(no subject)
So today I'm wandering about the city, sizing up my prospects for an armoire, and I'm at this gigantic home furnishings store (yes, locals, you know the one), and there, smack dab in the middle of the shiny appliances, is a DeLorean.
See?
Apparently, the object was to show off the stereo systems available through the store. You can't tell, but there are massive subwoofers behind the back seats. In any case, it was fun to see people who, like me, were going, "Hey, DeLorean! Cool!" and the people who had no idea what was so special about an 80's sports car with a stainless steel finish.
In other exciting news, this morning Amy fires up her laptop and says, "Is there something wrong with the Internet?" I check the modem and the router, and while the modem blinks placidly at me, the router won't work at all. After some experimentation, I determine that the power cord has died. I ended up paying $20 for a replacement, but that's cheaper than $40 for a new wireless router.
Though I kinda thought the guy at Radio Shack was trying to pick me up. Heh.
Have finished reading (in less than two days) a memoir called Mennonite in a Little Black Dress, by Rhoda Janzen. As evidenced by the author's name, it is, in fact, written by a Mennonite (or at least by someone raised Mennonite), and it's an interesting read. She left the faith and the community while in her twenties, married a guy, and then, after her marriage dissolved fifteen years later, her parents offered her respite while she got back on her feet. I think what I like about it is the lack of judgementalism, both on her side and the Mennonite side. It's obvious how much her parents love her and support her, she was never shunned, and didn't cut herself off from the family at any time. She sorts through her life and struggles quite honestly, and while I don't agree with her on the theological side, I do think she'd be great fun to chat with.
Though I feel a slight failure as a Mennonite, not because I dance, or drink alcohol, or wear trousers, or play cards, but because I have never had borscht. Peppernuts, sauerkraut, verenika, potato salad, pluma moos, zwieback, but never borscht. The only reason I can think is that perhaps Dad doesn't like it: Mom's tradition didn't include it, and she has happily learned to make nearly everything Dad grew up with.
In the spirit of reviews, us geek girls watched "The Hungry Earth"/"Cold Blood" last night. I have only one thing to say: RORY! They had better bring that boy back. I like him a lot, and that was horrible, watching him get eaten by the Crack In The Wall. Though I was wondering about how the Doctor's desperately trying to get Amy to remember Rory - how about in "The Time of Angels" when he tells her to remember him? Amy (being my Amy, not the character)'s theory is that the explosion that causes the crack somehow is the Doctor and the TARDIS. Which may well be true, given that bit of "shrapnel" he found.
Ah, and I suppose I should say on here that I have an appointment with a psychiatrist on Monday. I'm being evaluated for AD/HD. After much thought and some research, and talking with my dad (who, you may remember, is on medication for the same reason), I think it's best to do. 'Cause I've developed a lot of coping mechanisms, many of which bear a resemblence to OCD. And I have ways of fighting the impulses and scatterbrained-ness of my mind. Music - particularly Baroque music - does a good job. Tea can help. The fact that I am both stubborn and loyal seems to have gone far in preventing me from doing the job-skipping and relationship-hopping that is symptomatic of AD/HD. But I have started wondering what it would be like to not have to fight so much, or so hard...
Fighting for control of one's own brain. It gets old.
See?
Apparently, the object was to show off the stereo systems available through the store. You can't tell, but there are massive subwoofers behind the back seats. In any case, it was fun to see people who, like me, were going, "Hey, DeLorean! Cool!" and the people who had no idea what was so special about an 80's sports car with a stainless steel finish.
In other exciting news, this morning Amy fires up her laptop and says, "Is there something wrong with the Internet?" I check the modem and the router, and while the modem blinks placidly at me, the router won't work at all. After some experimentation, I determine that the power cord has died. I ended up paying $20 for a replacement, but that's cheaper than $40 for a new wireless router.
Though I kinda thought the guy at Radio Shack was trying to pick me up. Heh.
Have finished reading (in less than two days) a memoir called Mennonite in a Little Black Dress, by Rhoda Janzen. As evidenced by the author's name, it is, in fact, written by a Mennonite (or at least by someone raised Mennonite), and it's an interesting read. She left the faith and the community while in her twenties, married a guy, and then, after her marriage dissolved fifteen years later, her parents offered her respite while she got back on her feet. I think what I like about it is the lack of judgementalism, both on her side and the Mennonite side. It's obvious how much her parents love her and support her, she was never shunned, and didn't cut herself off from the family at any time. She sorts through her life and struggles quite honestly, and while I don't agree with her on the theological side, I do think she'd be great fun to chat with.
Though I feel a slight failure as a Mennonite, not because I dance, or drink alcohol, or wear trousers, or play cards, but because I have never had borscht. Peppernuts, sauerkraut, verenika, potato salad, pluma moos, zwieback, but never borscht. The only reason I can think is that perhaps Dad doesn't like it: Mom's tradition didn't include it, and she has happily learned to make nearly everything Dad grew up with.
In the spirit of reviews, us geek girls watched "The Hungry Earth"/"Cold Blood" last night. I have only one thing to say: RORY! They had better bring that boy back. I like him a lot, and that was horrible, watching him get eaten by the Crack In The Wall. Though I was wondering about how the Doctor's desperately trying to get Amy to remember Rory - how about in "The Time of Angels" when he tells her to remember him? Amy (being my Amy, not the character)'s theory is that the explosion that causes the crack somehow is the Doctor and the TARDIS. Which may well be true, given that bit of "shrapnel" he found.
Ah, and I suppose I should say on here that I have an appointment with a psychiatrist on Monday. I'm being evaluated for AD/HD. After much thought and some research, and talking with my dad (who, you may remember, is on medication for the same reason), I think it's best to do. 'Cause I've developed a lot of coping mechanisms, many of which bear a resemblence to OCD. And I have ways of fighting the impulses and scatterbrained-ness of my mind. Music - particularly Baroque music - does a good job. Tea can help. The fact that I am both stubborn and loyal seems to have gone far in preventing me from doing the job-skipping and relationship-hopping that is symptomatic of AD/HD. But I have started wondering what it would be like to not have to fight so much, or so hard...
Fighting for control of one's own brain. It gets old.