Furnaces, Insulation and Other Tales To Warm The Heart

Before I start, there is something you need to understand. Leon and I were trained as Music Theatre Actors. This means our expertise lies in projecting whimsical fancy and effervescent charm while floating up brightly lit staircases wrapped in fluffy boas. At no point has anyone ever spoken to us of 92% AFUE qualified gas furnaces or R 13.5/RSI 2.4 fiberglass insulation. You'll now understand why I might be so bold to start this blog post with a statement as dramatic as:

I have no idea what we were thinking to have purchased a house that was built in 1920. Actually, I do know what we were thinking. We were thinking that the white picket fence was as adorable as it was cliche and that the home had an overall good 'feel'. We were imagining the day that Leon would sweep me up off my feet and carry me in over the threshold of our very own house with all its old quirks and charm and that we would spend our days lovingly renovating while we passionately embraced.

Six weeks after crossing the threshold for the first time, our passionate embraces have become the result of the emotional trauma that has been inflicted by our furnace replacement estimates. We were so proud of ourselves for applying for every retrofit grant that we could get our hands on. When we got our letter telling us just how much money we would be reimbursed for our upgrades we squealed in delight. Now, it seems, that money will be just about enough to cover a couple of new ducts and a union coffee break. How will we pay for the rest? I am not sure. I'd offer a barter but something tells me that very few plumbers are looking to have me sing Cole Porter tunes while gaily prancing about in their living room.

If only the humiliation ended there. Yesterday, Leon got inspired to do some insulating. Let's go to Castle, he urged. Always thrilled when my partner wants to take on tasks that I would rather poke dull forks into my eyeballs than do myself, I sped off to our local hardware store. "Do you know what you are looking for?" I asked my future husband. "Nope," replied my ever optimistic fiance, "but I'll just ask."

So we hunted down a friendly lookin' chap to service us. Leon stared him right in the eye and asked "do you have any of that pink stuff?" "Pink stuff," the salesman repeated, obviously confused. "It's squishy." Leon offered, confident that this would clear up any fogginess. But the salesman just stood there, probably not knowing how to reply without deeply offending us. "I need a batt," continued Leon, and I silently wished for the same thing, if only to knock us both out and end this misery.

"Oh!! You mean insulation!' saved the sales guy, finally catching on. Then he asked us - well, to be fair he asked Leon - "will you be needing R-20 to fit the band joists in a 2x6 stud wall?" My heart went out to Leon in that moment. Since moving to Moose Jaw, men have asked Leon all sorts of questions, expecting that, due to his genitalia, he is somehow going to know what the heck they are all talking about. How are they supposed to know that the closest Leon has ever come to home renovations was that one day when he accidentally flipped to Holmes on Homes on HGTV. One thing my boy can do is act, though, and so without missing a beat he gave the man an answer, articulating his guess with the panache of an expert. Chalk one up for the theatre degree.

In the end, we got our batt insulation and have scheduled an appointment with a small loans officer to discuss paying for our new 92% AFUE qualified gas furnace. Until it is installed and we figure out where to jam the pink stuff we have purchased slippers from Walmart and are wearing many layers of BC fleece.

And maybe a boa or two around our necks for extra warmth.

The Inevitable Question

We have our answer down pat.

Since moving to Moose Jaw from Vancouver not even a month ago there has been one question that has been asked by everybody. "What brings you to Moose Jaw?" is the inevitable question that comes once we have been asked "You folks from around here?" At first, floored by the overwhelming friendliness of the business owners and service people populating this small city, my partner, Leon, and I would launch into a long winded explanation of the miraculous events that had us packing up our west coast lives to move to Saskatchewan. But soon, oh so soon, our answer was whittled down - for the sanity of all involved. Now, when some curious Moose Jaw-vian wonders what would possess two Vancouver Musical Theatre actors to move to a rural city where there are far more parkas than feather boas and a Tim Hortons instead of a Starbucks, we simply state the truth.

Affordable housing in a growing market.

Too complicated to explain that I am not really new as I was raised here, leaving at eighteen to attend theatre school and pursue the stage. Ridiculous to start telling the story of how, while on contract here in the fall, we decided to try and get pre-approved just to see if we could (actors and mortgages don't usually go hand in hand). How, once we passed that first hurdle, the situation unfolded like a set of dominos and we found ourselves the owners of a house we never expected to buy. And although it does bring big laughs, it was extraneous to amuse the inquisitive with tales of how Leon bought the house during Saskatchewan's warm spell in October and is only now finding out what living through a prairie winter is all about.

For now, we have come to build equity. While we stay we hope to further our creative careers and refrain from losing our extremities to frostbite. We'll do the things we couldn't do as easily in Vancouver; namely accomplish 42 errands in under an hour and pay a house mortgage on an artist's income. Leaving our smirking theatre friends behind in Vancouver and Toronto, we feel like pioneers out here, choosing a road less taken. And a beautiful road it is...

even if it is flat and covered in 3 feet of snow.