almost like an adult

This past week has been BIG in my self-sufficiency.

First, I had a nail in my tire the other day.

(Not in a great mood at about it first, as I mentioned on Nashville 2).


However, it was the first time I've changed a tire. (Actually, I didn't really change it, but I watched my coworker do it and learned like that. Don't laugh too hard at this being a big step for me: I'm a visual learner.)


My other coworkers laughed and said, "kd aren't you an Outward Bound Instructor? Don't you need to know how to change the van tires?"

Technically, yes. We have extensive tests to drive the 15 passenger vans (high center of gravity, easily tipping, no students in the way back seat, turn off overdrive when on dirt roads, don't drive on the soft shoulders on the Forest Service roads, check all of those fluids... see, I know all the answers). However, I haven't had to change a tire.

And that's what assistant instructors are for.

I could use AAA, bribe my co-instructor with a great performance evaluation form, tell the kids it's a team intiative... there are so many ways to not be self-sufficient. (I know it's one of our "four pillars" but I like physical fitness and compassion better.)

After my coworker "helped" me, I went to a tire place that my friend at Outward Bound suggested.

The tire guys were nice and down to the sweet Swannanoa earth. While I was checking out this spinning tire thing, I said, "While you have the one off, why not just switch 'em all up?" (Actually, I asked how often I had to get them rotated and they told me 5000 miles and I sucked in while curling the lower corners of my lips down as if to say, "Oh boy." Like when my cousin's daughter wanted to sew something to fix it, and my cousin's husband made that face and said, "Ooo, I think it'd be better if we used the glue gun." As a result of that face, they asked if I wanted them to do it right away. I said yes, please.)

The most important part of this interaction actually happened after the tires were back on my car and all fixed. I was reading a letter from my uncle and sitting on a wooden flower box outside while the man was fixing my tire. When I came into the garage, he had the tire propped against the back of the car and was standing there, looking like he was waiting for something. I thought for my money, and fumbled for my wallet, but he said, "Oh, can you unlock the back of the car so I can put the spare back?" I said, "Oh, it's open."

I was about to add that I could put the spare tire back in the car myself, when he said under his breath, "Really? Most people lock it when we're working on their tires."

Surprised I said, "What? Really?"

He said quietly, "Yeah, you're just one of the good ones, I guess."

It was a simple exchange, but it seemed like something that he considered before. It was a strange commentary on class and perceptions, I thought.

*****
The second thing is going to happen this weekend, I think, when----get ready------ I'm going to do my taxes. Actually, a friend is going to help me (remember, visual learner), but it is a big move, I think, from sending it all away to my parents' accountant. Wow.


These are the first steps towards being a 28 year old, I think. And this is the big 28th year. 2008.

We have an associate who now has an assistant to do things like his taxes, get him to the front of a line in the DMV, type emails, write personal Christmas cards, floss his teeth... you know, the things for which he is too busy and important... So I'm thinking one of two things:

1. I learn how to do these things so that I can say that I pulled myself up from my bootstraps and cleaned my own toilet when I was 27... for my biography later. Or

2. I stop learning to be autonomous so that it's not hard to transition back to someone taking care of my every whim when I'm famous.

I don't know which one is better. For now, I'm grateful for the help that folks have given to me over the last few days. Good help is easy to come by, I guess. (Tongue is in my cheek.)



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Confidential to the author of After the Roomdogs: Sorry I didn't get this done by 4pm (it's 4 pm in the ocean somewhere right now...) to help you procrastinate. Also, next time you talk with your old Roomdog, please tell her that I'm sorry for being a micro-manager all of those years back. I didn't know what I was doing. I'll be her personal assistant any day. *** One of the reasons I did that confidential business is because I used to love it when there'd be one at the end of a Dear Abby column. I always wished that it was me to whom she whispered.