Last Wednesday Marina Bob helped to mount two new mooring cleats on Sparkle Plenty. Bright and early Friday morning we finished the job.
So I said to Bob as he leaned over the deck, "Look up and smile, Bob. I want a picture so that I can forever remember this day." Bob looked over at me and smiled a Bob smile (every Bob has a shit ass eating grin).
I remind Marina Bob that his tummy makes him look pregnant. "I know, I know.", he saying gribbubg back at me with his Bob smile. Being Bob means that you have to take a lot of teasing with a smile.
I also remind Marina Bob to put on a hat because when the shine on the top of his head reflects the sun I nearly go blind. Marina Bob tells me that he's man enough to keep the hair on his head rubbed off. If you're thinking "huh?" think sex.
You can tell by the photo that Bob is a likeable kind of guy. Like most other Bob's you would not want to cross Marina Bob. He can be meaner than a junkyard dog. Bob's are like that. Smiling one moment and ready to punch out your lights the next.
Bob wanted to make a little more extra money and asked if he could scrub the bottom of Sparkle Plenty which I agreed to. He makes but minimum wage, has monthly child support payments to contend with along with the daily expense of plain old living. Helping Marina Bob just a little by paying him to help mount mooring cleats or scrub the boat's hull is a good thing. It's also a good thing for one Bob to help Bob another out. As they say, A Bob in need is a friend indeed.
It's Sunday. Wifey and I plan on sailing when the winds on the lake kick up a bit. That will be early afternoon or sometime in the mid to late afternoon.
Before that there are lawns to mow, shrubs to clip, life to enjoy. Check. Check. And double check.
Maybe I should call in Marina Bob this morning to do the heavy lifting around the house and go sailing. Ya think?