Sunday 15 February 2009

A Visit from the Lint Fairy


Sometimes when folding laundry out of the drier (folding it--as opposed to the usual routine of scrounging something to wear out of it, only to transfer back to the washer without the interim state of being nicely bundled and pressed and in the Schrank) I find such little gifts in my pockets, perfectly formed lint-eggs, prodigal lighters that miraculously still light, shiny clean coins and wrinkled notes. Money is a terribly dirty thing, and one wouldn't want to find rough-handled sums in his pants. These little gifts sometimes make the domestic drudgery worthwhile.

Saturday 14 February 2009

green thumb


My home is the green-house of unwanted plants. Many I've rescued during office moves and brought home, like ugly strays that don't have a chance of surviving the pound. There are skinny, stunted palms that hang on, I think, just out of spite, and weepy ones that grow sideways instead of up and out, despite my efforts to coax them towards better posture--and of course there are those that I've tried to fertilize and rehabilitate with bigger pots, mindful that that that fertilizer is a mixture of tired-out dirt, cigarette butts, ancient coffee pads and bunny poo. In a little cobblestone village without yards or trees, I don't think one is allowed to import enriched soil. My little deformed jungle is fine by me, although I am a little embarrassed for them to share the same space with H's perfect speciments of domestic horticulture.

Tuesday 10 February 2009

refreshing beverage


And lo, Johan decreed that there be two drinks: and there was coffee to rule the day and beer to rule the night. I swear, these handicaps and props have the potential to make me crazy. Not that a sequestered evening accompanied with cheap beer is all that shameful, a shared touch of wine makes for a definitely civil time. By the same measure. a spot of tea and some break-beat yoga, a discipline that I've since let slide considerably, makes the mornings seem ceremonial. It's a little declasse otherwise.

Monday 9 February 2009

VD is for Everybody

Having ponificated before on the stories told by old, decrepid social-networking profiles, one popped up for me that I had forgotten about. I hope that for everyone, neglected personals have true love in their obsolesence. I wonder how Yahoo! knew, but I guess it guessed right after so long neglect.

Tuesday 3 February 2009

Won't get Fooled Again

Here, on my desk is a picture of the new boss--there was never a photo of the old boss in the office, that I keep forgetting to find a suitable frame for (it's of course printed on a shiny A-4 European-sized page, and government-issue frames are 8 1/2" by 11" and I can't bear to trim him to size), which has been there since the day after the inaugeration. I feel guardedly optimistic about the future of the economy and my own job security--I think maybe that ought to be the one constant but timorous bulwark of America, a reliably strong influence on trade and the markets, that and a beacon of freedom and liberty. Speaking of my own job security--without going into the details of keeping a standing army and other relics of the Cold War, day by day, I come to realize that the entity known as USAREUR (pronounced "use-a-rawr," the Army likes for its acronyms to be flubbed out loud) exists exclusively as a make-work program for those individuals in the witness protection program. Daily, as we reinvent the catch-22, I feel certain that that is the one rational explanation for the rampant illogic.

Monday 2 February 2009

Rewinder


H was very surprised to hear that the pageantry associated with Groundhog Day is believed to be steeped in traditional German rites of Spring. Americans apparently excuse their silly behaviour by offering that the Pennsylvania Dutch came from the old world for the freedom to celebrate Imbolc in the way that Thor intended, without fear of persecution. I suspect that the whole notion is another example of patrician ridicule for those who dragged their feet when converting from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar, like April Fools' day. Today certainly felt like Spring, however, and I hope the vermin didn't spy its shadow. I bet H was as surprised to hear of the German influence as I was to find out that Germans believe there is a mandate for an ornament, some representation of a pickle on every American Christmas tree. "A Gurken?," I said. Yes, hidden somewhere apparently, like the word "Mini" on the picture-puzzles of the Mini-Page or like the allegory in Leonardo's paintings in the Da Vinci Code. I'll find the Holy Grail yet.