Like so, from fluffthebunny:
The thing I like about rats is how individual they are. Each rat has very specific and distinct preferences, habits, and reactions -- Aphrodite likes to stretch her paws through the cage bars to grab fingers, Odin squeaks when you pick him up, Tethys likes wrestling (and flirting) with the boys but doesn't like us humans much (except Andrés).
One of the confusing things about fencing as a sport is right-of-way. If someone is attacking you, you must parry (or avoid) their attack before you make your own, even if you hit them before they hit you. This is because, if the swords were actually sharp, you would really prefer to have dealt with that incoming pointy thing in such a way that it does not at any time enter your body.
Also, when someone is parrying your attack, you can disengage and come around their parry, blithely continuing the attack, although possibly not towards quite the same target. I really liked practicing disengages.
Boy I miss fencing.
The advantage of having long hair, for me, is that I have a toy with me all the time. I can fiddle with the end of my usual braid, which is interesting texturally, or I can sit there braiding and rebraiding and doing various complicated things (especially if armed with tools).
The difference between my usual braid and a French braid, in terms of how they make my face look, is quite striking, especially because the braid itself is entirely invisible from the front perspective.
My current bicycle is named Thorin Greyjoy. My previous bicycle was half-named Binky, and half-named [something Death's horse is named in some work of fiction other than Discworld which is more impressive-sounding than "Binky"]. I never ran across another work of fiction in which Death's horse had a name, so the other half never got filled in. Binky was stolen from one of the bicycle racks outside the Mountain View train station, which are shaped like pennyfarthings. They are not very efficient bicycle racks.
One thing I think about a lot and have not come to any satisfactory conclusions on is the variably transitive nature of family. It results in very strange overlapping Venn diagrams of who is family to whom. The shape of a family looks very different to each person in it, both because of perspective and because who is in the family may very well be different for each family member. (This is all predicated on a very modern-Western sense of families as conglomerations of individuals rather than an older sense of family as basic unit of organization, of course.)