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Aquatic Life

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Last week we returned from a family vacation on Martha’s Vineyard… where our internet connection was blissfully spotty. That’s why I never bothered to post the answer to the Name Another Insect entry.

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But my neighbor Liz was first to chime in correctly. This lithe, little insect pictured is an adult mayfly. I can’t speak with certainty to the species, but Lee Miller suggested Hexagenia limbata, and based on a web search, that’s a pretty good guess.

Mayflies may spend a year or more in an aquatic immature stage, but just a single day in adulthood. I suspect that our mudroom visitor was a male — females tend to die closer to their water source/mating ground. Either way, it’s likely that this one lived a lifetime in a day.

So there you go, bug brainiacs!

Before I return to farm fodder — yes, endless alliteration — here are a few more pictures of aquatic activity from our summer outpost. (Maisie was our ever-present canine lifeguard.)

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Surf and Sand

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Last weekend we returned from our annual pilgrimage to Martha’s Vineyard, and I’ll let these photos and captions sum up the highlights. (Stay tuned for a farm-related post tomorrow.)

 

Kids confined:

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Obama’s Vineyard vacation? Presidential presence was far less intrusive this time around.

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Maisie stowed away and joined us.

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With Crazy Maze and my cousins’ dog, Sally, our crew hiked every morning, exploring varying island terrain.

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Some trails were more inviting than others.

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Midweek Brynn decreed: manicures for everyone.

Everyone.

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In a blink, the trip was over. One final swim. Then goodbye, MV.

Til next year.

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Seeing Stars

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Last Friday night I blew into LA — accompanied by Hadley — to visit my grandmother.

But before jetting off I made a quick appointment with my hair stylist.

Because I’m an actress and that’s how we roll. It’s all about the coiffure.

That’s right, I’m a movie star. According to my sometimes-muddled, 93-year-old Granny.

And I’m not some D-lister or a paltry movie extra. Nope.

My grandmother thinks that I’m Sandra Bullock.

Full disclosure: I’ve been told before that I resemble Sandra Bullock. As far back as college. I still remember the guy at a party in South Carolina repeatedly exclaiming, “Yew look like that gurl from Speed!” Since then others have echoed that sentiment. Though admittedly, with less Southern drawl.

And sure, if you cobbled together a police lineup of Hollywood stars, you’d say that I look like Sandra Bullock, more so than Oprah Winfrey or Zach Galifianakis (thank God).

But truthfully I don’t look like Sandra Bullock. Please.

Be that as it may, Granny thought otherwise. She even told her hairdresser, “my granddaughter is on the cover of the newspaper.”

And apparently I was, just a few weeks back. She saved that issue for me, in case I missed it:

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So given this grand build-up, I was a little reticent about the visit. I imagined trekking to the airport, dumping my car in longterm parking, flying cross country, slogging through LAX, snagging a rental car, wending through LA’s tangled freeways, and perching bedside, only to have Granny sputter: “What the hell?? You aren’t Sandy!”

Fortunately, that did not occur. Granny appeared happy to see me and she didn’t inquire about my recent Oscar nomination. Instead she asked, “Where are you with your schooling? Are you in college yet?”

Wow, I thought, first I’m a movie star and now I’m in my twenties. Bonus.

“Gosh Granny, I’ve been out of school for a while. I’m 42! I do some writing–”

“Oh that right,” she said, waving her hand. “Now I remember. That Facebook thing.”

“Yea, among other stuff,” I said. We sat there quietly for a while, before I added, “Who knows, you might be on that Facebook thing sometime.”

Granny arched one eyebrow and peered hard at me with her “I’m not a fool” look.

“I highly doubt that,” she said.

“Well, you just never know about these things.”

 

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