School visits were super cool. Now we're in NY getting ready to leave.
We're a lot busier than I thought we would be. Everyone's fixing and replacing things and driving to neighboring planets, or 30 different West Marines within the nearest 6 states, to pick up special items. We haven't had much time to shower and we all smell like diesel and b.o. In short, it's amazing and we are happy to be here working so hard on our sweet boat.
Also, I've had a hefty dose of reality Re: LIVING WITH MEN. I discovered a flat tire on Aaron's car on a trip to the store for ditch kit items. This was my first encounter with a malfunctioning tire and it prompted me to grow a little towards my quest to "suck it up and deal".
TANGENT: The ditch kit is what we grab on the way out the companionway if the boat is on fire and we have to hop in the life raft. It makes me feel hardcore to be shopping for ditch kit items. I was really hoping the lady in Walgreens would say, "So, why the handwarmers, jock-itch cream, energy bars, calamine lotion, eye irrigator, small funnel, and plywood cutting board?" "Well," I'd proudly respond, "If we have to leave our beloved vessel in the middle of a raging storm on the way to the Marquesas, we'll be glad to have a comprehensive survival bag." I'd lean in a little bit and say in a low voice, "This may be the most important tube of jock-itch cream you've ever sold. Then, I'd place it really slowly in my basket while maintaining eye contact. ...
I have a few more thoughts on the ditch kit I'd like to share later. END OF TANGENT
So, I was in the parking lot of the Walgreens and the tire was flat. Not on-the-rim flat, but definitely deflated. I called Aaron mostly because I didn't feel like thinking for myself at the time. I wanted to ask if he wanted me to risk rim damage by driving it to a gas station, or try to fix it there. Here's how the conversation went: Me: "Hey, uh, Tankette has a flat." Him: "Hmm, bummer." Me: "Soooo..." Him: "Soo?" Me: "THIS IS SO TYPICAL. I HATE MEN. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO. ALL I FEEL LIKE DOING NOW IS GETTING EMOTIONAL AND MAKING THE SITUATION WORSE." Him: "Okay, well, deal with it."
After being lame for a few more minutes, I pulled out the manual and replaced the tire with the spare I found in the trunk, thinking to myself, "I'm a sailor goddamn it. Why did I call for advice when I could have figured it out myself?! This is infinitely easier and more straightforward than troubleshooting a falty bilge pump."
While I was working, this lady in the parking lot stopped by. I said, "Hello... " She said, "I'm going to stand here watching you without saying anything." I was like, "...Okay." Then she really said, "Are you going to do tire yourself?" Me: -Blank stare-. "Yes. I do tire now." Me, to the tire: "Come here, tire. I'm going to do you." Actually, I said, "Yeah, well, we'll see." Then she stood watching me loosen nuts for about 4 minutes.
After I replaced the tire, I lowered the car and discovered that the spare was, in fact, flatter than the original tire. Then I got a call from Aaron informing me that he had AAA, and I called them and requested they come fill the tire with air so I could take it to a station and get it patched (found the offending screw). They came 3 hours later and broke a bolt, but they towed Tankette and fixed her the next day with no expense to A nor I.
Anyway, the story is starting to drag here, but the point is, I'm learning how to deal with myself and men. Not that women really like to answer un-thought-out phone calls either, but they'd throw me a frickin sympathy bone. Really though, it is nice to know that I am trusted to figure these things out, if not relied upon because everyone is too darn busy to baby anyone. This is making me stronger, better, INVINCIBLE. Hmmmmm. Personal growth, baby. I'm all about it. That and tires. Not to mention that changing a tire is ridiculously easy. Who knew...
Oh, and another thing: fixing anything on a boat is just plain ridiculous. Everything is damp, dark and packed into a nano-sized space you can't even fit a screwdriver.
We're a lot busier than I thought we would be. Everyone's fixing and replacing things and driving to neighboring planets, or 30 different West Marines within the nearest 6 states, to pick up special items. We haven't had much time to shower and we all smell like diesel and b.o. In short, it's amazing and we are happy to be here working so hard on our sweet boat.
Also, I've had a hefty dose of reality Re: LIVING WITH MEN. I discovered a flat tire on Aaron's car on a trip to the store for ditch kit items. This was my first encounter with a malfunctioning tire and it prompted me to grow a little towards my quest to "suck it up and deal".
TANGENT: The ditch kit is what we grab on the way out the companionway if the boat is on fire and we have to hop in the life raft. It makes me feel hardcore to be shopping for ditch kit items. I was really hoping the lady in Walgreens would say, "So, why the handwarmers, jock-itch cream, energy bars, calamine lotion, eye irrigator, small funnel, and plywood cutting board?" "Well," I'd proudly respond, "If we have to leave our beloved vessel in the middle of a raging storm on the way to the Marquesas, we'll be glad to have a comprehensive survival bag." I'd lean in a little bit and say in a low voice, "This may be the most important tube of jock-itch cream you've ever sold. Then, I'd place it really slowly in my basket while maintaining eye contact. ...
I have a few more thoughts on the ditch kit I'd like to share later. END OF TANGENT
So, I was in the parking lot of the Walgreens and the tire was flat. Not on-the-rim flat, but definitely deflated. I called Aaron mostly because I didn't feel like thinking for myself at the time. I wanted to ask if he wanted me to risk rim damage by driving it to a gas station, or try to fix it there. Here's how the conversation went: Me: "Hey, uh, Tankette has a flat." Him: "Hmm, bummer." Me: "Soooo..." Him: "Soo?" Me: "THIS IS SO TYPICAL. I HATE MEN. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO. ALL I FEEL LIKE DOING NOW IS GETTING EMOTIONAL AND MAKING THE SITUATION WORSE." Him: "Okay, well, deal with it."
After being lame for a few more minutes, I pulled out the manual and replaced the tire with the spare I found in the trunk, thinking to myself, "I'm a sailor goddamn it. Why did I call for advice when I could have figured it out myself?! This is infinitely easier and more straightforward than troubleshooting a falty bilge pump."
While I was working, this lady in the parking lot stopped by. I said, "Hello... " She said, "I'm going to stand here watching you without saying anything." I was like, "...Okay." Then she really said, "Are you going to do tire yourself?" Me: -Blank stare-. "Yes. I do tire now." Me, to the tire: "Come here, tire. I'm going to do you." Actually, I said, "Yeah, well, we'll see." Then she stood watching me loosen nuts for about 4 minutes.
After I replaced the tire, I lowered the car and discovered that the spare was, in fact, flatter than the original tire. Then I got a call from Aaron informing me that he had AAA, and I called them and requested they come fill the tire with air so I could take it to a station and get it patched (found the offending screw). They came 3 hours later and broke a bolt, but they towed Tankette and fixed her the next day with no expense to A nor I.
Anyway, the story is starting to drag here, but the point is, I'm learning how to deal with myself and men. Not that women really like to answer un-thought-out phone calls either, but they'd throw me a frickin sympathy bone. Really though, it is nice to know that I am trusted to figure these things out, if not relied upon because everyone is too darn busy to baby anyone. This is making me stronger, better, INVINCIBLE. Hmmmmm. Personal growth, baby. I'm all about it. That and tires. Not to mention that changing a tire is ridiculously easy. Who knew...
Oh, and another thing: fixing anything on a boat is just plain ridiculous. Everything is damp, dark and packed into a nano-sized space you can't even fit a screwdriver.
