Why Does It Always Rain On Me?

It’s not nice to fool with Mother Nature.

Well, it’s not wise to frig with Squig either.

Over the last month, Mother Nature has been toying with the Squigman. And Squiggy don’t like that.

We’ve been blessed with some gorgeous weather of late. I’ve been at softball games basking in the warm glow of the sun and the annoying swarm of black flies. Yet, on my days off, when I’ve needed similar weather to paint my deck, Mother Nature has dictated otherwise. It rained on SquigNation.

Painting my deck isn’t exactly a thrill I’ve been longing for. Frankly, I almost could care less. So what if the stain is faded and wearing off and needs repainting? When you have an ocean view, I’m not looking at the floor boards on the deck. However, being a responsible owner (that’s almost as funny to say as boasting that I have a minor in Biblical Studies), I have to keep up appearances, especially since I’m renting the place to pay the bills.

Don’t want people to arrive and be disgusted and exclaim “My goodness, the deck needs painting! Edward, let’s go. We’re leaving. We want our money back!”

Facing the inevitable, I did all the scraping and bought the paint over a month ago. That very day, we had bright sunny skies and warm temperatures. My brother and I had even entertained tackling the job that afternoon and getting it over with. After reading the directions, something I shouldn’t have done, it suggested having temperatures above 50 degrees for 48 hours straight. This was during a week where the daytime’s warm temperatures were plummeting faster than George Bush’s approval numbers. So I waited. Besides, putting off work is my strength.

Late April, the temps were still too chilly. The first May weekend it rained. It wasn’t supposed to. The weather forecasters said Saturday would be decent but Sunday would be rainy. I hoped maybe I could get the preliminary cleaning work done. The weather was horrible both days and the weekend was a complete washout. It was a waste of time even going down there with the hopes of getting work done.

Then came last weekend. Weather guessers predicted doom. Rain Saturday, more rain Monday. The good news was the chances of doing a softball game Monday were slim, but so we’re the chances of getting any painting done. Then the prognosticators began to waver, like they were plucking the leaves off daisies. It’s going to rain. It’s not going to rain.

I left for Owls Head with a slight hope of getting something done. Sunday was going to be nice. Worse case was that I’d at least get the cleaning done, but I knew Mother Nature might yank my chain once again. I was already contemplating giving up on the painting for now and breaking out the deck furniture (which was all stored inside the house).

When I awoke Saturday morning, I did errands in town waiting for Mother Nature to show her hand. Upon my return, the weather was decent enough but could go either way. I hastily got down to cleaning the deck out front and did the same to the back. After washing both down thoroughly, I broke for lunch. The hope was that the wood might dry and decent afternoon weather would open the door for painting in the afternoon. I anxiously anticipated the chance to paint. No, really, I did.

The noon weather report said there would be possible showers but otherwise, it would be clearing as the day progressed. I had sunny skies and all looked good. I put in a Metallica CD and got ready to slop it on.

I can't remember the last time I painted something. It was likely the last time the Gorham house was painted, before my parents realized they were running out of kids and had siding put on. I used to get as much paint on myself as I did whatever I was painting.

With that impressive painting resume, I tackled the front deck first. With each plank completed, the deck looked a little grayer. So did the skies. It remained cloudy and a threat of showers persisted. I contemplated trying to do the back deck first instead, not wanting to ruin the front if it rained. I decided to gamble. I rolled the dice and kept painting out front. Good thing I didn’t recall that when I usually gamble, I lose money.

By mid afternoon, I got the front deck done - with all the paint on the wood and none on me. All I had to do was wait and see if Mother Nature had anything to say about it. I waited anxiously. I watched the clock. Eight hours of drying would be between 8 and 10. Would Mother Nature actually cut Squiggy a break?

The radar on the 6 p.m. news showed no signs of showers approaching. I was in the clear.

Or so I thought. Rain was no long a concern, but I didn’t like the look of one of my pet sea gulls. I have two that linger around my beach. This one was sitting on the big rock that begins a series of ledges that extends from the front yard. At first, I thought it was just admiring my work. Then it dawned on me that it might be looking at the pristine, newly painted surface and tempted to make its own mark on the deck. Not like it hasn’t done it before. Then I feared maybe a raccoon would come out looking to sniff paint fumes and put little paw prints all across the deck. Not like they haven’t done that before either.

I was on guard to protect my fortress, but the sea gull was only interested in the bird seed on the ground. Raccoons never appeared. Looks like I made it. Word must have gotten around about my achievement. Sandpipers stopped by the rock where the pet sea gulls hang out. Chipmunks came to visit. A red cardinal even flew in for a viewing.

The following day Mother Nature made Mother’s Day warm and beautiful. I finished the back deck and was already plotting setting up the front deck Monday morning - before doing the softball game I had thought would surely get rained out. What was supposed to be another washout weekend turned out to be just what I needed. I even got a few precious moments to sit on the deck and bask in the sun and remember why I do all the work I do at that place.

I didn’t fool with Mother Nature, and she didn’t mess with me. It was a good weekend all around.

Now Mother Nature and I are in negotiations regarding my vacation weeks.

A Boatiful Day In The Neighborhood

It was a beautiful cold and cloudy day. Just a hint of fog and sea breeze and a steady drizzle. It wasn't exactly boating weather, but that's what were were about to do.

Frankly, I wasn't all that enthused about the annual launching of my brother's boat. Damp, dark and dreary aren't exactly ideal boating conditions, but the boat was ready. My brother was hauling it back from Rockport where it had recieved its spring tune-up. And boat owners don't bring their prizes back from the dealers just to park in their driveway.

Boat launching has been an annual ritual for years. For decades, I helped my father launch his (in much warmer weather). Then when my brother purchased his boat, I became his hired hand as well. One year I even had a birthday cruise, which is an exception since my birthday is in late April. This is one of the earlier launchings he's had since then.

With the tide on the decline, he was running late. The mechanic had accidently run the battery dry during work in the last few days. That delayed arrival. We hurriedly had to lauch my "Sea Goomer", a rowboat I adopted after it washed ashore one winter. Because we were already a couple hours down on the tide, we needed the extra boat to tow another rowboat out to the mooring. Otherwise, we wouldn't have enough water to reach the rowboat with the motor boat upon our return home.

While my nephew, Jesse, got the rowboats in the right places, I helped clean the boat cushions. Polishing boat seats doesn't usually excite me, but it was at that moment that the anticipation of the launch crept in.

My ancestors were ship builders, sea captains, merchant mariners and lighthouse keepers. I think my high blood pressure is a result of all the sea salt in my veins. When I started getting the cushions cleaned up, I knew we'd be back on the water soon. I was like a golden retriever, panting, tail wagging, fully aware that a trip was inevitable. Pretty soon I'd be sticking my face into the wind, ears flapping all the way.

We had to take the boat to Rockland to launch since the tide was down so low that launching it in the nearby river in South Thomaston wasn't feasible. The boat ramp in Rockland already had its dock in place that runs between two boat ramps. That was going to make it easier.

In launches with my father, my job was often doing all the physical things that needed doing as well as remembing all the things that my Dad would always forget (like bringing the boat keys etc.). Wesley's boat is much lighter and easier to launch. With the ramp there, all I had to do was hold the ropes and wait for the boat to float off. Any time I can launch the boat without getting my feet wet is a success.

Because we launched in Rockland, we had a much longer trip home than the short trip up the river we'd have from South Thomaston. The weather was actually warmer than it was when we pulled the boat up last October. We had a gusty, chilly wind that day and had to fight a North wind and heavy seas all the way into Rockland Harbor. It made us both wonder whether pulling the boat up earlier would be prudent in the future because the brutal temperatures weren't just any fun. We'll probably say the same things this year when we pull the boat in late fall amidst similar conditions.

The only boats on the water on this spring day were a few working boats, the Vinalhaven ferry and a few lobstermen. Apparently, none of the other pleasure boaters craved the gorgeous conditions of a dank, drizzling early May afternoon. Weather forecasters were saying we weren't going to get much rain. They had also said it was to be sunny that day. I was fully expecting the rain to increase as soon as we pulled away from the dock. Sure enough, it did. But with any boat trip with my brother, I can usually recount conditions that were much worse. Considering the seas were light and there was hardly any wind, this was a pleasure cruise. I had my winter coat on, my hood pulled up and my winter gloves keeping me warm. Rain or sea splash couldn't touch me.

We hit some seas rounding Owls Head Light, which was on by way, but otherwise, it was a smooth trip.

Of course, the launching and the trip along the Owls Head shoreline en route home, had distracted our focus away from the tide. By the time we reached our cove, it was questionable whether we'd have enough water. I've pushed my brother's boat halfway out our cove at low tide in the middle of August, but I wasn't hoping for that opportunity in early May. We got the oars ready, and he had the motor up as we edge our way through the cove. Three feet of water decreased to two and then one-and-a-half. As we neared the mooring, he cut the engine, and we paddled the last few feet to tie up the boat.

Jesse and I hurriedly hopped into the tiny rowboat, which my brother hasn't given a name yet. All three of us couldn't fit in the rowboat at once. So Jesse would drop me off and return for my brother. The water was shallow, but it looked like we might have a clear path to the shore for me to step out. That optimism ended when the bottom of the boat ran aground on the mud. I was able to pole us forward a bit, but there was no escaping a barefoot walk through the icy waters and sticky mud. I shed my shoes and socks and stepped out. The mud is actually a bit warm. The walk wasn't as cold as it was a few years ago when we had to do that same things in late October. It took hours for my feet to warm up that day, but it provided plenty of laughs for our neighbors who watched us have to wade ashore.

Wes had to do the mud walk as well and dragged the boat with Jesse sitting inside.

Afterwards, Jesse stood on front lawn shivering in the rain looking less than excited about the adventure. I was wet and cold. My feet still had mud caked on them. But I was happy. I tell people that when I'm wearing my red winter coat, that isn't good. It is a sure sign of cold and miserable weather. But, if I'm wearing that coat and I'm smiling, it means I probably just got out of the boat.

A boat trip in the warm temperatures of July and August is always a treat, but a trip in early May certainly isn't boring. Just ask our neighbors.

Assembly Required

Since we all came into this world with all our parts assembled, I think all the things we acquire and use should arrive the same way.
Any package that says "Assembly Required" is just forecasting potential dangers. It should also say "Could Try Your Patience". Or warn "This product Could Produce Rampant Cursing". It might even state "This Product Stands A Better Chance Of Being Destroyed In A Fit Of Rage Than Being Assembled Properly."
Now SOME assembly required isn't too trying. If I buy a new flash light and it says assembly required (which it won't) I'd have no fear. If I buy a VCR or a new DVD player, I'll be good to go in no time. If the assembly means plugging stuff in, I'm okay. I'm quite adept at plugging the orange thing into the other orange thing and the white thing into the other white thing - or at least plugging stuff in until the machine works. But, if it requires hardware, any kinds of tools, washers, screws and directions, I'm not too enthusiastic.
When people notice that I type with all my fingers rather than the one-digit style of other reporters, I state that I have magic in all five fingers. But like Kryptonite is to Superman, handiwork is the biggest threat to my skills.
I was putting together a small portable grill I purchased the other day. Now how hard can it be to assemble a $6 grill? I didn't think it would take too long. And, it didn't, but it reminded me how much I hate having to put things together. I saw a rocking chair in a store the other day and the price was $10 more if it had to be assembled by the store. I couldn't help but think I'd want more than $10 if I had to assemble it.
Granted, I'm not blessed with a whole lot of patience. Actually, it might be determined that I was born with absolutely no patience. So when I buy something, I want to be able to take it out of the box and flip the switch and turn on whater thingamajig makes the thing go.
I get aggravated when I have to take the protective tape off a new CD. With all the CD's I've bought (between 400-500) you'd think I'd be able to tear that security tape off in an instant.
When I have to put something together, I'm inviting all kinds of misfortune. It might test my handiwork skills, but it almost assuredly will test my patience. I could lose a integral piece of the product just taking the gizmo and its guts out of the box. I could lose that crucial part somewhere during construction. I could get completely baffled by the directions that often look like a five-year old drew them. I could put the thing together backwards and have to start all over again. I could lose my patience along the way. I could get frustrated, watch by blood pressure rise and blurt out profanities as I try to keep from exploding. When that fails and I do pop a gasket, I may just destroy the product in a fit of rage - cursing its very existance in the process.
The only time I'd ever hear my father curse was when he'd be putting something together and it wouldn't go just right. Fortunately, he was never around when I've had those moments. I'm kind of like a Yosemite Sam version of Ralphie in "A Christmas Story". When Ralpie drops a nut while helping his father change a tire, he drops an F-Bomb that earns him the soap-in-mouth treatment. After dropping that one nut, I'd have likely hurled the others at the car and let loose a series of "Frickin, Frackin, @$%&%$ @#$%$&!!!!!
Fortunately, the grill didn't tempt that kind of fate. Good thing too. At $6, I wouldn't have been too afraid to hurl it into the ocean. I got most of the pieces together inside and began putting it together. I saw no pieces for the legs that the grill rests on. The box was empty. I was already envisioning having to take the @$%#% thing back to the store. I double-checked outside and there they were, where I first opened the box. I tried to make sense of the directions but they used a different kind of English than I'm used to. The handle had its own proper name. I can't recall it because I tossed the directions already. But couldn't it just say "Handle"? It was almost easier to go by the photo on the box than the instructions provided. At least then I would know that it looks like it is supposed to.
It actually didn't take me too long to complete the assembly. I had it all together, looking just like it does on the box. There were no missing pieces. There were no leftover pieces. Nothing was put in wrong or backwards. Nothing got broken. I didn't even utter a naughty word - even though I may have thought of one or two. I put the grill away and tossed out the box and directions. Nothing broken and my mouth didn't taste like soap. Assembly complete.
Let's just hope that when a renter goes to use it this summer, it doesn't fall apart, prompting them to question "What idiot put this together?"