and some inner cannon goes off warning you about the countdown towards Christmas ( usually around three a.m.). I can't just blame the TV commercials. Whatever, every woman knows what I mean. And so that it doesn't get lost in the shuffle, HAPPY THANKSGIVING, to everyone and I do mean EVERYONE!.
Copyright: November 21, 2010.
When last seen I was facing the stern of said vessel which was at last firmly ensconced in a slip in the Anchorage Marina in Baltimore. My boat looked terrible, having been in a marina which was catching dirt from a highway up above it.... I think, and also because the unfriendly North wind had blown a goodly amount of the water back out to the Chesapeake twice that summer and my boat sat in some fairly slimy, very low water. It ruined the boat at the waterline. Lines to the fenders and the fenders looked sickening. Now the trick was to clear it all off without hauling out. I had cleaned the boat before I left except I couldn't reach that waterline and it was hopeless to deal with the fenders until I was in clear water. Furthermore water pressure from the hose had also been useless and I hurt my arm trying the impossible.
The miracle solution happened just before I left Pier 7 when a dock hand who had helped me with my lines, heard my plight, and being in need of extra work, signed on for the job. He had been working with a team or by himself , I wasn't certain. Who cared? I was beyond delighted. We drove North to the harbor and spent a few days , me inside, him outside. Unbelievably, using a stiff brush, he scrubbed my 34 ft. boat and washed it, three complete times. We had great water pressure, and decent weather at last. The isinglass on the bridge began to lose it's layers of whitish gunk , the waterline began to disappear and I couldn't contain my simple joy as my boat sat shining in the sun. I was singing, "We are champions of the world!" My cleaner was a maniac for details and perfection. He refused to give up til the waterline was truly all but gone. I refused to give up on the isinglass and begged him to try one more time (round 4) and in spite of past dire warnings from my less than positive, mysterious, not to be named mentor, we succeeded. There is a little more to go but now I know it's possible. To his credit, my mentor did mention that Mother's Plastic Polish, (no, not spit ) applied in the spring with a special polishing attachment to the drill, might finish the job to our satisfaction. I had been so depressed about my boat. Together with this cleaning and really great help with the marina's dock crew for winterization and repair, I knew I had landed in the right place. It is odd sometimes how little things falling together can give one a sense of hope. I left my boat in it's watery, winter bed and toddled home.
My home needed a transformation of another sort since company was coming from L.A. on December the first for Christmas. It is my cherished task (even though I grouse )to recreate my small townhouse into a miniature Disneyland of lights as one steps inside the door. Granted it is a very funky looking Disneyland, but there it is all the same. .... Somehow we will manage to squeeze in Thanksgiving before they arrive. It astounds me how you can be lying around bored after Halloween and some inner cannon goes off warning you about the countdown towards Christmas ( usually around three a.m.). I can't just blame the TV commercials. Whatever, every woman knows what I mean. And so that it doesn't get lost in the shuffle, HAPPY THANKSGIVING, to everyone and I do mean EVERYONE!.
Copyright: November 21, 2010.
posted by The Anecdotal Life at 5:08 AM
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