Hayes' Daylillies

See these pretty flowers? They're all day lillies. From Hayes' Daylillies farm (hence the name, which I may have spelled wrong-- if so, sorry to any of the farm owners who happen to read this blog entry). A couple of months ago, a colleague asked if I wanted to go see this farm. I thought, "Okay, I'm not all that big into day lillies, but it'll be a fun little road trip." Now, when I think of day lillies, I think of orange or yellow flowers with skinny petals that bloom for a day and then shrivel up and look ugly on the plant stalks. I have quite a few in my back flowerbed (I didn't plant them). They're okay, but not my favorite.

As you can see from the pictures above, I've been cheated of day lilly variety. I had no idea how many varieties there are. We drove up to the farm and there were literally HUNDREDS of varieties growing. I took pictures of some of my favorites (and the purple one's in your honor, Karen). My colleague, who has bought from this farm for years, taught me some day lilly vocabulary. The darker color inside the flower, around the stamens (I think that's what those are), is called an eye. She taught me other vocab, but I forgot. I was busy looking at pretty flowers. If you see a flower you like at this farm, you dig it up, bring it to the cashier, pay for it, and take it home to plant in your garden. I might just have to come back here next summer and get some.

But if I REALLY had my druthers, I'd fill my flowerbeds with roses.

venting some spleen

There's a little part of me that says, "Bad idea! Don't post angry!" I'm ignoring that little part of me.

I really shouldn't be bitter. After all, in a two-week period I've had an article accepted for publication and signed the copyright for it, making it official. I've also had an article receive the coveted "revise and resubmit" verdict. So a rejection shouldn't be a big deal, right?

Perhaps if it hadn't been so mean-spirited. Or maybe I'm just reading it as mean-spirited. Maybe I'll see it differently in the morning. It just seems like when reviewers think the article should be revised and resubmitted, the editor would at least give it a chance. Instead, the editor basically said, "Nope, your argument for your study is stupid." Worded more eloquently, of course, but the message is the same: you don't know how to do research studies with the big dogs of literacy studies. Which is fine-- that's why I submitted my study to an English education journal, not a literacy journal.

Do only "big dogs" get to publish? How does anyone become a big dog in such a setting? I don't want to be a big dog. I just want to get tenure. Can't senior professors be nice in their treatment of assistant professors' offerings?

Return of the wind-up sushi

First, a bit of backstory: My dad underwent an esophagectomy in August 2005. I sent him a Halloween cheer-up/get-well package a couple of months later. The package included a wind-up sushi toy. I don't know why I got it; I just thought it was funny. I brought it home and my cats went crazy over it. They'd bat it down the stairs, carry it in their mouths to the kitchen to bat it some more, hide it under the couch, and generally amuse themselves to no end.

After Dad died and we were going through the house, I wanted the wind-up sushi toy. I couldn't find it anywhere. I guess some lucky estate sale customer got it as a bonus with the master bedroom dresser set.

Now fast forward to August 2008. I'm in Trolley Square Mall, doing a little post-dinner browsing at a fun toy store. They had wind-up sushi toys! I had to get one. The video clip accompanying this entry shows my cats' reaction. Let me just point out that immediately after I shut the camera off and the sushi stopped spinning, Alice smacked it-- HARD-- across the living room floor. They still like to play with it, but they want the movement to be on their terms, I guess. Sushi, anyone?

Why I hate to mow my lawn

Those readers who have received Christmas letters over the past two years have probably noticed a theme: I hate to mow my lawn. I thought I'd help you understand why. Granted, lawn mowing has NEVER been one of my favorite outdoor chores; I'd much rather be planting flowers or tomato plants. I never did like that old push mower where I had to get a running start to get at the really thick parts of the lawn (from, um, when I procrastinated mowing because I hated doing it). And hey-- how did my brother manage to never have to take the lawn mowing chore BACK after he got home from his mission? But I digress.

As you can hopefully see from the above photo, I live on a hillside. A STEEP hillside. The bank near the right-hand back corner of the photo is, I'm sure, causing rotator cuff damage each time I push the mower up it. There are no flat yards in Morgantown. Or rather, there's maybe one-- I think WVU's president might have it. Generally you can hope for some flat spots but not an entirely flat lawn. (Note: I should never have complained about mowing my lawn in Iowa City. It probably resulted in bad lawn karma now.)

When I moved here two years ago, I received two pieces of lawn mowing advice: 1) Never mow a lawn when it's wet (you'll slip and fall down the hill) and 2) Mow sideways along the hills rather than up and down. That would be great if the pitch weren't so steep that the mower tipped over. Not the case for the hills in my yard, so I mow up and down the hill. For those who have mocked me for purchasing a self-propelled mower: it is saving my life, probably literally. No way could I mow this yard without the mower being able to help pull itself up the hills.

Two lawn mower incidents, just to give a bit of perspective (and they're great stories):

Incident #1: Putting the mower away after finishing.

I was at the top of the bank in the far right corner of the picture, up at the street level (which, for more perspective, is an ENTIRE STORY higher than the bottom of my yard). I'd just finished mowing. I looked down the bank and thought, "Hey, my storage shed is right there. I'll just turn the mower off and gently let it roll down to the storage shed." That would assume that the mower rolled in the right direction and was stopped by the shed itself. You know that's not what happened. Instead, it missed the shed, rolled all the way down the yard, ran into the neighbor's fence, and tipped over. I'm amazed it started the next time I went to mow.

Incident #2: The bug in the eye.

I was at the front of my yard (not shown in picture), just about done mowing for the day. It was hot and buggy (muggy too, now that I think about it) outside. I felt a sudden sharp sting on my eyelid (closed just in time) as a biting insect smacked into it. I held onto the mower with one hand while yelling "OW!" and holding my other hand up to my eye. No bug-- so I decided to carefully park my mower and then go inside the house to see what damage had been done. I thought I was on a flat spot, but apparently I wasn't. I let go of the mower (which turned off automatically) and then watched it roll down the slope, jump the ditch, head down the street a block, jump the neighbor's ditch, and flip over entirely to land in the neighbor's yard down the hill. Definitely NOT good for the mower (but it started . . . I think I'll name my mower Timex). I then heard tires screech as an innocent passerby skidded to a halt and jumped out of his car, looking at the mower, then me. "Are you okay?" Fine. Just very embarrassed that anyone saw that.

So come visit, but don't try to mow. Maybe someday I'll have a yard service.

May family rocks!!

So after looking at friends' blogs that are all nice and updated, I got a little worried that nobody will read my blog any more because I haven't updated it. But I have a good rationale: I was gone last week for the May family reunion in Utah! Rah!

Too bad I didn't take any pictures. Yeah-- a family reunion after FOURTEEN YEARS and I forgot to take pictures. Way to go. I kind of felt old this time, because most of my cousins' kids who were little at our last reunion (do the math-- that would be in 1992) are now in college and/or married with one or two kids of their own. A few people have really changed. I actually looked at one man and asked, "Who are you?" Turns out he's my cousin Christine's husband Dennis. Oops. Like I said, it's been a long, dry spell between reunions.

Highlights:
Steve Knuckles directing the whole May clan in campfire cheers and a special May family clap
Aunt Marian's slide show of Grandpa and Grandma May's lives, with almost every person across five generations represented
All the techie cousins-- plus a brother-in-law-- figuring out how to McGyver a connection between Aunt Marian's laptop and the projector so we could see the slide show
Cheesecake with blueberry topping at a campsite meal. Not that anyone I know dumped hers on the ground as soon as she got it . . . I hate when that happens!
Being introduced to roasted Starbursts-- thanks, Kathie!
Family skits
The ear wiggling contest. Cousin Steve is amazing at this! Grandpa May would be proud.
Paddleboats and an amazing workout of my quads-- who knew?
Imitating old family photo facial expressions
The deer who watched us prepare our lunch from just outside the camp pavilion
A late night game of Hearts. Um, when was "lights out" again?
A universal question: Why don't we do this more often?

Big John yells "Fore!"

I forgot to bring my camera on today's miniature golf adventure, so I borrowed a couple of images from the course web site. When I first moved here and was driving to Clarksburg for stake conference, we passed a big metal coal miner statue that was slowly rotating. "Wait, what's that?" I asked. I figured it was some kind of coal monument. Even better-- that's Big John, and he's the star attraction of Coal Country Miniature Golf. This image doesn't do him justice. He looks smallish from the highway, but he's HUGE!! Next time I'm definitely bringing my camera. So many photo opportunities!
The whole course is themed around coal mining. When you start each hole, there's a little placard that explains whatever piece of coal equipment is featured in the hole. Drills, fans, coal cars, pieces of the supports for walls (which, I learned from reading a placard, would sometimes collapse under the weight of the mine ceiling-- how very comforting). So kind of a combination of cheap entertainment and a bit of local history. Not that I golfed very well. My final score was 58. If I'd been at par, I should have had a score of 44. I stink at putting. I did better than my friend, though- her score was 67. Granted, she got a hole in one and I never did. And we both ricocheted off mining equipment a few times. No lost golf balls, though. That makes us pros, right?
There's also a little coal museum that's dedicated to mining disasters. There have been plenty in West Virginia, mostly right in this area. Yup, something to be uh, proud of? The best part of the museum for me was the Three Stooges golf poster on the outside wall. My brother had that exact same poster in his room as a teenager. Note to Karen: you want to hop on a plane right now after that bit of info, don't you? Get over here!

Yo Adrian!

Okay, so as you can see, I still haven't figured out how to put the pictures where I want them (and in the order I want them). Let's just pretend this is a Philadelphia collage. I took a little road trip last weekend (five hours in my little VW Beetle that gets GREAT mileage- yay!) to visit friends in Schwenksville. Don't you just want to live in a place with that kind of name?



So Schwenskville is a suburb of Philadelphia. I HAD to run the art museum steps and have a Rocky moment. That's the picture with the stairs. Just FYI, the stairs aren't all that long or steep, so it was a little anti-climactic, but I had a great view of downtown Philly from the top. I also went to see the Liberty Bell, but the line to go in was really long and I was hot and tired, so instead of going to see it I took a picture of Constitution Hall and then called my friend, who had dropped me off and then looped around, to pick me up. It took her half an hour. Remind me never to live in Philadelphia.



We also went to see Journey to the Center of the Earth in 3-D. Fun movie, made even more fun with the glasses. And the hat? I found it at a vintage clothing store in a giant flea market. Supposedly it was a farmers market, but I didn't see much local produce. While we were in Philly we stopped at the Reading Farmers Market, which features in National Treasure 2 (which I haven't seen).

See what you all are missing out west? Come this direction!

Watch out Design Star!

As you can see, I still haven't mastered picture placement in my blog entries. I was trying for a "before and after" effect, but the "after" pictures got positioned first. Emily, come help me figure out how to do this properly for the next blog entry!

Anyhow, as you can see from the picture to the left (compared with the top left picture, lots has changed in my master bedroom. I didn't intend this to be my summer project, but it almost literally has been. This (to the left) is what my bedroom looked like in early May. The picture doesn't do the nasty old patio door justice because it's hidden behind the curtain sheers. You can get the green and white striped wallpaper effect, though, right?

Now the walls are stripe free! Hurray! I feel kind of like I'm at a beach resort when I walk in the room. I still stink at cutting in (hope whoever lives in this house next doesn't look too closely), but I can't wait to wake up tomorrow morning and feel bright and restful when I look at my walls rather than slightly motion sick. I'm also looking forward to not trekking out to the living room to find my dresser drawer (where it was temporarily residing during the painting). My room is back in commission!

Next project: sod removal so I can finally terrace the garden area for my back yard. Hope the humidity goes down before I start . . .