Friday in Portland

I took the dog for a walk this morning and we stopped to see the artist woman in the green house. The mosquitos were
something fierce this morning. While there she told me this story:

Artist woman and husband have a house in Freeport, a farm in Central Maine, and a condo in Florida. She is retired
and had earned the things she has. She also flips houses-- only she usually lives in them while fixing them up. She
and her family bought the ramshackle house nearby our end of the road. The former resident had been a quiet woman
with crazy relatives. This former owner had been existing there on weekends without electric-- for fear that her
crazy relatives would notice an increase in the bill-- or running water. She didn't fix up the house at all. She
was afraid she would lose it after her mother died. And that is exactly waht happened.

She hadn't dusted in forty-five years either, according to the artist lady. Or vacumned. The place was a pig pen.
Additionally, prior owner had three months to get out and the artist woman felt forced to help her pack stuff and
move it every day during the month of January. When artist woman returned from the Florida condo, prior resident
called her up demanding more help "right now." And pitched a fit when the help was not forthcoming. Never mind that
legally she was supposed to be out by the end of January.

At any rate, the new owners have had to padlock the door to keep the insane twisted woman out.

Dog and I returned to the cottage to find that husband had misread the boat schedule. I played some computer
majong and did some computer art so the time was not wasted. After apologizing to the dog for leaving her, we walked
back up mosquito alley (the mosquitos here are outnumbered only by the ticks) past the golf course to the dock. It
was high tide which means that the ramp was almost parallel rather than at a steep angle to the boat. There were
not a lot of people boarding today. Just a few year rounders going into town to do some shopping and run errands.
We got on the boat and then the shuttle bus to the parking lot.

Husband drove down route 1, hopped on the freeway, and then swung off into Baxter and then Forest Avenue. First stop
The Caravan where I picked up some new beads. Then to a small Mexican restaurant. And then to the Old Port. The
staffer at the comic store remembered husband from last year and even what he had bought. We cruised around the
cobblestone street willy-nilly, checked out the store with the old maps, laughed at one teeshirt on display which
said "bad dog" illustrated by a dog taking a dump, retreated quickly from an ice cream shop where the first scoop was
three bucks. "We'll get ice cream at Bagels n More," husband said. And that is what we did. Bagels n More is in
a small strip mall across from the larger strip mall where Shaws and the Goodwill are.

After ice cream, we went to the Goodwill. Husband and I both picked up a couple of books apiece. I found a Peterson
fourth edition bird book which I shall leave at the cottage. If mother-in-law throws it away-- she has a habit of
throwing out, giving away, or donating anything she does not use herself-- no big whoop. Husband picked up a few
food essentials at Shaws and then speeded down Route 1 just in time to miss the bus for the boat.

He swore. He parked the car. We sat under the trees reading our new old books. A man came with a shitzu/pek mix
in a black kennel. He tuned up his guitar but I was too tired to be interested. The bus came and then we were
deposited by the long dock leading to the ramp and the boat. The boat came. First the people got off. A young
couple with three little girls were waiting to board with us. The middle child was swooped up by her dad because she
would not move out of the way. This set off tears. The youngest decided to join the middle in crying. After the
folks got off the boat, the crew (three this time, not two) loaded the boat with the groceries in bean bags and
etcetera. Then they waved us on. The two little girls who had commenced crying cried all the way back to the
island. It was a regular crying contest. The oldest sister was begging for her share of attention too. The man
with the caged ankle-biter had disappeared into the back of the boat somewhere which was just fine with me. He was
seeking out attention for his dog. In my world, dogs adjust to humans and not the other way around.

Back at home, neither of us were hungry. Husband tottered off to bed at 6:30! That left me with a quiet evening of
reading, computer, and dog.