I meant the title in a response to Maude, not to the blog post I’m going to make. But I guess it could work both ways? Maude’s always thinking about her garden or Texy, but is finally thinking “Hey, maybe ol’ Maude doesn’t want to be in this setting anymore.” As for my post thingy, I was going to write about how I finished up reading Simmons’s Children of the Night, and now I’ve moved on to Syne Mitchell’s The Changeling Plague.

Children of the Night was good, but it was more like reading a version of Dracula’s Fury, rather than a scary horror story that had vampires in it. It was still good, but there’s a lot of medical jargon about using AIDS as a retrovirus to help cure cancers and things. In The Changeling Plauge, a guy gets cured of Cystic Fibrosis by using a cure made with an AIDS retrovirus. Also, as another similarity, one of the side characters drives a little Miata just like one of the main characters in Children of the Night. So how’s that for coincidences?

Kind of fun.

Also, I really liked biology class when I was in college but I still can’t make heads or tails of the wiki page for retroviruses, although I did read about the experiments with syphilis that Dr. Hideyo Noguchi of the Rockefeller Institute for Medical Research may or may not have done. (There’s a lot of “allegedly’s” floating around.) Still, that makes more sense as to why Diego Rivera painted the mural at the Rockefeller Center with the syphilis imagery. Probably even more damning than the explanation that the movie Cradle Will Rock.

My favourite part about biology, for those that care, was walking around in the sunshine by the riverbank and collecting samples. I also liked watching the samples later turn colours  after adding drops of whatever to them, but it was more of an aesthetic pleasure, rather than an intellectual scientific one.

So far, the Changeling Plauge is reading fast, like they way Hot Zone read fast. I’m not yet to the part where there’s an outbreak (and you know there’s going to be one) so I’m not jumpy when someone sneezes in the grocery line. Yet. It’s only a matter of time before the book creeps me out and I find myself investing in hand-wipes, at least for a month or two.