Mudboggin' in a MacLaren

Went to a rather sparsely-attended Medal Day yesterday. Met Joyce Maynard and talked with her about memoirs; also chatted with a poet and accidentally insulted a director. ("Oh, I know your movie...I keep not taking it out of the library.")

I blame the insult on fluster due to, A, said director's beard-y cuteness and B, the adventure I'd just had. I'd convinced OSB to take Ella, who is 2.5 and full of zing, and Ella's stroller, which is British and highfalutin, on a "shortcut" through the woods. It wasn't too bad at first, save the rocks and exposed tree roots, and there were lots and lots of nifty mushrooms (I dreamt about mushrooms last night) plus a toad.

God do I miss the woods.

Anyhoo, we finally came to a pond, looked at a map, and realized we were almost to a road. But how to get around the pond, surrounded by dense forest? OSB looked behind some bulrushes and announced she'd found a way so she and I picked up the stroller, kid and all, and started walking...right into a big old pit of funky-smelling swamp mud that squelched up around our toes nearly to our ankles and sucked off one of OSB's sandals. Ella got a bunch of pine branches in her face and, as she was overtired, pitched a fit the likes of which is only seen in a two-year old. I couldn't blame her, though...it turns out we somehow got the bottom half of her all wet and she was strapped in tight with no way to escape. Poor boo.

But Auntie McPolack was OK! I took off my sandals and walked barefoot and it was h-e-a-v-e-n.