Chapter 8

Ya know ... no matter how much we want it to be magic, some days are just a month. Nothing ... get up ... coffee ... maybe toast ... maybe a full breakfast. It doesn’t matter ... comes noon and it’s time to eat ... again. “How did we get here, Howie?”

“Where?”

“Exactly.”

“Drink your coffee, Sup,” she said, “And my name’s not Howie.”

“You’re weird, Cyn.”

“Christ, Sis ... when did you figure that out.”

“Figure out what?”

“Drink up. I can’t believe you some mornings.” She said, “It’s Saturday, sis. We sailing soon?”

<Yeah, Surprise ... we going?>

<You promised.>

<There’s things we could be doing.>

“Where do you want to go?” I asked. “I need to turn the boat this morning. You kids run to the store ... is there a list?”

“Yeah ... you want anything?”

“Beer...” I laughed, “And Orange Fanta in the bottles. Cans don’t taste the same. I wish I could get Orange Crush ... it smells right.”

“We’re leaving at noon ... with or without you.”

<Yeah> That one was all the Powers.

“You guys should sing in church.”

<Wash your mouth out with soap!>

I ran for my little corner.

I’d used a half a million 3 inch clamps to align the frames to the strong back, I had to crawl between the formers to get the clamps loose. But I got it done ... and she didn’t spring out of shape ... much. I had made an MDF cradle on casters and she fit. SHE FIT! YEA!!

Cleaning up my mess and sweeping up, I hung up the broom and dust pan ... took out the trash to the shop dumpster and hoofed it back to the boat.

Just in time to help load stores. Lo and behold ... Mandarin Orange Jarritos ... Mexican soda with sugar! And Fanta ... and AllGood Orange ... and blood orange soda. I must have looked a question because they all said, “Taste Test.”

“Okay.”

“It’s your boat ... take us out.”

The boat ... I’m gonna have to come up with a name ... was backed in the slip ... for ease of loading from the pier ... and leaving. Our slip is the fifteenth starboard side bay directly in front of the Marina office ... on the opposite side of the pier from the Ferry. We had the whole bay to ourselves ... the Mitchell’s ... we share our bay with the Mitchell’s ... were OUT ... the Mitchell’s were OUT lots ... So Our turn was to port to access the boat lane. We were tied up to the slip on the starboard side ... the port side was tied fore and aft with U-lines to both pilings. We took in our dockside lines ... and one stern line.

I started the engine-room fans. We’re diesel powered and not likely to explode ... but some unlikely day we might be gasoline powered and it’s a good habit to form. An alcohol cookstove is old fashioned but they don’t leak like propane could. The engine normalized ... brought up to heat and I glanced over the side to check on our cooling water discharge. If there isn’t a discharge I’d better find out why. The engine seems to be in all respects correct.

“Water maker working?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let go aft.”

The port bow line was going to be used as a snubber to turn us faster than the rudder would ... there’s only 65 feet of waterway to the in-and-out let at the north west end of the breakwater.