Cherries

One of our assistant doctors has a cherry tree (actually his father) and he already came the past days with cherries. I told him I'd take a larger amount from him to make jam from it. Of course he'll get a jar, too.

Today he brought me a basket full. I weighed it at home. Basket and cherries: 10.1 kg (22.3 stone).

A very dear colleague helped me getting the basket to the park deck and called a cab from the main entrance to me. It was easiest that way, especially since it's been raining on and off today. A few steps from the cab to my apartment weren't that difficult.

I took a couple of hand full and put them in the kitchen sink, added water and washed them. Then taking off the stems. Of course the stones had to go, too. I don't have any tool to do that and I used the easiest thing to do it in the end: my fingers. Before I really got started, I had the idea to change my grey t-shirt for an older orange one. Good idea. Before I placed everything in a meaningful way, the floor was the first to get some drips, followed by the wall, my t-shirt and my fingers, of course.

I wondered, if larger amounts of blood than just a simple cut would stain that much, too. I discarded the thought of asking one of our doctors though when it occurred to me that they are using gloves during surgeries.

Question: Why do doctors wear gloves during surgery?

Answer: So they don't leave fingerprints.

Actually I thought about Rorschach from Watchmen while taking the stones out. The Comedian gets killed. He's got a badge with a yellow smiley. The smiley gets a distinctive blood stain during the killing. The smiley, changed that way, is one of the most famous signatures for both the book and the movie. Although the smiley from the movie is stained a bit different from the book. Rorschach finds the smiley and goes to his colleague (may we say friend?) Daniel Dreiberg with it. Daniel is not at home, so Rorschach effectively just breaks into the home and also eats a can of baked beans. When Daniel arrives, Rorschach shows him the smiley, which leads to the following dialogue:

Rorschach: Daniel, look at this.

Daniel Dreiberg: Is this bean juice?

Rorschach: Human bean juice. Badge belonged to the Comedian. Blood, too. He's dead.

Knock knock!

Guy comes into my office this morning and goes, "Knock knock!" So of course I answer with, "Who's there?" But he in return just goes, "Company shredding." I'm not even sure, if "Shredding" is the name of the company that shreds the sensible data we store in boxes or whether he meant to say that he is from the company that comes to collect the sensible data from our box for shredding. He seemed happy and in a good mood, but he wasn't exactly on the ball.

I wrote that to a couple of friends. Two of them wrote back asking what I had expected. Well, something clever or funny. The other day for example I read something in English that I found quite funny and unusual:

Knock knock
Who's there?
Little old lady.
Little old lady who?
I didn't know you could yodel.

I wasn't on the ball myself though. I should have told him that he should think of something to reply for the already hinted Knock knock joke.

Do you know any good Knock knock jokes? Write them in the comments!

Midnightsnack

I'm laying in bed and should have been asleep a long time ago. Should have been in bed a long time ago. The light is out and a humming starts. The unmistakable humming of a mosquito. 'You've got to be kidding me', I'm thinking and turn the light beside the bed back on. No joke. A mosquito. Still flying at the bed in the corner. The very corner where the spider is, too, although without a visible web. The spider goes to the mosquito, but doesn't quite get it. Turns instead to some other tiny flying creatures that came in through the window drawn in by the light. I help the spider a bit and blow the mosquito just once away from me and towards the spider. Now the spider gets it. It weaves the web around the mosquito. I turn the light out again. Only once I hear a soft humming from the mosquito. Then it's quiet.

Muscle memory

So I've changed the number code on my cellphone to unlock the keylock about a week ago. I only changed it a bit actually. I know very well the combination of the new code, because it has more meaning for me now than the old one did. Hence the change. But it took me about four days or so to not type in the old code just out of habit. Four days! Although the new code has more meaning! Four days and repeated false entries.

It's not just habit, which to me seems more a head thing. It's also muscle memory. In my head what I type is numbers as well as letters. I couldn't for the life of me tell you the "pure" numbers of the code, because I have no idea what numbers I'm typing for the letters. I know the letters though and my fingers know which keys to hit.

And for two days or so now I type the new code without failure. Interesting this habit and muscle memory thing.

Disturbed: The Sound Of Silence

A new version of a classic. Thanks Lisa, for making me aware of it.

Here is the link to the official music video to it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9Dg-g7t2l4

 The Sound Of Silence

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

Fools, said I, you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence

A joke

Rorschach in "Watchmen":

I heard joke once: Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Life seems harsh, and cruel. Says he feels all alone in threatening world. Doctor says: "Treatment is simple. The great clown Pagliacci is in town. Go see him. That should pick you up." Man bursts into tears. "But doctor...", he says, "I am Pagliacci." Good joke. Everybody laugh. Roll on snare drum. Curtains.

The blackbird

Dear reader,

I just wanted to get some lettuce for the guinea pigs and walked the footpath, when I noticed a dark pile very close to the road. When I came closer, I saw that it was a dead blackbird. One wing was spread. Possibly hit by a car in flight. I knew right away that I had to pick it up and bring it to the park across the street. But I didn't want to touch it with my hands and it wasn't cold enough for me to have my gloves with me. So I first went shopping and at first I picked a small bag from the fruits and veggies section. I stuffed it in my jacket pocket and grabbed the lettuce and paid at the check-stand. I put the lettuce in my backpack.

On my way back I turned the bag inside out and put it back in my jacket pocket. A crossroad away from the blackbird I noticed someone walking behind me. I didn't want someone to see me, so I walked a tiny bit slower and the person passed me a few steps later.

When I was close to the blackbird, I looked around me quickly, if someone was close. That wasn't the case. I kneeled down and in turning the back again, I attempted to get the blackbird in the bag carefully. I held one hand under the blackbird and the other arm and hand around it on the side. I went back the street a bit like that to reach the crossroad and waited at the traffic to get to the other side of the street. I walked the big steps up to the park and noticed just how very untrained I am. Someone more sportive than I am, would have found it easier to walk the steps, even though I wasn't out of breath. At the top I kept to the right. I passed the playground. I wanted trees and something smoother than the path to lay the blackbird to rest. Only few people out and about. I would have expected more people taking their last opportunity for a walk in the old year. A couple walked far behind me. I didn't want them to see me putting down the blackbird. I wasn't sure what others would think about me placing a dead bird in a park. So I walked a bit faster to get more distance between me and the couple. Shortly after a bridge there were several trees close together. That seemed like a good place. But I needed to be quick. I kneeled down and carefully folded the sides of the bag down, so the bag was only under my hand now. That way I was able to place the blackbird on the ground. Farewell, blackbird. May your death be the last in this year. Get up fast now. The bag with me again. But I held it crumbled in my hand now. The couple was close. Have they seen what I had done? I walked fast a bit back and then the path to the right. Have they seen what I had done? Still no calls. Actually, it didn't matter anyway. The blackbird belonged in the park, not picked up by the garbage collection to be burned in an oven or whatever happens to dead animals.

Back to the park entrance. The bag ended in the next trash bin. I didn't feel like waiting at the traffic again, so I used the entrance down to the underground to get out on the other side of the road again. Back home again. Hopefully the blackbird would be the last death this year.

Until next blog,

sarah