The Anecdotal Life Part 120.

Sometimes it is difficult to find something to write about and at other times, it's a flood of ideas to choose from so this may be a bifurcated blog.  I am in the middle of refinancing, trying to find a new place to berth the boat, and working on too many art projects at once down in the "borrowed" new studio in Easton besides traveling up and down the Eastern Shore and on up to Northwest Pennsylvania.

Yesterday I went down to Deal Island on the Eastern shore where once upon a time I built a house.The "Outer" Inner Harbor where my boat is now, has become such a huge disappointment. The debris is prodigious even with major efforts on the part of Baltimore to scoop it up continually. Three large boats are employed with enormous shovels like snow plows on the front of them. The difference being that these "shovels" have big prongs instead of the flat edge we are used to seeing and still they can't keep up with all the crud coming their way. The water is foul and smelly. When I was further North at Goose Harbor, it was logs, and crab pots. At my current marina I spent three trips up, once a week,just using a net over the side and filling black plastic bags to the top with ....ah... pretty yucky stuff.It was heartbreaking work.

That made Saturday's trip to Deal Island an incredible relief and simple blessing. It was clear skies, debris free roadsides,beautiful roads and bridges. Then there was the deliciously blue water, dear old friends, and  serenity you could cut and slice. I stopped at Lucky's Last Chance gas station in Chance ( I think that is all there is to that town) and got a scratch off.Never do win there but I always try. But there is a lovely marina nearby with a perfect cove and one significant drawback. Even though it sports a very large haulout rig, and new humongous warehouse, they can't seem to think they need a bathroom for what looks to be a pretty hefty crowd of boaters when the season gets going. That puzzled me. What a woman might want is not up for discussion. Maybe that attitude is why so many women leave that island. Maybe that's why they call it the Last Chance gas station. It may be the best place possible however to winter the boat. We'll see.

A couple of days back, Tuesday I think, I drove over to the Eastern Shore to pick up an artist and travel with a group of other collage artists to a singularly gemlike museum on the Ursinus College campus.You might remember that there was driving rain that day and it meant for me, starting at eight, driving for four hours through that to get that far north. I will be brief. On arriving at the museum, I went into the restroom, dropped some change as I shut the stall door, then as I bent to retrieve the change , my entire set of all my keys shot out of my coat pocket, straight into the toilet and when I turned to snatch them back, the automatic toilet flush roared into action. They were gone.Permanently. The museum staff and Director went into action for a good three generous hours. Cecelia led the parade of unconditional help by calling the facilities man to bring a snake ( that didn't work), called three A's on another clerk's card, called the Honda dealer and made an appointment, called for an Enterprise Rental Car, called my son for help who responded by getting me a Hollywood Fantasy suite on the 15th floor of the Radisson overlooking their casino. ( it had a spa tub on a podium and the bed was on a podium as well and I had to remember not to just walk off the step as though it weren't there.)I cannot fully and fairly describe the kind assists I received. Since Eric paid for the hotel, probably the worst hit was watching all those keys disappear and paying the price for a new computerised one. My rental car had been a Crown Vic with a scrillion buttons, so I careened around town in this elegant slow moving barge pushing incorrect buttons, sending the trunk top up, seat forward (fortunately), the windows up and down-- but at no time releasing the firmly ensconced gas cap. Getting my new key in hand, and settling into the front seat of my less complicated Honda Element I drove home into a lovely sunny day that didn't give a rap what had happened to me the day before. Advisory memo to women: Never put your car keys in a shallow pocket. 

Most important: Heartfelt thanks to the Phillip and Muriel Berman Museum's entire staff and director for every second they devoted to my "recovery". Won't forget that- ever.

Copyright: June 17, 2012