I arrived home late from working one of my numerous odd jobs. Christina was resting on my couch and my Puppy was in her usual uproar that I was home. She is a descendent of the dingo clan, and jumps enthusiastically at the slightest excitement. Our plan was to take the Chinook for an oil change. I am still getting the hang of driving a stick shift, and so Christina had agreed to chaperone me after we divvy up the booth. We are both destined separate directions this week, which I think is a bit of a reality check. After spending much time synching up in the small crawl space of the Chinook, spending an entire week apart was not something we anticipated when we made these plans. And while we are completely excited about the prospects and the people we are working with this coming week, there is a slight undertone to our mutual admiration for one another so often refereed to as camaraderie. So, after admiring Christina’s handywork on a new banner, covering our ears to the incipient crystalline bark of my puppy, and then meandering past an old abandoned mining tunnel on Deer Creek, we decided to just hang loose and worry about the Chinook and oil another day.