![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvyrBa3wIC1kApO9jAKdAcmbl74aslGXIfR9tY_fE1cK0zHYOYUxyPrsEDgjwBPK_utDgF_HqsOwxjHOnZ2gdLtfPTAnnqjBI6Y9FeHmkYosUKzZZRdLaLmODLckRPdr3mO94wRtLeyJw/s400/winter_solstice_pivato.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmaEjXu7eUuaLUavzIEthHGf3IGRnelG2Bmq1jShVL55RKaSJO1Tni3XR_kMyiZgjIHH_Kv3V8WwoZ1Y0LG3A1Y7MC5iopR75nKIw-LTD8nKikCs_mxZvRmSpbnxFKCJbTf1flrB7f48w/s400/800px-Midvinterblot.jpg)
I am the grit in the gears, the missing bolt, I am the poker of sticks into spokes. I like to know how things work, but sometimes when I take them apart and rebuild them, I have a few pieces left over. I am a man, so I tend to leave reading the instructions until after it goes wrong. And like all men I have a comprehensive mental map of the world and never need to ask directions. I never get lost, only sometimes I'm late, or end up in the wrong place entirely. It's what we do.