Really. This sounds like a prompt designed to get information to use against me in some weird internet way. Lee says most of the blog prompts are like that in his opinion, but I find this question really creepy. Also, my answer would be boring.
Great Blue Heron fishing in the creek is not interested in such details, either.
So, instead of my medical history, I’ll share my story from my morning walk (this is a repeat for Facebook friends):
Who says there aren’t good people in Texas? Not me. Today I took my morning walk rather late, so by the time I was on my way back I was pretty sweaty. I noticed a car stopped in the middle of the road near my house and wondered if I knew them. Soon they drove up and stopped next to me. It was an older woman and man who asked if I needed a ride home or a cool drink. I said no, that I was almost home. We chatted briefly and told me they stopped at the top of the hill to finish a phone call, because they lose service by the creek. That’s very true! And then the man handed me a cold Mr. Pibb and insisted I take it. That was so kind.
As I walked home with my cold beverage I wondered why they felt compelled to tell me why they stopped and that the man grew up nearby. But it’s Texas and I guess they wanted me to know they were not up to anything, since the man was Black. Geez. He was friendlier than many white neighbors.
Anyway, I’ll wave when I see them again. I wave to everyone who comes down the road, though most often it’s family members or friends. Rural life!
My cool beverage
Friendly, kind strangers who don’t judge you but just want to make sure you’re okay—we need more of them in the world. I hope I can always be like this couple. If someone needs help, I want to offer it with no regard to appearance or other factors. Good folks are urban, rural, immigrant, religious, atheist, and of all political beliefs. There are icky people in all those groups, too, but today reminded me to never forget the good ones.
The heron left before the car came down the road, so it missed my free drink.
Sorry this wasn’t about surgeries. But a day enjoyed with kind strangers, sweet horses, good friends, more Green Herons than I ever saw at one time, and a lovely sunset is more interesting to me.
This is facing east. Way to go, setting sun!
Now, go be good to someone you may or may not know.
Whew, at first I thought they were asking about my bad habits. I can say that I have fewer now than I did in the past, and I don’t think I’m developing any significant new ones.
Daily habits, though. Hmm. What does this mean? Parts of my routine? Things I habitually do throughout the day? I do know that I habitually look at my watch to see how far I am toward my exercise goals, how hot or cold it is, and the date. I no longer track dates well, though as I work more I assume I’ll get better.
I closed all my rings today. My watch will soon praise me.
I also look at my phone a lot. I’ve cut down on it lately, having found the world is fine without my attention. Still, I get many texts. Some are cute photos of animals or birds, so I don’t mind.
Sara in Wisconsin sent me these glorious golden oyster mushrooms today. Worth checking my phone for.
I’m also habitually looking for my bird notebook. In my mind it must always be nearby, in case I see something, like the Cattle Egrets I saw on the way to dinner tonight. I must write these sightings down! That’s my own rule; no one is forcing me.
I had my notebook when I saw this Downy Woodpecker pecking away at some giant cane (Arundo donax). I wonder what it was looking for in there?
That, and twirling my hair around my fingers, a childhood habit that comes back whenever I grow my hair long, about sums up my daily habits that occur at any time of day.
I have no shame, so here’s a demo.
As for things that I habitually do every day, I’ve developed quite a routine lately.
Wake up
Dress
Teeth, medication, facial stuff
Make coffee
Sit in my birding chair and watch/listen to birds. Write down birds I see and Merlin hears.
At the same time, do my Finch self care app (my birb is Ada), read Facebook, check personal email.
Go for a walk to the bridge and back, also listening to birds.
Feed chickens and Connie Gobbler.
Go inside and work. Or spontane if not working.
Check mail after lunch. That’s my break.
After work, feed horses, groom a horse, or work with Apache.
Gather eggs.
Swim in summer. Another walk in other seasons.
Watch whatever television show we are watching. The Gilded Age right now, since we finished Star Trek: Discovery. Crochet or knit.
Write blog or Substack if I didn’t earlier.
Read current book or magazine.
Sleep, glorious sleep.
We’re very pleased we made the list.
Oh my gosh. I just wrote down a day in the tedious life of Suna. I do eat somewhere in there. Apparently that habit isn’t worth noting. Please believe me that interesting things do happen! But I realize that this is the first time in my life I’ve had such a routine that I can stick to or deviate from.
And of course I have my weekly nail strip application habit.
I think the Covid isolation led me to become more set in my ways, as my elders used to call it. Now that I’m borderline elderly, I guess I have a right to do so.
Maybe you’ll start to think about your own habits, productive or otherwise. Do they rival mine in dullness?
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!
Which food, when you eat it, instantly transports you to childhood?
My mom made it in the electric frying pan she cooked everything in. She made little wells in the canned hash and put eggs in them. Two for each of us. I ate it like it was ambrosia.
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”.
I didn’t have too much to write about today, other than that horses are cute and I have a new favorite light fixture. So, let’s find out what my favorite thing about me might be.
But first, look at the fun Apache and Rylie (probably not spelled right) had today during warmups.
Okay, so, answer the question, Suna. And don’t say you like something except for this that or the other. No self put-downs allowed.
Oh, second, hey look at this light fixture. It looks like planets made of rock crystals.
I used to always say my favorite thing about myself were my feet. They were not too big or small, medium width, and had nice toes. Now they are more mature feet with mature person issues. So, nope, it’s not my feet.
Sorry, feet, you also always have fire ant bites.
All right. I’ll refrain from pointing out the obvious negatives for this, as instructed, and declare my favorite thing about myself is how I can empathize with others, care deeply about people who don’t care back, and always see our commonalities as humans. That boils down to one concept but I don’t have the right word for it.
Take a seat while I add unnecessary explanations, as I tend to do.
Note that I can now set boundaries, so my character feature is one I can now embrace without fear of hurting myself. I’m not going to run out and embrace the toxic people in my life, but I can try to understand them and care, from a distance.
They can’t hurt me, even though I may appear vulnerable, just like today’s maize calligrapher fly can’t sting me, even though it looks like a wasp.
Super Sensitive Suna, as I labeled myself on Facebook today, can take the occasional sadness and hurt that comes from all that caring, but it’s worth it. I just have to expect to have the occasional down periods. It’s a small price to pay to keep cherishing my favorite thing about myself.
It’s a good thing there’s a prompt to answer today, because action around here was fairly limited. So, I’ll dwell on my favorite season and you can think about yours, and maybe even share it in the comments! Why not? I’ll share some pretty nature sights from today, in the unofficial season of late spring humidity.
They took the forms off our concrete slabs. Whee.
When I lived in Illinois, I could never choose between spring and autumn as my favorite seasons. Crabapple trees, spring bulbs, peonies, and lilacs made the world so beautiful up there. But in autumn there were the orange, red, and yellow deciduous trees that contrasted so beautifully with the dark tree trunks (or light, with birch trees). It was beautiful in Champaign-Urbana, all year round. That’s right. I liked winter as long as it was above 0°F and there wasn’t an ice storm.
Simple sunflower and resident crab spider.
Here in Texas, I only have one season I don’t enjoy, and that’s summer. At least my new job will force me to stay indoors during the worst of the heat. I always feel sad for the animals, especially the chickens, and the dying grass on ground with huge cracks in it from drought always looks apocalyptic. I don’t need more reminders of apocalypses. Plus there are the fewest birds here in summer.
Gaillardia and frog fruit.
It’s hard not to like spring in this area, with all the wildflowers, birds, and butterflies. I hope we still have them in the future. This year was pretty bad for all of them, thanks to an unusually dry winter. And sadly, spring always reminds me that summer will be here soon. Not to mention how many allergies spring brings (but I appreciate the plants’ need to reproduce).
Black swallowtail
At this point in my life, autumn is my favorite time of year, even though it often arrives late. I can take long walks, once it cools off, and more birds show up as they migrate south. I love the smell of fallen leaves, which also make it easier to see wildlife. The only problem with that time of year is that it’s so busy! There are conference and events and trips…
Clouded skipper.
Winter here is surprisingly great, though. It’s not that cold except for a few days each year, and there are so many entertaining birds to enjoy. Campgrounds are more empty, too. And I never sweat. I hate all that sweating in the other seasons. (I rarely sweated until menopause finally happened and I’m still not used to all that dripping.)
Mockingbird nest in the little tree we planted in the front yard. What a quality nest!
I’m not confident that I’ve answered the question. Let’s hope I’m much more with it tomorrow.
List three books that have had an impact on you. Why?
I have chosen three books (I actually discuss five, but one is a runner-up and two are related) that shaped me in that magical period when I was transitioning into an adult and my capacity for intellectual growth was at its peak. Each book was written when I was testing limits, making poor decisions I search of good decisions, and preparing to emerge a more rational and stable human. I’m grateful to have learned from these authors.
Metaphors We Live By
This book is by George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, two important scholars in pragmatics, the field I studied in graduate school. The thesis of the book is this:
The book suggests metaphor is a tool that enables people to use what they know about their direct physical and social experiences to understand more abstract things like work, time, mental activity and feelings. Wikipedia
My thinking about how society works, how media persuades audiences to, and how politicians manipulate the public have all been deeply affected by the ideas in this book.
My favorite example is the pervasiveness of the war metaphor. It’s one reason I can’t stand the phrase, “shoot me an email.” Business communication is just crawling with war terminology. Business is war. Politics is war. Love is a battlefield. This book was the impetus for me being me.
I recommend George Lakoff’s other works, as well. Once you start to see metaphors embedded in the language around you, you can’t forget it.
The Color Purple
I’m guessing most of you have been exposed to this work, originally a 1982 book by Alice Walker, in one form or another. I read it when it first came out, having read no reviews and knowing nothing about the author. This means my experience of The Color Purple wasn’t influenced by any preconceptions.
I was 24 when I read it. I’d never read an epistolary novel before, so I was charmed by the letter-writing format and how clearly the writer’s voice came through in each letter. I was also still fairly naive about how horrible humans can be to each other. The resilience and bravery the characters in the book affected me deeply.
The Color Purple told me that I, too, could survive and thrive in a world that threw many challenges at me. The characters have never left me and I’m not sure why.
I did love the film with Oprah Winfree in it. I just experienced it differently and got additional insights into the strength it takes to be your authentic self. I haven’t seen any other version and I’m okay with that. This is my favorite novel.
Runner Up: The Handmaid’s Tale, by Margaret Atwood (1985). I can’t bring myself to watch the television series. This book was too prescient.
The Woman’s Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets and The Skeptical Feminist
These are two books by Barbara G. Walker, also a prominent knitting writer of this time period. Both came out in the mid-1980s. These books introduced me to the idea of the maiden, mother, and crone archetypes.
The encyclopedia was my first introduction to feminist theology, and though it suffered from the same issues as many early neopagan writing (interpreting historical references and artifacts to support a mythical matriarchal past world, etc.), it still taught me enough to get me started on a lifetime of spiritual exploration. I can still remember sitting in my bedroom in Urbana, Illinois devouring this book when I should have been dissertating.
Bad image, sorry
The Skeptical Feminist may not be in print anymore, but it reassured me that my weird philosophical leanings since childhood weren’t signs of insanity—I just didn’t have the words and concepts to explain my vague yearnings to be one with nature. It also reassured me that I don’t have to “believe in” some deity to apply archetypes and metaphors (them again) as I forge my own beliefs. Whew.
I use this information today as I draw from the wisdom of Jesus without identifying as Christian and take comfort in Buddhist ideas without adhering strictly to any form. It’s so helpful in these times.
Fearful is not how I’d ever describe myself. I feel more like my horse, Apache, who is always vigilant against the unexpected and anxious when asked to do new things. We have a lot in common, he and I, which may explain why our progress is becoming a skilled horse/rider pair has been steady, but slow.
We are happy.
That leads me into one of the fears I’ve been working to overcome, which is the fear of cantering on this horse. I’d probably have been cantering long ago if I had a different equine partner, but Apache is the horse I was kindly given, so he’s who I’ve worked with. And cantering was never his best skill. His tendency to do a kick/buck maneuver whenever he set off to canter when he was younger is one reason my friend Sara gave him to me. She wanted to canter (as a good rider, she knew how) but his imbalance made it scary on him. Heck, he even kicked out to start cantering without a rider for the longest time.
Successful canter with Tarrin.
But years of exercise, bodywork, good medicine, and work on his feet led to much improvement. He now sets off very well and only on the wrong lead some of the time. After my trainer worked with him under saddle, he can now do a fine job, and that led me to overcome my fear of cantering on him. Plus I’m way better at staying on when he has a hiccup.
And if I fall I’m just closer to the rain lilies.
A key to overcoming that fear is a skill I’ve only managed to develop in the past few years, which is to push past my anxiety and DO the thing. Riding horses has helped a lot with developing that ability, one many folks are born with. I was born cautious, very cautious. It’s amazing I learned to ride a bicycle. On the other hand, I didn’t break any bones as a child, thanks to caution.
Even this precious dog didn’t break my bones when he pulled me down a steep hill. Precious.
You might not believe this one, but once I was quite afraid to do things by myself. I really didn’t like being alone (other than teen years of being in my bedroom listening to my records). I can remember how proud I was of myself when I walked out of my hotel in Toronto, and ate a meal by myself. It was a whole fish, prepared beautifully, and I had a good time. Working in Toronto for weeks at a time was good for me. I discovered I could ride a subway without a helpful friend, I could have a drink in a bar and enjoy talking to people, etc.
Free as a bird, I was.
Now I think nothing about eating alone, walking around a new town by myself, or going on long walks in nature. Of course, I’ve educated myself about safety in cities and nature, and I do prefer nature. I know how to spot the plants and animals to avoid. Learning about what you fear is a great way to overcome fears.
On another note, we almost have a screened porch!
I’m glad I can now take a deep breath and just DO a thing. It’s been very helpful in surviving life on a ranch property. I don’t realize how scary my everyday life can be to others until I get an urban visitor. I just know to check for snakes in the henhouse, watch my steps for fire ants, and avoid the poison ivy and nettle patches. I’ve educated myself so I’m not afraid!
The Hermits' Rest 