When we first came here, to live on the hard. From the almost-always-warm waters of San Diego Bay. One of our neighbors came over to, first, ask “why?” He then went on to explain that this place wasn’t all that much different than other parts of the country. There, are in fact, four seasons here. As he put it, “Almost-winter, Winter, Still-winter, and Road Repair.” And, this year, I’m beginning to wonder about that last one. April Fools’ Day has come and gone, already. As I was sipping my morning coffee, there was a white rabbit sitting on a snow pile just out the family room window. He (or she) didn’t seem at all perturbed. Seemed to say, “I’m gonna continue to blend in, for some time to come.”
Well, that lawn mower shed in the corner, just beyond the hopefully-receding glacier, is where I store things like outboard gas tanks. So, I hope the rabbit won’t mind, if it all goes away. And, soon!
Another rite of Spring, here at the Frankenwerke, is to make that dismal discovery that everything on the TODO board from the Building Season just ain’t gonna’ get done. Not, and still get boats on the highway, and boats in the water. Not, both. So, we did a bit of an audition. Just yesterday. It was fifty-five degrees not-in-the-shade.
John, the Grand COOT Poohbah, invited me to bring a boat to the Depoe Bay, Oregon, boat show in a couple weeks. At the time, I whined that one candidate wasn’t near ready for what will exceed a 1,200-mile round trip. And, the other one wasn’t really ready either. And, she was also stuck at the bottom of a hill, behind a snow pile and the wrong side of an ice floe. So, when the sun came out, and the ice was still turning to bog – I managed to get both girls out for a bit of a photo op.
The comparison to parading “the Girls” in the parlour of Madame Pinchfinger’s Bordello wasn’t completely lost on me. Certainly, I will come to know the wrath of the lady scorned. Probably the wrath of the not-scorned one too. That’s how these things almost always go. John agreed that Miss Kathleen, was the best candidate-even though she’s been to several shows already last year. So, Gypsy Wagon got hauled off to storage and re-tarped.
And, yes. I’m quite certain that I did in fact find my shoe laces tied together quite by random coincidence while stepping down from the ladder. Pure happenstance.
So, with scant days before heading off to the Oregon coast, I noticed that Miss K’s topsides were showing the ravages of a thousand dockings. And, I did have that new, but untried, razor blade scraper. And, well. It WAS almost warm enough out there in the driveway to actually shuck my coat and gloves. Almost. One thing led to another.
This is Kate’s view out from her sewing room. I can’t say that she was offering anything like encouragement. Probably justified. Then, an object lesson in the Law of Supply and Demand.
I’ve had this fancy can of rattle-can paint from Rustoleum called something like, “high performance enamel.” Just itching to try it. And, all being equal, it seems to work pretty well.
Except. When I ran breathlessly back to our local emporium of hardware delights, to get another bag full of those cans. There was only one dusty denizen left. Just one. And, apparently, the “re-order point” is one. No more coming in. Not, until I bought the damn last one. Talk about a conundrum. I guess you could say that limited supply follows limited demand.
So, here we sit. Waiting for the pony express to bring Kate gingham and sundries. Me, a few paint cans. I sure hope that pony can make it through the pass, before the creek rises. Sure hope.