"I feel good!"

Today I stand atop a mound of smoking paper, looking across the vast land of laden waste.

In other words, my 20-page 1 Peter paper is done! Hallelujah! It was a lot of fun to research these past eight weeks, but finally it's handed in. I suppose this is a foretaste of what it will be like to graduate this spring... This feeling of freedom and relaxation and utter calmness. Sigh... what a feeling.

Of course, I do still have 8 papers (approx 70-80 pages) left this semester... so it's not like I'm finished, but for now, until I can get books for the next round, it's time to relax. And as my old friend Jimmy Brown says, "I feel good."

I'd like to thank my wife for helping me to get here today. Without all her constant encouragement and food-making, I doubt I would have survived.

Peace out.

The Holy Grail (so to speak...)

This weekend I was part of a story of drama and intrigue, disappointment and triumph, exasperation and joy. It was the story of one man and his quest for the renown Liddell-Scott-Jones Greek-English Lexicon.

Not many libraries have a take-home copy of the LSJ. But UofS does. It's a beastly book, thicker than most lexicons. I have BDAG (a pretty intensive New Testament lexicon) in my personal library, but the LSJ has a much broader focus, incorporating non-biblical Greek into its range of coverage. It's a handy tool for doing word studies in the Greek New Testament. I'm currently doing that as part of some papers I am working on, so my need for LSJ was noted.

Anyways, we headed up to Saskatoon to see Paul and Darla MacDiarmid and their kids, Liam, Saryn, and new little Lewis. It is tons of fun playing with those kids. Liam is getting bigger, so it's not as easy these days to give him "Spaceship" rides in the laundry basket...

When we arrived in Saskatoon, Jenn dropped me off at the Library, and she headed over to the MacDiarmids' house. I went on an exciting book hunt. My first stop was the Circulation Desk. If you don't have a functional library card, even the most fruitful hunt will end up meaningless if you can't even take out the books that you captured. My card had expired, so I asked the kind ladies at the desk to reactivate it for me. It was tougher than I expected... The computer decided to hate me, and the information wouldn't update, and my card could not be renewed. Gasp! The supervisor lady, very apologetically, offered to save the books I wanted until Monday. By then the IT guys would be back to work, and they could figure out this problem. Unfortunately, I informed her, I would be gone by Monday. But, with a glimmer of hope, I asked if I could take books out on my wife's account. She said, surely I could. So I skipped away in search of the much-coveted LSJ.

I remembered the path well. Across the foyer, passed the photocopiers, down the hall, up the winding stairs, to the third floor, find the PA section, walk to the little open area, find the third section of the bookshelf, and look for the really big, fat, juicy one. And there it was. Fully available for my use. It's the black book in the picture above. And BDAG, as aforementioned, is beside it. It feels like a sacred place up there on the third floor of the Library's North Wing. There sit rows and rows of Greek grammatical, morphological, lexical, and syntactical aids. I love the smell of the old paper.

After a brief, and nearly emotional, moment, I grabbed up the Liddell-Scott-Jones (hailing all the way from 1854), and a good Greek grammar book by two German guys, translated by a Mennonite named Funk. With these two ancient treasures under my arm (or rather on top of both my arms because of their weight), I spun around to leave. Down the stairs, through the hall, around the copiers, across the foyer, and, what's this? The ladies at the Circulation Desk waved me over.

"We got it to work!" they both exclaimed. "Really?!" I enthusiastically replied, "That's super!" I happily turned the books over to be scanned and desensitized. It seemed almost appropriate that the due date receipt didn't want to print out... Computers these days... So one lady scribbled my due date on a piece of paper. As she did, she smiled and said, "Well, you better get 100% on that assignment of yours!" I promised them I would do my best. With a hearty "THANK-YOU!" I sat down once again at a computer and waited for Jenn to pick me up.

Ten minutes later, we were on our way to the MacDiarmids' for a Mexican supper, and some fun with the kids. We were on the road again by 8:30, and home just before midnight.

A good trip all around. My little book-shelf-on-wheels weighs about 15 pounds more thanks to my new (but very old) treasures. I hope it all comes together. All this book acquisition sure is a lot of work -- but oh so fun.

Take care everybody.

What? Is it my shift already?

Today was the start of intramural hockey. I'm not on the team... With six classes and loads of papers, I can't dream of being committed twice a week to a team. Maybe next year. But tonight I got out there with the guys for an exhibition game. A few of the guys I worked with this summer are on one of the teams, so I played with them.

It was great! Though my skates were rusty, and my breathing was laboured, and my legs were burning, it was tons of fun. It's to be expected, I think, on the first game, to feel as though you will puke after every shift.. Happily, my body restrained itself. That in itself is a victory. It's amazing how tired a person becomes after only 30 seconds of skating... It seemed like there was some sort of conspiracy; every time I finally got back on the bench, it was my turn to get out there again. "What?! My turn already?!" I'd lament as someone pushed me out the door... Oh well, since I happened to grab the Captain's jersey in the lock-room, I figure I better do my part.

In other news...

This year is progressing nicely. Jenn has won the confidence of everyone she works with in the Academic Office. She's got those faculty eating out of her hand -- and why shouldn't they? She's the mastermind that makes their jobs possible. Without behind-the-scenes crew members like her, there is no way Briercrest could run as it does.

On my end, I have more papers to write than I know what to do with, but I'm having the funnest (or perhaps "meatiest") school year I've ever had. I think I was predestined to be a nerd. My whole life has led up to it. Why fight it? If you're on a speed boat that is about to hit a humongous wave, you don't cower in the sight of it; rather, you squeeze the hand of the person next to you (preferably your spouse), and exclaim, "This is going to be some ride!"

Jenn and I have also taken up a serious interest in The Office (US). It's just the right combination of awkward, annoying, hilarious, and touching to keep us hooked and coming back for more. And speaking of The Office, it's time that we back to it...

Peace out, Internet.

New Bikes on the Block

Just more than one week ago, Jenn and I received two (well-used) brand-new bikes. One of my professors and his wife no longer needed a couple of bikes they had sitting in their garage (since they upgraded last year), and thought we might make good use of them. And have we ever. Caronport is a small place, almost as small as it gets. But it's a whole new experience at 20km an hour!

We received the bikes free of charge, so we're quite excited. We have been up and down the local dirt-roads, and over pretty much every street in Caronport (that's at least... 7 or 8?). It's liberating to get to school in 30 seconds, while walking took a whole 3 minutes.

All they have cost us is a measly $13 for bike locks. This little town is a very safe community to live in, unless you're a single bike just waiting by the racks unattended all day. Even in Caronport there are young thugs who would love nothing more than to get ahold of a fresh pair of wheels and go for a spin. Bikes go missing all the time around here... and show up again, but their disappearance is annoying nonetheless. But our locks will see to it that, though we may be the only people locking our bikes up, we will be the only people who have no stories of stolen cycles.

If you're ever in Caronport, be sure to bring your bike. Don't forget your lock, and watch for pedestrians.

Take care out there.

Always Check the Gas Tank: Lessons Learned at Lake Diefenbaker.

Just over a week ago, our good friends Jordon and Jill Henry accompanied us on a camping adventure (we were excited to sneak in a camping weekend before the end of summer). Lake Diefenbaker was our chosen spot. The Henrys met us out at Caronport by 7:00pm or so, and we were off. It was dark by the time we arrived at the camp ground, so it was a lot of fun finding a vacant place to pitch our tents. Finally, by 11:00 we were sitting in front of a sheepish fire (sheepish because, in that provincial park, you can only light a fire in those little cooking stands...). The next day we explored the place. We learned from the local store that if we drove into the next town, we could rent a fishing boat and go out onto the lake. That sounded like a great idea, so we promptly left in search of some outboarding fun.

The family running the boat shop was very friendly. The husband loaned Jordon a fishing rod free of charge, and only asked that he bring it back in one piece. Then we skipped down the dock-stairs to find our boat. The guy in charge was no where to be seen. We waited for a few minutes, and, when he didn't appear, we jumped into the only boat that looked prepared for people -- there was only one with life-jackets and paddles. I took the "captain's chair" since Jordon wanted to fish. We made our way out of the harbor, and onto the choppy water.

It was great fun! The waves (for Saskatchewan) were swelling, and gave a triumphant spray when we smashed through them. We got pretty soaked... After 15 minutes or so, Jordon decided he'd like to try some fishing. I stirred the boat closer to the shore where we were told the fishing is better. It was there that we made a destiny-changing error... I turned off the engine. It started up well enough when we started out, so I assumed we'd be on our way just fine...

After Jord had tried his luck with the fish for 20 minutes, and found that the fish weren't up to being fooled, we decided to go on shore to explore a little. However -- the engine would no longer start. I tried, Jenn tried, Jordon tried, but it refused to catch. We washed ashore, tied up the boat and made the best of it. It was a neat little beach (pictured above) with little inlets and multi-colored rocks. The water was too choppy for skipping stones, but the day was perfect for a miscellaneous excursion. We sat and chatted for a while, and decided to try the boat again. Jill walked back to the harbor (since she didn't want to become sea-sick), and the three of us tried to convince the boat to start again. Jordon and I took turns in the water, holding the boat in place and away from the rocks (this was necessary since the waves and wind were quite forceful). No luck. Thankfully, a boatload of cowboy-fishermen found us. They called out, "Hey there! You folks need help?" We threw them our line and they towed us back. They admitted to us that we were the only "catch" they made that day.

Finally, we were back in the harbor. We docked, and found ourselves face to face with the man who rented us the boat. "What happened? Why'd you guys leave?" We explained that he was no where to be found, and that we saw this boat stocked with life-jackets and paddles, and assumed it was ours. We had just missed each other, however, and our mis-hap adventure was the result. If we had waited around a few more minutes, he would have come down, explained how to best work with the engine, and would have made sure the gas tank was full. That was the main problem we discovered. He told us, "It's amazing that you got as far as you did with that little gas."

When it was all said and done, he only charged us for one hour's use, and no gas... since there wasn't any in there to begin with... Needless to say, we were glad to be on our way back to camp, to a fire, and to some supper.

Perhaps it wasn't the most flawless of camping adventures, but it was memorable anyway. Just what was needed before another busy school year.

Take care out there.

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.