We Repair What Your Husband Fixed

When we moved into our new house 25 years ago, a Kenmore central vacuum had in place, and conked out after just two months. We tried not to vacuum. For the next two months our carpet collected dirt and dust. Guilt punished me. I phoned Sears to have a new central vacuum. Sears said, I am looking at around 500 bucks. Get a cheaper one under hundred dollars, Mur said.  I brought the vacuum’s motor at Allen Motor Shop at Agnes to get it repaired instead, to save more.

 

The dingy sight of the shop struck me. The whole place stacked by piles of greasy motors and armatures from floor to ceiling gathering dust and cobwebs. Unimpressed, I readied myself to leave, when the old man came out of nowhere wearing an overall coated with soot. Surprised, I told the old man my problem. He exited to the other dingy room and when he appeared again, he said,  seventy-five bucks. Two days later, I got my repaired vacuum’s motor back.

 

Two weeks after, our vacuum conked out again. I returned the motor to Allen’s. It’s still under warranty. The shop closed up. Since the cost of the vacuum escalated, my bi-monthly allowance chopped off.

 

We looked at Canadian Tire for cheaper vacuums. We settled for the Dirt Devil. The Devil worked fine, although took longer than usual to clean up the whole house. One day, the Devil stopped running. I tried to make it work. The Dirt Devil chip off the part one by one until the handle cracked.

 

I hugged the Devil in a squatting position pushing the vacuum against the carpet.

 

This Devil?  how can I get rid of it?

I convince Mur to just buy a new one. Or throw the damn vacuum. But I don’t want my allowance get chopped again.  I rummaged through the phone book. I checked every vacuum repair shops in Winnipeg and asked if they have a spare of Devil’s handle. One East Indians shop at Ness Avenue, said they have. I paid twenty-five bucks.

 

When another parts disentangled, the Dirt Devil has to go.

 

Our basement got flooded because our sump pump got busted. I drained out the water on the floor but the tank-water remained. Only upon emptying I can replace the sump pump. But to get the water out, I need a bucket to scoop, transport, and throw the water into the toilet sink. That takes long. In a blinding speed, I thought of draining the water using the Dirt Devil motor. So, I sat up the Devil its nozzle dipped into the water; I switched on the vacuum. The Devil whirred. I got me electrocuted. I survived. My Devil didn’t. Praise the Lord!

 

Mur saw this sign from a parked SUV truck at Regent Casino. The sign read: “We repair what your husband fixed” She nudged me toward the sign. I knew what she meant.

 

She paid a Licensed Plumber to replace our Sump Pump!

 

Blood Runs Thick

My kids are grown up.  All of them turned out to be an art-inclined individuals. They had my genes. Ferdinand, my eldest took my path as a writer. Faye, my eldest daughter had a bachelor’s degree in Fine Arts, and Master’s degree in Architecture. My youngest, Farrah, had her mom’s brain in math;  got a degree in B. Sc. in Biosystems Engineering. She holds a BA Hons. from the School of Contemporary Dancer from the University of Winnipeg.

 

“Heroic Beginnings,” Ferdinand’s first novel, is a teenage love story based  on his high school days. It’s amazing at an age like that, he came up with a novel 700 pages long, and with so much influence of great literary writer, the likes of  F. Scott Fitzgerald.  His second novel, the “Irispire Portal” published by Amazon, he switched from literary to an urban fantasy adventure genre. It’s a feat that at his young age, he already finished two novels in two different genres.

 

Faye, my eldest, love to paint.  But realized it’s not enough to sustain a living. So, she took a master in Architecture. At least, it’s a wholesome marriage of economic and arts. Well, and good!

 

Since in grade school Farrah’s passion for dancing never wanes. Her mom enrolled her to a dancing lessons in Grade 4. And she never stops dancing since then. But she wanted to make use of her talent, too, in numbers, so she took up an engineering degree. Somehow that engineering degree didn’t perk up her interest. Now, she’s on the prowl of Data Analyst Career.  Her dancing stays.

 

Arts, if it runs in the blood, it streamed out, no matter what! Nothing can plug it.

 

 

 

 

 

Mentalities Filipinos Are Made Of

Filipinos is now God’s chosen people. Think of it. Any ascribable mentalities that God gave, Filipinos sucked them all.  From the classic Crab mentality to Tingi (micro retail) to Asa (depend) to Utang na loob (debt of gratitude) to “Tambay” (hangers-on) to Harimuhanan (scrounging) to Hambog  (boaster) to Maka-isa (one-upmanship) and the Palusot – invent alibi, or cut corners to make a big buck.

God knows Filipinos handles these mentalities with gusto.

Three mentalities are subtle: The Harimuhanan. The Maka-isa. And the Palusot. They all boil down to penny-pinching and get self benefit.

Harimuhanan is – if one could get things desired without spending effort or money, ego get boosted. It is a cocaine mentality. Once you’re hooked, one  can get addicted. They wanted to be smart.

When a man always bum a smoke from a friend, rather than buy of his own, he’s making harimuhanan This mentality is common also to Philippine Government employees. If they feel lazy coming to work, or have some personal business to attend to, in cahoots with their bosses or comrades, they make sure nobody reported their absence.  That’s Harimuhanan.

Say, one desire to have a kid of his own, and someone does that for him to save the effort. That’s Harimuhanan, too. Big time!

Maka-isa, or one-upmanship is another variety of getting smarter.  Adept at spotting how they adopt their sleazy tactic, that became their way of life emulated within the family, spread and invaded the country’s political system.  Come to a point the government infested by the crocodile. 

Maka-isa, also mean, when you get older, and still can hump an opposite sex, to score, that’s a bonus. But this Maka-isa had it’s a way of getting you dead. Then somebody gets even with you. Fool!

Epidemic had become this Palusot mentality in the Duterte government. Everybody played it. But prominent among them, whoever become the President’s spokesperson. They embodied the double talk syndrome: either they evade or exaggerate. Thanks to them. The social media and news organization made a brisk business. It made Palusot mentality as a virtue. And we thought, that’s good!