It will be a privilege to be alive in ten years. Most of my life I fully expected to be healthy and hearty at 77 years of age, like many of my friends are now.
I hope to enjoy scenery like this for many years.
I expected to be in my home, enjoying my pets and nature, traveling at least a bit to see new sights or visit friends. That’s the same as now.
Simple pleasures are all I desire.
As an example, we drove today to a place near Medina, Texas, to see the cabin Lee’s friend Matt has been working on for many years. It was fun. I got to hear a new kind of vireo and a Golden-Cheeked Warbler, found only here this time of year. What a privilege to be free to do this.
Cabin view
I’m concerned, though, that in a decade I won’t have a source of income or health care, though I’ve paid into Social Security and Medicare my whole working life. If that’s the case, things may look very different in ten years. Who knows? Things could also be better, too.
They have an old horse here.
Let’s hope we all still get to enjoy our friends and family a decade from now. In the meantime, treasure what you have. That’s my plan.
I admit it. I have read many books by Brené Brown more than once. I think people need different kinds of support at different times in their lives. When I needed to drag my self esteem out of the gutter and stop telling myself I kind things about myself, her stories and ideas were there to push me toward healing. I’m forever grateful that she writes in ways that reach me.
Just a picture to note that Cattle Egrets have arrived.
Her writing taught me I wasn’t alone and I wasn’t awful. What a gift!
Here’s a gift. My favorite wildflower, Texas Baby Blue Eyes.
I’ve mentioned before that I must have read Black Beauty, by Anna Sewell, dozens of times as a child. It shaped by love of horses and all animals and set me on a path of kindness to our animal friends.
I do try to be kind.
Speaking of my animal friends, Apache and I had a hard lesson today. He is not fond at all of Tarrin’s gate obstacle. I got a good lesson in patience (though I did lose my patience once). He learned he has to trust me when I ask him to do things, and I learned I still have work to do on quietly repeating instructions and not showing my frustration.
It’s like the dung beetle. You just keep pushing until you get there. No need to get upset.
He’s such a good guy most of the time that I know Apache has his reasons for disliking the gate. We will work through it! After all, Brené Brown taught me that being imperfect is how we grow.
Today I was feeling quite fine, perhaps even groovy, while I was on my walk around Nails Creek State Park on an uncharacteristically cool April morning. I was reminded of the Simon and Garfunkel song that reminds us:
Slow down, you move too fast! You’ve got to make the morning last!
That was from “Feeling Groovy,” if you aren’t old enough to have it pop right into your head. That’s how I was, too, taking my time, feeling the sand beneath my hiking shoes, and in the groove.
Life, I love you. All is groovy!
Groovy soapberry flowers
While I was walking and walking (fast enough to keep warm but not very fast), I realized that when I walk rhythmically I can’t think about anything negative. I just feel my body moving. Maybe that’s why people like running so much?
Fancy feather
One thing I’m glad about is that I don’t need to run to get the effects of exercise. I love moving more slowly. I also think my focus on perceiving my surroundings with all my senses helps with grounding me. It’s like a walking meditation! That’s it! I’ve learned to meditate while looking for plants and listening for birds.
Steadily tracing the path.
Even if that’s not true I find the idea comforting. Hobbies can be healthy! I plan to control my meanderings and take my time exploring the wide world around me, slowly and intentionally. It may be what keeps me together through unprecedented challenges.
I spent my original groovy years surrounded by Spanish moss.
I’ve been thinking about an issue and debating with myself about it. It’s not earth shattering, but something integral to how I interact with others.
I want to revel in my potential, like these future blossoms.
Because of this, I don’t have the blog entry I planned, nor the rant I’d intended to share on Substack. I’d rather present fully formed ideas than total bull. I write enough of that.
I’m wanting to balance thinking about potential with being resilient now, like these poor flowers than got mowed yesterday and are still blooming.
I’ll get back to you tomorrow. Right now I’m physically exhausted and in pain. I’m not recovering well from last week’s horse adventures. Neither is the horse, so we’re together in our elderly aches and pains.
Apache reflected how I felt this afternoon, depleted. He’d have been less depleted if he hadn’t decided to leave his pen and make me go track him down in the pasture. I get it. He’s tired.
He practiced opening and shutting gates long enough at Tarrin’s today that I think he gets the idea that he needs to step up his game and move his butt when asked. I’m hoping we will soon have a practice gate of our own here so I can patiently work on these skills.
Our nemesis. The gate obstacle.
Back to pondering.
PS: Apache “helped” me take photos of Tarrin’s working equitation-style obstacles so I can maybe get some of my own. He wanted to be in every picture. He had to touch each object. What a guy.
This is what rusted on your shirt, right Suna? I did good on this obstacle! (It’s true, he let me spear the ring with the garrocha pole.)
It’s funny. The day we left for the weekend’s camping expedition, Lee and I were annoyed at everything the other did, even though nothing was really wrong. It made the day harder on us both.
We were like two vultures in a standoff
Today, though, all sorts of challenges and opportunities to get angry presented themselves, and neither of us took the bait. As each little (or big) issue arose, we just dealt with it and kept going. I prefer days like today! Duh.
We’re like two old trees communicating through our shared root systems.
Here are just a couple of examples. First, after getting Seneca the motorhome ready quickly and efficiently, we drove off, waving at the neighbors and promising to stay in touch. We did, because just as Lee spotted it in his mirror, we got a text saying one of our storage doors was open. I got out, ensured that nothing was missing, and off we went. No one blamed the other one for the mistake. Why should we?
That’s right, Suna. Take it from a sparrow that roams the Savanna.
Later a bigger boo-boo happened. We had pulled Seneca up to gas pumps so we could refuel the Gladiator, which went ok. But as we pulled out, the corner of the big vehicle hit one of those concrete posts that guard gas pumps. It turns out there is a blind spot we didn’t know about.
Gas stations are scary. Photo from Pexels.
What good would it have done to get upset? We just assessed the damage, made impromptu repairs, and kept going.
Sigh, as it turns out, the accident that only seemed to have dinged the water heater cover must have caused a short, because there are power issues. We may miss our next trip, but hey, we made it over two years before any major oopsie!
I wish my reward for this achievement could be this belt buckle I saw in Boot Barn. Someone has a sense of humor.
Here’s what today reminded me. You reflect the treatment you receive. Friday, Lee shouted at me because I wasn’t where he expected me to be, I shouted back, and then I was on edge, leading to further misunderstandings. I reflected what he directed at me.
I’m sure this deep thought is not original, just like this free photo.
Today, on the other hand, we each took unexpected issues in stride, with no blaming or justification. And we enjoyed a pleasant trip home. We reflected understanding and forgiveness. That worked.
Goodbye lake (and last photo of pristine Seneca).
I did encounter more great birds before we left Lake Brownwood. I listened to a Greater Roadrunner calling for at least an hour, punctuated by Wild Turkey calls. A Black-and-white Warbler plus a Pyrrhuloxia also dropped by.
I’m not a Pyrrhuloxia but I also dropped by.
Still, I’m glad to be back with my familiar bird buddies, my chickens, and the horses, each of whom collected a few burs to welcome me home. Dusty was particularly glad to see me and almost beat Mabel in the race to say hi. He even cantered! It turned out he needed me. His winter coat needs help getting off, so I rubbed significant quantities of fuzz off him while he ate.
Glad to be rid of that hair.
I’ll be back on him and fuzzy/sweaty Apache tomorrow!
I’m lucky to have had many wonderful teachers throughout my life, many of whom are also friends. That’s a privilege. I’m interrupting my travelogue of state park visits to once again mention my most influential teacher (because I’m pretty sure I’ve gushed about this before), Georgia.
I’m not splashing pictures of her in this post. She knows who she is.
She taught me syntax and pragmatics (among other things) in graduate school in Illinois. The academic stuff was great—the staff at that school really made my favorite topics interesting. But it turned out that I didn’t have what it takes to be a linguistics professor after all (though I loved teaching it).
Me in the 1980s when I was mentally unstable.
How convenient it was for me that I learned ideas and skills I’d use for my whole life from Georgia’s examples. Her examples as an instructor, editor, spouse, parent, political activist, and critical thinker are with me every day. For example, I learned to write, proofread, and edit after reading her corrections on my work. Thanks for the career skills, Georgia!
She also taught me a lot about plants.
How she raised her children greatly influenced my own parenting, since I lacked a sane role model in the mother department. I admire her children so much today!
She taught me about knitting. A lot.
The most important thing she taught me, though, was to accept others as they are. She knew me in my worst years, when I made one bad decision after another, and thought more with my hormones than my brain. Georgia was still kind and gracious to me and still is today. That in itself is one of the greatest lessons she imparted, that people don’t have to be perfect to be loved.
This guy and I are still teaching each other that lesson.
Enough mushiness on that topic, except to say that we are all taught by so many people and teach others as well. Let’s try to teach positive lessons!
This morning I saw that someone I know was rereading a book that meant a lot to them. Curious, I looked the book up, and immediately thought from the description that it was about a concept Lee always stresses to me from his reading of Stoicism and that I got hammered into me during my Brené Brown phase. It’s a good thing to learn, and I’m sure I have talked about it in my blogging, too. It’s a variation on the idea that we should focus on what we can control and not let what’s outside our control get to us.
The beautiful sunset colors were in the east tonight. Out of my control.
I was happy to know that someone I care about is working on similar lessons to what I focus on, and was about to move on when I started looking at what people said about the book and its author. There were criticisms of the author’s tone, credentials, and perceived lack of substance in their writing. People also got rather ticked off that the ideas in their writing book weren’t new, and might even boil down to common sense or emotional maturity. My goodness!
Gloom and doom.
I was reminded of another lesson I’ve learned, which is that insecure people like to tear others down to build themselves up. Why put this author down? Jealousy that they’re making money off of it? That they are better marketers and social media strategists? That’s not a great way to expend your valuable energy.
Penney would like you to stop and notice your surroundings.
As I’ve always tried to remember, we’re all on our own spiritual, emotional, and intellectual paths. Maybe we weren’t ready to learn the idea from the Stoics. Maybe we didn’t like Brené Brown’s writing style. Maybe, however, when this book was being promoted was the right time for the person I know, they liked the author’s style and background, and they soaked in some knowledge to make life more enjoyable. That’s a win.
And we all win when we grow!
Learning our lessons in life is what counts, not whether the source isn’t the same as someone else’s. Ideas are tweaked and refined constantly, and often many folks have similar ideas. I e heard that there’s nothing new under the sun. I know I’ve shared some “brilliant” thoughts that weren’t news to many readers. If they helped me or another reader have a better life, though, it was worth mentioning!
My attempt at photography of purple henbit flowers failed. So I learned from it!
Whew. Time to dismount from that high horse. Just keep learning, friends, and take the ideas that resonate with you to heart and leave the other ideas aside for someone else. It’s fine.
In personal news, I got a brilliant idea to allow people to have paid subscriptions to my Substack writing. I even got a paid follower! Make that two! Anything I get will help in my unexpected low income phase. Knowing me I’ll use it to support other writers.
Lots of the content there is similar to here, though the Substack will have less daily life chitchat and more additional content. Feel free to follow me there or not. I like you blog subscribers right here on WordPress (fans according to Barbara) and won’t be putting ads back on here. They were extra yucky.
Now that my exciting software training/tech writing career has ended, I find myself bereft of a mission. I always have a project I’m working on to support users, but I’m out of those. I’m a creature of habit, so I feel compelled to find a project. But is it really a good idea to keep the projects coming?
I could rest, right Mooey?
Believe it or not, watching the cattle in the wooded area next to our house gave me an aha moment. Here’s what happened.
Peach blossom for distraction.
Lee and I went to Lowe’s to get some simple vegetables to put in his raised bed. We also bought two flowering trees, a peach and a pear (nope, not native, but, hey, they are Lee’s trees). When we got home, he drove the Gladiator over to the planting area and proceeded to plant.
Finished planting. Mostly herbs and peppers v
At one point, he booped his keys on the tailgate and that made the horn beep. If you’re rural, you’ll know what’s coming. A truck, something that looks like a feed trough, and a honking horn evokes the food urge in those neighboring creatures of habit, the cattle.
We enjoy eating.
At first just a few adorable calves appeared. One in particular really enjoyed playing with Carlton and Penney. We were charmed.
Dogs and calves
I went off to feed the equine creatures of habit, who nicely line up in their pens for dinner and tolerate my insistence on grooming them in the late afternoon. Everyone, even Fiona, is now looking good, except around poor Droodles’s head. But I’m getting there!
Two buddiesHe looks nobleSee, they look good. So did Dusty.
By the time I came back, all the cattle were crowded against our fence, waiting for us to feed them. Carlton and Alfred valiantly worked to protect us, which really peeved a couple of huge mama cows and the bull. There was quite a cacophony.
I’ve got them under control. Maybe not. Bark bark barkMoo moo moo
The poor dogs got so tired that each of the white dogs went in the swimming pool to cool off.
Ahh.
It took sooo long for the cattle to move back into the pasture, probably because the real food truck appeared.
We will just wait until night if we have to. Moo.
It dawned on me that doing the same thing every time a circumstance looks familiar can lead to disappointment. The cattle didn’t notice that the Gladiator doesn’t usually feed them, or that the “trough” was full of plants. Poor dears.
We aren’t known for our massive intellects.
I need to realize that I don’t need to go find a significant writing project immediately. I’m starting something new, not the usual transition from resting training material in one application or another. I can do something different. There is time to figure out what the next new and fascinating thing will be.
The lemony sun setting on my career.
In the meantime, I’m working on collecting some writing and putting it on my Substack, which you can go follow. Eventually, as soon as I let my thoughts come together in new ways, there will be more on Substack than new and recycled blog content about animals and birds.
And plants.
Who knows? Once I break my habit I could turn interesting!
Everything’s going okay on the career wind-down front as well as here at the Hermits’ Rest. However, I experienced something curious today in my final meeting with my coworkers. They expressed surprise that I’d finished a project I’d been working on, and that I was interested in fixing the SharePoint site up and tying up loose ends. I said, “There’s no harm in finishing things up with some professionalism, is there?”
No bull, I meant it. (That IS a bull on the right)
The project lead said she wished she saw more of that in the people that aren’t leaving, and we all laughed. Honestly, it isn’t their fault the expense cuts had to be made, and I know they are not going to have fun integrating what I was doing with the huge project they are trying to work on. Why not be helpful and help them until I can’t help anymore?
Sometimes I do wish I had the option to just fly away. (The feather was replaced where I found it; I know the rules about messing around with migratory bird feathers.)
Later I was thinking back on a couple of other jobs that ended before I was ready for them to end. I especially remember my time at the nonprofit organization, when I was trying to hold my team together while a huge rift was occurring among members. Then, in April, I was informed that my job was being eliminated as of June 1. Two months was a long time to be a lame duck employee, but we were doing a lot of online activities to support mothers and babies, and we needed to keep it coordinated. I could have just stopped, walked away, and told the organization to go screw themselves.
I’m too sweet for that.
But, nope, I organized volunteers, worked on a transition, and tried to keep people’s spirits up. It was all for naught, but I felt a responsibility to try. And I got life-long friends out of the deal!
Teamwork mattered to me.
The job I had before this one was similar. I could see that things were changing and that I’d take the brunt of it, so I focused my last six months on getting my team supported and not having to do work they weren’t suited for. Once that was done, I was more than happy to go. I guess I just want to finish things up and support team members, even when there’s no one to support me in my work. What does that say about me? I’m a sap? I care about my coworkers? I’m professional?
I also care about animals. I was happy to see this skinny cow had a healthy calf and is gaining weight.
I don’t know. I think what it really means is that I value people over large corporations and bickering nonprofits. That may be a positive or negative; it just is, I guess!
(PS: someday I’ll tell you about the time I DID just walk out on a job.)
In other news, I’ve been enjoying the new weather station Lee got me for my birthday. It’s much nicer than the previous one and can store data. I’ll still need to get my official rain amounts from the CoCoRaHS gauge, though. That’s the only one that counts in weather official-dom.
It is solar powered
Lee also bought a steel raised bed that he wants to grow “things” in. It’s not going to exactly feed us for the next year, but it will give me a project to watch over during my non-working time…as if I need more projects around here.
Raised bed.
Onward and upward until there’s a need to be professional again.
How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success?
First, even though my job is ending earlier than expected this Friday, I’m not overly upset, panicked, or blaming myself. Why’s that? It’s because of what appeared to be a horrible failure at the time, and certainly the nadir of my working years (that’s saying a lot, since I had a couple of workplaces implode under me). I think maybe some of you readers might learn something from this experience, and since I’m retiring, I can share how I screwed up. (If I’ve already told this story, well, here it is again.)
Back when Lee and I were first together, we went through a spell of job challenges. A great long-term contract at 3M fell through because their business was talking, and all I could get were short-term gigs after that. Meanwhile, Lee also lost his job at Dell. I had two children in school, one heading to college, so it was all a bit scary.
I hit a spell where nothing was coming up, so I took the first job where they would hire me. The salary was very low, and the people I interviewed with seemed more interested in getting a body in a seat than my qualifications. But it was at the University of Texas, so I had dreams of security and a pension dancing in my head.
I ended up in a miniature cubicle in the UT Tower (where famous murders occurred) working with an accounting software package that was still housed in its original mainframe and had an ASCII UI. Two of the people I interviewed with had already left by the time I started, and from the first day on, three of the women in the group disliked me. I did my best to learn the system so I could provide help to callers, but even when I did know an answer, they told me I didn’t answer questions right. I needed to stop empathizing with users and stop assuring them their questions were legit, because this accounting software was GREAT and should only be praised for its greatness. It got more and more stressful every day, and to top it all off, I rode a bus at the crack of dawn and at rush hour going home, because I couldn’t get parking. I barely saw my family.
My office was behind one of those windows. Photo by Brixiv on Pexels.com
I kept trying, though, took extra education, got help from and assisted the one or two nice folks, then lost the only really nice coworker, who left for a better department. That should have been my hint to flee.
I remember it sounded like snakes hissing as the Mean Girls complained about me and tapped away carping about me in chats. The boss was even worse. She was some Dean of something and told me I was a big disappointment and offended my coworkers by mentioning I’d been a stay-at-home mother, but I promised to do my best to meet the decrepit accounting software support needs. It was like hell in a tiny tower. I started shaking all day. I couldn’t have done a good job if I tried.
Finally the time came for my 90-day review. The Dean just ripped me a new one, informing me how unqualified I was, how bad I was at user support, and such (they could not complain about my writing!). Here’s the worst part. Did I get up and walk out of there? No. I begged and pleaded with this awful woman, saying I needed to work or my children would lose their home. I honestly thought that is what was going to happen…I was going to fail to pay the mortgage and we’d be evicted.
It was a long bus ride home. Photo by David Geib on Pexels.com
Of course that didn’t happen. But I was so disheartened and down on myself that applying for other jobs was hell. Why would anyone want to hire such a poor worker? I went on unemployment, which at least fed us, and then, sure enough, opportunities arose. I did a bad job teaching Excel for a while (I did fine with Word–I’m not a numbers person), then started on the upswing when I got a GOOD contract for REAL money with people who became lifelong friends. But it was a SLOG getting my confidence back.
We even started a business later!
That experience taught me that no job is worth debasing yourself for. Yes, we need to work to pay bills and all that, but jobs exist. The next time someone started treating me like a pariah and making work torture, I left. Now? I’m not going to work unless it’s something I enjoy doing with people who are reasonable business folks. Mean Girls/Boys and power-hungry backstabbers won’t get a chance ever again.
I’ll write more about this tomorrow, but I’ve been touched by many kind birthday wishes. It reminds me I’m loved and cared for.
The Hermits' Rest 