Kate's drunken night of happiness

"Wow, wow, wow," said Kate to the dog, swaying back and forth as she took this blurry photo

"Wow, wow, wow, " said Kate to the dog, swaying back and forth as she took this blurry photo.

With the boat in chaos, the car only partly unpacked, and zero food aboard, we drove to Point Richmond for dinner. Bear in mind that we've been under pressure the past month: 16 years of deferred decluttering, 2 building projects, packing, planning (not our forte), worrying about the dog, driving 3,500 miles in five days. The release of it all, plus the joy of arriving, sent us a little over the top.

We had drinks and a lot of wine with our excellent meal at the Hotel Mac, on top of the drinks we'd had on the boat. Our conversation took wild, delightful turns. At 9 o'clock we drove with extreme care up the dark crazy road to Brigadoon, which is what I'm calling this place, because you have to believe in it to get here. Mike went to the boat while I walked into the night with Georgie. 

There were fairy lights everywhere! And a beautiful inky sky, but you could still see the hills. The air was mild. We wound through the parking lot, Georgie sniffing the trash cans she remembered from her afternoon walk. I was entranced, overflowing with joy. And then: we found ourselves smack in front of the blazing temple you see above.

Oh, wow, wow, wow, I said, as I swayed back and forth taking blurry pictures. The one posted above, trust me, is the best of the bunch. 

Future's Past, by Kate Raudenbush, in the daylight

I'd seen this sculpture in the daytime when it looked pretty amazing, and knew it was commissioned for Burning Man, like the other Big Art at this marina, and transported here through a partnership with an art foundation. But I didn't know it was going to be lit up at night. I could swear sparks were shooting out of the top all the way to the cosmos. Holy cow, what a welcome!

Heading down the ramp to our dock, I realized tardily it was time for some vigilance. It was now pitch black, and the dog and I, for our different reasons, were veering all over the place. And the dock would soon get narrower and tippier. 

Please envision navigating this in the pitch dark, impaired, with your confused dog

On our finger pier it’s a good idea to walk in the exact center, otherwise it tips alarmingly. But as you can see from this photo, the dock stairs are not centered, because they have to be near the boat. Thus if you stand on the stairs, the whole apparatus tips one way, and if you stand beside the stairs, it all tips the other way. Physics wasn't my best subject but I'm pretty sure also that the top of the stairs, being 40 inches higher than the dock, tips at a wider angle than the bottom. Or maybe that's geometry. I should note that we didn't have our sea legs yet, and that I was impaired.

I wove down the narrow finger to retrieve the back half of Georgie’s harness from the foredeck, followed by the dog. Then we backtracked, tipping the pier violently, to the relative safety of the center pier. There, crouched in the dark, I considered the million buckles and straps of this harness from hell. 

All of this struck me as completely hilarious.

Somehow I got the thing connected and attached to the dog. Convulsing with laughter, I coaxed her back down the finger pier, which was now twisting like the Tacoma Narrows Bridge, without either of us falling in. Thank goddess my balance is excellent and I have a low center of gravity. The boat meanwhile had drifted away from the dock stairs, leaving an ever-widening gap. I found this hilarious, too.

Seriously

I shouted for Mike to come to the door with not a thought for the neighbors' peace and quiet. Still laughing, I powered Georgie's back end up the steps while Mike grabbed the front handle, and together we got her high enough to clear the deck and heaved her over the gap. That harness is something else! 

Not clear exactly how, but I also managed to get aboard without falling in. I unclipped the dog's harness and she made a beeline for the aft cabin and the safety of bed. Possibly I did, too.

I record this long, irresponsible story I'm not sure why, but it was written in complete sincerity while hung over.