The Providential Slowdown

This weekend our plans have been drastically rearranged. We were to go to Winnipeg to celebrate my uncle and aunt's wedding reception, but our car had different plans. Two or three days ago, the car turned a blind eye to Jenn's attempts to drive to Moose Jaw. It simply wouldn't start. Upon a little laymen inspection, we decided it wasn't the battery because of the awful noise it made when trying to turn over. Eventually (probably because of our repeated attempts) the battery died completely. We were afraid of a larger problem that would land somewhere in the neighborhood of $500 to fix. But for the time being we weren't too worried. The car waited until we were back home again before it broke down. We've done so much traveling in the past couple of weeks that we were so grateful that the breakdown would happen in our own drive way. Jenn and I both work right in this little town, so surviving without a car for a few days wasn't the end of the world.

A few days passed by as we discussed the best course of action. We have heard far too many horror stories to bring the car to the local mechanic. (They say he is doublely expensive and half as experienced as elsewhere. If you do the math, that's only 1/4 as good as somewhere else, so we didn't want to bring our beloved Cavalier to him.) Tow truck companies pretty much wanted us to sign over the rights to our firstborn to get the car to Moose Jaw (not really, but it was quite expensive...). Finally, on a whim, we decided to try boosting the car. The next day at lunch, I brought one of the work trucks home, and to our surprise and unexpected excitement, it roared to a start! So then we happily got on our way to Moose Jaw.

The city sign (posted above) reads, "The Friendly City." It's very true. Moose Jaw is a fun little place where everything costs less (like parking: 45 minutes for 25 cents -- and movies: Galaxy Cinemas, $5.65 regular price) and people give you the time of day. Really, it's kind of like a much larger version of Caronport (though the likeness is sure to break down at some point, but we like it.) We found the Canadian Tire Auto Service, and got our car in. The man who spoke to us apologized for his slowness and slurred speech because, he explained, he was experiencing the affects of Benadryl. He was a friendly old man who had the appearance of a loving grandfather, so I believed him immediately. He explained that a once-over on the car would be roughly $18, and one hour of our time. That sounded super, so we turned over the keys and walked off to find supper.

The past few days, weather-wise, have been rather undecided. The mornings are cool, the afternoons are very hot, and the evenings often turn to rain or thundershowers. But yesterday, as we walked to Joey's Only, rain came just in the nick of time, when we were without a car, and far away from trees. So, laughing (and soaking) we ran and ran. It wasn't that far, but we were certainly wet by the time we walked through the restaurant doors.

We had a nice dinner and chat, and realized it was time to brave our way back to the Grandfather Man and our car. To our relief, the sun had chased off the clouds, and our walk back to Canadian Tire was a much drier one.

Upon returning, Grandfather Man told us that we need only to fix a ball bearing. Nothing else is critical, and it will only cost us around $120! Unbelievable. And here we were bracing ourselves for something much steeper. I have termed this situation the "Providential Slowdown" because it has been fairly obvious to us that we are being taken care of. An inexpensive car-fix is definitely appreciated in the face of a heavy tuition school year.

So, in an hour from now we'll zip in again to fix up our old four-wheeled soldier and be ready for the next adventure.

Take care out there.

Passing the Paint Brush

For almost ten years I have been involved with my parents' summer businesses as The Sign Painter. It has been fun working as a "conceptual artist," that is, hearing all of my dad's ideas and somehow finding a way to put them on paper, and then sign board. White Bear, Saskatchewan, the place where we have all the businesses operating, is a very unique place. It's a relaxed, slow-paced resort situated on a Native reserve. It has a fairly decent lake, a nice 18-hole golf course (Challenge the Bear), a load of cabins, and a smattering of business at the resort's entrance. Most of those belong to my parents. We've got a mini golf, restaurant, ice cream shop, fruit stand, kids' train ride, and a petting zoo. The area has a happy-go-lucky feel to it, and so hand-painted advertising fits right in.

I have been the primary painter these past several years, and now that things in my life are changing (I'm married, am almost done my degree, who knows where we'll be living next, etc) I spend a lot less time down at White Bear. And so, in the natural order of things, a new painter is dawning. My youngest sister Gina is quite the little artist, and she is quickly aspiring to be the next Ogy's painter. Jenn and I were down in White Bear last weekend to help out a bit. We cut grass, painted signs, helped out in the kitchen, and with the animals. It was a busy and very hot weekend. On the last night there, I was about to head off to Carlyle to fix up one more sign, and my little sister Gina came outside, grabbed ahold of my arm and said, "Can I help paint?" I was surprised and delighted. So the two of us drove off to Carlyle, racing against the decreasing sunlight.

When we arrived, we agreed that I would paint one side, and Gina would paint the other. It was fun. The sign is a double-sided, 4x8 foot sign that sits at the crux of the 13 and 9 highways. I penciled out the letters for Gina, and she did a good job. It was cute to hear her exclaim when some paint would drip, or when she went outside the lines I drew for her. I quickly, and repeatedly reassured her that "painting isn't an exact science. You don't have to be worried about little things like that. Often the black outlining you put on at the end will cover that stuff up. And of course there is always paint thinner." I showed her some tricks for clean-up, and to decrease drippage. We also had some laughs while discussing the various letters in the alphabet, and rated their difficulty when painting them. "W is hard," I'd say, and "So is M," she replied.

Finally the job was done, and all her work looked so good! It's good to know that once I'm off doing other things regularily enough that I can't do it anymore, Dad still has somebody who will be fully capable to paint the next goofy sign. I told Gina she was doing a super job, and that I have full confidence that she'll be a super painter. The she exclaimed, "Cool! We're in the Super Painters Club! Two members!" On the way home we discussed all the rights and priviledges of such a club (like the odorous smell of paint thinner that finds its way into your pours and never leaves, or the paint in the creases of your fingernails that you just can't quite get out no matter how hard you scrub, or the fun of painting something funny, and watching people smile at it).

The biggest part of the fun was creating this little connection between Gina and I. We're 14 years apart in age, and I haven't spent a lot of time with my littlest sisters since I moved out five years ago. This will improve now that the family has moved out to Saskatchewan from BC. So that means there will be many more occassions for the Super Painters Club to unite and create something fun.