The title is my weak analogy to yesterday’s blog title, The Salmon of Knowledge. I was pretty sluggish today after all yesterday’s exercise, though I ended up with almost as much exercise today, thanks to swimming in circles around the pool and vigorously winding yarn into ball, which counts.
Of course, I spent time in nature. Hope these Mockingbird babies make it.
It’s healthy to take a day off from being busy, though, so I gave myself permission to sit on the porch, watch documentaries on octopi, and enjoy food Kathleen made. The porch is getting even more relaxing. Two of my cushions arrived, and now lying on the couch is as comfortable as my bed.
Lee says the pillows are too loud. I say they pull together the trim, couch, and blue chair colors. Wait until he sees the outdoor rug…
Being the Slug of Exhaustion today also allowed me to ignore anything stressful that I possibly could. I just looked at my surroundings and enjoyed them, enjoyed the family, and will take the stress back up tomorrow.
Yet another Gulf fritillary Pond turtle covered in algae. It was going somewhere. Great Blue Heron going somewhere. Great Egret, relaxed.
Since I have nothing deep to say, let me recommend the Billy Joel documentary, And So It Goes, part 1 of which just came out. This part covers the years I really liked, the 70s, when he was quite amazing to see live. You end up really liking his first wife.
Oh, here’s something exciting. The unused RV that had been next to my tack room went away today. It will be easier to get to my square bales of hay that way. It looks all color-coordinated now!
Tarot card of the day
Today I pulled the Explorer (knight) of Water (cups). It’s a pretty darned happy card, hinting I’m in a good place, emotionally today, able to navigate the waves of feelings smoothly. It also may indicate a new emotional path, sort of like yesterday’s 10 of Water.
We will see. As I grow more Hermit-like in my self preservation mode, I’ll be interested to see if anything manages to stir me in new emotional directions other than inward!
Why would I want to leave my hermitage? All the porch lights make it so cozy for exhausted slugs.
Still a busy busy week at work and home. Luckily, being occupied with work keeps me from other thoughts. Even better, I’ve got all these animals to keep my “free” time not very free.
Bring us fresh water! More mealworms!
I love going out on breaks to care for the hens and check on the horses. Dusty always sticks his head in my hands for love.
Pet my head.
And working to keep Apache feeling good and getting Drew back into work is a great distraction. Droodles is getting lots of reminders that crazy canter is not his goal. But he’s awfully good walking on Lee’s new trails.
Ready to go, Suna.
And then the dogs. Even when I’m feeling the jitters over things I can’t control, they make me and Lee laugh.
Carlton doing his Eric Trump face.
And thanks to all of you who share your pets, birds, and kids on social media—it doesn’t remove serious concerns but it reminds me of what’s good.
Eh. I don’t dwell much on romanticism at the medium-old age of 67. Still, I do know what my caring spouse does that makes me feel loved and appreciated. He hits most of the love languages, too.
He notices little things I do and tells me what a good job I’ve done.
He picks up little things when he’s out that he knows I like—flowers, a book, a tasty treat, etc.
He shows interest in my interests. I can’t tell you how much it touches me that he spots birds and tells me about them or takes an insect photo to upload on iNaturalist.
He does many things to make my life easier or more pleasant, without me asking.
Yeah, Lee may be grumpy sometimes, but he’s a good guy, and quietly romantic.
Tawny Emperor butterfly he photographed for me this morning.
I hope I do something he finds romantic!
This is our engagement photo. I hardly recognize him without facial hair!
PS: it rained a good bit today. In July! That led us to romantically sit on the new porch and listen to rain.
Whenever I start to go in and on about my pessimism it makes certain beloved relatives worried. When I realized that this afternoon I began to muse about how okay I’m actually doing right now. I guess if things have to get scary for those of us not in power, now is preferable to even a few years ago, for me. Spiritual growth is a big help.
Lee says a giant porch chair is a big help.
It’s taken a long time to get to where I don’t panic and start feeling paranoid. Even if “they” were out to get me, it wouldn’t hangs who I am or how I act. Like a friend mentioned in response to yesterday’s post, I’m going to choose to be kind. I’m also not going to give up my ethics and morals. Not panicking doesn’t mean not doing the right thing.
By the way, porch furniture came mere minutes after my son finished the beautiful trim work. He did so well.
(Aside: more than one person I know called their representative today and talked to a real person.)
Look at that fine detail. Craftsmanship!
Anyway, I’m coping well, my anxiety only pops up occasionally, and I’m enjoying my little hermit life. I’m staying in my lane, not asking questions of anyone who’s not wanting to share with me, and enjoying the heck out of my tiny circle of friends and loved ones, dogs, horses, and fowl. That, and birds, is enough to create a peaceful oasis.
This excellent hammertail robberfly was my nature fun of the day.
Please remind me of my peace when I start whining about being lonely, left out, or missing old friends. It does happen. Those I care about are in my heart! That has to be enough.
Carlton helps!
And all of you who read and comment and share your stories with me are also in my heart. Thank you for showing all of us how much good and caring for others there still is in the world.
Worrying isn’t going to change anything. It never does. So I work at not worrying.
I thought my volunteer flower collection would be cheerful.
The problem for me is that I don’t know what we can do to prevent a bleak future with very few powerful people and many, many people who must fend for themselves.
I don’t remember ever wanting to know what it was like to be one of the educated people in the Dark Ages who weren’t in power.
The present is still here, and we can make our little corners of the world full of respect and kindness as we wait to see what those in power, elected by people wanting to back to the past, decide to do with us.
Bleak. I’m feeling bleak today. It was a bad news day for the poor, the sick, and the elderly. I have a right to feel pessimistic. At least for now I can say so in public.
On the other hand, on a local level, it’s a good day for Texas Horned Lizards, because I found a nice new harvester ant bed. Horny toads eat them!
This large ant bed is near the horse pens Ants are busy.
To cheer me up, I’ll share that I had a visit from a beautiful female Summer Tanager this evening around sunset. She bopped around the salvia plants for quite some time, though I was too entranced to get a photo. What a treat!
I’ve written about teachers I admire many times in this blog over the years, and you can go to the search bar and find them (a good teacher encourages students to do the work themselves, ha ha). I’ve even been called a good teacher, which is undoubtedly an advantage for my career as a teacher. Great? Some might say so; others might not. That’s fine.
Great teachers are passionate about helping people learn. I’ll teach you that this is a passion flower Passiflora incarnata. Passion.
One person’s great teacher can be a poor fit for someone else. That’s why I think one factor that makes a good teacher is the ability to change their style depending on the student. That’s why I prefer to teach one on one. It’s hard to meet all the students’ needs in large group settings. It’s very frustrating and makes me cranky.
Whoever taught my son how to lay floor tile was at least a very good teacher. All that’s left are baseboards.
Great teachers need more than a mastery of the subject matter and a sense of humor. The best ones I’ve had all were able to make whatever they were teaching relevant to their students and got them thinking about the topic for themselves. Sometimes the diversions that come about when engaged students start asking questions make the subject matter unforgettable. I can still remember what that feels like.
It makes me gloriously happy – and here are morning glories.
One reason I was a student so long was that many great teachers engaged me, made me think about things in new ways, and shaped me into who I am. I loved learning and still do. I could probably attend pragmatics and semantics seminars the rest of my life and never get bored, but hey, I have Master Naturalist trainings now, and some of those presenters fit my criteria for great teachers!
I’ve come a long way from academia.
I also love teaching, whether students find me “great” or not. Helping someone learn a new skill or see things in new ways feels almost magical. It’s darn hard work figuring out the best way to present new content to perhaps a disinterested audience but nonetheless it’s rewarding. No wonder I had a difficult time staying retired! I enjoy the challenge.
Speaking of challenges, the baby swallows challenge me to leave them alone.
Maybe next time I retire I can stick to teaching nature apps instead of project portfolio management. As they say, no one dreams of being the best project manager ever as a child. You just suddenly are one. Then you watch a lot of training videos if people like me can keep you awake.
Are there things you try to practice daily to live a more sustainable lifestyle?
I have to admit that I haven’t made as many strides towards a sustainable lifestyle as many people I know and admire. But at the same time I’ve done more than many folks I know. I’m in the middle somewhere.
I took exactly one picture today. There’s a dragonfly in this image.
One thing I’ve done is to stop buying clothing and “shop” my own closet. I know the reason I like having clothing is that I didn’t have much growing up. Then there’s my love of colors and accessories. Still, I want to buy less and recycle more, so I’m giving things I don’t need to my son’s partner, who does reselling in some way young people do. It seems smart.
I’m also happy that we’re getting set up to harvest rainwater. Step 1 was pouring the pad to put the large tanks on.
The slab
I wish I were a better/more patient gardener and could grow more of our own food, but I’m not. My only success in growing food is thanks to the hens and Connie (the turkey). Of course, I give them organic chicken feed, etc., so the eggs probably cost more than at the store, but at least my chickens have a life with fresh air, snacks, comfy housing, and me, their human friend.
They have fun.
I do like to forage for native plants to eat, but as with gardening, I don’t do it consistently. I’m more engrossed by birds and horses.
And cute donkeys.
Hmm. I eat a lot of whole foods and organic products, especially the things Kathleen doesn’t like from her nutritionist. I eat anything, so I waste little food.
I don’t spray herbicides from the air, either, unlike the crop duster.
That’s not a spectacular list. Maybe writing this down will inspire me to make more of a sustainability effort. I hope you’re doing better than I am, but one thing’s certain, we can all do better.
I’d like to start out by asserting that one person’s idea of wasting time is an other’s idea of fun, education, or necessary downtime. I’m not here to judge anyone for what they do with their limited lifespan.
As I’m someone who counts dragonflies, I have my own weird time fillers.
Most of my life, I’ve spent most of my time doing things I felt were important or useful. Note that I find meditating, reading, and engaging with friends on social media to be useful. Connections with the earth, learning, and creating community are vital!
And baby birds! Mockingbirds.
Lately, during my brief but restorative retirement, I’ve done a few things that might be “wasting” time, which I define as time spent not contributing to my health or wellbeing. One is watching television shows and not also doing something productive, like knitting. I’ve actually sat down and watched multiple episodes of shows that are just entertainment. Right now I’ve been watching “The Gilded Age,” just to enjoy the sets and writing. Perhaps I’m learning a bit about fashion, culture, and history of New York City when they were still building Central Park.
I went there once. Photo from Pexels.
And “Star Trek: Discovery” takes my mind off the news and reminds me how I got to be so darned woke. That’s one woke show in an already woke franchise. We are about done with that one.
I own no Discovery action figures.
So, there is some use to that one. However, I keep letting myself be drawn into Facebook Reels. These are usually embarrassing and stupid. For every occasional cute dog thing, I get caught up in dozens of clickbait, nasty, or plain silly videos that waste my time. I am going to have to get stronger to stop my random clicking. It’s embarrassing.
The latest selection.
A final thing I regret spending time on is worrying about the consequences of wars and how I can survive in authoritarian world. These are things I cannot control.
Name that movie.
Otherwise, I enjoy what I do, especially when I can rest or relax. Starting tomorrow there will be less of that! I’m interested to see what my new job turns out to entail!
I’m only answering this question because I didn’t have any great topics today. So I’ll tell you about my dreamy seventh-grade crush. There are no photos of him to share since I lost my yearbook. Here’s an approximation.
Also a teen crush of mine, though it turns out David Cassidy was nicer.
Kevin Murray was a year ahead of me in school but we were in Spanish class together. I thought he was both hilarious and incredibly cool, because he owned rock and roll albums. I didn’t have a record player that would play them yet.
He picked on me a lot, but it didn’t bother me because I was a new person in junior high and was one of the popular kids in the academic track. We all picked on each other and had nicknames for each other. Man, seventh grade was GREAT. We had young, hip teachers and spent a lot of time writing plays based on Star Trek and publishing the school newsletter on mimeo paper. Mmm, that smell.
Back to Kevin. I thought that long (for 1971) red hair, those green eyes, and the freckles made him look like a sexy leprechaun. Or something. Anyway, he showed me he liked me by randomly showing up on my street and pretending to steal my new, very cool, red-white-and-blue Murray Eliminator bike (same name as him, so obviously it was his).
This is the general idea, but wrong color.
I showed I liked him by riding my bike around his house in case he might come outside, and drooling over his parents’ incredible blue Citröen car.
I mean, that’s as cool as my bike, right?
We had a fun summer of innocent pre-teen flirtation. My dad found us very funny, pretending to be annoyed by each other. He kept telling me “that boy likes you.”
Then I was moved to South Florida despite my protests, and that was it. No email, no texting, no Facebook, so no contact. If letters were exchanged, I don’t recall. No, I do not need to find him. I’ll just treasure my dim memories.
I pined for Kevin until the summer after ninth grade when I met the boy I’d really swoon for. That’s another story.
Weird postscript: by the time my younger son, an actual Irish boy, was a toddler, I realized who he looked like. Eww.
My son as a toddler. Red hair, green eyes, freckles.
On the other hand, I now have an idea of what adult Kevin would have looked like, though I don’t think he grew to be 6’3”.
You can blame this post on my friend Jennifer, who complained (in a funny way) today about how some kinds of clothing just don’t work for her. She mentioned how high-waisted pants don’t fit well on her body shape, and that she finds shirts with longer hems in back to be unflattering as well. She pointed out that mid-rise jeans actually hit her midriff, since she is short-waisted. (See below for her original)
AI made me these high-waisted example pants.
You can also blame my thinking about other people’s clothing hang-ups and preferences to watching the new show “Wear Whatever the F You Want” with Clinton Kelly and Stacy London, who now help people find a wardrobe that THEY like, not what the stylists want them to wear. I have found a few of the choices not to my taste, but then, I wasn’t the one wearing them!
I may not like it, but I don’t have to wear it. Photo by Genaro Servu00edn on Pexels.com
Our clothing reflects a lot about how we want the world to perceive us as well as about how we perceive ourselves. No wonder I hear so many proclamations among my friends about what they’d NEVER wear. My stepmother told me repeatedly how she didn’t like “shark hems” on tops (which I wore a lot of back when she was at her peak). My sister was adamantly against short sleeves that came to above the elbows on women “of a certain age” (for me they interfere with my ability to enjoy my flappy area in its wingiest).
Flappy fun time.
I have friends who never wear pants, others who never wear dresses, those who love leggings and those who hate them, and then there’s all the pants “rules” like letting your undies show above your pants, wearing skinny or wide legs, jeans or no jeans, rips or no rips, etc.
Love them or leave them! Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com
Of course, the sane voice inside our heads will tell us that people can wear whatever the f they want, and our issues with their choices are just that, our issues. That’s absolutely true! I was wondering, though, where did my own clothing prejudices come from? One answer is my mother. She was not fond of tattoos, liked long painted fingernails, and enjoyed wearing clothing that “matched.” The other main answer is the times I grew up in. I wanted to be a hippie when I grew up, so my love of tie dye, jeans, and long braids is pretty predictable. My dislike of polyester double-knit pant suits and (for the male-type folks) leisure suits derives from the same thing: I still wanted to be a hippie, and adults were trying to dress me like an old Florida retiree.
In a t-shirt and jeans, like most days.
I’m truly enjoying learning about other people’s fashion likes and dislikes because they tell so much about each of us. I loved reading Jennifer’s fashion rant, and would equally love to hear yours. What do you just love and what drives you to distraction when you see it or are forced to wear it? As an incentive, I’ll share some of my irrational fashion opinions, as long as you remember that I am very fond of many, many people who make choices different from mine. I enjoy the variety. So here you go:
I love to wear t-shirts and jeans, with comfy sneakers on my feet.
I like tie-dye a lot.
I am uncomfortable wearing dresses, but okay with tunics and leggings.
I am not fond of leggings with short tops.
Dress pants, especially polyester ones, make me feel like I’m pretending to be fancy.
Tucking your shirt into your pants, especially just the front, is ick for me. I know I have to do it for horse shows, with a belt that beautifully accentuates the belly I have hated since childhood, which is totally my own self-image issue and I acknowledge that.
I like loud prints and bright colors. Pastels make me look kind of ill.
I love turquoise jewelery.
The fact that one navy blue item of clothing never quite matches the color of other navy blue items annoys me.
I love hats, a lot.
I don’t like body conscious attire that shows every feature of one’s body. I’m glad other people are comfortable wearing it; I’m just not up for it. I like things that skim the body and are loose for ease of movement.
I don’t like crocs. I do like Birkenstocks. That makes me inconsistent.
The only piercings I’m comfortable with are pierced ears, which is better than my parents, who didn’t like that and made me wait until I was 18 to get my ears pierced. I sort of like a nose piercing in a nostril, but the ones in the septum bother me more than they should, and I have no idea why.
I don’t have tattoos and don’t like lots of the ones I see, especially random poorly drawn images. Some I find incredibly beautiful, just not for me.
I cannot stand thong underwear or underwire bras.
I don’t like clothing with hate speech or hateful insignia on them. I like peace signs, mandalas, and Sanskrit om characters, though. Hippie thing.
Apparel emblazoned with luxury brand logos isn’t my style. I do seem to be wearing a Carhart t-shirt, however.
There is a mosquito in my office, so I’m going to stop typing. I’d love to hear some of your clothing opinions.
So apparently “high-waisted” pants are the latest trend in womens’ clothing. That’s the last thing short women like me need. Ha. I’ve been wearing high-waisted pants since before they were popular — for like 5 decades. At not-quite-5′ tall anymore, I’ve always been what they call “short-waisted”. Meaning if I put on regular womens pants, the waist comes up to just under my bust. I used to roll down the waist band of pants a few times so the crotch wouldn’t hang down at my knees. Give me some “high-waisted” pants and they’d probably come up to my neck. For me, “mid-rise” pants, which supposedly come up to just below the belly button on non-short women, come up to just above my belly button. Just about right. And another thing. I hate those shirts with what they call a shirt-tail hem. Those things are about 2″ lower in the back and on someone short like me, those come down below my butt and look ridiculous. Ugh. I hate them. Rants over. For now.
The Hermits' Rest 