Author Archives: mohawkvalleygirl

I Wouldn’t Call This Polished

So much for my idea of writing blog posts ahead (it worked for me before, dammit).  I do have a draft saved.  It started out to be a simple running commentary.  Then I found myself embarked upon a whole essay about writing.  I feel it was not contemptible but yet want to edit.  Edit on Lame Post Friday?  NEVER!

 

Well, no, I often edit somewhat, even when composing at the keyboard.  At least I proofread (yes, yes, sometimes I miss a typo, what’s your point?).  But I like Lame Post Friday to be more spontaneous and leisurely , but not polished and fussed over (yes, yes, I know, if it looks fussed over, you’ve fussed too much, will you go find somebody else to bother?).

 

I am not composing this at the keyboard, by the way.  I am handwriting rather messily in a spiral notebook on the table in the break area at work, prior to my shift start.  College ruled paper, ballpoint pen, black ink, if you enjoy that sort of detail.

 

I find that writing before work puts me in a happy mood.  As long as it goes well.  I ought to be in a happy mood anyways, because it is Friday.  Also , today begins another Fabulous Wine Tasting Weekend with some family members.  Good folks, good times, what’s not to like?  No doubt I’ll write a blog post about it.  In the meantime, Happy Friday, everybody!

 

As the Laundry Turns

My usual plan when I’m going away for the weekend is to write blog posts ahead.  WordPress even has a handy function whereby I can set the posts to Publish at an appropriate future time.

 

You know what, I can just hear somebody carping now (or is it karping?  Carping looks too much like carpe diem, which is not the same thing):  “I thought the point of the blog was to write every day.  If you write blog posts ahead, you are not writing every day now, are you?”

 

Oh, shut up (I explain) (that’s an S.J. Perelman joke).  I’ll still write every day.  I just won’t necessarily write a blog post.  After all, this blog is not the only thing I write.  Besides, SOME readers LIKE to see a post from me every day.  I can’t let them down, can I?  Of course I could, perhaps sometimes I do, but I try not to.

 

I wrote the above when I was sitting in the laundromat Wednesday, wishing to high heaven that somebody had left a magazine lying around.  Once I found a trashy paperback in the laundromat.  That was sweet.  It was somehow a randomly found paperback was a more engrossing read than any number of books I have purchased or selected at the library.

 

No such rescue awaited me on Wednesday.  I sat there with my notebook, attempting to write my novel, a letter, my play, a blog post, ANYTHING.  It was no good.  However, I see that the silliness I did manage is over 200 words.  I call that a blog post, and quite appropriate for Non-Sequitur Thursday.  But whatever will  I do on Lame Post Friday?  Stay tuned, we’ll find out together.

 

Saturday Adventures

I had an afternoon of Mohawk Valley adventures on Saturday with my sister Cheryl.

We drove to Little Falls for an an exhibit opening at Mohawk Valley Center for the Arts. I always feel artsy when I say I’m going to an exhibit opening.  We had parked at the Shops at 25 West, since we also intended to visit there and at the Little Falls Antique Center.

I’ll write more about the exhibit in a later post.  For now I’ll just say. these openings are very popular. At times the crowd made it difficult to really appreciate the art.  We enjoyed what we did see, then looked at The Selective Eye gift shop which Cheryl had not seen before. We spotted a couple of good Christmas presents, but I mustn’t say what in case… that person happens to read this post. I even saw a few things Steven might like to purchase for me.

I plan to return to MVCA when I can take my time and enjoy the exhibit. It’s all very well to feel artsy, but I also like to look at the art.

Next we walked across the street to Little Falls Antique Center at Stone Mill.  We spent some time browsing there at at The Shops at 25 West.  Cheryl was particularly interested in looking at old lanterns. We saw a few but not exactly what she had in mind. I took a particular interest in looking out the windows at the canal. A lot of the winders there have beautiful wide window sills.

“If I had windows like that in my house,” I said, “I”d put cushions on them and sit there with a book.” I suppose I’ll have to move into a converted factory if I want to implement that interior design inspiration.

I was also interested in some of the items available from the Alpaca place. Cheryl knows where they are located. Perhaps we can make a trip there one day soon, for future blogging purposes.

After we left Little Falls we were feeling peckish so we stopped at Crazy Otto’s Empire diner in Herkimer. Cheryl had never eaten there before, so I was happy to introduce her to one of Steven’s a my favorite spots. When she ordered her grilled cheese sandwich the waiter asked if she wanted fries.

“It comes with the best homemade chips,” I told her. She agreed they were good, and she nicely shared them with me. I had conservatively ordered an English muffin, in case my stomach was still bothering me (I know2, the chips were probably not the best thing on a bad stomach; let’s see YOU resist Crazy Otto’s homemade chips!).

We had a really fun afternoon.  It’s always fun to go adventuring with a sister.

 

For Tabby on Tired Tuesday

Sorry, kids, it’s Tired Tuesday. I did work on a blog post today, about Saturday’s adventures, but it needs more work and I have completely petered out. In my defense, I did laundry. Hmm, that doesn’t sound like much of a defense. So don’t forgive me. In the meantime, I offer a Pedestrian Post with thanks to my beloved schnoodle, Tabby.

I neither walked nor ran yesterday, and my legs definitely felt the lack. And my conscience felt the guilt from not walking my dog (although she got a nice long walk with both her peeps Sunday, in addition to walking my cool-down with me after my run). Therefore, after I got the laundry in the house and the non-drier items hanging in various places, I got Tabby into her harness and we were on our way.

It was still nicely warm out, somewhere in the 60s I believe. Many people were out and about. A couple of neighborhood kids said hi to us, and one unknown college-looking kid said hi to Tabby. Tabby led me down Bellinger Street to Meyers Park.

I still haven’t gotten over my delight at all the snow being gone, so I felt contented to be outside in addition to my legs’ enjoyment of the exercise. We saw two young boys playing baseball in the park. At least, one had a glove and ball, the other had a bat. I suppose it was just batting practice, or else they had vivid imaginations (nothing wrong with that!).

After the park we headed towards Main Street and the downtown area. I looked longingly at Basloe Library as we went by. They are having a book sale. I could use a couple of paperbacks for this weekend, but I do not foresee an opportunity to go there. Of course, I have three or four paperbacks I purchased at Basloe a month or two ago which I have not read yet, but still.

Up to the Historic Four Corners. I must take another walk by the 1834 Jail after dark some night and see if I spot any ghosts. I rather doubt I will; I’m not at all sensitive to that sort of phenomena, but as the great Fats Waller said, one never knows, do one?

A very sweet toddler wanted to pet Tabby. His father told him to ask first then asked me himself when the toddler was too shy. I said sure, Tabby’s a good dog. A lady with a beautiful baby in a stroller joined us as Tabby was being petted. Tabby was immediately interested in the baby.

“She likes baby feet,” I said. We parted friends.

I enjoyed our walk, and I think Tabby did too. I even enjoyed writing about it. Happy Tuesday, everyone.

Too Many Meanderings

So I had some Mohawk Valley adventures on Saturday. I started to write about one of them this morning, and I got bogged down. No matter, I thought. I can dash off an overview of the afternoon the cover each adventure individually as the week progresses. That did not seem to be working out either. After staring into space and questioning my life choices, I remembered: Monday Mental Meanderings. I can just follow my recalcitrant mind around the page a little, hit Publish and call it a day.

In my defense, I was doing some magazine work. I was revising and polishing (or do I flatter myself?) my articles for Mohawk Valley Living magazine, for which the deadline is tomorrow. I got them emailed out, for once forgetting to courtesy copy myself. In my detriment (I guess that’s not the opposite of defense; does anyone have a better suggestion?), I should have gotten those articles done last week and they’re not such brilliant prose at that.

My overall plan is to work more on my writing. Better blog posts, finish that novel. And that play. And the other play. Oh, and at least one interactive murder mystery. And here we come to my problem: I have too many potential projects. My mind won’t seem to settle on any of them. It skitters hither and thither. It — dare I say it? — MEANDERS!

This has become a rather circular post. I can’t seem to write, so I offer a Mental Meanderings Monday. The reason I can’t write is that my mind is meandering. Got that? If so, I shall hit Publish and call it a day.

Yes, Sweat!

I make bold to offer Running Commentary two days in a row, because this is the first time I’ve run two days in a row since I started running again last month.

I did not get out of the house till after nine. For one reason, since it was supposed to be warm today I figured I might as well wait for a better temperature. It was 42 when I set out, according to my thermostat, three degrees below where I usually dress in shorts and t-shirt. However, I had already put on the shorts and t-shirt. I observed that the sun was high in the sky. This would be fine.

It was fine. It looked like spring. I was running on completely bare, dry sidewalks. There was no snow in sight. Only my hands got cold. That was to be expected.

And my legs were tired. I thought, this is bad. I can’t keep writing blog posts about runs that aren’t fun. Well, apparently I can. I pondered how my readers might feel about it. Some readers might feel better, “Oh, it’s OK that my runs are still difficult; so are Mohawk Valley Girl’s.” Some might feel worse, “There’s no point in running! I guess runs NEVER get better!” I think the worst thing of all would be if they feel bored, “Oh no, not another dull Running Commentary! Just stay home, girl!”

I continued to feel tired as I ran down German Street. I decided to let myself off the hook as far as hills were concerned. Just keep going, I told myself. I ran through the high school parking lot and over the little footbridge. I would go up one street and down another, working my way back home.

I occupied myself with looking in people’s yards for flowers. Some people had nicely cleaned up last years skanky leaves. I must do that. Other people had not, so I felt a little better about that. Then I saw some purple crocuses and felt better yet.

Where, or where were those endorphins? I had been feeling down when I left the house and thought a run would help. Well, one must get through the difficult runs to get to the good ones. I persevered. I was soon rewarded by reaching the coveted “I can rock this” stage. My legs felt good! I could keep this up for a while. It was not a euphoric feeling exactly, but I certainly enjoyed it.

Of course it did not last. However, as I continued to run, it came back. I debated how far I would run. Further than yesterday at least. Perhaps not to the 35 minutes I should have been at by this time. Something in between?

I ended up running for 32 minutes, the length of time I was running before I got sick. As I walked my cool-down with Tabby I felt pretty terrific. I don’t think I have experienced endorphins yet, but I sweated out my bad attitude. That’s a pretty good accomplishment on Wrist to Forehead Sunday.

First Post-Illness Run

As my week of being ill progressed, I watched in dismay as the days when I did NOT run added up. But the Boilermaker, I thought. What about the Boilermaker? I made up my mind I would run today (Saturday). An off week is only a minor setback! I can still train enough in time!

We had gotten up at five (couldn’t sleep), and it was twenty after six when I got out the door. My thermostat said 40 degrees. Usually I go shorts and short sleeves for 45 and above. I put on my leopard-spotted long johns and long-sleeved ARMY t-shirt and hoped I would not feel too warm as the run progressed. As I brushed my teeth I could hear the wind whistling in a way that made me expect to hear the theme music to The Wizard of Oz and figured I would not over-heat. I put on my toque instead of a headband and set out.

The sidewalks and roads were still wet from last night’s rain, but there weren’t too many puddles to avoid. I decided a 20 minute run would be good enough and I was not obligated to run any hills. I turned towards Main Street, thinking I would run up it and over to the path over what used to be a hydraulic canal. It was grey and gloomy out. The sun was up but not very high. One of my favorite things is to go running while it’s still dark out and have the sun come up while I run. But this was nice, too.

I admired the bare trees against the grey sky but hoped for leaves soon. Looking closely at some of the branches I could see buds. Come on, Spring! The temperature was not too bad. I felt I had dressed appropriately. Only my hands were cold, especially my fingers. Well, one must deal with these things. As I reached the end of the first stretch of path and started across German Street the wind was directly behind me, pushing me. I appreciated the psychological boost.

I was running very slowly. Breathing was not difficult. My legs began to complain. Well, there is just no pleasing my legs. All week they felt awful, because I was neither walking nor running. Now I start to run and they bitch at me. I ignored them an kept going. Grey, cloudy skies ahead of me. If I looked straight over my head I could see a little blue peeking through. That gave me hope.

After a while the wind became dead against me. No matter, I told myself. More effort burns more calories and will better build me up for the Boilermaker. I would just have to live with the cold hands. I had had the foresight to stuff a tissue into my sleeve. I pretty much used it up. Again, no matter. There were other tissues back home, which is the general direction I was headed by now.

I headed towards Meyers Park. When I first started running again after moving to Herkimer (I had many sedentary months here first), I made it a habit to always go through the park, either at the beginning or the end of my run. I stopped doing this every time as my run area expanded, but it’s always nice to go through the park. I again admired the bare trees while feeling a little wistful that they are still bare.

My legs were SO not happy with me. I was resolutely trying to ignore them when suddenly I felt something… different. Could that be a muscle? Was I developing a muscle? Yes, I could feel my thigh muscles working. That was kind of cool. They were quietly pumping along in a business-like fashion and the rest of my legs were just kind of going along. They were no longer complaining. I can’t say it was the “I can rock this” stage. More like a determined, “OK, let’s DO this.”

It soon became clear that I would go over my 20 minutes, although not by much. I didn’t feel too awful. This was going to be all right. The sun was all the way up now and I could see blue skies up ahead. No, really, I saw actual bits of blue in between the clouds. It wasn’t just my end of the run optimism.

When Tabby and I walked my cool-down, my legs felt even better. I felt so happy that I had gotten that first run under my belt. When one has a pause in one’s running for whatever reason, some say just getting started again is the hardest part. I expect to find out tomorrow if that is true or if continuing is just as hard. No matter. I intend to run regardless of difficulty. I’m a runner again.

Lame at the End of the Tunnel

I had hoped not to have Lame Post Friday, after my week of illness and recovery. I was feeling much better earlier today. My stomach felt NOT sick. I did NOT have a headache. Oh, life was wonderful.

Of course it did NOT last. I didn’t even make it till lunch before I started to peter out. “I ran out of oopmh before I ran out of day,” I told a co-worker. Of course, that phenomenon often happens to the working stiff, convalescent or not. One perseveres and tries to get the work done regardless. I even did some writing during my lunch break, but it was not for the blog and it was definitely not finished. Still, it felt good to write.

Um, not that I have NOT been writing. I’ve been working on a letter to a friend. I’m often writing a letter to a friend or relative. At least it is putting words on paper. Still, it doesn’t help when I have to hit Publish on something or finally go a day without making a post (NEVER! NEVER! At least, NOT TODAY!). I have been fired with ambition to write lately but, alas, the ambition has not been accompanied by inspiration or even any ideas. So I write rambling letters or type in lame blog posts.

However, I say it again, one perseveres. At least I felt good for the morning. Perhaps tomorrow I will feel better for a longer period of time. Soon, dare I hope?, I will feel better for a whole day. At least I shall try to get my blog post written before I start feeling crappy again. As always, thank you for playing.

Off to Break a Leg!

The decision has been made to act. I only wish the decision had been made to write my blog post earlier today. In my defense, I was writing a letter to a friend, which I believe is also an important thing to do.

I do want to express how happy I am that my husband Steven decided to audition. I hope he gets a part, but I feel sure we will have fun just going to auditions. We’ll see some friends from Ilion Little Theatre. We may make new friends at Players of Utica. I can write another blog post about the experience. I may even get an article for Mohawk Valley Living out of it. And it will be something fun and different to do on a Thursday evening.

“Instead of sitting around in our sweats, watching TV,” I said to him. “Of course, that’s fun, too,” I hastened to add. Time with my husband is always worthwhile. “We’ll step out of our comfort zone,” I clarified, realizing that is quite literal, because sweats and sitting around is extremely comfortable.

I have to admit, though, it isn’t too far out of our comfort zone. We don’t often venture to Utica after dark, but a friend is nicely driving us. We have never auditioned for Players of Utica, but we have auditioned many times for many plays, and even been cast in a few (full disclosure: Steven more than me). I daresay I am much more comfortable auditioning now than I was many years ago.

Further full disclosure: I am writing this on the fly while waiting for the friend to pick us up. Ah, Monday’s hypothetical critic pipes up and says, “You don’t have to tell us you’re writing on the fly! This post sucks!” Wow, I am writing in a hurry. That is the best insult I could think of for my hypothetical critic. Never mind. I’m off the break a leg!

To Act or Not to Act?

More specifically, to audition or not to audition? I say audition. Steven is undecided.

The play in question is One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Players of Utica. The idea of auditioning came up a few weeks ago, when we were dining with a couple of theatre friends prior to seeing The Psychic at Ilion Little Theatre. Of course, in the moment, we all said, “Yeah! Let’s audition! We’ll all go together! It’ll be great!”

A little time passes. Utica seems further away than it did from Ilion (well, I think it is a mile or so closer to Ilion than to Herkimer, but I suppose it depends on which road you take). We’ve never auditioned for Players of Utica, in fact, we don’t even know where they are. Oh, being in a play is so much time and work. We like to come home, put our sweats on and relax after work. We won’t audition.

A little more time passes. Our theatre friends contact us and say, “Hey, are we auditioning or what?” (or words to that effect). Suddenly we remember why we wanted to audition in the first place. WHAT SHOULD WE DO???

Full disclosure: Steven is the one who is more likely to get cast in this production, and he is the one I would really like to audition. After all, I was just in a play. I love to see Steven on stage. He is an excellent actor. However, I will go along and audition. I like to read for a part and, hey, you never know.

I think we will audition. I’m already planning to write a blog post about it.