Weird beginning to this blog, but please be patient. All will be revealed. The day I arrived from Minnesota, my right leg felt weird, stiff and inflexible, especially the knee. Suddenly it had grown fatter and stiffer, but still attached to my body. Getting from LAX to Mollie and Sam’s house in N Hollywood was much harder than I remembered. I usually walk the mile from the N Hollywood station to their home, but this time LYFT seemed a smarter option. Spent the night at the kids house, and in the morning Mollie took me to the Burbank Amtrack station where I caught the 10:10 to SB. My whole leg felt even weirder- like an overstuffed Weiner- so took another Lyft to harbor and arrived at boat tired but so happy to be home. By the next day I knew something was seriously wrong, but… thought it would go away. Whatever “it” was. Nope. No such luck. One of the challenges to getting older is my body is aging, but my mind is not. Inside 18, outside, 73. Or is it the other way around? And I also realized I was afraid, because I have snapped back quickly from other physical challenges: a broken wrist(fall on icy driveway)a broken collarbone and concussion (bike accident), a seizure disorder, and appendectomy at 71 with the diagnosis or a rare form of cancer found hiding in the appendix. But whatever was going on with my knee was now a totally new issue-unlike anything I’d ever experienced-super painful, and after a trip to both urgent care and the ER room- undiagnosed. Walking, and regular physical activity is my antidepressant and-now unable to walk off challenges-I felt anxious, unsettled and unsure. So, I did what any good Minnesotan would do- chose a distraction. My favorite kind of distraction. Distraction comes in many forms: my friend Bruce loves to sail, MJ reorganizes her house and Renée knits her grandchild a super cute coat. Distractions make us feel good. Tend to be productive. And give us pleasure. Moi. I decided to renovate the aft berth. PS. The aft berth is the bedroom in the back of the boat.
So first week in October, I decided to find someone to perform the magic trick I had visualized in my mind. First call was to a young man working on a boat in my finger (finger= address in boat speak), named Devon from Philly. Talented and creative. I saw the work he was doing on a recently purchased wreck. Wow. Impressive. Hydraulic lift exposing storage under new queen sized bed, updated kitchen, amazing work. But… he was not interested in my mundane project and sweetly said no. Next I turned to a man I’d met for 30 seconds in West Marine. Pascal. And asked if he’d be open to looking at the project. Our meeting was short. He started two days later. Pascal is quiet. No glad handing, hand slapping high five communication. He is slow and steady. Thorough in a way I find both annoying and pleasing. The first day I worked with him in the gutting phase. I love tearing things apart. Pascal is more…cautious. But we did well together. Having me present made him a wee bit nervous because he said boat owners can have a hard time in the deconstruction phase. I assured him I was NOT that person and suggested he bring out his big tools and go to it. First day on the job a problem appeared. Not a little problem. Nope. A biggie. A diesel fuel leak. 6-8 inches of both the 6 drawer cabinet and shirt storage cabinet were impregnated with diesel fuel. Puddles of fuel percolated from the torn apart cabinets when left on the concrete dock overnight. Whew. This was a surprise. Question: is the leak old or new. TBC.