This Wednesday is International Talk Like a Pirate Day, and Krispy Kreme will give you a free doughnut if you do so!  Wednesday is also the screening of The Birds in cinemas, so if you don’t have a fabulous middle of the week, it’s probably your own fault.

While driving home on the highway from church on Saturday, Faith and I were chatting merrily away when there was an ominous thunk.  We thought something had fallen off of the car in front of us and hit us on the roof, but a moment later we heard some sort of tire-related problem.  I pulled off at the first exit and found a nice little church parking lot to inspect the damage.  Yep, flat tire.  I think I’ve been in high heels every time I’ve had to change a tire, and this was no exception.  I’ve never actually had to change a tire on my own car, and I was baffled; it didn’t look like any of the tires I’d changed on our mini vans.  It took about seven calls to my Dad (“How do I get the plate off?  The bolts are all weird!”) before I finally managed to get the tire off.  Embarrassing…but Faith was very patient.  After that, getting the spare on was easy, and we were back on our way in no time.

Paying for a new tire was a significantly more painful experience; those things ain’t cheap.  I swung by the repair shop after work and camped out in the waiting area while they examined Nickel’s poor wheel.  I’m reading Aristotle right now, so naturally I whipped that out rather than watch whatever insipid thing was blaring from the tv in the seating area.  The two men already seated there were watching the tv with great interest, and after a few minutes I chuckled to myself when I realized that they were glued to some talk show discussing female weight loss and body image.  It was the girliest, most vapid episode imaginable, and these two guys were just nodding along like, “Yes, you should love yourself at any size!”  Aristotle and I weren’t impressed, and the vast gulf between what I was reading and what I was hearing was almost ridiculous.  One guy left when his car was ready, but the other continued to watch…until the discussion turned to the sacred beauty of menstrual cycles or something, and then he started to squirm.  *I* was squirming and I was only hearing half of it.  He finally seemed to realize exactly what he was watching and got up to pretend to look at tires in an attempt to regain his masculinity.  Aristotle and I kept each other company until my tire was ready.




Books: As you gathered from my above tire tale, I’m currently reading The Nicomachean Ethics by Aristotle.  I’ve read bits and pieces of Aristotle before, but I’ve never sat down and read one of his works cover-to-cover.  I’m finding him fascinating (in a very dense, dry fashion), thus far.  Reading books written so long ago (2,300 years, give or take) always makes me feel like I’m time-traveling; being able to read the thoughts of someone gone for two millennia seems like it shouldn’t be possible without a time machine.

I’m also reading The Poetical Works of Robert Burns.  Sam gave me a 100-year-old copy for my birthday, and at first I was carefully reading that one just while I was at home, but even that made me anxious.  The cover is hand-tooled leather and is so fragile that just touching it makes me feel guilty.  I found a PDF copy of it online (bless you, internet), and I’m reading that instead most of the time.  Burns is a hoot.  The book kicks off with some emo poetry he wrote as a teen, then some rather scathing rhymes about the girls in his area, and a hilarious one about the time he chatted with Death (who reminds me more than a little of Death in Terry Pratchett’s novels).  I haven’t made it very far yet (the book is almost 600 pages long), but so far it’s quite entertaining.