Mrs. A's first wedding is this weekend. I know she's excited and apparently ready to go. Her leg is doing better and her physical therapy seems to be helping getting stability and mobility back, but it still hurts a great deal.

I'm...still in some discomfort, I'll leave it at that.

I was thinking on my way to work today that the oil change service industry must be really hurting. Maybe it's just Texas. I've noticed in the past year especially that there are guys out front of their establishments just oozing exuberance, doing their best to get you in for their $18 oil change. There are signs and balloons and sometimes up to three guys in jumpers just hoppin' up and down, waving at people, giving the thumbs up. It's almost sad. I mean, I don't see them on weekends doing that, you know, when people actually have time to get their oil changed, and when it suddenly costs $24.99 instead of $18.

So I thought about it. Do I have time in the morning to get my oil changed? Of course I don't. I suppose if I did, these guys wouldn't be so brain-dead happy to get my car into their garage. My morning is orchestrated so tightly that there just isn't room for this kind of luxury. Now, if they had a van service to take my kid to school, stop by to get a coffee then hit the bank on the way back while my car juice was being depulped, then maybe, but just sitting there for 30 minutes isn't going to fly at 7:15 in the A of M.

So I'm left to scoot past these Glengarries with the same reaction I do the cardboard signs and church buckets I see on the corners. Acknowledge, but don't look directly at them, fuck with the radio, try to keep moving.

There's some more stuff going on too, nothing to take lightly of course. Mrs. A's going back to her sales job at Swell Computers. The message board I go to is starting to brand itself and is in the early stages of becoming a publisher and I'm on the ground level as an editor (good news really only for me I suppose.) The 2005 Priuses (Priusi? Priusis?) are in and I should have one soon, provide I figure out where I left my spine. Pilgrim is really showing some walking/talking chops lately. He cruises with the best of them and has taken a few steps on his own before plummeting unceremoniously onto his rear end.

Oh, and Lil Miss Austin really got me yesterday. As you guys know, I had a procedure done on Monday. I'm still a bit sore, so I walk a little funny. I'm dropping LMA off at school, limping a little but doing my best to hide it. Her teacher asks if I'm feeling ok, there's been a lot of sick kids and parents so it was an honest question. LMA response with, "Daddy had an operation on his hinny so he doesn't have any more babies."

Well, shoot. Cat's out of the bag.

In talking with Mrs. A last night, I mentioned that I was a bit depressed that no one really asked me how I was or how the procedure went (sans the brother in law, who was a bit too curious for my taste, freakshow). She said that it's not really an operation you can bring up socially. ACL? Fine and dandy. Cancer? Sure thing. Pregnancy? Bring in pictures. Vasectomy? When's lunch? If you bring it up at work, it's almost considered harassment in the most technical terms. If my coworker said, "Hey, how's your nuts?" I could file a complaint. By the same token, if I said, "Man, my boys are hurtin' today. Must be the stitches in my scrotum," I could be sitting in court right now.

So it's a stoic discomfort I sit through.

Luckily we have Mrs. A's knee to talk about, which, from my calculations, should be painful for the next few years. Plus, it's easier to talk about. No one ever got fired for talking about knees. Right?

Hey, if someone is good at buying NEW cars, drop me a line. I want to do this myself and not have Mrs. A be my negotiator, but she's so much better at it than I am. I just don't want to walk in with my pants down and my wallet open shouting, "Just don't hurt me!"

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