Mormons, Martyrs, and Morons

It's been an interesting few days on Steinstrasse.  I met a bunch of Mormon missionaries in the chocolate store last week and had a brief conversation with them in American.  Really nice kids from all over the US.  I didn't think about them again until I was riding the train back from Bielefeld today (where I managed to avoid buying anything except for a ham sandwich) and heard American voices in the car.  They got off at Herford, and were, indeed, the female half of the contingent I had met last week.  We chatted at the station for quite awhile and I must admit, it was nice being able to use metaphor, simile, and subtle humor, which I really miss when speaking German (although, before I'm 96, I should have a grasp.  They reminded me of some old friends and some good times.  Such experiences are always welcome.

In between meetings, I was a little unnerved a few evenings ago as I was getting ready to shut down for the night.  There was an uncanny howl coming from the bench between the house and the moat and my curiosity got the best of me.  A woman, younger than I by many years, was lying on the bench in the fetal position and hugging a small dog while periodically screeching, moaning, wailing 'Niemand liebt Mich' (nobody loves me).  I stood there for at least ten minutes alternating between thoughts of going to help, calling the police, yelling go away, but was saved from action when she let go of the dog, got up, and rapidly staggered away.  I hope my compassion (as indecisive as it was) helped.

The use of alcohol as a self-medication in times of depression is strongly advised against.  My experiences would make a good pamphlet on the subject!

Other than that, folks are putting together photo exhibits, new books, lectures, etc. and the city is busy everyday because of the great weather we've been having.  As I mentioned before, clouds are the sidewalk  cafe's enemy.  Something about an overcast day keeps the tables empty, with the exception of a crazy American and a few other caffeine and people-watching addicts.

I, as is obvious from this post, am still dwelling in a creative black-hole where ideas are allowed, but execution is not.  This too shall pass.....

Heat

Living on the 4th floor (5th if you're An American)with a balcony and living room windows facing southeast is normally a treat, until you encounter 35° c and higher. The Sun starts warming the place at 10 in the morning and goes on until it disappears below thu horizon between 8 and 9 in the evening. I close the place down at 10AM and look for shade, ice cream or apple juice. If the indoor temperature stays below 30, it's livable, but a warm, dark cave is for the winter bear. The Summer bear needs to move, albeit slowly.

It's a far cry from my previous existence of air conditioned cars, offices, and houses, but sandals, cotton and linen clothes, and a straw hat are environmentally friendlier and they leave me with enough spare change to buy LOTS of ice cream!