Docks, then home...

[senoritafish]

Things went so wrong the last day I had dock duty I have to laugh at it now.

Getting up at 4:30 is bad enough; when I was ready to go I walked out to the Trooper to dicover the battery was dead. I unlocked the gate, went back inside and told John he'd have to give me a ride to work ( he had a rental because he'd just returned from Vegas). So we jumped in the other car and proceeded to the office. When I get there, I discover I had left my wallet, containing my credit card type building key, in my purse instead of transferring it to my backpack, whick I ususally carry to work. No one is at the office at this hour (by now about 6 am), so we're obliged to drive back home so I can get my key. Before we can we have to stop at the gas station because John's car is almost out of gas. So, we trundle back home, I pick up my wallet, and John takes me back to the office, about a 40-minute round trip. He drops me off, and heads back home (to hopefully sleep another 1/2 hour before the kids get up).

By this time I am seriously late, and I assemble all my sampling gear, and put it in our new ice-chest-with-wheels so I don't have to make more than one trip to the pickup. I put my lunch on top, in case I have to stay out there later than lunch time. I drive over to San Pedro - actually a pleasant drive because there are no big trucks on the roads because of the port lockout. When I get there, three cars are parked next to the wharf where I usually park, not a big thing, but it means I have to park in the parking lot proper next to all the Cadillacs and BMWs. I get out and open the cooler to take out the gear that needs to be put inside the car, lest it be stolen - the wand for detecting coded wire tags in white seabass costs about $6,000 to replace if someone decides to walk off with it (not that it's that sophisticated a piece of equipment, but there's only one company that makes it, so they can charge whatever they want). I discover that my soda can must have been defective and has exploded all over everything in the cooler. The datalogger is waterproof and the seabass wand isn't too wet. However, the clipboard with all the datasheets is, of course, at the very bottom and nearly all the paper is soaked with Diet Pepsi around the edges. I find some napkins in the glove box and attempt to dry every thing off. Sadly, they are flimsy things and not up to the task. I figure I will just leave everything wet inside the pickup cab; in the sun, it should dry off fairly quickly.

I record fish tickets into my datalogger, and talk to the dealers about the port lockout and how it might affect them. One dealer is being interviewed by NPR. The reporter finishes talking to the weighmaster and holds up her microphone in the air to get some recordings of the birds. The weighmaster leans over to her and tells her it's probably not safe to stand directly under the seagulls. I leave and head over the other processor on Terminal Island. Somebody's got to be landing squid.

Sure enough, that processor has two boats full of it. I get a bag to take my sample and realize I don't have the dip net so I'll have to grab them by hand. I take my sample off the first boat, record all the information about the landing, tie the bag closed and stow it in the cooler. It's a warm day so I hope the blue ice lasts. Most of the papers are dry by now, although crinkled and brown. The first boat leaves and I listen to the radio for few minutes while waiting for them to start on the second. As the pump starts, I get another plastic bag out from the milk crate benind the seat, stretch, lock the door and slam it shut. As I start to walk away, I feel a tingle of foreboding and feel my jeans pocket, which is empty. I look back in the cab to see the keys sitting on the armrest. By this time, I just laugh. Luckily, the cell phone is my pocket so I call V. and tell her I'm not having a good day. D. will come down with spare key and pick up the squid samples, which need to be taken back to the lab and processed anyway.

I finish collecting reciepts for the dealers I've missed and make it back to the office with about 1/2 hour to spare before the end of my work day. I have an optometrist appointment at 3 pm that I was planning to go to directly, but John calls and says Auto Club hasn't come to jump start the Trooper yet. I call Dr. M's office and tell him I'm going to be late. John finally arrives and we have 15 minutes to go clear across town. He drops me off, I get my eyes looked at (they're fine - as a matter of fact my prescription is slightly weaker than last time), but Dr. M. can't find any sign of the dark spot I've been seeing in my right eye for the last couple of weeks and thinks it may be just a floater. I don't know; it doesn't move around, but I don't always see it either. In any case I will have to come back and have my pupil dilated to check it any further.

Then I try to pick out some new glasses. There are only a couple with large frames like I used to get. The rest are small lensed and not very substanstial. I'm thinking less of how fashionable they are and how likely they are to get totally dusted by little hands grabbing them. Gareth has completely destroyed two pairs of John's, lost my beloved Wayfarers with the polarized lenses, and Avalon is at a very grabby stage. I picked a pair that were angled instead of round, had a bit heavier earbows instead of thin wires, and came in green, although a purple pair caught my eye as well. John sent Dad to pick me up. While he bored entertained the receptionist and the other patient in the waiting room with stories about World War II, I rushed to pick out my glasses before their eyes glazed over permanently.

Everyone is screaming when I get home, for various reasons. John immediately leaves to go to his mom's house to take care of her animals, since she's out of town, but also just to escape. I wipe all the runny noses (the kids have had colds for the last week), sit down for a minute, and suddenly my eyelids droopy become as I realize, "Oh yeah, I got up at 4am!" Scrounge through freezer/fridge/cupboards for something for dinner. If you ask me to cook, it will probably be a one dish meal. John had boned some chicken and I find some frozen veggies so I made stir fry. Of course it was icky, according to Angus, but Gareth actually ate quite a bit, and I think Avalon had more than her brothers did. I know I will remember these days with fondness when they are teenagers and I can't keep any food in the house.

Baths after, to wash off the snot buildup at the very least. They tend to run around barefoot and they like to dig in the dirt, so their feet are usually black by the end of the day. Angus says he wants a bath, then has hysterics when I direct him to get in the tub. Avalon and Gareth get in willingly enough, then decide to have a screaming match. Avalon's rough gravelly bellow is competing with Gareth's high-pitched ear-splitting shriek, and neither of them can hear me telling them to lower their voices, because of the ruckus reverberating off the tiled walls. Gareth's voice could shatter crystal. I finally get everyone scrubbed off, and wrestle my newly cleansed offspring into their PJs. They are so pleasant, clean and fresh out of the tub; pity, it doesn't last long. The command "Bedtime" is met by more screaming and a demand for a story; I find a very short board book. The requisite cup of water is brought, lights are switched off, the littlest is deposited in her crib in the living room (sorry, only three bedrooms; we're gonna have to have Dad move into the den when she gets older, or else move out), and I ensconce myslf at the dining room table for the next hour to make sure no one is sneaking down the hallway. All quiet finally, and I plop into bed myself, think about about entering all this before I forget it and then fall asleep before John gets back.

Someday I'll look back and laugh. I already am. It could have been much worse. ;)