a sinking boat show

went down to the baltimore harbor when the kid was still little. we were with a friend, so we put her on his shoulders because the crowd was so thick. it was the harbor lights parade boat show. there are some crazy homemade boats in this thing most years. most of what’s on show is incredible for all sorts of reasons, but some of them are in just it because of how outrageous there are. welcome to baltimore, hon.

so, there’s like 1,000 people just in our vicinity & the boats are going by & it’s neat. we’re having a great time. this one boat is coming up, all strung up with tons of light. just tons. but he’s having some problems & he’s calling out to one of the other captains. all the sudden you see like the bow of his boat just lurches into the water. what?!? now, we got some action. light bulbs popping & this guy is hoping to up there, fixing as he goes. cursing & i’ll bet getting bit by some volts by the sound of it. so funny. the parade is coming to a bit of a halt.

everybody on shore hushes. it’s like being at the drive-in for the good part. only the sound of a toddler every here & there. the boat in front of him comes back & throws him a line while the rest of his boat starts sinking- evening out actually, so the boat in back of him throws him a line. he does whatever he does for a few minutes & they seem ready to be on their way, crisis averted.

i really don’t know, but his boat then seemed to crack down the middle. like an egg. now we got little fires lighting up on his boat, things spitting bits of lightning. snap, crackle & pop. captain is still dancing an irish jig, trying not to die, i figure. a few of the spectators- like good city folk- are whoopin’ it up & cheering, but then we get quiet again. we don’t want to miss a thing. there’s enough light to see the boat captain in front of this guy, standing there watching this, hat in hand, scratching his head. sinking boat guy is working not to sink, get electrocuted, look like the biggest dumb-ass in holiday harbor lights history & probably make it on the news, the captain behind him at one point stops & cries out -you gotta be kiddin’ me!

well, it’s a very baltimore thing to say & i guess it just tickled all us onshore so much because the wave of laughter that swept through that harbor was the cherry on the sundae. i don’t know how these guys got it together, but the boat didn’t sink, at least not there or that i heard of. the parade continued & it was another perfect example of how perfect your hometown will always be.

it depends on what the definition of Is is

the kid & i were sitting & watching the news as the clinton/monica l. thing had reached it’s zenith. that day, the news showed the clip of clinton saying in his deposition -it depends on what the definition of ‘is’ is. i looked over & a bit down at my kid, still so young. she looked up at me, her jaw dropped. i asked her if she knew what the definition of ‘is’ is. she said not only that, but she could conjugate the whole verb ‘to be’. oh, that kid! i had a deep, deep laugh. when i composed myself, she asked me, very sincerely -mum? what did the president do before he was the president? i told her he was a politician, but worse than that, he was educated as a lawyer. the eye-roll & full puffed breath out through those most sincere lips, i once again, had a deep, long giggle & will never forget.

four latino pirates

why is it that trouble comes up to you when you are doing nothing but minding your own business? wrong place at the right time. again. i’m sitting out on the deck of my boat in the harbor. a mooring with a dozen or so other boats moored out there. it’s a funny little situation with it’s funny little aggravations. i’m the only female out here right now, so it cuts both ways. probably always will. right on this night though, there are no neighbors around. my closest neighbor just happens to be on land for a week visiting friends (of his convenient excuses for the stupid shit i saw, this was the first). my gbf out here is no good in a emergency. he’s more of a woman than me. god love him. the boat in question this night was empty for awhile. captain crook is in jail & his woman is 'visiting family' (rehab again this year alone). i’m out here all alone. didn’t give me a moment’s pause until these guys saw me.

so, i’m sitting out on my deck. laptop in front of me. it throws a lot of light, especially at full dark, so i don’t know how they weren't aware of me from the very beginning. i had the music on & up. i’d figure, but i don’t know, that it would at least be even faintly heard from there. guess not. this little fishing boat, quite beat up but still decent enough from first glance comes right up to peter pan’s mooring. i could hear the guys talking. at first i thought it was the FWP. put a few little things away & get my glasses on. little fishing boat. went right up to my neighbor’s boat & it being dark, i saw two colored lights & assumed it was the popo. wouldn't surprise me being theirs. but then i noticed that none of them were in uniform & they were all speaking spanish. and they were reaching over their boat, apparently fooling with the mooring. now i’m really looking at the boat. trying to distinguish the guys.

this whole thing took like five minutes or less. time seems to stretch when you are alarmed. these guys are having some discussion & swing their boat over near the back of my neighbor’s boat. this is stretching on & i’m getting a bad feeling, still i say nothing. just watch, look & listen. but i get my phone in my hand & pull up the camera. just getting it ready. damn. then they all turn & look at me. there was plenty of light on me. i hadn't really moved or anything. my phone was next to me. they speak to each other hurriedly. not good at understanding spanish. certainly not good when it’s four guys talking all at once, at a distance & not slowly. they are still facing me. the guy sitting down says something & they part so i can see him & he can see me. that’s when i raise the camera & take a picture. damn. flash wasn’t on. whatever i had been photographing lately, i had changed the settings.

i start fooling with the settings as these guys slowly take off towards my boat. it’s like 20 or 30 feet away. i drop that idea, send a text (i had been texting someone, so a 'hey, if u don't hear from me again...), reach for the baton as these guys swing around the bow of my boat & come up on my side.

there is a difference between tone & substance, and sometimes there’s not. you’ll never know if you don’t get past the tone, and 1 in a 1000 don’t. standing up to these guys quickly showed them exactly what. the rest they could guess what the substance was gonna be. this was just a strong presence. i didn't say a word. i didn’t show real aggression. i didn’t open my mouth. i stood on the gunwale of my boat, baton in one hand & ‘camera’ in another. it was my phone & i never did get the damn flash turned on, so i stood there taking screen shots for the similar noise it makes to taking photos. plus, i had the light of it facing them, i figured it was something.

they backed off real quick, but not before i got a good look at the guy sitting down giving the orders. long sleeve white shirt with collar. long, darkish pants, full length. must have had some kind of hat on. hard to believe hair has that kind of texture to it. most things were in at least some sort of silhouette, but the shape & perceived texture told me it was a hat of some sort. no clue what though. they had a light on in their boat. he pointed & talked to his guys in spanish as they got closer & closer to my boat. got within 10 feet of me. i kept snapping screenshots. i let the baton rest down by my side, but it was turned out just enough so they could see i at least had something substantial in my hand.

they went off into the water, but not far. they turned off their lights, but i could hear them talking for awhile. they went away, finally. think it was their same boat that went around the harbor just a short while later. came from the right area & had the same lighting, but don’t they all? i slept out on my deck until about 2am. i bought a few things out to keep tucked but within reach should they come back. only about seven weapons. so glad i never have to use that shit. the human animal is the most unpredictable, and the most capable of senseless destruction.

the magic tummy rub

my little dutch girl. kid couldn’t have been more than two or three at the time. disney movies were in full swing, so i guess that helped. i never talked baby talk to her, but gibberish is another matter. it would thrill her & sometimes i’d get into a real kick- dr. suess all day long. my mother being the queen of dyslexic suess. but out & out make up a story that was designed to convince, no. i couldn’t really talk about santa but in circular terms- it bothered me. i’d use absurdity to get her to think something through. when she was pushing my buttons this young, i used to tell her i ate all her previous brothers & sisters, so she’d better watch out. barbecued them. she’d eye me suspiciously, until one day she put her little hands on her hips & said loudly - notuh! this night i lied my ass off. i hear the kid, in the middle of the night, calling out for me & find her in the bathroom.

she’s on the toilet. arms wrapped around her belly, bent in half, rocking. bathroom smells worse than i could possibly entertain with. it set me back a step. but that’s my only, shitting there & she’s pale lipped & got a green-grey glow about her, so i go in. flush. flush again. i tell you, i learned the hard way not to let her try to many new foods at once between the ages of one & two because of what i had to suffer while she was still in diapers & just after & i’d have to conquer. pregnancy made me a professional puker. motherhood gave me the ability to pretty much forego vomiting. this was a challenge. but oh, the pain on her face, in her rocking body. i wanted only to take it from her this very second, so i sit down next to her and circle rub her back. nope.

don’t touch her. she’ll take a sip of water & even that was negotiation. epic failure. took a few minutes to clean up the expressed fluids. there was nothing she’d let me do for her. i checked the bathroom cabinet, in case we had some Tums or Maalox. don’t bother. she’s convinced that swallowing anything will make it worse. she was that bad. so, i sit down next to her- yep, the offending pot, too & think. -you know what? i know just the thing!

she’s eyeing me suspiciously again, but she’s not wise to this one yet, so i try. felt like the wicked queen from snow white that i had seen a thousand times that week. i hadn’t a clue what to do & could barely handle the thought of making it worse, but she needed something. -i know the magic tummy rub!

oh! to believe in magic. the change on her face. the interest, the hope, the curiosity. still, this is my kid & she’s skeptical. -tell me about it, she says. she’s testing me & i’m about to fail. nothing came to mind. -one cannot explain magic. one can only do it. she nodded. seemed convinced.

then test two. -what do you need to do? even at her worst, she’s prodding me gently for every answer under the sun. so afraid to fuck up, too. -well, i gotta rub your belly. no, she’s shaking her head no. -i gotta, honey. she hangs her head. -look. do you want this over with quick or slow? she just groans. it was so pathetic, i had to laugh a little. she gives me the evil eye & tells me to go ahead. permission. now comes the true test!

i felt like going & getting my mother at this point, for absolute real. which tells you something, because all i’m gonna get from her is judgement for not having That Instinct. That Tone of Voice goes with it, too. i would argue that going & getting a woman that’s been through this a few times before was a good instinct, but it would be wasted on her. she made up her mind about me long before i was that size, miserable on the toilet. i’m on my own, so i act like i’m warming up, to buy a little time.

crack my fingers. stretch them back. blow on my hand, warm it up. help her adjust so i can put my hand on her belly & just start real gently press back & forth. took about a minute of her at her worst. i was about to give up & come clean. then the look of surprise on her face. she was looking better, too. just that quick, and that slow. you can have that Car Accident Slow-Mo even at these relatively ordinary times.

she sat up a little & gives me a nod. i start going in circles on her soft, tiny little belly. this was magic. she changes back to her normal pink beige & she starts getting color back in her lips. you can hear her tummy growl, gurgle & gulp. i told her this was just the last hiccups that her belly was making to get back to normal. she just nods. you can tell she’s paying close attention to what she’s feeling. i’m sure we are both wondering how, but i can’t show that. i’m glenda the good witch now.

we get her cleaned up. would have just hosed her off if i thought i could get away with it. i’ve done that to her after the really messy, muddy or paint covered shit over the years. i take that pudgy little hand to lead her into my bed. she looks up at me and says, -that really was The Magic Tummy Rub. i nodded down to her. put that beautiful little thing in bed with me & wrap us up nice & tight & warm. hope & pray painful nights like this will be few and far between. still, you’d never know the magic you had without them.

bees in the boobs

i was in big south fork on the ky/tn border, just joy riding. primitive camping back in the same spot the bear decided he liked my tent a lot. it was 10-20 miles to the better campground, showers and the rangers didn't mind, so i'd cut all around these hilly twisty turny roads. the 20 days of rain was over and i finally had some spring sun and deep fresh air, so i had nothing but a smile on my face. you learn not to smile too big or you are going to swallow something coming at you fast on a motorcycle. usually about the size of a fly and really hard to do both at once sometimes.

it's spring obviously and everything is blooming. it was a gorgeous place to be at a fantastic time. i saw the bees coming. nothing i could do. two, i figured mating, probably more true- fighting bees. locked together and i was flying right into their space. down the tube, right into my left boob. who would have thought those sports bras let so much in? i felt the first sting and practically locked my brakes. let the bike fall over and off comes everything from the waste up. on the road. one swoop. fucking bastard locals really enjoyed that. like three passed real slow, all men, cat calling. i had no time to care. stung twice by now and screaming in madness. i'm sure i don't know what i looked like. it must have been fun. ranger passes me. almost stops. i think the boobs confused him. bike's laying down at the side of the road and i'm still trying to hop over it, dancing my top off, beating the ground with my top. forgetting they only have one stinger a piece and they are both implanted in me. i was going to kill those things if i could. it was just a few moments of pure spontaneous pissed off madness. i looked up in time to see the ranger driving away, his eyes watching me in the mirror. that's when i burst into now crazy laughter, and yeah, i'm sure i look certifiable. good thing i had taken everything off the bike. it was bare, too, so it was easy enough to get back up.

hell'va jump in arkansas

the motorcycle had started really breaking down in arkansas. right before i rode into hot springs & found myself in the middle of a biker rally, as a matter of fact. god bless tucker & dick weed. they had me set up camp, fed me bacon wrapped deer & beans for every meal & someone worked on my bike like every five miles until it got going properly again. by the time i was more than half-way through the state, heading east, it was back at it again. wiring, starter & battery problems. i was mailing parts ahead to myself just to get home.

i had picked up a japanese closed battery, like really something. some serious cold cranking amps. thought it would really get me through. i had put another starter on earlier in the trip & was gonna charge this battery in a rest stop bathroom while i rebuilt this starter & maybe opened the bike up a bit & for the upteenth time to see what i could see with the wiring. you should see it. it’s a bit of a mess in parts. i don’t know what the previous owner was thinking. there was no reason to touch a damn thing. but the battery came charged, no need for anything, so i plop it in & get on down the road. i keep the last battery in the saddle bag, just in case there is a problem early on. well, there’s a problem.

i’m not even close to the end of arkansas for all i’ve been through here & i was just riding through, not lollygagging. really just riding to get home. i gotta stop as soon as possible now. my whole system is shutting down on the highway. lights, motor, everything. no battery, no nothing on this bike. it’s night & i got truckers flying by at high speeds & no street lights, plus one of those deep grooves that runs awkwardly in my lane that bikers love so much. yeah, i gotta find somewhere to deal with this now. right now. a state rest stop for truckers only is within a mile. truckers & bikers are very kind to one another, especially on the road. they won’t leave you stuck. the average driver will definitely fuck you over in a heartbeat.

so, i pull over & i’m tinkering with a flashlight in my mouth, half my pack on the wet ground. have to take it off to open the seat to get to the battery. i figure one of the connections was loosened. it kind of acted like that. my bike attracts a lot of attention. that & the fact that i’m a female biker alone on an obvious road-trip from hell. my little 440 is loaded, strapped & bungied. i check what i easily can & it’s not that. about that time a trucker comes up & asks me what’s up. i tell him. he says that japanese battery might not have been fully charged, even if it was supposed to be. good point, but the act of running the bike should have helped charge it. no, not necessarily so. running the lights & whatnot could possibly drain it more. small system i have here. wanna try a jump first before i charge it? see what that does? yeah, sure.

so we push it to his truck & he opens up his hood. he has a bank of batteries. that’s a eye opener. uh, sir? i don’t know about this. i don’t need all these batteries giving my little battery a jump. he says it’ll just be the one, not to worry. so we get out my little motorcycle battery jump cables & he thinks that’s cute. he pulls out his & puts them on. i’m still fully dressed for the night ride- leather boots, chaps & jacket & gauntlet gloves. i guess i had a glove off, i don’t know. i also don’t know what i was touching. i suppose the key &/or the starter button, or whatever, maybe i reached down & shook a cable, but i sorta remember the white lightning.

i sorta remember hitting the tree at full force. had to be 20 feet away. cracked the whole spine & i crumbled to the ground, moaning. i sorta remember the guy standing above me, i don’t know for how long. it was very nightmare/dream-like, deep garbled answering machine voice. i suppose he was asking if i wanted an ambulance. it wasn’t the first time i was asked this on this trip. in fact, i was asked this just a few days before, writhing in pain on a rest stop floor. thought i was having a virgin birth. apparently, i was having a gallbladder attack. i always say no. just no. i’m not explaining myself, but in all honesty, i’m not leaving my bike. i’m not having it towed, or stolen. it’s all i have & i’ve collected some cool memories from this trip. gone hunting for all sorts of stuff & met all sorts of people. for example, i met the woman that found the most perfect diamond in the world- the strawn-wagner diamond (named for her grandfathers, both famous men in that world that found special diamonds. she really took a liking to me. gave me pictures of her grandfathers. told me the stories of her family & gave me something to remember her by.) & many more things, but things like this, so fuck it, no. i really don’t know what just happened, but unless i can get help without getting my bike raped, especially in a foreign place, no.

so, the next day, i’m assuming, i start moving. apparently i’ve relieved myself, but i really have to go to the bathroom so bad the pain in my body can’t stop me from climbing the offending tree & popping a squat right there. i don’t even have focus yet. i’m lucky enough when i do look around on this side that it’s kind of pine forest for just a touch, at least where i’m looking right now. when i turn around, it’s all truck stop. it felt like it took 15 minutes to pull my pants up. god, i hurt & my mouth was so dry. my tongue tingled painfully.

when i turned around & started walking like a newborn deer, i saw three truckers standing over my bike. the seat still open, the battery still exposed. it was impossible to think. i wonder what i looked like. these guys were standing around my bike. one guy had a coke, one guy had a beer. as i walked up to them, i remember needing to pee real bad again, or it felt like it or something. the guy with the coke held it out for me, but i reached out for the beer & he gave it to me. i guzzled it. i looked down into the bike & the fucking battery was melted into a blob. i was starting to understand. tears started to come to my eyes. my poor bike. i asked for the bathroom & they pointed it out. i broke down in the bathroom. oh, my baby. i also chewed on a few aspirin.

back at it, the guys asked me what i planned to do. i showed them the last battery, but told them i thought it was no good, and what about this hot mess? one of them pulled out the blob of japanese battery with gloves while another one filled the old one up with water & put it in. the other one went & got someone with a car & brought him over & hooked me up, ran it for awhile. someone gave me cheese & crackers & a coke, while i ate & sat there in a stun. see? the kindness of strangers.

the roadrunner & me

magnificent cedars deep in the heart of texas. just about where the desert has started for real. the last line of real trees for a texas mile or two. well, there’s plains & mountains beyond that. “mountains” to a yankee city girl, this was desert. kept hearing from the locals that this was the worst drought since the dust bowl. clearest from the two 90 year-old cowboys that took me dove hunting. they might actually remember the dust bowl.

so the reservoirs are down 60 feet & i’ve been staying mostly at army corp of engineer campgrounds up through the heart of texas. learned a few lessons after castro, tx- just east of san antonio. stories in & of themselves. there were no leaves on anything anymore. even the deer didn’t move when my motorcycle comes by & i’m gonna jump in about where they came in. they just look at you with UGH! i didn’t bother them, they didn’t bother me. north of waco & georgetown were a little cluster of campgrounds- from primitive to full hook ups, the primitive always being the furthest out or in, depending on how you want to look at it. i had never seen a roadrunner before. just The Roadrunner.

it’s not all the time, but there are extraordinary times when even the most wild animals will come close. running over the armadillo was too close. that happens sometimes, too. i checked in with jesus for a few seconds there. was doing about 70 or 80 in the motorcycle at night. he’s ok & i’m ok. about the fifth time on that trip i thought i bought it. but this one was so cool. i’m out there, deep in & enjoying the hell out of it when i hear an animal get close to my tent night after night, lay down on the other side of the tent from where i lay my head. i had learned my lesson from the bear. no food or even gatorade in the tent- not dusk to dawn, at the very least. this area has snakes, scorpions & shit. this had no qualities like a raccoon. couldn’t be as big as a deer, made no sound except for when it got that close & settling down into sleep. didn’t do anymore than that.

for the first week i had no clue what it was, then one day this funny little interloper is doing a hopping jog across from me as i walk the driveway down to get water. Smooth & Herky Jerky stays on the other side of the road. his nickname changed depending on his visible mood. he was real curious about me, loved looking at me. so i start going out at the same time of the day for water, getting walked to & fro by my new suitor. he was something.

i’d started talking to him & he’d plump up. sometimes i’d talk to him in bed, but not much. he had the stamina & patience of my turkish ex-husband. got flustered easily. he got his attitude too, sometimes. like if he caught me out walking at a different time of day. like i’m out trying to pick up another animal. he wouldn’t look at me. he’d just prance a few feet to my right, going the direction i was going, but he wasn’t talking to me right now. look the opposite direction only. i stayed in this campground, melting into the ground, just because i was enjoying this so much. the mountain lion kept me for awhile, too- different campground. three weeks i tried to get a picture of her catching her bird in a tree every damn day. every day i failed. no shade. but every day i saw it. every night she sat on the top of the hill & watch me.

i thought i had the flu, too. apparently, the only thing in nature i’m allergic to is the texas cedars. lady at the gate just laughed at me & handed me a claritin. fixed that shit right up. there was a small family that were camp hosts to a completely empty campground, except me. so i’d go over every few days & shoot the shit. they were right behind the bathrooms anyway. three cute kids that perked right up hearing about my roadrunner. and damn, if he wasn’t right on time, too. peeking at me from behind the bathrooms like a jealous lover. wouldn’t come over & say hi. nothing. but he did enjoy the kid’s ooo’s & ahhh’s. came out from behind the bathrooms & showed off his plumage. just for a minute. had to let me know he was pissed. guess i wasn’t paying enough attention. i don’t know- he didn’t say. i can only laugh at this shit. i divorced this, happily. still, he had the plumage & he knew it. gotta love it.

the only picture i got of him was blurry feathers as i pointed the camera out of the mesh of the tent in the middle of the night with the flash on. i deleted it thinking i’d definitely get a better one. i never did. the opportunity really just wasn’t there. he shied away from my camera, so i didn’t push it. and it just seems like hell is only getting hotter. i take the bike out just to get some air moving on me. gotta go eat well, at least. no breeze. even swimming in the reservoirs was not helping. i had one of those off-days. i didn’t get moving before it topped 113. felt like it was hardly ever below it. i left the flap open. reading on my kindle. had all my little things within my reach. hot, but a pleasant day listening to nature, reading Dickens. the Master of the Tangent.

out of fucking nowhere this damn bird bolts through my tent flap, hits the back of the two person tent & spazzes out. heads right for me. i was still getting to a sitting position, thinking -damn, my camera is on the other side of this bird, when he turns on me full tilt. only had a foot between us, so i didn’t really have a second when he took a full running leap into me. i’m sure i only registered shock. i don’t know how that tent stayed standing, given how bad it got. all i could do is cover my head for the first, seemingly, minutes. i’m getting battered, feathers are going everywhere. claws are going all over me. by the time i got scratched and fucking pecked a few times, i decided to do something about it. not for the first time on this trip did i think i could die from this. i could see the tiny paragraph in the local paper that says they found a dead girl in a tent with a bunch of feathers. no other clue was available.

i start fighting like a girl, just flailing my arms. maybe he’ll find the door. it’s only ¼ of the tent. if you found you’re way in, ya know? but no, we were both getting more & more freaked out. i finally got a hold of his neck. both hands. i didn’t want to kill him, but i didn’t want to die, either, and this was starting to hurt. i remember that exact moment when i felt like i was in a cartoon, and i got a childhood idol’s neck in my hands. oh, hell no! i tossed him hard out of the tent. i took a few deep breaths, feathers falling lightly all around me before i yelled -and stay out! i became my mother, yet again.

well, the romance was gone. he did not sleep with me anymore. if i saw him on the road, he wouldn’t only be across from me- he’d have to be 10 feet forward or behind. just like my fucken turkish ex. poor thing, though. i apologized a thousand ways, even though it wasn’t all my fault. he’d still make sure i got to the bathroom alright. a true gentleman. i jerry-rigged the spigot outside to keep a drip going that day. scorpions all around those rocks. i was still cursing him, though. my boy could be seen to be getting a drink there, as could the local union of deer & whatnot. should have thought of that before. might have saved me from having to figure out What the Hell the hard way.