2022.10.15.Log

 Today I cleaned the top port side of Carol Marie with eraser sponges to clear away the dirt and oil scum put there over six weeks of work on the engine, windows, and the removal of the wheel and binnacle. She is looking clean and pleasing on the port side. The starboard side is still dirty. The cockpit was cleaned thoroughly this early morning. After cleaning it out with soap and the eraser sponges I stripped it with Xylene. I had planned on also installing the compass but I didn't have the correct size of cut out bit for my drill. Mario didn't get a chance to check his collection to see whether he had one. That being the case, I focused on painting the cockpit sole. This was the correct decision, as the process took most of the afternoon. I taped off the existing non-skid in the cockpit. After that I lightly abraded it with 240 sand paper. Then I wiped it down with Total Boat Surface Prep, which is basically xylene and isopropyl alcohol. After that I rolled out the non-skid paint. It took about seven or eight minutes to paint the cockpit. Masking it took about 90 minutes to two hours. I honestly lost track as the masking process had a lulling effect in the mid-afternoon. After painting I went home and took a shower, and then went to Molly's boat, Liebchen, for a party she had to celebrate moving into a newer, larger, safer slip further from the rocks on A dock. At the thickest moment of the party a heron flew down the channel, followed by a dinghy with a barking Labrador on the bow, it's body energized with purpose from the tip of its tail to its nose, like a hood ornament of the softly falling evening. When the party broke to go to Cabrillo Yacht Club I stayed behind and helped Peter Sisk remove a clutch box from his J/35 racer. It had an obscure, frustrating failure. We got it off the boat by applying various chemicals to break down the caulk and removing eight bolts, but we couldn't fix the underlying problem. Peter was told by Kurt Vonnegut not to waste his time seeking to become a professional novelist; that is some good advice! The J/35 cabin was dark, cool, spacious, like a racer should be. When I got to the yacht house no one from my club was there, so I walked to Harold's and the bar tender said I looked sad and she gave me a free shot. But I think she was projecting; I was happy, and I told her why. It was a good day. But I couldn't make her see it. She was forty-five at least, but attractive, a San Pedro native, her body still intact. But her mood was heavy and sad. I had two beers and left, came home, made fish tacos, and ultimately wrote this.