Wednesday, November 13, 2002

THE AMERICAN HERETIC'S DICTIONARY  definitions: LARGE-MINDED  -  politically correct term for a fat head LARGE-SCALE  -  the type purchased by Weight Watchers LARGESS - why you joined Weight Watchers LARKSPUR - ...and cat's 'tweet' LASTEX - a famous Mickey Rooney promise LAST HURRAH - Ben Hur's final cheer LATE GREEK - Ari Onasis LATENT - a canvas bordello                    **************** One Sunday, #2 Ex, my brother - Mountain Man Clyde, and I went to look at boats.  We hit several places up and down the Sacramento River.  No one really intended to BUY a boat, but there was this 28 foot ChrisCraft...that needed a bit of TLC...and an owner leaving for the Marines in 2 days -- a desperate young man.  His price was unbelievably reasonable...it was the 60's -- he was heading into the service.  We bought the boat!  Now, we only had one problem - getting it up the river, into San Francisco Bay, under the Golden Gate Bridge and up the coast to Ft. Bragg.  Oh, we still had a home in Sacramento, but we spent most of our time in Bragg. (I can call it "Bragg" since there is no fort left.  I know.  I researched it,  had the site for a duplicate one - even had the pencil-end posts DONATED - and the Ford folks wanting to order vans to take the tourists from the Skunk Train TO the fort!!!  The city fathers wanted new street signs -  22 streets in the whole dang town.)  BUt I digress...  We were home, laughing about our good fortune when Clyde mused, "Wonder what that boat seller's laughing about right now?"   7 times we went out under the Golden Gate.  7 times the Coast Guard hauled us back.  Finally, we made it all the way to Pt. Arena before the Coast Guard towed us into the lighthouse dock.  We spent a month or two in Bodega Bay (yeh, where Hitchcock filmed "The Birds") -  Clyde and #2Ex put out - again- and made it 20 miles or so before the engine quit and the fog rolled in.  The Coast Guard was at a loss to find them, since they weren't sure how far they'd gone or how far out they were.  Stalemate.  WHOA!  Clyde spies a marker bouy bobbing in the ocean about 100 ft away.  The CG says if they can get the number on it, then they'll know exactly where to come get them.  Two grown men now try to paddle a 28 ft cabin cruiser   ...backwards...against the current.  But it seems they're making headway -- yep -- that marker bouy's getting closer.  Suddenly, the "marker bouy" aka periscope, breaks the surface enough to reveal the VERY attached conning tower AND submarine... within 50 feet, the sub dives out of sight.  No radio contact whatsoever.  Just the slippery silence of a huge vessel escaping TWO NUTS!  However, within an hour the Coast Guard pulled alongside to tow them in to ... BODEGA BAY.  We renamed the boat in accordance with our business:  the 7th Up Bottling Co.  It was the "Wet & Wild" ...and it is STILL in Bodega Bay.  Unfortunately, at the bottom thereof -- with a full case of Black Label scotch aboard!  But, that's another story. 1:12:59 PM    comment []

THE AMERICAN HERETIC'S DICTIONARY  definitions: LANCELET - a shishkabob skewer LANCET - how to pop a boil LANDAU - what Australian sailors yell when they see land LANDED - what you are when a mountain falls on you       (land-dead) LANDFALL - a cliff's hairpiece LANDHOLDER -  Atlas LANDLESS -  Atlantis LANDLUBBER - what a wrecked oil tanker becomes           ...got it?  (land-luber) LAND REFORM - in California, every time the earth quakes LANG SYNE -  a "Vote for Lang" banner LAP BELT - designed to hold your lap in place when you stand up LAPIDARY - a cat's fantasy LAPSING - an embarrassing musical vocalization emitting from one's lap LAPUTA - the proper way to indicate a whore...in Puerto Vallarta LARDOON - an enormous mound of rendered fat                           ************** Speaking of lardoons... we were in Muleje, Baja Mexico - that's the little dick of land you see under California on the map.  At that time, you had two civilized ways to get to Muleje: by boat from Mazatlan, or fly in to Half-Prayer Airport:  it was so short you didn't have time for a full-out "Our Father."  Our usual travel companions, Howard & Irene (the wild Italian with the sharp elbows), and Walt & Darlene - friends from Ft. Bragg (Ca.)  We suddenly decided, one morning, that we wanted to go two coves over and go clamming.  The only boat Don Johnson (no, not THAT Don Johnson) had remaining was a 12 ft. dingy with a 3 hp motor.  A larger motor would have sunk the boat...aft first!  The hotel packed a lunch for us that included a cooler of beer, wine and Pepsi.  Don made us take life vests and extra gas.  The boat was also rigged for a sail that lay under the seats, all rolled up.  Darlene and Irene were semi-petite people - meaning they could roll their swim suits in a wad that could be hidden in their fists.  #2 (not yet) Ex was 6'2" - Howard, 6'1" - Walt 5'10 and me... 5'3" but carrying MY swim suit in a bowling bag!  Altogether,, I'd estimate group weight at 1,000 lbs +.  Add on all the gear we were carrying and you can understand the reason MY FINGERS WERE DIPPING IN THE WATER as I held the side of the boat.  Children lined the bank of the river to watch the stupid gringos sink.  Welllll, we fooled them.  Our plan was to hug the shoreline until we reached clam cove, beach, picnic, clam, frolic -  our reality was #2 Ex kept edging further and further out into the gulf...didn't matter how many of us hollered at him.  However, when a whale surfaced not 20 yards away, sending a wake that nearly swamped us, THEN CowPieBrain turned us shoreward.  We all thought we'd gone way too far...and we had.  We'd been going a bit left while the land was going sharply right.  A tiny dark cloud floated overhead.  The wind picked up a bit.  A few drops of rain pelted us.  The wind picked up a bit more.  Waves were arching over the bow - where Irene & Darlene sat butt-to-butt.  Now, we turned full on toward land.  Now, when we were all wet and enduring a hardy blow. Howard spotted what appeared to be a cave, and we headed for that hunk of beach.  We were so relieved to have sand blow in our faces.  Each grabbed something from the boat and we headed into the "cave."  It was about 40 ft high & twice as wide.  At one time, many moons ago, it was probably 200 - 300 ft deep.  However, the sand had piled up steadily and the cave was now only about 40 ft deep.  Walt brought the sail in and they attached it to tiny stallagtites.  It helped.  When the "Chubasco" (sudden squall) ended, we went for a walk.  We were on an island.  A very small one.  Arroyos cut into the landscape indicated the gulf waters regularly came ashore... fiercely.  Just as we were going to eat lunch, Walt tried the boat motor.  (and he can fix ANY motor)  No luck.  No motor.  Stranded.  Howard began finding round rocks and the remnants of palm frawns.  They cleared debris from a patch of sand, dug a hole in the center and proceeded to play golf.  I, on the other hand, found eliptical, flat rocks and began making a set of dominoes.  The petite ones went looking for a place we could sleep - such as in an arroyo that had soft sand, curved to block the breezes, had plenty of firewood and a "private" place not too far from - yet, downwind of - our 'home.'  We even rationed out our lunch...just in case.  After tearing the motor to bits and reassembling it, Walt finally got it to run!  We were saved!!!  Only, it was getting toward dusk & we didn't know how far we'd come or if we could make it back before dark.  We sure as hell couldn't make it at night!  We took a vote and set out with our 'wet' fingers crossed.  Just as it was getting close to what I'd call PITCH BLACK... we spied on of Don Johnson's boats.  They shined a light on us & hit an air horn blast.  There on the bow was our fishing buddy of the last few days - Jimmy Rogers - yes, THAT Jimmy Rogers.  Nice guy - weird girlfriend. As we pulled onto the shore, most of  the 340 residents of Muleje sent up a cheer.  We had been guests in many of their homes over the years -- attended First Communion festivals, birthdays, etc.  Don's wife, Nancy, brought towels & a jug of fresh water to wash our faces.  Without even thinking about showers, we hit the dinner table and the wine jug.  I even got up on the bar and kissed the stupid petrified blowfish hanging from the ceiling.  Well, it was better than biting the lips off #2 - which was my first choice.  If I had a scanner & stuff I'd include a picture of me & Hootie (the Blowfish...get it?).   9:05:07 AM    comment []