I Need What?

Received a letter on Saturday stating that I was missing a third elective necessary for graduation this May.  Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!   My heart is still halfway up my neck with anxiety, and anyhow, I have done everything that this system has said was required.  My advisor checked and rechecked the course load year after year with no discrepancy, and even told me that I couldn't take another course this spring as that would put me over the limit.  She is a gem, and I already know that the snafu is in the graduate offices.

Still, if I do not attain this degree, it will be hell's teeth, arse, and damnation as the city and state want me done by August.  Sure, I could squeeze in a summer course that runs from May to June, but this whole soup is getting too close to the wire.  Fortunately, I had taken two electives back in 2002 and 2004 that may be used if I get the right signatures on the piece of magical paper that gives permission.  I had asked if I could apply these to the degree previously and told that well, no, you see, it was too long ago. Now, the new form says okay.  Forgive the blathering, but I am twitted to distraction.

The 2002 elective was probably the most enjoyable course taken in the roster of requirements, that being Fleshy Fungi, a study of the larger bodies of mushroom and mold, as compared to the minute spores, rusts, yeasts, and smuts that cover every inch of everything on this earth.  If all of it was able to melt away with only the microscopic fungi remaining, what you would see would be the ghostly outlines of buildings, people, trees, rocks, cars, you name it covered by fungal cells.  Rare is the area that has nothing.

We went out in the field during a particularly dry summer when little was flourishing.  To find fruiting bodies, one had to hunt under dead logs that held moisture deep in the woods.  It was well worth the search, for the array of slime molds was on parade, plus an example of Sphaerobulos stellatus, the artillery fungus.  This particular, miniscule mushroom is a nuisance that can grow on houses; it propagates through pressure building within the gleba, exploding and shooting spores to areas as far as 20 feet away.  To see it in person was fascinating, even though it mostly looked like tiny cracked eggs oozing yolk.

This will work out, I am confident.  It will because if I have to go down there, do turn on the local news because there may be yelling.  Incessant, ballistic, artillery inspired yelling.  Tonight, however, I bide.  I have a new bulb for the left turn signal and have looked up directions on the web for installation, as long as it doesn't incur attack from beneath the car engine, I think I can fiddle this in.

The snow has again stopped and is melting avalanche style from windshields and overhangs.  Robins are hopping about in search of sodden worms, the narcissus are again lifting their heads, freed from dollops of snow.  Hum as you tidy up before evening, readying to settle down after a warm supper.  Wash hands and face, bundle up the children, wipe the table, set cups on their shelf.  You are safe and able to watch the green things tiptoe back into play with each rise of the sun.  Take time now to sleep and let the day go off to a land where nothing matters, not time nor papers, cup or saucer, equinox or solstice.  There is a full Egg Moon tonight, marking the wild birds as they lay new eggs in nests.  The minnows are also running upstream, and the world spins on.  Put your hand in it, and leave behind good.  Sleep well.