Neanderpundit

SOmetimes that longing hits me really hard. I haven’t had one- other than, the occasional hit off one of the Ogwife’s, for many years now, but that itch still wants to be scratched.

B: Want to go have some wings?
Og: Sure. Have to change the oil in the trucks.

pause, maybe 7 minutes.

B: Let me know when you’re done.
Og: I’m done. Just cleaning up now
B: You serviced both trucks in a couple minutes?
Og: Who do you think I am? Aamco?

I have done a four-wheel brake job on the Exploder in 11 minutes. When you do something often enough you get good at it. Every vehicle I own and most of them I work on, I write some basic info on the front of the radiator yoke- oilpan wrench size, filter size, engine oil capacity, filter wrench size, spark plug gap, etc. So when I open the hoodl I take exactly the correct tools under the car with me, and I’m done in no time. Dro the filter in the pan, clean the seat, put the (pre-oiled) new filter on, tighten. Pull the drainplug, burn my fingers with hot oil, wait for the oil to drain, wipe the plug gasket and pan surface and reinstall plug. Stand up, put tools away, pour in 5 qts oil. Done. Helps that the Ogwife’s truck uses the same filter and same oil pan wrench. yeah, two in seven minutes.

The post below about the turning point of the divorce was prompted by a conversation with a dear friend who is going through a moment like this herseld- though she’s been hammered by the asshole she was with.

I have buckets of those memories, and I have built walls to protect myself from them- I feel things powerfully and if I was assaulted by all my emotions at once it would make me insane. Er.

So I have those memories, most of them, locked away, safely, ready to access but never in the foreground. And once in a while someone reminds me of one of them. I take it out of it’s box, sit it on the desk, sniff it, feel it, remember. Sometimes I smile. Actually, in retrospect, I smile most of the time. Smetimes it wrecks me. And then I put them back in the box and put them back away.

When I can stand it, I share them here. And maybe I’ll put them in a book, someday.