writing – The Hermits' Rest

Elderly Ramblings

No complaints about yesterday, which was the first whole day I got to spend with Lee on this trip. Make that few complaints, since sometimes the negativity slips under my skin and needles me, but I’m sure my stuff needles him, too.

I did the usual walking and birding, getting a new lifer, the Blackpoll Warbler. I’m racking up warblers on this trip. We had lunch at the Greek restaurant here in Hilton Head, where we both raved about the red grapes so much that the server took a picture of the bag for us so we can look for them. If you see these, try them! Going on and on about fruit makes me feel elderly.

We went to the Newhall Audubon Preserve after that, with the Big Lens. Lee got really excellent pictures of some very active Black Vultures.

There was also a pretty Gray Catbird that posed for us, and lots of birds to listen to. Here are all the birds I got photos of, in no good order.

I spent my time looking for fungi, insects, weird galls, and whatever could up my total on my final day of the City Nature Challenge. I did well, with over 300 sightings, which would have won my group at home if I’d been at home. On the other hand, maybe I wouldn’t have seen so many organisms (I probably would have; Milam County is more diverse, it turns out). But it was FUN, and that’s what counts.

Now, about these elderly ramblings I promised in the title of this post. I’ve been watching a lot of television shows about elderly people in the past few weeks (also watched all of Only Murders in the Building a while back). Matlock’s heroine is 75 years old. Grace and Frankie are in their seventies, too. And yesterday we started watching A Man on the Inside, where Ted Danson also plays someone who’s at least 70. It makes sense to have more television and movies about the elderly, since the demographics of the US are skewing older. And I like the fact that they don’t try to make them look too young (even Jane Fonda) and they talk about old people issues, like vaginal dryness.

I’ve always been uncomfortable with our (increasingly weirder and scarier) society’s focus on youth. I think my parents did a good job of modeling being comfortable in your skin, however saggy it might be, and I’ve followed along after some years of hair dyeing that didn’t produce anything remotely natural. No wonder I switched to Overtone’s bright colors.

My current hair looks like pampas grass in many ways.

In addition to accepting how they look, it’s fun to see how vibrant and active the elderly folks are in these shows, especially their senses of humor and willingness to try new things. We all know that not all people of a certain age are perky and active, so I appreciated that A Man on the Inside had a character with memory loss, who they treated with respect while addressing issues typical for people dealing with that.

I don’t spend all my time watching television, though my recent discovery of streaming has upped my ability to actually enjoy it, and I’ve been meeting a lot of older people on this trip. It’s been fun to learn about how they negotiate their changing lives, incomes, and dreams. Traveling just seems to make people more open and friendly, though, so I’m probably seeing their good sides. For example, yesterday at lunch, we had a great chat with a couple who are going to the Grand Canyon to celebrate his 60th birthday (they saw Lee’s t-shirt). We shared all we did in Sedona last year and wished them well. Total strangers. That was fun.

And we are probably having more fun now that we’re older than we did when we were first married. There is lots of time for conversation and exploration, without quite so many annoying things you just have to do. Like I heard on the television last night, yeah, things hurt, but you just deal with it, because the benefits of being elderly are worth it, at least for many of us.

The beautiful pond at the bird sanctuary

End of ramblings.

Creatures of Habit, Bovine Edition

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?

Believe it or not, watching the cattle in the wooded area next to our house gave me an aha moment. Here’s what happened.

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.

At first just a few adorable calves appeared. One in particular really enjoyed playing with Carlton and Penney. We were charmed.

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!

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.

The poor dogs got so tired that each of the white dogs went in the swimming pool to cool off.

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.

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.

Who knows? Once I break my habit I could turn interesting!

Why Not End on a Professional Note?

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?”

cattle — 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?

woman holding a feather — 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.

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!

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 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.

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.

Onward and upward until there’s a need to be professional again.

Job Woes of the Past

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.

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.

I’m Good at Things!

Share five things you’re good at.

Since I’ve had a rough day emotionally, I’ll share something somewhat fun today. Of course, I’m good at many things, less good at others, like we all are. That’s one thing that makes people so interesting!

Lee and Penney are very good at relaxing together.

Here are the requested five things I’m good at.

One. I’m good at empathy. That’s both a positive and a negative. Today I truly felt someone’s pain over a loss. That wasn’t fun, but I’m glad I can do it. Empathy is probably why I’m so good at reading tarot cards. Combine empathy with a mind that treasures metaphors and insights keep a-coming.

Empathy can trap you in a beautiful web, like these spider eggs. They know how to escape.

Two. I can name animals well. I enjoy my human-like names. Since I’m on the letter C in chicken names, the new rooster is now Clint White. Get it?

Three. I’m a reasonably good writer. I’m not polished or brilliant, but I love expressing myself in writing. I have done it my whole life!

Another chicken picture, since all my journals are downstairs.

Four. I’m good at knitting and crocheting. I used to be very good, but now I just do it yo relax, not show how fancy I can be. My favorite thing is teaching others these skills, to bring a lifetime of never being bored.

Working on one of the many blankets I made for friends and family a while back.

Five. I’m good at using my peripheral vision. That’s how I can spot birds and animals so well. I detect movement practically as well as the ever-vigilant Apache. We are both easily attracted to movement when we are working together. No wonder we get along.

What are you good at? Since I love how people differ, I’m interested!

PS: sorry if the red text is hard to read. I designed it for the blog interface.

Book Report: Tell Me Everything

I’ve been meaning to write about the latest Elizabeth Strout novel, and since I was wrong about going camping this afternoon, I suddenly have time. I guess I should have asked someone if we were leaving the day we originally planned. That’s what you get for making assumptions. I make an a** out of me. And, sigh, we have to leave a day early because I have jury duty Monday, I’m a bit pouty. I really want to go camping. We haven’t been in so long.

Must deal with these results of the investigation into why the bedroom slide won’t move. It needs professional help.

However, I did read this book, so let’s talk about Tell Me Anything (2024). As soon as I realized there was a new book in this series (I’ve reviewed them all on this blog, so you can search for Strout and find them), I ordered it. I was very interested to find out what was going on with the characters in Crosby, Maine, since the pandemic, so I dove right in. I was happy to see that this installment concentrated on good old Lucy Barton and her friend Bob Burgess, as they cope with a local murder.

As with most of Strout’s books, the plot is secondary for me. I just enjoy how she tells stories. Her style is so spare, and her use of repetition and the narrator jumping in with bits of information, just enough information. And as always, you get insights into how people think, act, and work from points of view you’d never considered before. I just love the pithy parts.

I underlined and marked many passages that I can no longer see, but my favorite one was this part of a conversation about the meaning of one of the stories two characters shared with each other:

That was about the same thing that every story Lucy and I have shared is about. People suffer. They live, they have hope, they even have love, and they still suffer. Everyone does. Those who think they have not suffered are lying to themselves.” p. 315.

Actual small town in Maine. Photo by Leah Newhouse on Pexels.com

The people in the book are also fun for me. They are all so fully formed, with wonderful features and fatal flaws. They are real in the best way. I love how married couples are treated here. They have days where their spouses get on their nerves, then days where they don’t know what they’d do without them. And there are divorced people who don’t hate each other, but are glad to no longer be married. It’s refreshing to be able to feel empathetic with human beings who can be inconsistent, think judgmental things about others, but still be doing their best. I feel less alone.

There’s always time for reflection, like the heron is doing. These books inspire you to reflect on universal truths and intimate insights.

One more thing is that I was glad to see that Strout introduced a few new characters, since the “old” ones are mostly getting old. Olive Kitteridge is now 93! I can’t wait to see how she weaves them into the continuing saga as she follows them on through the scary 2020s.

Writing You from the Mountains

What do you enjoy most about writing?

Thought provoking! I enjoy all aspects of writing, but my favorite part is how it helps me refine my thoughts. Taking the time to write down my ideas gives them another chance to become well-formed and coherent expressions of how I feel or what I think.

Sometimes, though, I just like writing, the act of it. Like today I wrote a ridiculously long Facebook post about my entire day today, even though I’d intended to do something short that I’d expand on here. Oh well.

It feels like I packed an entire vacation’s worth of activities into today, but it was nearly all great fun. How so? Allow me to blather on and share photos.

I had a bit o’ trouble sleeping due to altitude headache, but it ended up fine. After coffee on the balcony I intended to just walk down the road here in Breckenridge, but ended up finding a beautiful trail along a creek. I went down it and listened for birds, until I had to get back to meet up with my local friend.

You should take it easy your first day at high altitude. That’s what they say. Instead, my friend Cathy and I went to the slightly lower altitude of Vail and spent an entire day walking and hiking. I drank a lot of water, so I was fine. We also didn’t do any big ascents on foot.

View from bathroom window that proves where we went. Nice bathroom.

First we went to a wonderful art festival with vendors from all over the country. I’m grateful I don’t have a car here, because a couple of things tempted me, such as these ceramic items that were made with a colored slip technique.

The crow on top had a berry in its mouth

Cathy got us reservations at a well-known Vail restaurant, where we had an amazing breakfast of eggs Benedict. We sat at the counter and watched the cooks, which was fascinating.

After that we took the fancy gondola all the way to the top, which was really cool. No moose were seen, but that’s ok. I enjoyed the views of mountains, trees, and flowers.

Next we hiked from the Big Bear gondola to Gondola 1. That was a beautiful trek with many wildflowers. I saw many new plants that are native to the northwestern US and Canada.

After going down, we hit the Vail Farmers Market, where I got fancy local peaches and regret not getting some bread that looked soooo good. There were many attractive dogs, in addition to great vendors. All rather upscale, duh.

And finally we headed over to Ford Park, where I had an absolute blast at the Betty Ford Alpine Garden. On the way were more plants and a beautiful hummingbird.

That Alpine garden one beautiful place, both in design and plants. It’s a great time to visit there. We got tired and took a couple of buses to get back to the car, but still enjoyed the scenery.

On the way back there was a traffic delay , but I’m always looking for animals. I was rewarded by this pretty mule deer.

In late afternoon, Cathy was kind enough to take me to Walmart (not my favorite store) to get a charger for my watch, which will let me keep my move goal streak going. She did bring her charger to me so I got charged this morning before we headed out so I could collect my 14,000 steps. Whew. I decided to just get some food at Walmart rather than go to a real grocery store. That was a mistake. It took forever to check out.

No photo of the store, so here’s a ground squirrel.

Interesting tidbit is that in fancy Frisco, CO, practically all the workers were African. And they spent a lot of time talking to each other. It appeared many did not speak English much. I wonder if there’s some program helping refugees? I hope they get better at English so they can help customers, but am glad they have a chance to work.

Wise words they could learn. Very existential.

After I got back to the condo and identified the plants and animals I saw on iNaturalist, I went to the owner lounge to see if they had drinks. Nope, the bartender had an emergency. I did meet some other guests and talked a little with them, then I talked a long time with a woman from Austin who owns horses. We both enjoyed that chance to tack about our passions. She even had on horse jewelry.

No photo of her, but here’s a young Robin.

And then I fell asleep writing this. But I woke up to add photos. My point in all this is that I do love writing!

Book Report: The Promise of Unbroken Straw

I started to read The Promise of Unbroken Straw, by Ken Steele (2024) because I know the author and want to support people who are brave enough to publish their writing. I finished reading it because I was fascinated by the people and the setting of the book. Most important, Steele is a very good writer and I didn’t get annoyed by any amateur errors like you sometimes see in books you read to be nice to your friends.

Ken and his wife, Cathy, who I met in an online email group decades ago.

I’m here to tell you that if you are a fan of historical fiction, you’ll enjoy this book very much and become totally immersed in the setting, which is Oklahoma during World War II (and some of today as well). You’ll become fond of many of the folks you’ll encounter, as well, and dislike the villains just as much. There’s a lot of angst, sadness, failure, and trouble to be found, but of course some ultimate redemption.

I loved the way Steele portrayed his protagonist, Paul, as a somewhat clueless young teen who really didn’t understand a lot of what was going on around him, but kept trying his best, anyway. You can take a good lesson away from Paul, which is that sometimes what you think is happening and how you perceive events in your life may not be exactly what you think. At least Paul eventually figures that out.

The book resonated with me, because part of the drama revolves around oil being discovered on one’s property and trying to figure out what to do about it. That all played out down with my family here in Texas not so long ago, too, and the feelings are all-t00 familiar. I had a lot of empathy for Paul’s father and grandfather as they tried to do what is right but were tempted by visions of dollar bills dancing in front of their faces.

Ken took this photo of me being colder than I’d ever been in my life.

I’d recommend this book even if Ken weren’t the greatest host in Colorado, but I’m thrilled to be able to encourage all of you to check it out.

Same Work, Different Tools

How has technology changed your job?

I’m a technical writer/trainer/instructional designer as my paying job. I also do a lot of editing. This kind of profession has probably been around since there were jobs. Someone has to teach others skills needed in various professions, and someone has to record information accurately.

Someone had to pass along fence building skills on ranches, so birds could poop out seeds and create rows of trees on fence lines. These are Eve’s necklacepods (*Styphnolobium affine*)

I’m pretty sure there are technical manuals in hieroglyphics. No doubt scribes hand-wrote instructions for doing things correctly. Certainly people have shown others how to perform tasks (weaving, sewing, carpentry, brewing, and such) without need for writing. Maybe they drew pictures. Teachers have always had to be there to pass down necessary skills, whether formally or informally.

So, while I don’t work in the world’s oldest profession, skills like mine have always been needed to pass on traditional skills. Teaching may be the second oldest profession.

Technology has affected what I do like it has any form of teaching. It’s provided new tools to create material and given us options like videos, which any of us can now use (to either teach or confuse, judging from the videos on knitting I’ve seen).

I need a genetics teacher to explain how the white versions of flowers come up.

Of course, what I teach about is software, which wouldn’t be a subject if we didn’t have computers at our fingertips. Sometimes I wish I could teach something more tangible or timeless. Software comes and goes in a flash. No one needs my WordPerfect teaching skills today!

I figure no matter what new technology comes up, I’ll be using it to share knowledge with others. That’s my passion.

Conversely, I’ll also keep wanting to learn. It’s why I enjoy my journey with trying to ride my horses skillfully and care for them appropriately. No matter how old I get, I want to keep moving and learning. Just look at my posture! I hardly recognize myself.

I’m glad to have a job that’s always relevant, no matter how times and technology change. I’m just as glad to have hobbies that have been around a long time but remain relevant, like equestrian skills and crafts!

End of ramble. Here’s another picture of me and Apache, this time looking medieval.

Ah, Reading, Writing, and a View

You get to build your perfect space for reading and writing. What’s it like?

Not much going on out of the ordinary today so let’s answer this one. If I had my ideal setup for reading and writing, it would involve a comfy daybed with a ton of soft pillows to ensure comfort no matter what I’m doing: reading, writing, knitting, or looking at birds, plants, and animals. That’s because the daybed is in the woods! But with climate control and no way for flies, mosquitoes and mice to get in.

Mr. and Mrs. Caracara are disappointed that I’m not building my little room.

Well, it’s a fantasy.

In real life, Apache still walks okay and trotted a little on the lead line. He volunteered. I made him stop. He and I had a nice time with bur removal, too. He’s a friendly fellow and so patient on his new meds. I can’t find the abscess, though.

Dusty sticks his tongue out at my inability to find an issue.

Drew got his assigned exercise today though he wasn’t thrilled. Neither horse will enjoy getting back into shape. But it will pay off.

They don’t get to loll around like Goldie.

In extra mundane news, I’ve managed to misplace next year’s journal. That was the day’s bummer. How can I write in my forest hut with no journal?

Four previous journals. Before this I used large black notebooks for about five years. They’re still packed.

Luckily they still sell them and they are inexpensive, so I ordered more. I like consistency in my record keeping, it appears. I’ll have one in time to set up my beloved bullet journal for a fourth year in a row.