I called my parents last night. Immediately Dad said "have you got the washer working yet?" I replied "nooooooooo". Dad replied "Git yer priorities straight!" (Friday night had been an impromptu barbershop blitz porch party, Saturday, I tried to recuperate, and Sunday we went canoeing with strangers on West Wawanosh Lake and then went to their house for dinner). So this morning, I drove the Vanpon (white van, need I say more. . .) to the only laundromat in town, and sat reading my junk mail and last week's copy of the local newspaper. (I really do not know why those writers bother, same old boring crap, same old droning editorials, no wonder readership has dwindled). Forty minutes later, I was back at home drying the said laundry. Now, I am not asking you to "Cry For me Argentina", because during the last week or so, I have actually been hand washing things, so the laundromat was actually an indulgence. I looked at my piece-o-shit Frigidaire Front Loader, and thought, yes, I can do this. I disconnected the one pipe from the pump, vacuumed it out, stuck my finger into the inside of the pump and felt around, nothing out of the ordinary, it seemed. Yet, it is not like I spend time inserting my digits into pumps. So, off with the other pipe, which was shaped like a saggy bladder accordion. Aha! I found $4.76 in change, a couple of screws and sludge. I cut my finger on something that looked like a staple. I sucked that pipe out as well. Contorting myself sans flashlight, I felt around that end of the pump. There wasn't much room to fiddle, so I took the pump right out, and in it I found a paper clip. I sprayed Nutz into the pump. Now, I was really getting excited. I was hoping Addled would wake up from his deep slumber, wipe the sleepy jacks from his squinty eyes, and see the entire appliance fixed, with a golden aura around it. I could not for the life of me get the clamps back on. So he waddled down the stairs and helped. The washer is now working at full capacity. Yet, I must say that accomplishing this really floats my canoe. It made my whole year, being able to fix the washing machine BY MYSELF, well with Addled's clamp skills). Sunday, was absolutely beautiful. The camera was packed, but alas, my memory card was not. We borrowed WB's larger canoes along with another couple, relative strangers, whom we have met only on a few brief occasions. The week before, at WB's they wanted to go canoeing, and we did as well. It was set up for Sunday, and we exchanged phone numbers. WB's hubby helped tie the canoes to the the other couple's truck, and we hung behind taking the back roads through Westfield up to the lake. Mennonite country, rolling hills, and green fields flew by our windows as we kept watch on the canoes bopping in front of us. As soon as we were in the water, for not more than five minutes, Onyx decided to jump out of the canoe in very deep water. We had paddled quickly, and were quite far from the shore. It made me nervous, as he was paddling to the edge of the lake much more quickly than we could. I recalled him, and he swiftly turned around and paddled back to us. The look of determination on his face was absolutely hilarious, so was getting Addled to stand up and grab the seventy plus pound dog. This happened a few times during the afternoon. Onyx would suddenly jump in, and then paddle back to the canoe. It was a great Father's Day. Gibbles was happy, Tibbles was full of cookies, Addled was posing, and I had a big black hat with polka dots, and my dog came back to me. Friday night was a bit of a riot. Addled and I had popped by Button Boy's for some odd reason, of which I cannot remember, it may have been that I was giving him a few fly catchers or something to do with the air conditioner that he has decided to put in. Suddenly, I heard a diesel truck on the road, and who should be there, but WB and her husband. We jumped in, and went for a little tour through the Greenway trail, up to the orchards, back through the bush in four wheel drive, back down to the Water Works and then back down the lane. It was a June Bug night out, and we sat on the porch, yammering about this and that, asbestos in linoleum, which turned into WB's husband getting a buzz cut. You just never know what a few beers can lead to in the sleepy town of Blyth.