On Thursday I went to Turku to take the driving theory test at the Ajovarma office. I passed! However:

I had paid in advance and scheduled this test several weeks ago. I made the reservation at home, from the computer, and immediately saved the date with a bunch of reminders in my calendar.

But when I got to the test site they didn't call my name at the appointed time. One of the desk workers asked me if I had an appointment and when she scanned my non-driver's ID card, she said, "Oh, you don't have an appointment today, but you had one yesterday!"

I had somehow managed to put the appointment in my calendar wrong, even though I thought I checked it so carefully! (I stopped myself from saying "I have ADHD!" with very great difficulty.)

She was very nice and helpful, though. She said she would reschedule my appointment and the payment would still be good; she found an opening that same day three hours later, and then when I said I could wait, she said actually the testing room wasn't full and she could let me take the test right away. So she did.

I have a total of (I think) 5 hours of driving lessons left, the first of which is in two weeks, when my instructor is back from his vacation. In the meantime, it's the second half of Wax's annual vacation starting today, and we will hopefully be trying chicken florentine for the first time this week.

I've mentioned before that our van is a 1999 Citroën Berlingo. We named him Bernie because he's an old white guy. Bernie was a white van man's van: he belonged to a company for twenty years and sat in their warehouse being taken care of, but mostly not used, so he was in practically mint condition when we bought him in 2019, but he only cost 2000€. Now contemporary Finnish driving education is teaching me about safety features that are common or required in modern-day cars that he doesn't have: traction and skid control, smart cruise control, side door airbags that you can disable in the back, front and rear fog lights, a screen that recommends which gear to use, warning messages when you exceed the detected speed limit.

Obviously a 1999 van doesn't have any of those. But waxjism has also been scaring me for weeks saying he's too old to have anti-lock brakes, but today I finally read the manual and he is not. He has anti-lock brakes! That one was the only one that was seriously upsetting (the car I learned to drive in didn't have any of the others: it was a 1993 Buick Skylark).

I have to get up early to go to Turku to take the driver's license theory test tomorrow, and today I took the practice theory test again as soon as I got back from my last driving simulator lesson, and failed with the worst score I've gotten on the practice tests yet (42/50 "situation" questions). Then I took it again immediately and passed with a perfect score for the first time.

I've taken the practice test 7 times in all, but I've also gone through all the practice question sets, which amounts to 60 tests' worth of situation questions and 40 tests' worth of verbal questions (with repetition!), and I have consequently pretty much been at saturation for a while. I can't predict whether I will miss situation questions when I do a set, but that's not because I haven't learned the material, it's because the questions are not at all like a situation you actually encounter while driving; they're more like a sort of Where's Waldo-esque detailed visual search game plus logic puzzle. About half the time I miss them because of something like not noticing that the car is on a priority road (when the sole clue that it's a priority road is the tiny triangular edge of the sign with 80% of the sign cropped off on the extreme edge of the image blending into the windows of an apartment building in the background) or not noticing that it's on a one-way street (when the sole clue that it's a one-way street is some painting on the road facing the wrong way that you can only see if you look in the left side mirror image but it's very small). So I just have to take methylphenidate and count breaths and try to make sure I take my time. And try not to get distracted.

(After the theory test I still have driving lessons in a real car, and then the driving test.)

I can't get excited about fandom right now, or at least can't find a fandom to get excited about right now, but I can always get excited about the history of the decorative arts.

I've been reading vintage magazines to try to immerse myself more in the worldview, the history, and the language of the period I love most (centered on 1920s, but including the whole between-wars period, the Golden Age of detective fiction, etc), and the last few weeks of browsing and reading Vogue and Harper's Bazar; Ladies' Home Journal, Woman's Home Companion, Pictorial Review, and McCall's; and House Beautiful, Better Homes & Gardens and House & Garden from the 1890s-1930s (on HathiTrust and Internet Archive mostly; there are various websites that collect links to vintage magazines online) have deepend my understanding of the period so much. A lot of that is general information about the period, turns of phrase, discourse style, beauty and graphic design styles, and bits of trivia. But it's also filled in a huge gap that I didn't even really understand was there in my knowledge of the history of decorative arts and design.

I'm super excited about my new understanding of early 20th century romanticism right now. Which is highly related to and mostly the same thing as national romanticism, a trend stretching back to the 19th century; but also an aesthetic and stylistic background that was actually more commonplace, more widespread, than the influence of art deco and art nouveau and midcentury modernism in their respective periods, but is often overlooked when culture looks back. I knew the term "romanticism" in visual arts and design before, of course. In the 19th century it links up with the arts & crafts movement; in the 20s and 30s, my understanding was vaguer: cutesy florals and... folk art? I now know that yes, it was that, but it was so much more than that: it was historical nostalgia expressed in historical eclecticism, the dominant aesthetic being an expression of a cultural obsession with creating and glorifying a personalized, domesticated patriotic past.

It was still very much tied to the project of creating the nation-state, in this case mainly through oodles of mass-produced imitation antique furniture marketed as "early American" or "Tudor" or "Gothic" or "French provincial" or "Empire". (Genuine antiques and reproduction antiques were also popular or at least popularly admired, don't get me wrong; but a great deal of the mass-produced furniture in this period was more about an antique vibe than about any sort of realism - something that was also very much true of the earlier explosion of Victorian-era "revival" styles caused by the initial spread of industrialization and an earlier ballooning of the middle classes. Victorian-produced furniture and design styles are also very much historical eclecticism.) This continued into the midcentury, when the pastiche styles previously called "early American" and "Tudor" had evolved into what was then generally referred to as "Colonial" (they meant American colonial specifically), exemplified by the mid-century modest ranch house's frequent pine kitchen and fake wrought iron and hammered brass hardware. Midcentury American ranches are iconic today, but the national imagination is inclined to populate them with mid-mod and streamline modern in blocks of color and metal-trimmed laminates; but in the period, the pine kitchen and the gingham ruffle were actually far more popular, even at modernism's height.

I'm focusing on American history in this narrative because I'm reading American magazines, but this was happening all over Europe. National romanticism in the 19th century produced a flourishing interest in cultural history and folk art in Europe too, and the same historical-vibe furniture recalling pre-Industrial styles was mass-produced for a growing middle class across Europe in the early 20th century. In Finland and Sweden the style was dominated by Gustavian (early 19th century, neoclassical) and rococo and baroque styles, often simplified, but the Nordic countries were leaders in modernism from the 1930s onwards, which changed the picture somewhat. Dipping into museums and auction sites from Finland and the Scandis brings a strong wind of light woods and simplified forms, painted instead of dark-stained wood, and a healthy admixture of functionalist/Bauhaus styles. And also way more actual crystal and imitation crystal chandeliers. Finns and Swedes fucking love their crystal chandeliers. I can understand their cultural history and dark winters and all that before the invention of electric lighting, but they still need to pump the brakes a bit. Chandeliers do not belong in your kitchen or bathroom, guys.

Every now and then I get a craving like,

"I wish I could read [fandom] the way it was before [subsequent bad canon/creator behavior]."

The thing is, all the stuff I enjoyed the first time I read it is still there, but... it never feels the same. All that Avengers tower fic from 2012 and all that season 1 Teen Wolf fic, for example, actually don't taste the way I remember them tasting.

This is true of a number of foods that I liked as a kid, too. The smell of bacon or hamburger cooking are slightly nauseating to me now that I haven't eaten them in 20 years, but sometimes I still wake up from a dream wishing I could have the bacon cheeseburgers I ate at age 19 from the college dining hall once a week.

Benjamin is one of several large and venerable potted plants inherited from Wax's granny, so he's probably older than I am; he has been in front of the east window in the kitchen since we moved here. However, he's had a hard time this spring after Sipuli peed in his pot several times to protest her litter box being smelly.

Once it got warm enough to not shock him in the process, Wax discarded all his old soil, shook and jiggled and rinsed his roots, and repotted him with new soil; and in apology for the trauma of that, she felt obliged to let him stay out for a while (but not fully outside, where the temperature fluctuations and wind and rain would be too much for him).

The thing is... Benjamin hasn't been pruned in a long time, and he's probably about six feet tall and four feet wide, now.

The porch isn't large.

As Wax put it when carrying out the recycling last week, it's not very convenient having your porch half full of tree.

She says she can't bring him inside, though, because he's enjoying himself so much (making lots of new leaves) that it would be mean.