halophila

Moving day saw only one significant delay, due to the apparent relative scarcity of bohemoth trucks not otherwise engaged in the service of fleets of shipping goods that used to be quaintly known as truck-farming and due in the main to the previous renter of the transporter H and I reserved re-fueling the vehicle with petrol rather than diesel (which cheerleading signage on the tank and dashboard and fuel pumps prescribes boldly). I told H that that sounds like something I would do in a burst of trying-to-be-helpful but he was not amused at the time--though I've always been curious as to what exactly happens to the engine when one does that. Is it like trying to use Tschibo coffee pods with a Nespresso machine? Is it like putting a salt-water fish in fresh water? Drinking salt water? It seems strange to me that automotive poison can be dispensed freely from the next or from the same rack of pumps, and at the same time, the constitution of a diesel engine is not so delicate that it cannot be coaxed into running off of grease and vegetable oil. Despite the late start, however, moving went well and connections are up and running.

relocation bonus

Epic tasks notwithstanding, the move has gone outstanding well and the space is becoming our own. It would not be a task, however, that I would like to repeat again soon, nor is it something that I have become more expert on, despite excedingly numerous moves in my lifetime. Being incognito for the past weeks, off-line--as if what's not reported on, parodied, exaggerated and otherwise posted does not happen, has been quite nice: no lazy, ambient internet, no fixed phone service, and no television. It's been quiet and the picture of tranquility out the big kitchen windows, manicured rough and the gaudy excesses of nature. I chose this image of a dandelion going to seed because it is an absolute snow-storm in the wood by the shore, and when the wind comes in gales, it just pours through the trees and over the roofs in great blasts. A little rain did not do much to dampen this invasion, however.

spore

Never mind about the potential for hay fever or allergies, seeing great swatches of unnaturally yellow soy or alfalfa blooms can look positively alien--cthulhian, an an unintelligible invading madness, like a color from space. I have to wonder what sort pixie-dust is spread about in the pollen from genetically-modified crops. First, a fine layer settles on cars and window sills, inchoate like the blowback of a persistent sand storm. Is it the gentleman-farmer raising the plants--or is it the plants that have the farmers trained to be so considerate with their care-taking? The weekly aftermath, the air cleared of the stuff by a strong rain, looks less sinister, invasion defeated--the pollen tacky and gold, scumming puddles and between cobblestones.

Fahrvergnügen

I told H the other day that the overly-abundant and descriptive signage along German roads makes the task of driving a lot more fun. There are a lot of warning icons, like 1UP mushrooms, that make navigating like Super Mario Kart--sometimes you get Frog v. Car or Deer v. Snow Flake or Crumbling Mountain v. Oil Slick or Pedestrian v. Man with a Shovel. American traffic signs are dull, spelling things out without room for interpretation. These are exciting obstacles--"!" is a wildcard, but of course there are Stau warnings and the dreaed Detours. My navigation system even plays along by sounding alerts for speed cameras.

grippa porcina

As if there wasn't enough already to stroke one's worry-stone over, now comes the latest cause for mass-hysteria, neatly packaged and easily digested--swine flu. Apparently the nebulous ecomonic situation has become no longer captivating, and now a scenario, ham-fisted, that only the machinery of big governments comes along, begging intervention and a fresh, contained medical bail-out. Too clumsy to intervene in a supposedly self-regulating system, like world finance, it is as if the masses wanted something bureaucratic to believe in--or else, the government gets the chance to assert its relevance again. Avian influenza seemed much more scary, death rained from the skies, than whatever pig flu is made out to be, killer packs of zombie hogs--disfigurement from symptoms, including a piggy snout? The timing is superb, as is the chorus of panic.