Old Man River

Today 's moving marathon clocked in at 12- plus hours and ended with the satisfying smell of dead fish.

My friend's movers were the same two guys who 'd moved her twice before, so they knew the drill. Doesn't everyone move four times in 3 1/2 years?

In between doing the heavy lifting, one of the guys asked me if I was married. Pleased at my response, he asked if I had a boyfriend. Displeased at that answer, he asked how that was going.

"Tell me your secret,"  he requested, getting a puzzled look from me. "Tell me something about yourself nobody knows." Meanwhile he's shouldering boxes onto a dolly.

The man was quite the multi -tasker.

Once we'd accomplished great things setting up her new household, we were off to enjoy some off time.

Her new digs are in Eastport which is just across Spa Creek from downtown Annapolis, in a charming, older riverfront neighborhood crowded with every type of home imaginable.

But for me, Eastport's strength is its eclectic vibe with bakeries, bars, stores and everything you need for the business of life mixed in with the houses.

Not to mention the smell of the river around every corner.

We supped at Davis' Pub, a delightful, old place that began life in the '20s as a general store and was converted to a neighborhood bar for watermen in the '40s.

It had its 15 minutes of fame when the Food Network's "Diners, Drive-Ins and Divez" stopped by for their crab pretzel, an obscene use of a soft pretzel layered with crab dip (and plenty of crab, even by Maryland standards) and melted cheese.

The "D Pub" as locals call it, suited me fine with pub fare - BLT, grilled cheese, fries - as did the affable bartender supplying me with Cazadores and my friend with Patron.

With the jukebox playing and a couple of guys next to me talking motorcycles (Yahama versus Honda), we rested our feet and scarfed a well- deserved meal.

As our final endeavor of the day, we walked  to George Washington Park, a tiny pocket park with benches and a dock, to admire the masts bobbing in the night lights.

Taking a deep breath, I commented on how lucky she was to live so near the water and it's distinct smell.

"You mean the smell of dead fish?" she laughed.

I mean enjoying what you have to the utmost.