I love warm weather. There is no greater clothing happiness for me than tank tops, shorts, and flip-flops. It's great when I get a blade or two of grass stuck in my toes; citified as I am, it makes me feel more connected to the natural world when the flora comes home with me.
I also love writing, reading, and running. Some days when I'm trying to feel extra-smart I bring them all together; I bloviate, "Yes, I'd like to canter about as a rabbit does, but I'm afraid I must scuttle in a fuliguline manner." And then the people talking to me wander off in search of someone who makes sense. I should probably stop with the swallowed-a-dictionary act.
I have a larger-than-necessary personal library, because I have a hard time parting with books. But unlike normal people, who shelve by genre or author, I shelve by size. However, my secret plan for my bookshelves is to get them into Dewey Decimal order; someday when I'm bored, I'll let out OCD Su and she'll get right on it.
My classmates have this charming idea that I'm a walking syllabus; they ask me more questions than they ask our TA. And the elder sister in me is happy to oblige, because I think they are (mostly) lovely people and also because I really do want them to succeed. Plus, I know the day is coming when I will be the TA and I'll be obligated to say things like, "What does your syllabus say?" instead of just handing out the answer. Technically, then, I'm an enabler for my classmates' unpreparedness, but I don't mind being their non-trad buddy.
So... something I just told you isn't true. Can you guess what it is? (People who know me