hot bliggity blog 267

Monday, February 6, 2012

under [the hood]

Sometimes I wish I were a guy.  Not in a creepy, gonna-go-have-surgery kind of a way but in a sometimes-I-would-rather-deal-with-thier-types-of-problems kind of way.  Girls, you know what I'm talking about.  But just as there are many aspects of the male species' life that I envy, there are just as many--if not more-reasons that I am very thankful to God that He put me on this Earth in a female model of the human form.

Today that reason is auto maintenance.  I am so glad that no one looks to me when their vehicle [or mine for that matter] is out of whack.  I get so frustrated when something goes wrong with my car.  It's not even like I have to fix it or even deal with it, really.  I am thankful to Dad who has always taken care of any and all auto maintenance in our family.  Now don't get me wrong, I do know how to change a tire.  I wouldn't trust it, but I do know how.  But it really does irritate me when it has to go in the shop for anything.  I mean, I pay enough on the monthly payments, don't I?!

Tonight I write you from the garage; the parking garage, that is.  The parking garage where Jeff's car started spewing radiator fluid [I think that's the right name] yesterday morning as we were trying to go to church; spiritual warfare at it's finest.  So tonight I'm standing here holding a tiny flashlight and 'assisting' in the repairs.  I took to writing a blog post as Jeff did not seem to appreciate my attempts of comic relief.  At one point he even said, 'This is why girls don't help guys fix cars.'   I had the fleeting thought to respond with, 'Well I don't want to be here anyways,' but went with my better judgement and said nothing.  I don't get it; he was cracking up at me during dinner. 
My fresh, purple manicure scored me the light holder's position

Grunts and frustrated 'Huh's' can be heard coming from under this little Saab's hood.  None of the screws and clamps and caps that need to come off will do so; Jeff looks as if he's having a hard time with them.  Oops...there went his little Leatherman; he was pushing and prodding so hard that one of the little prong things broke off.   Next tool: a knife.  Why didn't we move to this option before the Leatherman broke?!  I  refrain from offering my strong, piano trained hands because I know he would just laugh at that idea.  But I'm sure I could get them off.

Now there is white smoke coming out of the back.  Oh, dear.  This is not good; especially since we are working under the hood, not the trunk.  I'm pretty sure he didn't have a fog machine installed like the one the church uses during the Empty Tomb scene in the Easter pageant.

Just like kids, you cannot treat one car without treating the other.  [Crimson] Ann White got a treat, too: a flowered, plumeria smelling necklace!  This picture is a poor representation of the pretty little yellow and pink flowers and beads but it looks just like a lei from Hawaii.  [And smells good, too!]

Yes, there are many perks to being a girl: we aren't expected [or wanted] to fix cars and we get to wear flowers around our necks.

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