A man and his tools

There are plenty of cracks and creaks and exposed wires and such in this 50-plus-year-old Mexican house. Some will be ignored, others dealt with eventually. With two Westie motors sitting out in the carport waiting to be assembled into one usable unit, and the Green Flash waiting for its transformation in the workyard, the Capt still finds free moments to tackle "honey-do" projects around the house, a day at a time. A big improvement was a ceiling fan in the living room over the sofas, which we have set on high spin to maximize the AC's cooling power. He had to cannibalize an old light fixture for its base and deal with a spaghetti factory of Mexican wiring to get it installed. And he set up a small AC unit in the kitchen window to make cooking and dishwashing more comfortable.

This morning he applied what I call a "Mexican fix" to the problem of the back door's inability to quite meet the frame, leaving a crack big enough to see daylight when the door's closed—a crack big enough to admit cucarachas and other unwelcome creatures. The Capt applied one of his favorite new materials, foam from a can, which when it hardens can be filed and sanded down. In a true Mexican fix, of course, the filing and sanding step would probably be skipped.

I burned rice in my favorite stainless pot when I ran to answer the phone and got into a discussion with a new customer. I scrubbed it for about 15 minutes and might have gotten it clean with another 15 minutes of elbow grease, but he took it outside, used a drill with a brass wire brush attached, and brought it back gleaming like new in the wink of an eye.

Two friends surprised and delighted us this week by showing up unannounced at our door. Garth, our favorite fisherman rang the bell and immediately demanded to know, did we want scallops or fish? I'm not an afishionado, being pretty much all vegetarian now, but when he mentioned dorado I caved. He gave us enough for two meals, and we so enjoyed it, I've decided we're going to have fish at least now and then. The Capt made tacos with it, and the next day I dredged the rest of it in cracker crumbs and fried it in peanut oil. It's probably my South Texas genes; now and then I crave fried seafood. Even ordered a beautiful antique (1925-30) cast-iron pan with lid from my antique dealer friend Sue, which I'll pick up when we go to Arizona next week, having given up on Teflon.

Sue sent me this photo of the antique cast iron pan I'm buying… It's a 1925-30 Wagner, the lid a "marriage" with no label but ni modo! it fits fine and is designed to recycle moisture back into the pan.

The other surprise was our friend Mark from Canada, who is down here having his diesel overhauled. Having just bought his boat two years ago, I imagine he's somewhat disappointed to be facing such a huge repair already, but he's in good spirits. He's coming over for lunch today and we'll get to hear more about his adventures this year… he did the Baja Bash with his brother back up the Pacific Coast to San Diego which is not a trip for the faint of heart.

Our primitive but functional recording tools: a keyboard provides tempos, the Looper (that narrow doodad on the floor) records the tempo, bass and rhythm guitar tracks, the amp (black box) amplifies voice and the instruments, and Mac laptop uses GarageBand to record and remix it all. That's the Capt's foot keeping time.

This week we have also begun recording, which I can only describe as a somewhat painful but necessary process. I learn so much about my vocal flaws when I listen to myself. Ouch! I do one song fairly satisfactorily, and then blow it in the last few notes. But perseverance furthers, so we'll keep at it until we get something we can bear to hear.

And now I should start warming up; we're going to try "Round Midnight" today.