Oct
31
Fri 1-4-08
Sausalito
Our local "street" aka Liberty Dock
Other Liberty denizens include nurses, movie directors, history professors, lawyers, teachers, finish carpenters, a retired parole officer, inventors, social workers, an old cop, crazy people, boring people, old people, new born people, dogs, cats, raccoons. And gardens. Gardens grace each home and reflect their owners’ temperment. Intoxicating Meyer lemons in blossom, succulents of all shapes, palms and my fave, bouganvillea, thrive. I shall never again live in a clime where Bouganvillea does not grow.
The view from the couch
Jodi’s room at the Holiday Inn, not surprisingly, was underwhelming, but at least it was on the ground floor, so she could take Oliver out easily (which she had to do when he woke again in the rainy wee hours to go out [damn him]). After dinner Jodi was beat, and I had to get back to spend the night with the boat, so I kissed my sick wife goodnight and returned to Liberty Dock.
It was dark as I strode down the dock, and the whole community felt eerie, tranquil and special. With the power still out our world was in shadow. The still water shimmered in the natural evening flickers of Richardson Bay. It was early and I was not ready to retire to my dark lonely home yet. I saw lights on in Play and Vera’s boat, but hesitated to impose after such a hectic day. Then a friend walked past en route to P and V’s and urged me to come along to the party. Play and Vera are both 30-something professional photographers, bon vivants and hip happy neighbors, always quick with a smile and a quip. Play built a Tiki bar on their deck and we often throw more than a few back there on a sunny day.
Their candlelit houseboat hopped with a vivacious group of neighbors and friends. Music jamming. Ice in a cooler. Wine. Beer. Food from fridges and freezers out to be eaten while still cold before it spoiled.
“This is how we do it in Detroit, when a snowstorm takes the power out we have a party just like this,” said Play.
Laughter and animated conversation punctuated the flickery ambiance. I poured a Makers and Coke and gazed around at the good people who weathered a storm that day and many other days; each glowed in nighttime sunshine.
The storm was merciful that evening and I got some much needed sleep.
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Oct
27
Storm Before the Calm
Filed Under Baby Book | 2 Comments
Friday 1-4-08
Sausalito
Rain
After my parking lot adventure I climbed back into bed beside my ‘35 weeks pregnant and on bedrest’ wife and fell asleep, the storm still raging outside. Within an hour Jodi was shouting from upstairs.
“Daren needs to talk to you!”
Our next door neighbor Daren is a talented architect and industrial designer, handsome and typically calm. He was pretty amped now.
“The piling between our houses just snapped,” he said.
“I’ll be right up,” I answered as I flew down to get dressed for battle. No rest for the weary. The four pilings that secure a houseboat are akin to the foundation on a terra firma home. With 25% of our stability gone both our houses were at the mercy of the angry wind and sea. Game on!
In moments, a host of neighbors showed up out of nowhere, clad in various foul weather get-ups. It takes a village and it took a village. Our home, now untethered from a crucial mooring, shifted and started banging the dock, sending splinters of wood into the drink. Severe destruction to both the boat and the dock are imminent if the banging increases. We fought lines and shouted into enormous gusts, our voices sharp, our faces cold. One neighbor couldn’t feel his hands from the freezing rain. Another rolled up with a chain saw to cut the jagged snapped neck of the piling that was fouling the lines we needed to retie. Together we pushed and pulled and heaved and tied muddy lines for three soaked-to-the-bone hours. Ultimately we managed to reposition the boat and tie it off to Daren’s for temporary stability. And then then wind stopped cold … and a very low tide set our boats in the mud, immobilized as if someone hit a cosmic switch. Mother Nature is a fickle bitch!
A tranquility rarely seen descended upon us. A stillness reserved for poems. Absolute windlessness. Ducks gliding peacefully on the silver lagoon. The adrenaline rush of successful exertion had me buzzing. Jodi and Oliver evacuated to the Holiday Inn when the power failed a few hours earlier, so I was alone with my adventure.
“Would you like some hot chocolate,” Daren asked.
“Wow, that would be perrrrfect,” I said.
We still had some adjustments and line tightening to finish once the tide began to float our boats, but that wasn’t for at least six hours. Nothing to do but put on some dry clothes and try to warm up in the cushions on Daren’s living room floor with some cocoa and a bit of drumming. Daren has great drums.
A heron walked stick legged through the mud as I sipped my cocoa. Outside the window, thick with condensation, every shade of gray lived in the water and sky. We’d beaten back the threat. Jodi and my unborn child were safely ensconced in a hotel room a mile away. Forecasts called for another big storm that evening, so I figured we could relax just so much before we had to suit up and fight again.
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Oct
23
Friday 1-4-08
Sausalito
Our Floating Abode
We live in a special world secured with thick ropes and synched to the rhythm of the tides. Folks always ask if we feel the houseboat move in our daily lives. We do not. Often the only reminder we’re floating is the gentle swaying of our pots and pans on their hanging rack. But boy we rocked like crazy last night. Old timers are calling this a Top 10 storm of the past 50 years! By far, the strongest Jodi or I have experienced on Liberty Dock in five years. Gale force winds 90+ mph blew the roof off a house on South Forty, the next dock over. I got up twice in the dead of night to remove paintings and other vulnerable objects from the walls and shelves. Then, around 3am, our Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, Oliver, whimpered. You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought; he hasn’t had to to go out in the middle of the night since he was a puppy three years ago. Whatever … I got up a third time to walk our designer dog in the deluge. Back in the warmth of our Tempur-Pedic I grabbed what felt like a breath of sleep before soft light began to filter in and Jodi woke me frantically.
“My car! You need to check it. I may have parked it in the flood zone.”
One notable flaw in our enchanted seaside world is the parking lot. It destroys cars. The lot is actually sinking, so a very high tide fills the low end with thigh high water. Jodi lost a perfectly fine Mini Cooper this way a few years ago…submerged to mid-door in a surging tide. In an almost surreal moment, standing before what appeared to be a perfectly fine vehicle, the insurance adjuster said, “it’s totalled alright,” after he confirmed the engine block had filled with seawater.
“It’s almost high tide. Please, honey,” Jodi moaned half asleep…so I lifted my dragging ass outta bed for the fourth time to review the situation, knowing this tide was an epic seven feet due at 7:50am. Many of our neighbors were wading through hip deep water checking their cars and making quite a commotion for so early in the morning. The car was fine.
Quite a commotion … COME OCEAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Kai, your name means ocean. You live in your own floating home, breathe your own moist air in your own private atmosphere, tied down safely to your mother. Now you ride the storm.
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