this Flickr set of fog pictures - I do love me some fog) I saw some mushrooms being born. This puffball and three or four of his siblings were just coming out of the earth. It was kind of awesome; I could tell that they hadn't been there moments before and then, prompted by the fog or the morning or some mysterious mushroom signals from deep in the dirt, they were making their way up. None of them were much bigger than my thumb. The dogs squashed one, of course, but that's nature for you - drooling in tooth and squashed by paws.
I'm wearing a broken mood ring today. I guess that means I'm confused but actually I like mood rings when they break - they turn a sort of metallic green/brown color that I think is actually prettier than the more strident tones that announce to the world Hey! I'm passionate! or, more accurately, Hey! My hands are warm! Mood rings are wonderful, though and I am the proud owner, due to years of working in museums with gift shops, of many. They all turn my finger green if I wear them too long; this is the nature of mood rings. It has to be that way - they're only for training purposes. You must learn how to tell your moods apart without the ring, grasshopper, or your finger will turn green.
In other news, my head is still totally congested and I think perhaps it is time to turn to the hippies. Speak to me of this thing called a Neti Pot, oh hippies. What the hell is it, where do I get one, how much will it cost me and, please, will it work? I'm tired of the buzzing in my ears, the constant headache and we won't even go into the sad state of my nose. Sudafed isn't working anymore and even if it was, I can't buy any more for another month or something. My cold has become suspect; young M and I have done enough sudafed over the last two months to make us meth lab suspects. Although if anyone starting up a meth lab is also going to the trouble of buying cough syrup and nyquil and box upon box of kleenex, I say give them an Oscar and let them cook speed. Unfortunately, this is not how the ladies in the drugstore, to whom sudafed is second only to crack in the suspect substances department, seem to view it. I'm tired of having my driver's license scrutinized. And even more tired of having my sinuses stopped up.