Coffee and Shrooms

I write things. On napkins, coffee cups, sometimes a desk at work. Sometimes I have so many thinking thoughts going through my head at once that it whisks my brain into mush. And not the good kind of mush either. Not like a wild mushroom and herb risotto mush, or a southern grits mush, but more like a garden soil that got too much rain mush. It's that mush that makes me write. Usually on my morning coffee cup. I should probably stop killing trees for my coffee and use my reusable cup, but what fun would that be?

Today I thought about growing mushrooms. I never liked mushrooms, until one day at a certain friends wedding I ate one and it was like fireworks in my mouth. Maybe not fireworks, that's not really the best word, but maybe after three proofreading sessions I will keep it. I thought about using the word ecstasy, but that reminds me of this story a certain close relative told me about that drug, so I don't really like that word. Anyway, back to mushrooms, I thought about growing them, but I am afraid that if I do, somehow a poisonous one will sneak in and kill me. Or make me sick. Really sick. I don't like vomiting. I don't even like that word. Here's a poisonous mushroom for you. I wouldn't eat it.

I have a million things to write, but I fear people will think I am crazy for just spouting out random information about my life, nothing that really is important, but just stuff. Yesterday I was teaching a 4th grade class and the students didn't know what long-winded meant. If you don't know, look it up. Anyway, the day was half over, time for lunch, and this kid comes up to me and says "Ms. Zink, you are a long-winded person." I just about died laughing. Apparently I talk a lot. And then I talk some more.
Does anyone know anything about growing mushrooms?