Building a Boat

This was one of my all time favourite projects. I used to subscribe to a magazine called Wooden Boats and in its pages at one point they had an article on the “Peace Canoe”. At the end of the article you could order full size plans and build one yourself.

Well I'm a legendary cheapskate. In the magazine was a picture of the plans. All the measurements were there except for one. The missing measurement was an important one but I figured I could calculate out a good approximation. So, do you think I was going to shell out some hard earned cash for full size plans? Not a chance.

Bit by bit I bought the material needed and in some cases made substitutes. The main substitute was the piece of wood used for the bow and stern stems. I am not going to trim an expensive piece of wood down to the exact size of a regular two by four before final shaping. I just used a couple of pieces of two by four. I'm all for using quality materials but swapping clear pine for stud grade spruce where it makes no real difference is a choice I'd make anytime.

I pre-assembled the seats, sides and bottom in the basement of our house at the time. From there all I needed was a good weather day coinciding with a day off work. The whole thing came together well except I didn't have enough hands myself. Pulling the ends together and screwing them into place took help from the rest of the gang. When we were done, I told the gang the guy in the article said he performed that feat all by himself. Mieke exclaimed, “No way!!”

We painted it white. This was a mistake made with some thought. If you've ever sat on a surface that absorbs sunlight during the summer and accidentally branded yourself, you'd understand. Didn't burn anyone but we were going snow-blind paddling around in it. Halcyon has since been painted a darker cream colour. We have considered painting it up like a dragon boat, but just haven't got around to it.

The boat still exists but it is in need of some significant repairs. I would be more enthusiastic about getting her back into the water but we don't have a lot cash to do so. Besides that while we were stranded in government housing someone broke into our camp here and stole all our life vests amoung other things.

Maybe this year we'll fix her up and take her for another run.

Weather Yo-yo

From extreme cold at the beginning of the week, to an early spring like thaw and now freezing hard again tonight. Sunday it's supposed to rain some again. Not quite sure what's going to happen next as far as the weather goes.

One of the older gentlemen customers told me the other day that winter was over. I'm not confident of that. We usually get something around the Passover and that's still quite far off. In the meantime my main concern is still getting dry enough firewood.

The thaw and then refreeze made our road a really slick icy hazard. Walking back from the truck after work I laid down on the roadway for a few moments, not voluntarily. I wiped out in slow motion so I avoided injuring myself. Brandon and Francine wisely refrained from trying to help me out. They probably would have fallen down on top of me. After that we stuck to the edge of the road, where there was a little crunch to the snow and some traction.

Next thing to do is go lay down in my bed and get some rest. I'm a little over tired. When Francine came to pick me up at work, I didn't even notice that we had a couple passengers in the back at first. Usually I'm a little more with it than that. Better turn in while, I'm still making sense.

This is the NBA

I've been reading the fuss over Nelly Furtado's rendition of the Canadian national anthem and I just had to go over and have a listen. I was primed to hear something absolutely awful. After listening to the whole thing from beginning to end, it wasn't nearly as bad as I was expecting. I'm surprised that people are getting this upset about it all.

One of the comments from a patriotic Canadian felt that Americans would have never tolerated this kind of butchering of “The Star Spangled Banner”. I beg to differ. I guess most of these Canadians have never watched the NBA all-star with any consistency. Back in the day, I remember Marvin Gaye's version of the American national anthem at the all-star game. You think Ms. Furtado took liberties with the melody? Have a listen and you be the judge.

I prefer to be able to sing along with the national anthem myself but I not going to diss her for her version. This was after all the NBA all-star game and doing something really different with the anthem is par for the course. I don't think she brought any shame on herself or the rest of in The Great White North. Nobody is complaining about the fake basketball game where defense was eliminated from the building.

The Perfect Drop Shot

Courtesy Pixabay

It was a thing of beauty. The opposing volleyball player who had just delivered the serve dove uselessly to the floor in a gallant attempt to reach it. The blocker opposite me backpedaled, leaped high reaching for the ball but not quite touching it as it passed over his head. The player in the center of the court also made a desperate lunge for it to no avail. The ball landed just a little inside the line marking the edge of the court. A beautiful side out in our favour.

Just before that play. Two of my friends were on the sidelines razzing me about my flashy metallic blue gym shorts. I'll admit they got to me and I was busy jawing back at them. I wasn't even paying attention to the game anymore. Seeing that I was distracted the server fired the ball right at me.

“Pico! The ball!”

I spun dropping into a ready stance just in time for the ball to hit me right in the forehead. Nobody on the other team was expecting it come back. My friends rolled on the floor laughing. When they regained their composure they told me my facial expression while I made the play was the best part, at which point they lost it again.

Those were a great pair of shorts.

Gangsta Bluff

Courtesy Pixabay

For country bumpkin home-schooled children, my gang are not easily intimidated. Some city kids once found that out and the story is a bit amusing.

We were attending church services in a rented hall because the group we were visiting had no building of their own. It wasn't in a bad neighbourhood but some of the local kids thought they were pretty tough.

My children after the service was over would go outside because there was no one else their age there and hang out by the family minivan and talk or listen to music. Used to do the same thing when I was younger only the others our age would come out with us.

Out in the parking lot some of the local kids showed up and started to harass them. They strutted around, quoting tough guy lines from various movies they'd seen. My kids were unimpressed and the taunting got a little more aggressive. Finally my boys had heard enough.

Andrew gave his brother a scowling nod, “That's it! Brandon! Get the gun!”

Brandon reaches behind the back seat of the van and pulls up the jack handle. It's a piece of pipe with a small metal pin in it that could be mistaken for the bead sight on the business end of a shotgun. He stuck it out the door of the van making sure they could only see the last six inches or so and shouted, “Andrew grab me a cartridge!”

They proceeded to make a few realistic sounds and the local wannabee gangsters hesitated for just a few seconds and then fled in terror. Never came back. Never bothered them in the parking lot again. My gang found the whole thing hysterically funny.

Twenty-Five Years Today

We'll have to kick some junk aside to dance today.

I could spend my entire day writing about the experiences we shared over the past twenty-five years and still only put a small bit in words.

We took our vows in front of our families and a whole herd of deer trophies. You didn't marry me for my money because we didn't have much of that... still don't. The hunting and fishing lodge in Farnham was free for us because your brother was a member there. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

My mother gave me the best marriage counseling when she told me to find a woman who wanted to build a life with me. You were that and still are. Married twenty-five years and we're not finished yet. I'm expecting the next twenty-five to be even better because I intend to keep working to make it that way.

I'm done writing for now because the rest of my time outside work today is yours. I still love you Francine as much as ever.

We Were In Stitches

Courtesy Pixabay

Knowing how to hand sew is not one of my better known skills. It has come in handy on many occasions.

It started in the sixth grade after splitting my pants. I was sitting in the school's home economics class on recess in my gym shorts painstakingly imitating the back stitching already existing from when my mom made the pants on her sewing machine. Recess was burning up faster than the split was closing and finally the teacher had pity and intervened. She took my pants and showing me a quick running stitch and had me decent for class in no time. When I got home, my mom wasn't too impressed with the quick stitching and pulled it all back out. My back stitching was just fine.

When one of the guys in college asked me to do some sewing for him, I offered to loan him the needle and thread and provide lessons. He declined and went whining to one of the ladies on campus to do it for him instead. I'm all heart aren't I?

My sewing did lead to a bit of real fun on campus. One of my female Canadian friends was looking for the perfect practical joke for one of her American dorm mates who was away visiting family. We borrowed a great deal of the young lady's clothes and sewed little Canadian flags all over them, sitting in one of the student lounges. We had an absolute blast. She'd finish sewing a little flag on the back of a pair of underwear. “Look at this!” and we'd be all but rolling on the floor. We entertained each other for several hours. The prank was a great success. The poor woman was finding flags for weeks.