Mushrooms 2009, part deux

Let's begin with the least pretty mushrooms I think I've ever seen. Lookit these. They're like giant ears. I should've put my thumb there for scale: these are the size of luncheon plates. Giant Ear mushrooms don't strike me as particularly appetizing, even if they are edible. And I don't know if they are. So don't go nibbling.

This one reminds me of our honeymoon in the Wisconsin Dells. It's very weird to touch, too: firm and cool. Like a mushroom, I guess. Go figure.

Here's the underbelly of the Honeymoon Mushroom.

Underneath, someone (a gnome? a fairy?) has written "V". Of course. Can you see it? It makes me happy.

I took more photos of this cluster of mushrooms than any others. There's a big old clump of these, right between two tree stumps, and I just love the texture: even the stems are ruffly. The color reminds me of banana cream pie, so I'm calling these Meringue Mushrooms.

These are on one of the tree stumps near the Meringue Mushrooms, and I think I might be in love with them. They're so striking next to the dark brown bark and green moss, they almost seem to glow. I would call these Diamond Mushrooms, but then I'd have to find children to harvest them and exploit them extensively (the children and the mushrooms), and I'm just not into that.

This mushroom appears to be...dead. I mean, I'm not a mushroom expert, but it just didn't seem as perky as others I've seen. But I love the colors and the texture underneath. If it's not dead, it's obviously a Zombie Mushroom.

V came out to see what I was doing and found me laying on my belly on a hill, so she squatted down to see what I was looking at. I know the mushroom here is blurry (I have better ones of this beauty), but I like this view of her gently touching, almost petting, the fungus. Do you think fungi can spread swine flu? Wait...don't answer that. I need to go Purell a 4 year old quick.

Finally, I am completely crazy about this mushroom. I know I said it last time, but I mean it this time: I think I need a tattoo of this thing. It's a freaking bonnet mushroom! How sweet and round and ruffled and perfect it is! I want it to live in my pocket.

Believe it or not, I pick and choose carefully through dozens upon dozens of photos to bring you these selected mushrooms. I hope you find them savory and pleasant, and aren't too startled with my clear and sudden adoration of this kind of flora. I am continually surprised at how many different types I can find in just one yard (these are all from a lake lot in North-central Minnesota). I feel compelled to learn more: how many kinds are there? What are their real names? What ones can I eat? But maybe if I knew all that stuff, I would see them all differently, and right now I'm finding the discovery is the best part.

Starlight

I have to be honest: This was not my own idea, but it's one of those cases where I followed a link through a link on someone's home page to a link someplace that led through to something somewhere, and I saw this lovely idea of star-shaped post it notes+a child=kinda neat, and instead of bookmarking it like a smart, responsible person, I just ran to Office Max, bought some stars, came home, took pictures, and it wasn't until I was ready to write about this process that I realized I had not done a good job of keeping track of my sources.

If I were my student, I would show myself no mercy, and insist that I find the source or take an F for cheating. I just...couldn't....post without proper credit. And I like these pictures too much to not post them!

I tell you all that to tell you this: I looked for over an hour two separate times, and finally found my sources (see also the original inspiration here and here). I tell you this because I could've just posted and said "I saw this idea someplace." But for once I did the right thing. And I'm proud of myself.

So there you go. What did you do this weekend?

Back in 2005...

Four years ago tonight, I was just beginning my first (and so far, only) hallucinogenic experience. In my mind, everything was Crayola colored, and the toys of my childhood (Big Wheel, Sit-n-Spin, CandyLand) swirled together, danced across my eyes, and turned into Muppets and back to toys. It was breathtaking, exhilarating, exhausting. Which is ironic, since the nurses had administered it to help me sleep.

I was on our third attempt at inducing labor, and we (our doctor and Shaun and I) had decided to stay overnight this time, in the hopes that an overnight Pitocin drip would make the magic happen. But nobody in labor really sleeps all that well, so they gave me Stadol to help. As soon as the medication hit my IV, the wallpaper started moving, just before Shaun left to go let the dogs out. I kissed him goodnight and got the giggles. For the next six hours, I swung from awe at the images I was inventing to sheepishness: everytime the nurse came in to check my blood pressure, I felt like a drunk kid stopped by the cops who had to pretend she was sober when she obviously wasn't. Mostly, though, it was fun. I knew that it would wear off in 4-6 hours, and my nurse said I could have another dose then, if I wanted. For the first 5 hours I was sure I would savor that second dose. I hadn't been able to take anything stronger than Tylenol in 41 weeks, dammit.

The nurses made it clear that whatever it did to me, it would do to the fetus, and when I wasn't having technicolor Tonka trucks spin through my brain, I tried to figure out what she must've been seeing in her psychedelic experience. Was she reliving her zygotehood? Did she have fond memories of that Thai food we ate at week 28?

By 3 am, the excitement was wearing off, and a kind of paranoia set in. I felt guilty for enjoying myself so much when I should've been just trying to get this baby born. So I lied to my nurse: I told her I slept beautifully and didn't need more rest. By 4 am, I was back to feeling contractions, and waiting for our daughter to agree to come out.

She held out for another 15 hours, until the doctors went in after her. Of course, that's a story for another day.

But that last night before I became a mama? It was a helluva ride.

Pets o' my friends

We don't have any pets of our own, and their are none in our foreseeable future, either. So I find myself thinking often about the animals with which I do get to spend my time.

This is Cat. He's not really 4 feet long. It just looks that way.

My sister and her family just aquired him through the purchase of a lot next door to them. He's very sweet, very laid back, and very much an outdoor cat. Anyone with any suggestions on how to turn an outdoor cat into an indoor-outdoor cat is welcome to send them my way. Because this big fella has fallen in love, and I think they've all fallen back.

This sweet boy is Riley O'Riley. You may remember him from here (scroll way down), when he was very wee.He's much bigger now, but still adorable, and the day this photo was taken, he had been recently neutered. Can you see the newfound edge in his eyes? The wisdom? The reserved strength? The... I don't really know what dogs learn from neutering. So nevermind. Anyway, this pretty girl is Ramona, and once a long time ago I forgot her name, and could only remember "It's something like Desdemona. But not quite..." Oh, my mind is such a steel trap. She's a labradoodle (which apparently doesn't look spelled correctly. Ever) and you can see her here, as well. Riley and Ramona are both very sweet dogs. Except when they're together. It's all play, but it looks mighty fierce on film, doesn't it? I'm not sure, but you probably shouldn't piss him off.

Nature photos

I'm pretty sure this hummingbird had some sort of traumatic brain injury, because it didn't leave this feeder for about 5 minutes. Or maybe it was just the laziest hummingbird on earth. Either way, it was not hard to take pictures of this slug of a bird.

The chickadee-dee-dee was harder to photograph. I love these little birds: they look so concerned all the time.

And then they fly away.

First day of preschool, year II

Last year, it was all so new and exciting. This year, we were all so ready for preschool to start again. Seriously. Please. Give this child something else to do so I don't have to talk about Star Wars or hear a story about Cow the Washcloth Puppet for FIVE FRICKIN' MINUTES.

Still, I had trouble sleeping last night. Will she make friends in her new classroom? Will she have space to go and calm down if she gets upset? Will her new teacher think we're crazy? Will she sing the Addam's Family song on the first day of school? If so, would that be good or bad for her social life?

Look at this almost 4 year-old girl. She's not a baby anymore. She's a kid proper, with a backpack that won't fit her next year, a glow-in-the-dark sweatshirt, and a silly confidence about her that is both darling and disarming.

I hope she has a fabulous day, and can hardly wait to hear the stories she'll tell us. Provided there're very few cows or Star Wars characters involved. Of course.

Name that fungi

Remember last year's Mushroom Post? Yeah, me too. Wasn't that fun? It's made me want to take pictures of all kinds of fungeses. So far, though, they've been smaller and therefore harder to get underneath than last year. Even so, I have found about a dozen different kinds (or different looking) of mushrooms already this late summer. What do you know about mushrooms? Which ones can I eat? Which ones should I feed to my nemesis? Which ones should I sell on the black market? I know I could look this up on Wikipedia or some such thing, but I don't trust them. I trust you guys. What say you, fussy britches?

#1: Wee pine needle umbrella.

#2 Puffy roasted marshmallow-looking ones.

#3. This one wants to touch the sky. But it's only about 1/2 an inch tall.

#4. Sprawling kettle-cooked potato chip looking mushrooms.

#5. I can never find the gnomes that I KNOW live by these ones.

#6. These strike me as a higher-class mushroom than I'm accustomed to.

#7. Some craggier, less hoity-toity mushrooms than those pictured in #6.

#8. This may be the prettiest mushroom I've ever seen. I may need to get a tattoo of this one on my elbow. Your thoughts?

Birthday girl

The first time I met Crystal, I was 9 1/2 months pregnant, and it was the first day of faculty inservice at my new job. She was wearing one of my favorite t-shirts, and I thought she was probably too cool to be my friend.

I was wrong. I mean, she is very cool, but she's become a dear friend these last 4 year. Our office cubes faced each other until this semester, so we were practically roomates at work. Out of seven full time faculty in our department, we're the two with MFAs. We went to the same graduate school; we both have one younger sister. She's in a band and is, I think, even more optimistic than I am about teaching and the world. Aside from the fact that my job lets me discuss topics I'm passionate about all day long, it also brought me together with some fantastic people. Through Crystal, I met Todd, above.

And Nancy, whom V calls "Mancy." (I've got a similar shot of Nance holding V when V wasn't even a year old yet...I should find that)Shari, whose new office is next to mine, and whose music I can hear wafting in through the open ceiling. It makes me happy to be her neighbor. K.C., who should consider unclehood as a profession.

(I've got photos of Sue, Joyce, and Fej, too, but I should get permission before I expose them to my immense blog readership.)

I miss my old friends who've moved away all the time. But I feel so, so blessed by my new friends.

Happy birthday, Crystal Rae.

End of summer

ca. 1976ca. 1979

ca. 1998

Anyone know where we can find a good sunflower field in which to stick our kids and take pictures? Jess and I may be getting too old for this.

Big Girl Haircut

She goes back to preschool in a week. She doesn't like having her hair brushed, and when we're on a morning schedule, it's just painful for everyone. So we walked into a discount hair salon a few days ago and cut off a bunch of her hair. When I tell people this before they've seen her new look, they tend to gasp a little bit: before the haircut, she looked like a toddler with more hair than most grown ups. A wee Cousin Itt, if you will.

But when they see her? It's all good. And if she decides she doesn't like it? It'll grow out soon enough. But for now, she is an adorable big little girl, if I do say so myself.

Some posts just can't be titled effectively.

I have a link to share with you. But first, I have to tell you a story. Don't worry; unlike most of my stories, it doesn't have a horrible ending or wind up with me begging you for something.

It was 1994. I'd turned 21 a month or so earlier, and my sometimes-sweetheart was a college student in Moorhead. So we went to Ralph's Corner Bar, a Moorhead institution, where grizzled locals and college students alike shared cheap beer and greasy burgers. I liked the bar: it was old, and grungy, and my mom had maybe gone to it when she was in college. Live music played in the back room, and years later I'd see bands with names like Diesel Jenny play there.

This was only my second time in a real bar (my first was in Morris, where I turned 21), and it was different than just a college bar. It was older, and dirtier, and felt more grown up. Plus they had black leather booths, cracked with age and smoke, that made me think of movies like The Untouchables. It was the kind of place that, when you walked in, a good dozen people turned to see who you were. Like the gas station in my hometown, but with the smell of stale beer.

After our first pitcher, I excused myself to the ladies' room. It was one of those single-room ones, with a thin wood veneer door and push button lock. As I dropped my Levis and turned to sit, I saw a sign on the back of the bathroom door. It was one of those black and orange signs you can buy at K-Mart that say "Garage Sale" or "Beware of Dog," but this one was blank in the middle, and someone had scrawled in black Sharpie:

Remember:

No Drugs

in Your 'Gina.

I am a simple, inexperienced woman in many ways. I grew up in a town of 300 people, and I swear no one I knew had ever even THOUGHT of what this sign was reminding me not to do.

We left after that one beer, and though I went back in later years, I never saw the sign again. This was long before digital cameras, but man, I wish I had a photo of that sign. Who put it up? Was it a joke? Did someone really need to be reminded? As if someone might forget and oopsie! There's drugs in my 'gina again.

Anyway, I told you all this to show you this, an article about the new business in that old space. I'm not a believer in this kind of thing, honest. But if any place in the world might need cleansing, I can vouch that it's that bathroom.

V loves IKEA

We went to the big Cities this weekend, and saw about 1/4 of our dearest friends in what turned out to be a bit of a Saturday-Sunday marathon. We saw the Gem*elke-Lees, the Spo*hrs, some Smiths, the S*undse*ths, the P*atricks, Uncle Steve, another S*und*seth, and IKEA. I have a handful of photos to share from the Pat*rick/Sund*seth visit, but they will have to wait. I mean, lookit that first picture. V's doing her "I'm so excited to be at IKEA!" dance. V and Shauners visit about our big trip.V finds Swedish Snoopy adorable (what would my Grandpa Art say? Besides uff da or ... valsinga gud...or...dang, I don't know much Swedish) V loved this area the best: "Daddy, it's all for kids!" she said excitedly, just before her nap.

Overall, we had a lovely time. And those of you we didn't see, we'll catch you the next time around. After we've recovered a bit. If you'd meet us in the kids' section of IKEA, that would probably help, too.

Oh, and also, yes, I made V's clothes in these pictures, and yes, that shirt covers her belly, if she's not dancing around or being a doofus. Which is pretty rare, come to think of it.

Flowers for Myra

My mama's off on vacation, on a car trip to New York State with her dear dear friends. She'll be gone two whole weeks, and we already miss her. When my parents got married, my dad was already 40, so they wanted to hurry up and have children (my mom was only 27). They planned to travel together once we were grown, and they had retired. Besides, at 40, my dad had traveled throughout the US, and served in the Navy, building swimming pools in Cuba and Morocco. Anytime my mom said she'd like to go someplace, he'd say, "I've been there! Let me tell you about it instead."

15 1/2 years later, he had a stroke, and we were still far from grown up. Not only did they never get to travel together, but he couldn't even tell her about all the places he'd been anymore, because of aphasia.

Four years after the stroke, she took a trip to Lake Tahoe for work, and she came home so, so happy. Travel suited her, and she'd finally seen what she'd been missing.

When he died in 2002, travelling kept her busy, and though her friends and family teased her (because seriously, she was going all the time!) we were glad she could go. She's been to Alaska, California, Oregon, New York, and everywhere in between.

I hope this trip is at least as fun as the others have been, and I look forward to seeing her when she gets home, all aglow from adventure, good company, and many miles there and back.

flowers are all from Myra's garden, as photographed by her. I'm not weeding the flowerbeds while she's gone, either. Correction: As my sister pointed out in the comments, some of the flowers are in Jess' garden. Sheesh. All these territorial gardeners.

Rainy Day

Today was thick with humidity until it finally rained around 4: that kind of rain that we're just glad finally came, because we knew it was coming all day.

So what to do with an almost 4-year-old who only wants to watch Spongebob and tell made up stories called "Our family, the Addams Family, the Star Wars Family, and KISS all go to Las Vegas" (you think I'm exaggerating, don't you?)

When I couldn't take either of those things anymore, I broke out this set of Melissa and Doug Dough Play toys we got at Saver's a few weeks ago for $2.99, still in the box. (I know the photos leave a lot to be desired. It's a rainy day, people. What did you expect?)

Then, because I solicited information from you guys a few posts ago and got suggestions and even a bona-fide recipe via e-mail (thanks, Donna!), I decided to make our own dough. I had to empty salt shakers I'd forgotten we had, and didn't think to take pictures during the cooking phase, but here's our finished project. It's from a recipe pretty similar to the first one here. It's really smooth and kind of sproingy, and especially fun when it's still warm. Look at the anticipation in her face:And there's not a talking sponge or Millenium Falcon in sight.We rolled, and pulled, and squished, and laughed. It made the whole day so much brighter.

C'mon over on your next rainy day, and we can all play together.