maiden voyage, NDE

First of all, let me remind you that I exaggerate. NDE stands for Near Death Experience.

That being said, we did find and purchase a new boat (pictures as soon as I learn to use the camera). A 14-foot Hewes Craft, a plain ol' aluminum fishing boat. Open top with a good trailer, easy in and easy out of the water. An old man owned it, an old man who is midway into Alzheimer's. He did some built-ins along the side, little wooden compartments to stash stuff and holes for an improbable umbrella stand. I'm sure it will work fine, but I want a Bimini top for shade. Its the sun that kills me. It has three bench seats and a couple of cushy folding chairs mounted to the front and rear (fore and aft) port and stern, ahoy matey, damn the torpedos, and that is sort of what I was doing when I nearly killed the boat and drowned us both. I was damned-the-torpedos-full-speed-ahead and I know I shouldn't have been driving with my left arm not three weeks out of surgery. I know this. It makes no sense to me in retrospect, but when my honey said, "Wanna give it a try?" I wanted. Now here's the thing: Unlike the Wacanda, this boat doesn't have a steering wheel. It has a stick on the motor with a handlegrip gas pedal. If you push the stick left, the boat goes right. If you push the stick left while cranking on the gas, the boat goes right really fast and there's the bank oh, shit and it seems okay to use my arm muscles to crank the gas ON and push the stick, but when I tried to pull the stick back the other direction, which is to engage my shoulder in a way it is not yet willing to consider, well, it wouldn't. It just wouldn't. And nanoseconds are passing, and we are going in sort of a circle, but not really, and the bank is looking rocky, and looming ever closer, and I am going to crash our new boat. Then I think, "Slow the boat down." Now, it may have been my husband screaming. I'm not sure. I shouldn't take credit for thinking, because I wasn't. I was acting. So I released my deathgrip on the throttle to allow it to slow down and the boat stopped just short of the bank. Just. K was really pleasant during the whole thing, but I don't think I get to drive until I'm all better. Shit. But I'm glad it has the stick to drive with, because that means I get to sit in front and fish.

It was the maiden voyage of the unnamed boat. We didn't fish, but we did cruise around Ross Island and under the bridges downtown, which is kind of Venice on an urban-industrial scale. It is absolutely one of my favorite things, the people on the esplanade looking over the railing, waving as we pass. We are boaters. We are the leisure class, or at least we float along in the wake of the leisure class. There are some big damn boats out there.

I went to a job interview this afternoon. It sounded like a great job, but they wanted me to work some weekends and evenings, and I just don't want to do that anymore. I don't. So I was happy to decline, and they were unhappy and want to find something for me to do, and I guess I hope they can. I must work eventually. Eventually. I was scared to death they'd hire me, so I got the important stuff out of the way after making a fabulous first impression: how much money? (not enough) what schedule? (no go.) So there you have it. I may eat my words.