It’s mushroom time and while I like mushrooms how people can just walk into the forest and forage for them is beyond me. Because that shit is fucking dangerous. Just look up what happened to the guy who wrote the Horse Whisperer. I kid you not. And then there’s this, too:
The toxins in the death cap mushroom make themselves known within 24 hours, as the body is racked with abdominal cramping, vomiting and diarrhoea. After a day or so, the symptoms die down and the sufferer recovers, gets up from his bed and thanks God for His mercy. But he has not been saved. Silently, secretly, the poison is invading his body, shutting down his internal organs, wreaking irrevocable damage upon his liver and kidneys. Jaundice will follow, then seizures. Within two weeks, he will be dead. There is no antidote.
Not great. Anyway, it’s surprisingly cold here already and last week we had our first hard frost — so I guess I won’t be really warm again until next April. Maybe that also means that the fall storms are already over and our power will stay on. Which is good, because I still haven’t out anything resembling a go-bag together, even if there are plenty of lists and tested gear options available.
It being this cold though makes going to bed a lot cozier because let’s face it, you can always add more layers to reach the perfect temperature. Not so in the summertime. And while I sleep like a rock, apparently it’s not that recent a thing for bonded humans to share a bed and while I remember in the very beginning not being able to sleep because I the other person’s breathing would keep me up I’ve gotten over that a long long time ago. And if that doesn’t help, the bitter bitter craft beers will.
I was actually thinking about one more thing — the fall of the Berlin Wall, which just had it’s 25th anniversary and the Germans did a very cool light installation that night. I’ve lived in Berlin most of my live, aside from my entire high school years, which were spent in the mountains in the south of Germany, but that’s another story. After which I moved back to Berlin again and stayed there until moving to the US. When the wall came down I was 11 years old, so I was old enough to remember the whole thing. Maybe not old enough to clearly understand the implications, but I got that it was a big deal and driving or walking into the Eastern Part — I was a Wessie — the difference was striking. The smell of the coal ovens, everything falling apart, Trabants and Wartburgs everywhere…shortly after that I was sent to the south of Germany and spent my teenage year there, so I wasn’t really in Berlin as things changed in the ‘wild 1990s’…