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Monday Morning Muse

I have a couple of Mohawk Valley adventures to relate, but I’m afraid today I’m going to hide behind Middle-aged Musings Monday.

I actually wrote three paragraphs on our visit to the Herkimer Home, and I may still be able to use them Tuesday or Wednesday. However, when I started to write the fourth paragraph, what happened (I’m not asking rhetorically; I honestly don’t know)? Not Writer’s Block or even Writer’s Blank. I just realized I was about to start the third paragraph in a row with the word “We,” didn’t want to do that, and could not think of a damn other thing to write. It’s all very well to say, “Just put ‘We’ for now and change it later.” That’s not how I roll.

I am just about at my year’s anniversary of being Mohawk Valley Girl. I challenged myself to post every day for one year. I may be subconsciously sabotaging myself. Why would I do such a thing?

This is probably a mere case of the Monday Blahs. I had a very tiring weekend. I worked Saturday then scrubbed the deck. Sunday I ran for 45 minutes, pulled weeds, then spent time walking around in the direct sunlight. Sunlight always does me dirt. In all I had what I thought was a respectable combination of ambition and fun. Now I am not only exhausted and ravenously hungry, but I don’t like a damn thing that comes out of my pen.

I’m thinking we all get in these moods (stand by for today’s musing). For example, in Shelley Winters’ second autobiography (Shelley II: The Middle of My Century, Pocket Books, New York, NY, 1989; excellent book), she talks about how she gets the three a.m. dooms and asks, “what if…” For heavens’ sake, Shelley Winters? A respected professional whose career spanned decades in a field NOT known for career longevity? She won two Oscars! She was in many wonderful movies and plays. She made significant contributions to causes she believed in. She had a lot of steamy romances with some majorly hot men. I could go on, but I’m getting jealous.

Before I segue into my own case the dooms, I point out to myself: you see, nobody does everything they would like to do. Does that thought make me feel better? Not really. I’m still looking at Shelley Winters and wondering why I didn’t do some of the same stuff she’s done. Maybe not win an Oscar (not even one?) and I guess my husband would have a problem with the majorly hot men, but significant contributions to causes I could do.

And this is the way the Monday Blahs work: as I wrote that this morning on a break at work, I only felt more blah and, truth be known, was a little amused by myself at doing such a thorough job of it. As I type this into my computer Monday evening, I’m thinking, let’s see, what could I do? Let’s make a plan…

But as I said, this ambitious thought did not occur to me as I was actually musing on a Monday morning. At that point, all I could think was I’d like to go home and watch A Place in the Sun. Shelley didn’t win an Oscar for that, but she’s very good.


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