Error F3

Wow, that was a hot one yesterday. It actually hit 36.6C (97.9F). For Manitoba, late August, that's pretty warm.

But, in spite of the heat, I managed to get two more jars of dill pickles made . . . before the stove officially cacked, died, bit the big one. And it really is my fault.

See, a few days ago, when we turned on the stove, it started heating up, and then it started beeping. And beeping. The little digital window showed an F3 error. Well, I, in my arrogant brilliance, knew what to do. I googled it. And, according to some anonymous dude on an anonymous site, F3 meant my sensor was toast. All I had to do was replace it. 

And, being a fairly handy guy, I knew I could do it myself. So, I took the back off the stove, unplugged and removed the sensor and headed to the local parts shop. Got myself a new $70 sensor, headed home, installed it, done! Zippadeedoodaday!

Now, I should point out that I installed it correctly. That was not my error. My error was not a technical one, but a spiritual one. Quite biblical in nature actually. It was pride. And, as we all know, Proverbs 16:18 warns that "Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall."

But I was feelin' pretty good about myself and my handyman skills. I bragged to Neomom about how much money we'd just saved as a result of my brilliance. I praised the Internet and suggested the computer had paid for itself through this and several other home repairs I've been able to pull off without having to call in an expensive expert. I may even have suggested putting an ad in the yellow pages and making a fortune. Yep, my handyman skills and Google. Match made in heaven. 

My spirit may have been a tad on the haughty side.

So, the destruction, the fall. Yesterday, I turn on the stove to sterilize my pickling jars. BEEP . . . BEEP . . . BEEP. Error - F3.

So, back to Google. And, sure enough, there were other possibilities for the F3 error. And, having now replaced the $70 sensor, I was left to conclude that it was more likely the $300 to $500 control panel. And I confirmed that with a qualified professional, live, in person, not on the internet.

Anyhoo, today I'm oven shopping.

Have a great Thursday.

P.S. That biblical quote did not come from memory. I googled it. So if it's wrong, don't blame me.

What I did on my Summer Vacation

Good morning. 5:42 a.m.

The minions sleep. I am awake. 

So, I think I promised to write more about my vacation. Funny thing though. When you're out there, enjoying, relaxing, experiencing . . . you can't wait to write this stuff down, to share it. Then you get home. The rut is still there. The nuance of the experience seems to fade rather quickly. Didn't expect that.

But I'll do my best.

WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION

The fun officially began July 15. Neomom had worked the night shift and we would hit the road when she awoke. This day was the culmination of about two weeks of list-making, shopping, packing, repacking, shopping again, list-scrapping and list remaking. And then packing some more. It was the first time we would camp in our new pop-up trailer. It was the first time I would ever really pull a trailer with the minivan. We were heading out for three long weeks. It was a little daunting.

But it was summer vacation. Temperatures had been holding near 30C (86F) for about three weeks now and we were looking forward to a whole lot of carefree sunshine, swimming, fishing, canoeing, kayaking . . . 

And so, when Neomom awoke, we headed out, in the worst rainstorm we'd seen all summer. Did I mention this was my first time pulling a 1,500-pound trailer? On the highway, with lots of water. And cars and trucks.

Fortunately, our first destination was Blue Lake Provincial Park, near Vermillion Bay, Ontario. It's a little east of Kenora, which is a little east of the Ontario/Manitoba border. Google Maps told me it was only about 400 km and would take about 5 hours. And, after a quick stop at the first of many Tim Hortons on this little journey, we made the trip in around 4 hours.

Now, if you have travelled on Hwy. 17, or on many of the other northern Ontario highways, you will know that most of them have a speed limit of 90 km/h, and most of them offer one lane of traffic in each direction. They are hilly, winding roads and they are beautiful. But passing other vehicles is a bitch.

Every 10 km or so, a passing zone is offered. An extra lane provided, giving the chance for the slow-moving moron in front of you to pull to the right, allowing a nice, comfortable pass on the left. As it should be.

But for whatever reason, almost inevitably, the moron in front of you, who has been slogging along at 88 km/h for the last half hour, suddenly feels the need for speed as he or she enters the passing zone. And when you're pulling a trailer, up hill, with a mini-van, it's not easy to get by a moron, who is suddenly channelling Mario Andretti. And it's a little frustrating when, at the end of the passing zone, the moron's speed, almost inevitably, drops down from 120km/h to the aforementioned 88 km/h.

And that's all I will say about that . . . for now.

Anyhoo, we made it to Blue Lake. The rain let up enough to let us set up camp and conduct a lengthy search for our electrical outlet. We didn't find it. Can't remember whether or not we had time for a fire that night. But I know that, eventually, we tucked ourselves into our tent trailer for a nice cozy sleep after a long, tiring day.

Campsite 1. Blue Lake Provincial Park

And then the real rain started . . .

More later.

Have a great Wednesday.

Woke up in my own bed this morning. And I'm not necessarily happy about it.

For the last three weeks, I've been travelling, camping, travelling and camping some more . . . with my wife and my boys. Without TV, without radio, without internet, without cell phone. I was actually surprised to realize the Olympics were on when we got home.

And it was good.

I have much to tell you about, much to share, because I did carry a little notebook. Didn't get a chance to make all the notes I wanted. Didn't have it with me swimming, or fishing, or when I saw . . . the wild beast. More on that later.

Bottom line is we covered more than 4,400 kilometres making our way from the Ontario-Manitoba border, along Highway 17 to our furthest point east. This was a few kilometres east of Timmins, Ontario. Wow, Timmins is a lot bigger than I thought it was. Who knew? And it's so much closer to Quebec than I thought. Who knew?

Me. 

Why? 

Cause I went there. 

And then, we made our way back, on Highway 11, which is north of Highway 17, all the way back to the Manitoba border. We stopped in 5 different Provincial Parks, staying anywhere from three to five nights, visited family on Manitoulin Island, saw towns I'd only heard of, and generally had a blast. 

It was the shakedown cruise for our brand new, 2012 Starcraft Starflyer pop-up tent trailer. It served us well.

Anyway, that's what I plan to write about for the next little while. Again, it's for me. I want a record for my boys and I love to write. And being outside of my rut for a couple of weeks has made me want to write again and more. I now understand why many of the great writers travelled so much. You meet new people, see new places, try new things, eat new food, drink new drinks, wear new shirts, feed new animals . . . and it's fun.

Go camping, all of you. Now! And leave the cell phone, iPad, Blackberry, Android and all that crap at home.

Gotta post this now. Just to get back into the swing of things. 

More coming. Honest.