We have some good news and some bad news. With great difficulty, John and I managed to solve our water problems – the major leak, the minor leak, the fouled tanks, and the bilgepump that needed to be fixed. But our transmission lies in the engine room inert and suffering, and our transmission guy (whom we have never met) is flying about Vancouver Island sending messages of hope to us, and then not arriving. We are heart-scalded. What is it about us that discourages marine mechanics? Do our drains smell? And what is it about me that discourages magazine editors? Does my writing stink?
So we wait. We wait all in the sunshine while birds chirp at us and crows caw and seagulls thrash about the water looking for food and our twp swans glide majestically toward us looking for handouts too, only they’re more polite than the seagulls.
I have a lovely part-time weekend job working at Pier 66, which is the local convenience store. The other day I sold a packet of condoms to a young man. This is worth noting, because most of the condoms in the store are stolen, not paid for, and when I came home to report it to my husband, he said, “Good for him. He obviously has something in mind. Maybe he’s going to fill them with water and throw them at people.”
John is creative.
Then one recess at a school where I was teaching, three lovely young Muslim girls taught me to say, “hello” in Arabic. What they taught me actually translates as ‘I am a donkey.” One of them let it slip.
My students are creative.
A tutoring student is graduating from highschool this year. She will be the first member of her entire extended family to finish highschool, she has a ticket into Vancouver Island University, and she cleaned up on the bursaries. I have helped this young lady with her studies for 10 years. At her walk-up I am going to sit in the front row and bawl my eyes out.
So we can cope with a little thing like a busted transmission because overall, life is wonderful.