Mushroom in a boot glass

When a mom visits a sick daughter, she might bring flowers.
Not my mom.
When she visits, she brings a poisonous mushroom, colorful, bright and beautiful orange with white spots, with crenellated edges.
We couldn't find the right vase to put it in, so now it sits in in a plastic boot drinking glass from "Dolly Parton's Dixie Stampede" - a souveneir from my parent's RV travels to Branson.
Somewhere there's a story here, but I think I might have to get well to find it.
My mom sees beauty around her, everywhere, on her walks, on travels.
Maybe there is a poem here instead . . . a kind of ode to my mom, who brings me mushrooms, leaves, and sometimes even flowers. She likes to give gifts of all kinds.

Submission Excitement

Currently, I have four works out in the nether world of editorial slush piles, waiting for a response. I made three of those submissions last week, and one tonight.

I can't describe the excitement, and the hopefulness, mixed with the anxiety of waiting to get a response. Will they accept my work? Reject it? Ask me to make changes and resubmit? Just offer a contract? Reject it with good critique that actually helps me become a better writer?

I won't know until those responses come. And tomorrow, instead of thinking about it, I will write again, and maybe even submit something again. I've found it's better to keep writing, and not lose sleep over possible responses.

But for now, fresh from the submission process, I know it will take some serious distraction to get those thoughts out of my head. I wonder if I can find something adventurous, fun, and maybe even funny on netflix?