Im ok u r ok 2

Every time a friend of mine has a thought to share, she texts me. And she usually sends long, involved texts - discourses on an outfit she is thinking about buying; what she thinks our kids should do next summer; a new recipe for hush puppies. Stuff that really requires a face to face conversation or at least, a telephone call. But, for some reason, she has decided that talking on the phone is not for her anymore and so I am forced to try and communicate with her on her terms. But, I'm afraid that our friendship is suffering because of it. Part of the problem is my technology impairment - stuff like this requires that I learn a new skill set - namely learning to push the very small buttons on my cell phone the required number of times to enter the correct letter, symbol or number. I do NOT have one of the phones that has a little keyboard built in and so I rarely capitalize or punctuate any texts I send. The keypad on my phone has numbers and a pound key and a few others, but it is certainly not a mini typewriter by any stretch of the imagination. When faced with answering her texts, I am also forced to try and use the fewest possible letters and respond as QUICK as I can, because if I don't answer her right away, she sends another text which causes my phone to delete whatever I am in the middle of typing. And, on top of poorly composed responses I always misspell stuff, too. So this is how a usual text session goes...

(her text) Do you want to go 2 Target w/me?

(my text) i thinl...

(her text) I want to leave @ 11. Is that good?

(my text) i think thavwould bfun and...

(her text) Would you rather go to Savannah to the mall? I want to see if I can get a new espresso machine at that groovy kitchen store that just opened.

(my text) i thinktgat target would be bditter becausei have to b...

(her text) Ooohhh...I know - let's go to the mall and then scoot over to "Ulta" and get some of that peppermint soap we love so much!

(my text) yer that will bfin...

(her text) Well, I guess you can't go today. Too bad. Maybe another day - text me back when you get this. XOXO

(my text) ZES!!!

You see what I mean?

TA DAAAAAAAAAAAAA...

So, this is my 100th blog entry! I re-read my very first post and realize not much has changed in the almost two years that I have been doing this. I am still looking for a job. I have still not figured out how to be super woman. I still have a scary knowledge of TV commercial jingles which I can sing on demand, tormenting friends and family alike. I still don't have any clothes. I still allot many of my daylight hours to fishing. I also still spend an abnormal amount of time on my boat. I think about getting a job, I think about buying clothes and I think about catching fish but haven't quite gotten there...

In short, I am still failing to succeed at many things I attempt. I have even MORE over-achiever friends than before. My major accomplishment in 2009 was cleaning out the linen closet. 2010 was highlighted by my retrieving a tube of lip gloss that had fallen between the drivers seat and the console in my truck. I am still trying to forge this years pinnacle, but so far I am off to a good start. Here it is July and I can already lay claim to figuring out what the little rocket ship button on my four year old laptop does. 2011 is going to my year...I can just tell!

The First Nut

My love of the sea and being on the water started at a very early age - both parents were obsessed with boats. They lived on one when they were first married, anchored off the Florida coastline, living on Dad's $35.00 a month Army stipend (hey, it was the 50's). So I come by my obsession honestly. When I was quite young, my father reconditioned a large wooden boat for us - it took him almost a whole year to return it to a seaworthy state, and then, when it was done there was no money for an engine. At the beginning of the summer, we would all pile into it, and row around the lake, but after a time, that lost its appeal. So the beautiful boat sat tied to the dock most of the time. But then, my father had a brilliant idea. He would modify a lawnmower engine to work as an inboard motor for the boat! Crazy you say? You don't have any idea...

All that winter, Dad built and re-built lawnmower engines, discarding some parts, adding some others, tweaking and fine-tuning his creation. When he got it just right, he mounted it under a wooden milk crate in the stern of the boat. He cut a hole for the propeller shaft and connected everything all together. He bought a large, shiny prop and attached it. For steering, he fashioned a rudder and tiller system, as the prop couldn't turn like on a traditional engine. After months of work and false starts and problems and the stuff just plain not working, it was finally ready.

We traipsed to the dock and waited eagerly for the big maiden voyage. Our high spirits and noisy shouts of encouragement as well as Mom waving a bottle of Coca-Cola around to christen "The Six Nuts" attracted a great deal of attention at the dock. A crowd gathered around us and Mom, unwilling to actually break the pop bottle, uncapped it and spritzed the hull with the soda. The crowd applauded and we were all very proud. Some of the men it the crowd asked Dad about the engine - "What kind of engine is THAT?", they questioned eagerly. "Oh, it's a Le Lawn Muer" Dad replied easily. Dad made some final adjustments and nervously got ready to start the engine. He leaned over the milk crate and pulled the long lawn-mower-engine-starting-thing. The engine sputtered. Again, he pulled the start cord and again the engine sputtered and choked. He gave an even mightier heave and several things happened all at once:

The engine ROARED into life;

the boat shot forward like a jet;

Dad fell out of the boat;

and, just as quick as the boat started,

it stopped...

Dad, from his vantage point in the water, could see the propeller float to the bottom of the lake, ripped mercilessly from its union with the shaft. "Hmmm..." he said as he climbed onto the dock after retrieving both the boat and the propeller, " I guess I need a stronger cotter pin". The crowd agreed that that would surely fix the problem. So Dad fashioned a new propeller pin and got back in the water and dove under the boat and attached the propeller back on. He climbed out of the water and back into the boat and prepared to start the engine. Again he hunched over the starter cord, but this time he braced himself for the sudden movement if the engine actually started a second time. He pulled the cord, the engine started and the boat took off like a bat from hell...Dad clung briefly to the gunwale and then crawled to the tiller. The Six Nuts was speeding through the water at probably 20 knots; much too fast for the tiller to handle. As Dad yanked the tiller to the right, it came off in his hand, and he began to spiral in an endless circle, unable to control the boat. There was not only no effective way to STEER, there was also no way to SLOW DOWN...in the planning, it somehow got overlooked to include a variable speed throttle...the boat either went really fast, or not at all.

We looked on in horror...someone started to giggle...and soon we were all laughing uproariously while Dad struggled to stop the engine. He finally got it to stop and he fetched the oars and rowed resolutely back to the dock. When he got there, he was a bit out of breath from the exertion. We all waited expectantly to hear what he would say. "Well..." he said slowly, and then began to laugh, "I guess I need to fix that."

Although he tried for the rest of the summer and into the winter months, he was never able to resolve the steering/throttle issue. Luckily, we had a reversal of fortune, and Dad was able to buy a conventional boat engine and The Six Nuts was properly set to sail the next summer.

Help!

Dispatch: "9-1-1 - Where is your emergency?"
Me: "The carwash. The carwash on Sam's Point Road. You know, the Tiger Express Exxon station."
Dispatch: "What is the nature of the emergency, ma'am?"
Me: "I am stuck in the carwash"
Dispatch: Ma'am?
Me: "I am stuck in the carwash and I can't get out."
Dispatch: "Do you mean the entrance and exit points are blocked?"
Me: (hysteria becoming evident) "No, NO! I mean I AM STUCK IN THE CARWASH. The gizmo that washes the top of my car has gotten stuck in the bed of my pickup truck and the side cleaning thingy's are repeatedly swiping the doors of the truck and there is a huge spinning swiffer like device in front of me AND I CAN NOT GET IT TO STOP! I HAVE BEEN IN HERE FOR 15 MINUTES NOW AND I AM GETTING FREAKED OUT!"
Dispatch: (long silence)
Me: "Are you there, are you there?"
Dispatch: "Is this a joke, ma'am?"
Me: "NO! Absolutely NOT. I am stuck in here - I swear! The roller thing is jammed into the truck bed. I am afraid to try and drive out. I can't get out and go for help because of the things that are cleaning the sides of my truck! I don't know what to do. I called the store a couple of times, but they think it's a prank, and they keep hanging up on me!"
Dispatch: (laughing) "Ma'am, I am sending an officer to your location. (more laughing) I'll stay on the line with you until they arrive, okay?"
Me: =sigh=

Reno Hell

So, I'm back...After a 3 month bout of craziness due to a kitchen renovation gone bad, I am finally able to sit down and complete a thought. What a time it's been - I haven't had a chance to clothes shop; the books aren't balanced; the novel isn't any further along than it was in January; the truck needs an oil change; the cats are overdue for their annual checkups; tax returns aren't close to being done; there is little food in the house requiring yet ANOTHER trip to the grocers; the garden is yet to be planted; I have run out of the fancy soaps I so love; the pile of dirty laundry is so mountainous I need a step stool to reach the top of it; I have no inkling where the keys to my house are and the algae and other marine growth on the boat's hull is as thick as Santa's beard. I have lost my new fishing reel and two pairs of eyeglasses and Hercules the cat has developed a severe nervous condition as a result of being forced to live with hammers banging, me yelling swear words in endless repetition, demolition noise, copious quantities of dust, me yelling swear words in endless repetition, plumbing disasters, paint and other noxious fumes and did I mention me yelling swear words in endless repetition? Is the renovation finished? No. Not yet. But, the refrigerator has been moved from the Living Room into it's rightful place in the kitchen, there is running water which is properly contained in the sink and drain as it is supposed to be (as opposed to spewing from the pipes) and for now that's good enough for me.