Kaimusailing

Thanksgiving was upon us and I was feeling low, much as I advise others to not be, it is the time of year when bad things happen. I tell others we are living in the best country on earth, that no matter how bad things are, there are about a billion people who'd like to be in your shoes, maybe more.
.
My task was to make a batch of deviled eggs for the St. Marys Cruisers Thanksgiving Feast. There would be tons of food and crowds of sailors at Seagle's Saloon and Restaurant. I started off on the wrong foot with Cap'n Jane Morgan. She had her plastic bin of dishes to be washed and there on the top of the dishes was a blue scotch brite sponge, just like the one that went missing on the day I was making pizzas last. Strangely a second one went missing on that same day. The third replacement sponge was not left at the sink but stowed away. I asked her about the sponge and she admitted she had taken it, but she thought it was hers. I told her to keep it and she refused.
.
I ended up cleaning my stock pot and loaded it with 14 eggs covered with cold water, put it on a portable electric burner and brought it to a boil. Took a while. At boil remove from the heat and put on a trivet, leave covered for 12 minutes. Then I could start peeling the eggs, now soaking in cold water.
.
The eggs were sliced in half and the hard boiled yolks went into a saucepan with a melted stick of butter and 8 tablespoons of lemon. The yolks were mashed with a fork and the result was loaded into the empty egg white halves using a butter knife. It took a while to do this and it was getting close to time to go to the feast. Henrik and Mariola were my ride, but I saw them stop right in front of the communal kitchen, then take off. Maybe they needed to pick up an ingredient. I finished the eggs with a dusting of black pepper and paprika in decorative rows over the eggs.
.
I sat there and the eggs sat there. Surely they haven't forgot me, have they? After a while I began calling contacts who might be at the feast. I called Robert and he said, "What feast?", he said he would ride me over in about 5 minutes. 5 minutes passed, 10, and then Mariola came into the boatyard at speed over the gravel. I tried to call Robert to say he didn't need to run me over but his phone didn't answer. We have to go to Robert's boat so I can tell him not to come. We went to Robert's boat and he was there with the hood up on his vehicle. Battery dead. Can we jump him. Jump didn't work. I told him to get my booster charger from under my boat and try that. Mariola and I sped off to the feast.
.
The tons of food had been ravaged by the crowds of sailors. I put down the platter of deviled eggs and Karen the chemist came by and said she and Geoff were eating on the patio, away from the crowd. They were conveniently near the cash bar and I ordered a merlot to wash down a plate of turkey, oyster dressing, creamed carrots, and of course a deviled egg. Geoff had cooked most of the food for the feast and was enjoying a bottle of wine with Karen and two ladies from the St. Marys Yacht Club.
.
There was apple pie for desert for me as well as more merlot. Geoff and Karen offered to drive me back to the boatyard, they live nearby, and I went to Henrik and Mariola's table to tell them not to wait for me.
.
At Geoff and Karen's house we had another bottle of wine, from a place called Total Wine near Wilmington, DE. Then I remembered Robert and his dead vehicle, time to go back to the boatyard. Geoff said he would be cooking seafood stew and chicken cacciatore the next night at a pavilion behind Seagle's. He needed another propane tank, so after he deposited me in the boatyard I loaned him the tank I used for Pizza Night, then went to see about Robert's vehicle.
.
Robert seemed bummed, of course, and said nothing seemed to be working. My booster charger didn't help. A fellow brought some heavy duty jumper cables and they were able to start the vehicle. I had gone back to Kaimu to retrieve my smart charger and multimeter. Robert pointed out an old battery that seemed dead and wouldn't take a charge. He needed distilled water, so we took his vehicle for a ride to help charge it up and also looked for distilled water. We found it finally at CVS in the baby department. Back in the boatyard we filled the battery and began charging it. I put the multimeter on his vehicle's battery and read 12.4 volts, too low. I suggested he put the smart charger on the vehicle's battery after the old battery was charged up.
.
The next day his old battery was up to 95 percent, but when the charger was unplugged the static voltage dropped to 10.2. I retrieved a different charger from Kaimu that had a desulphurization function and it began pulsing the battery to help get sulphur deposits off the battery plates. It didn't do very much.
.
The next day I signed up to use Robert's vehicle to run some errands. Someone else was using it in the morning. The day wore on. I piddled and paddled with things and got kind of angry. Some bleephole was tying up the vehicle and if I didn't get my errands done, I would miss the dinner at Seagle's patio, put on by the St. Marys Yacht Club.
.
My plan was to start a load of laundry at the laundromat near the Wee Pub, head on up to Kingsland to Tractor Supply to refill a propane tank, come back, put the laundry in the dryer, head over to Winn-Dixie, get cash at the ATM, get wine and eggs in the store, head back to the laundry, fold and pack in the laundry basket, and get back to the boatyard to get a ride to the dinner. Unfortunately it looked like my schedule was way off base and I would miss the dinner.
.
I efficiently got the laundry going, although the change machine took a while to take one of my fives. Then I tore up the road to Tractor Supply, eyeing the vehicle's clock to see how long it took to get up here. It took a while to get the redneck bearded fellow out in the propane shed to fill the tank. The price for propane is now over 7 bucks a gallon, and Tractor Supply, who used to be the bargain place for propane, charged me over $20 for the tank, no problem, it is what it is.
.
I went along more or less on schedule. I asked Robert if I could have the vehicle longer so that I could drive myself to the dinner and let Geoff and Karen know too.
.
The crowd in Seagle's side patio was lively and I was able to get some merlot. Geoff was cooking seafood stew and chicken cacciatorre while his wife, Karen, was hosting the whole thing. I sat at the first table I could find a seat at and the two old sailors there were telling stories about the boatyard and about sailing in these waters. These guys seemed to be landlubbers who had sailed to St. Marys and then swallowed the anchor. They were happy, they had their women and houses. But they didn't have any new sailing stories. Well, you can write about your garden in your blog.
.
I had to leave, the wine was gone, the dinner was over, my heart was still in turmoil, I know why, there is no cure, except one.
.
I woke up in the wee hours and remembered when I first started living on a boat many years ago. My partner had kicked me out and I slept on the boat. I was miserable for about a week, overcast, rainy, and then one day the sun came out. A waterman put putted by in his little lobster boat. He had a beard and yellow oilskins, puffed a pipe. A seagull flew past him and I thought, "This is like the beginning of a movie". I was OK after that, misery gone. And now in my bunk on Kaimu in the boatyard I had that same feeling. My friends in St. Marys were saving me from my misery. A friend is someone who picks you up after you've been kicked to the curb. I am thankful.
.
The image is of Geoff's seafood stew, he is English, in France it would be called bouillabaisse.