You can turn the valve off now

I asked Suzanne to check with her god and see if he could maybe turn off the bad-crap valve that seems to have been left open. I found out today that the day after Ben died, my stepmother's dog, a really nice German shepherd, was killed when he chased a snowmobile across a nearby state highway and was hit by a car.

The last true German shepherd we had, Jewel, back in 1968, was killed in similar fashion, though she was chasing a Lehigh Valley locomotive along the tracks that used to run near my parents' house, and caught it.

The bad shit can stop for a while, OK?

I was looking around for a new oil filter for my Volkwagen, the diesel, and found with some amusement that this same filter not only fits the Passat, but also would fit both of my 35-year-old International trucks, a host of Ferraris, and 1957 Thunderbirds. But it won't fit a single GM car. All this unity for only ten bucks.

We're going traveling this weekend, and we'll be taking the computers but no cats or wabbits. They get to stay home and eat things and poop on things, I guess. We'll take the TDI traveling and see what sort of state my extended family is in these days. We will probably also go to Niagara Falls, since Suzanne has never seen it.

It's OK, I haven't seen the world's largest ball of twine, either.