This fridge magnet, and several other equally awesome ones, apparently adorn Rick Diamond‘s refrigerator (photos taken by Gordon Atkinson). Seeing the magnets and visiting his church‘s web site, I dropped by his office and had a nice chat with him. I’m really intrigued by the approach to their faith that Rick and his fellow ‘journeyers’ take, and I plan to visit their worship service soon.
Yesterday I went to lunch with a guy our company just hired. He’s in his early to mid 20s. We were talking about traveling to Europe, and he mentioned someone he knows who lives in Germany, in Bonn. By the tentative way in which he pronounced ‘Bonn’, it was clear that he was unfamiliar with it. I immediately started to remind him, “You know, Bonn, the capital of former West Germany.” Then it hit me that Germany has been reunited for the part of his life in which he’s been aware of foreign affairs. For him, Bonn is just some small German city.
I’ve been really busy lately, especially with work. Stay tuned.
Preface: Katie and I love to mangle the names of stores. When we lived in New Jersey, our good friend David came to visit us. After we referred to the local Shop-Rite several times by its correct name, David exclaimed: “What has New Jersey done to you? Why don’t you call it Shop-Rong?” Well, we had referred to it that way from the day we moved there; it’s just that by the time David came to visit, it has lost its novelty.
So, on to the story… We spent last Christmas in Red River, NM. We drove up there in two days, spending the night in Lubbock. We arrived in Lubbock kind of late, and we were tired. After we got the van unloaded, we set out in search of a place to eat. Within a few blocks of our hotel, we didn’t find much that interested us, so we finally just went through the drive-through at Wienerschnitzel. The food was really awful, so Samuel dubbed it Wiener-shit-zel.
We had a proud parenting moment.
I just ran across the blog Death By Children, written by a stay-at-home dad. On his blog, that dad writes about his farting, scratching his nuts, his teenage daughter’s boobs–all hilariously, and supposedly with the sanction of his kids.
On my blog, in contrast, you get a highly edited version of my life: you find out that I’m a geek, a liberal Christian, a liberal politically. But I write nothing that could (I hope) offend anyone I know. About the most personal insight into our family life that you get is how we arrange our mantel hooks at Christmas.
I’d love to be as funny as the Death By Children dad, and I’d love to be able to write about it on my blog, but my personality type is all about control and moderation. Don’t get me wrong, I love being an introverted geek, but sometimes I’d just love to be able to throw all caution to the wind and write with passion and abandon. Oh well.
On Saturday evening, we attended our local high school‘s performance of Footloose: the Musical. The play is set in 1985, and it culminates with a formal dance. During the final scene, I noticed one actor wearing a baby blue tuxedo with navy trim and a ruffled shirt (like below, but without the vest). I wore that very tuxedo to the prom in 1980. After the play, I found myself standing in line next to the young actor who was still in costume. I told him that, in my opinion, he was the only actor in the scene wearing a period costume. I then remarked, “I’m not sure what’s more unsettling: that I actually wore this tuxedo, or that I referred to it as ‘period’!”
For years, my favorite movie ever was Howard the Duck. Based on its lack of success, it’s safe to say that I was in small minority of the movie-going public. Last week, I noticed that it was coming on cable, so I set my DVR to record it. Katie, Samuel and I watched it last night. This was my first viewing in probably fifteen years, and I have to say, I didn’t find it nearly as funny as before. But Samuel loved it! He watched it again this morning and has declared it his favorite movie.
If you’ve never seen HtD, I recommend you give it a try–if nothing else, for the 1980s big hair.
I’m a creature of habit. Almost every morning, I get one breakfast taco at Taco Cabana on my way to work. One taco costs $1.07, and I try to give exact change whenever possible (my OCD). Yesterday, I followed my routine.
On the way home from work, I stopped at the pharmacy to pick up a medication. When I got to the register, I was surprised to find that I had no cash–I remembered that I’d gotten a $20 bill the day before. While staring blankly at the pharmacy cashier, I quickly went through my routine. Suddenly, it hit me: yesterday morning, I’d given the Taco Cabana drive-through cashier $20.07, but because I was so accustomed to giving exact change, I didn’t think about my change. Apparently, the cashier is also a creature of habit.
I figured the money was lost, but this morning I mentioned it to the Taco Cabana drive-through cashier. She immediately called over the manager on duty who said that the register was indeed about $20 over yesterday. He took my name, address and phone number (in case the corporate office checked it out, he said) and instructed the cashier to give me my $19 change. I drove off with my missing cash and today’s taco (eggs and cheese, if you’re wondering).