Likin' Lichen

One of Herself's favorite classes in college was Biology of Plants.  She was a freshman, and most of the class participants were juniors; nevertheless, she was not intimidated, for the subject matter was so very fascinating.  The professor would sprinkle his lectures with interesting, plant-related anecdotes - and lo and behold, the anecdotes would turn up on the quizzes and exams.  Tricky.  The kind of learning Herself loved best. 

She is a little rusty now on xylem and phloem and rhizomes and such.  She has asked Offspring the Second to retrieve her textbook on plants from the depths of his room, so that she may refresh her recollection.  She looks forward to it.

Every time she is out in the wilderness, she looks for her favorite plants - lichens and mosses.  They are unassuming, yet immensely capable.  Beautiful to look at, and texturally interesting to the touch.  I am quite fond of them as well - one could say, I've taken a likin' to the lichen.  Hee.

Smoke

As part of the preparations for attending the Halloween party Friday, Herself took a late shower and then put her still-damp hair into a barrette.  During the course of the evening, she was sitting in the path of the smoke of the fire in the firepit.  Her hair must have absorbed a fair amount of the tiny smoky particulates, for this morning when Herself got into the shower, the wetting of her hair by the water released the faint scent of campfire smoke.

She wishes she could pack up her tent and her sleeping bag and go camping again.  Right now.

Costumed

Herself and the family attended a Halloween party at her Pea-in-a-pod-friend's abode yesterday evening.  It was warm, friendly, and entertaining.  There were seasonal foodstuffs, movies appropriate for the holiday, and a slightly smoky fire in the firepit in the back yard.  A good time was had, particularly by Offspring the Second and Offspring the Third.  It pleases her enormously when the Offspring have an opportunity to spend time with their friends and peers.  Good for them.

Since it was a Halloween festivity, everyone went in costume.  Herself eschewed her traditional Trinity (Matrix) costume in favor of something new.  She opted this year for a Star Trek (Original Series) uniform (blue, for science officer, naturally) T-shirt dress, along with the requisite tights and knee-high boots. Slightly nerdy, but humorous. Fun!

A bit like Uhura - well, that was the goal, anyway. 

It was a good outfit - in theory.  In reality, Herself could not shake the feeling that it might be just a wee bit too short, or a wee bit too revealing.  Is it inappropriate for her to dress in something somewhat clingy?  Is it alarming, disconcerting, unpleasant for those who see her? 

The real question in her head:  is she just too hefty? 

She tries hard.  She exercises.  She attempts to eat right.  She makes a solid effort to keep in shape.  Yet when she looks in the mirror, she is unhappy.  She does not like what she sees.  There is too much of her.  Too much cleavage.  Much too much cleavage.  Also, too much tummy, too much thigh. Too much ass.  She turns away, and attempts to reassure herself by reminding herself that she's a middle-aged woman, and thus, invisible to the general population anyway. 

She is sad. 

I don't know how to help her feel better about herself.

Loud

Herself can be Loud.  I know this may surprise you.

When she was a child, Herself was quite quiet.  She toed the line, did what she was told, tried hard not to complain.  Her needs and desires came second to the directives she had been given.  She learned: don't cry, don't overreact.  Such a stifled child.

As an adult, Herself has gradually -- slowly, painfully -- learned that it is OK sometimes to give voice when she is upset.  She is not very good at it. 

Take this morning, for example.  The dogs were, yet again, all clamoring at her, barking and growling and clawing her ankles. She was Done.  She yelled at them.  And she irritated other household members in the process. 

Retrospectively, it is easy to see why Herself had reached the end of her rope.  The moment was, in fact, the culmination of over a day's worth of minor irritations, piling up one atop the other like the grains in an anthill.  There was work:  while mercifully present, there were unexpected time constraints on certain projects that made things a bit tricky.  Taekwondo class involved unexpected sparring (albeit "non-contact" sparring - which means that while she was spared most blows, the ones that accidentally landed hurt more) followed by the pressure of performing forms individually in front of the class.  An hour and a half was spent roaming the party store among hoi polloi with Offspring the Third, who desired a costume and yet was uncertain as to what he would like (and who ultimately ended up deciding to wear a costume he already had at home).  The guinea pigs were nibbling incessantly and noisily on their cage, begging for treats.  The shreds of a tissue were spread upon the carpet she had just vacuumed.

And more:  a conversation with a distant relative who put a negative spin on every single subject raised; the migraine that started at 3 AM and kept her awake for two hours last night, and the residual headache and nausea that greeted her when the alarm clock rang; the noise of the kitchen fan and the smell of the oil in the air while the eggs were being cooked; the multiple e-mails requiring immediate attention. The dishes. The laundry. The bills to be paid today.

And, the very last straw, the barking and the clawing.

 Even as she scolded the dogs, she was aware that she was loud.  Like Offspring the Third, when Herself is upset, she lacks a volume control.  She had reached a point beyond her ability to reel herself back, and even pointing out her difficulties would not have helped her to regain her equanimity.  It was A Moment.

She wishes she could do better.

What to do?  Herself knows that she clearly needs to learn to walk away from that last straw that is poking her.  Or better yet, to request assistance.  Yet we know how abysmal she is at asking for help.

Have patience, gentle souls, when she is loud.  See whether you can remain quiet and collected when it is clear that she cannot.  Step to her aid, even unasked, or even inquire what you can do to help. 

She will be quieted -- and she will be grateful.

Heels

The other day, Herself and I came across an article regarding footwear. 

Men in heels.

Just, no.

While Herself is generally a live-and-let-live, equality between the sexes, sort of person, this fashion trend seems unsettling and inappropriate to her.  She admits to me that she's probably far more conservative than one would surmise, given her fairly liberal upbringing and schooling.  For her, certain things are in the domain of The Men, and other things reside in the territory of The Women.  While there may be occasional crossover (Herself periodically takes a vehicle to be inspected or to have the oil changed, and she is charmed, rather than discomfited, by a man who folds laundry or takes care of dishes), she tends to divide activities -- as well as certain types of garments -- along traditional gender lines.   

While men's cowboy boots, work boots, hiking boots, and so forth, may have a bit of a heel, that is not the issue here.  Rather, it is pointy, strappy, wedged, decorative footwear:  the stiletto, the pump, and other such shoes.  These, Herself feels, are solely for women.  It may not be the most politically correct position, but it is Herself's honest opinion.

Now that we have contemplated footwear, Herself feels a sudden urge to find an opportunity to wear high heels herself.  Much as she loves her hiking boots, every now and then, she longs to dress up in proper girly fashion.  And that is:  in heels.

Bug Haiku

 Insects. Arachnids.
 Caterpillars and inchworms.
Grashoppers, crickets.

Strange warning noises.
Uncommonly bright colors.
Crawling, flying, JUMP.

Far too many legs
Mesmerizing, frightening
Beautiful creatures.

Camping: It Was Good.

Ah, camping.  It was Very Good Indeed.  I will tell you a bit about it and show you just a few of the many pictures.

Herself got up exceptionally early Saturday to ensure that the food was packed properly and the house was clean (she tries very hard to leave things tidy so that homecoming is pleasant).  Her Cherished Friend arrived a bit before dawn, and he, she and her Beloved packed up the various bins of equipment. Offspring the Second and Offspring the Third, who had been roused quite early as well, consumed a bit of breakfast, and then off we all went to the Gila Wilderness.

A pleasant campground was found in due course, and they set up the campsite.  Tents sprouted like mushrooms; chairs were arranged; tables were set; firewood was placed. 

After a late brunch, there was tree-climbing.  Herself loves to climb trees.

Later, off we all went for a short hike and exploration of a wash with interesting terrain, rocks, and insects.  There was a bit of water, clumps of algae, and purposeful red beetles.

As the sun started to set, we returned to camp, had a meal, and sat around the campfire until all the stars came out.  So relaxing.

Overnight, it was rather unexpectedly chilly.  There were howls of coyotes, hoots of an owl or two, and bright light from the nearly-full moon.

Emerging from the sleeping bags in the morning was rather difficult.  Everyone donned multiple layers of clothes (Herself informed me that a cold brassiere is not a pleasant experience) and the campfire was started up once more.  After a leisurely morning, camp was packed up, and off we all went to the City of Rocks.

There, we found a wee little rattlesnake.  We watched with considerable interest when the rangers arrived and removed it to a safer location with the aid of a large trash can and a very long pole. 

After a bit of a snack, Herself took a short nap in the shade of a rock while the menfolk climbed the rocks and explored a bit.  Then it was time to go.

It was a lot of pleasant adventure in a mere 37 hours away from home.

Herself was very pleased.  Spending time out in nature, away from It All, is always one of Herself's greatest pleasures.  Finally being able to use her tent and her sleeping bag was a long-held dream come true.  Watching the four menfolk relax and enjoy themselves, far away from the burdens of work and school, was marvelous to behold.  Her heart was full.

We will go camping again one day.  Soon, I hope.