Kaimusailing

It was time to get fresh fuel for the Atomic 4 and start the engine. First the fuel lines have to be primed, then reconnected to the tank. I primed them with a half liter water bottle with its top cut off and a small funnel that fit into the end of the fuel line. It took more fuel than I expected to fill the line, then I jammed it on the fuel tank spigot and tightened the double hose clamps. I used a Baja filter funnel to pour the gas into the tank.
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I was apprehensive about starting the engine, maybe check things out completely. I remounted the instrument panel including the choke control for the engine. I could start it, but I took a long break. It was sunny with high clouds. I ran a couple errands on the bike. Maybe I could go back to the Legion later, I felt like I could use a talk with Cuddily who lives near the Legion. I sent her a text. No reply. I called Eve. She was making salsa for the ladies to have a dinner at her house. I waited. It was past 5 o’clock. I made a ham and cheese sandwich. This time I toasted the bread right on the grill after spreading olive oil on it. Then I sprinkled Italian spices and garlic powder on the bread. I put ham in the skillet and got it sizzling. I piled cheese on it and turned the grill off, let the concoction melt together. Put it on the bread and I had a grilled cheese and ham sandwich, but assembled, not grilled altogether.
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I had some wine with the sandwich and clouds began filling in, the sunny day became an overcast day. The phone rang and it was Cuddily. I was glad to hear from her. My therapy session could begin. Maybe only 2 hours on the phone. No charge.
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I woke up around 5AM, strangely hungry. Crackers and cheese? Wine? The wine glass was still full from the night. I had a bunch of rolls from the bakery. No crackers. More ham and cheese with wine. I turned on the radio that had been off for a few days. WBYC. I heard a song with the phrase Charlemagne’s Hometown. I googled it. It was James McMurtry. He is the son of Larry McMurtry, prolific novelist and screenwriter. I ended up listening to a set by him and his band on Austin City Limits on YouTube. I hate country music. What a strange morning. The sun hadn’t even come up yet.
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I’m not sure if I went back to sleep. I did ride down to the city dock and back, this time I used roads not the marina back door near the Tawes museum. Maybe I would start the engine now. I procrastinated more. Eve the artist, texted me, what are you doing?, she had also texted that today would be a sauerkraut and pork chop dinner for me. I replied I’m just dawdling. She wanted to go look at plants. I showered and waited for her at the marina front office. We were off to look at plants.
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She reminds me of one of my sisters. I was hungry, maybe we would get lunch and have some orange crushes. She was in an angry mood. I did not want to really get to the bottom of her anger, but I knew I had to do something. I had had some good counseling just the night before, we need help sometimes from friends. A friend is someone who loves you when you aren’t even there. I listened and knew I couldn’t fix her anger. Just don’t be inert. Put out an idea, the anger will kill it, wait, put out another idea. Eve has the patience of a curious cat. We toy with the idea of going to Don’s, the nearby posh watering hole. She has pork chops and sauerkraut stewing in the slow cooker and we have a couple of boxes of Black Box wine in the back of her huge SUV. Just get back to Crisfield.
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I forget about the time. I’m hungry. The food needs to be cooked, the potatoes, the pork chops are probably ready enough. No greens. We sit outside and drink wine. Check on potatoes from time to time. I am barefoot with my aqua socks footwear discarded in her foyer. She wants to show me what she wants to do with her property. I thought you might be selling it, it’s such a chore for you. She is a dynamo but is getting run down, maybe a smaller place, I say she loves this house. It’s too much she says.
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We have to go out on her front enclosed porch where she works at her art and has a lot of pieces there to see, some finished, some in progress. She doesn’t paint like most other artists. Her works take a lot of time as she works the paint, getting things right, getting what she wants. Her cooking is probably not quite the same, maybe similar. When you cook, you can’t go back and recook something that isn’t right. She is a great artist and a great cook.
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We refill our glasses. Outside she tosses a ball to her black lab bitch, Kahlua, who runs around and can grab the ball right out of the air. I get bit by a mosquito. We go back inside. I can’t seem to get her off her angry mood. We have a great dinner fit for a Polack, like me, pork stewed with sauerkraut, and mashed potatoes. Just like mamma used to make, but maybe a bit better, sauerkraut from Nancy on the trawler in the marina, a very different flavor. I ate a second big portion.
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It was just dinner for us two, no one else, I said, tonight’s our night, she said no no, but it was our night together, anger and love, just a sista and a bro, she sent me on my way on my bike, please close the gate, I went down the road to the marina.
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I slept until 10:30 the next morning and felt great. What looks like a rainy weekend looms before us. The image is a sunset shot taken at the Legion a few days ago.