Author Archives: mohawkvalleygirl

I Ran Anyways

Posted on February 10, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Can it count as Saturday Running Commentary if I actually ran on Thursday and am just getting around to writing about it now?

I say yes.

I felt I was being clever by laying out my running clothes Wednesday night so that when I got home Thursday I would have fewer excuses. As it turned out I had a very good excuse in the shape of a migraine headache (at least, it could have been a sinus headache; I don’t really know from headaches). I figured my head was probably going to keep hurting anyways. This way, at least I’d feel proud of myself.

I was happy that I knew where my mittens were. I don’t know why I only have one pair of mittens, but so it is. OK, full disclosure: they aren’t my mittens. They belong to my sister Diane and they somehow ended up in my possession. I hope this isn’t one of the posts she decides to read or I may have to give them back.

So leggings, winter running socks, long-sleeved army t-shirt, sweatshirt, knitted toque, mittens — I was going to rock this run!

I’m not so sure I did. I ran at an even more shuffley pace than usual, due to snow on the sidewalks. The occasional patch of bare sidewalk didn’t help much, because snow collected on the bottoms of my sneakers. However, one thing I have learned is to persevere.

And persevere I did, for a full 20 minutes plus cool down walk. It was colder than I had expected. The wind on my face did not help my headache. At least I had remembered to put a couple of tissues in the sweatshirt pockets so I had recourse when my nose got too runny. Taking the mittens off and maneuvering with the tissues added some interest. You’d be surprised how welcome these little distractions are.

The irony of the cool down walk was not lost on me, but I felt sure my dog Tabby had been looking forward to it ever since she saw me lacing up the running shoes. I think the temperature had dropped a few degrees during the 20 minutes I had been running. Or maybe the wind had picked up. I did not analyze; I merely discouraged Tabby from sniffing as many things as she wanted to.

This ought to be a lesson to me, I suppose, not to stop running, because continuing is usually easier than beginning anew. Then again, a recurring theme of my life is Things Happen (some people put it more vulgarly, but I’ll say “things”). We can only do the best we can.

Friday I worked out at Curves instead of running again. Today (Saturday) I got a terrific headache from being out in the cold this morning. It’s gone right now, and I’m not messing with it. I may run again on Sunday. I’ll let you know.

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Lame Verbiage

Posted on February 9, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Today’s Friday Lame Post is heavy on the half-baked philosophy.

I began to write a far different post. I started running Thursday and intended to write a post about that. My lead was dull. I said so. It went on from there as follows:

And now I sit, pen in hand, contemplating how sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t. Maybe I should start a whole other blog about why I shouldn’t bother writing a blog. And by “bother,” I mean bother other people with my verbal meandering.

Note to self: does “verbal” only mean spoken or can it include the written word? It seems to me it should include writing, but I can only seem to recall hearing it used regarding spoken. I have no dictionary with me.

Well, that kept the pen moving for a while anyways. I’m re-reading Writing down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg (Shambhala Publications, 1986) and hence re-acquiring an appreciation for writing one does not intend to share. Practice writing, Goldberg calls it. Of course, I don’t do it the way she says to, never stopping the pen, not going back and re-reading, etc. I have NEVER been able to write without pausing and I have given up trying to make myself (and what a freeing decision that was!).

Full disclosure: As I write this, I picture myself typing it into my computer and publishing it as a blog post. What does that tell you?

Aha! I bet you thought that was a rhetorical question, but I am going to answer it. Writing is, for me, communication. I want to write for a reader.

That said, I understand editing. Whole sentences, paragraphs and posts will never see the light of day (the ether of the internet?) and rightly so. But as I write, I picture somebody reading it. I’m sure many writers do.

And then I stopped writing.

After I typed this nonsense into the computer, I looked up “verbal” in the dictionary (The American Heritage Dictionary, Delta, 1992). It has several meanings, only one of which is “spoken rather than written,” as in a verbal contract (which Sam Goldwyn famously said is not worth the paper it’s written on). It can also just mean having to do with words. But “verbiage,” I see, means wordiness, not specifying written or oral. I see this post is about 400 words. Plenty of verbiage for a Lame Post Friday. Have a good weekend, everyone!

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And There’s a Bird

Posted on February 8, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Before Steven and I had our collection of 50 Horror Classics, we had a smaller collection of horror movies which we enjoyed. It came in a tin box that made haunted house noises at the press of a button. I purchased it almost purely because it contained Nosferatu (the original silent version), the scariest movie ever made. But we’re not talking about Nosferatu today.

Recently a co-worker was telling me about a horror movie he had which he thought I would like. He could not remember the title but it had Jack Nicholson in it and it was trippy. He went on and I can’t remember what all he said, but something rang a bell.

“I’ve seen it,” I exclaimed (I really did “exclaim,” although I realize it sounds a little dorky when I write it that way). “It has a bird in it, right?”

“Yes!”

“I can’t remember what it’s called either.” So I went home and checked my little tin box.

The Terror (1963) also stars Boris Karloff. He would be the operative star for my purposes, although Nicholson has the bigger part. Even more importantly, the movie is directed by Roger Corman. Lovers of horror cheese need look no further.

I finally got around to watching it again, thinking my conversation with my co-worker would make a neat introduction (“neat” as in “tidy,” not “nifty neato”). Full disclosure: I did not write about it right away. I even made a note in the TV Journal that I didn’t know if I could write about it. Then I thought, on Non-Sequitur Thursday, with no other topic to hand, it would be worth a try.

Nicholson plays a soldier who is lost from his regiment, about to expire on a sandy beach, presumable the ocean, since he is dying of thirst. A beautiful girl brings him to some fresh water (which looked to me like some ocean water had just washed into a cove, but what do I know?).

It is obvious from the get-go that there is something strange about the girl, but naturally it is love at first sight for Nicholson. It should surprise no one that he intends to spend the rest of the picture trying to help her rather than rejoining his unit like a good soldier should (I don’t know why I always advocate these logical courses of action that would make for a short, boring movie).

Karloff plays a mysterious (naturally) old baron, living by himself in a creepy (naturally) old castle. He’s had a very sad and bitter past. It’s kind of too bad there aren’t any flashbacks, because the character doesn’t really have a whole lot to do in the present.

The other characters are Karloff’s servant, an eerie old lady who might be a witch, her half-wit (I think) son and, of course, the bird. I don’t know if it’s a raven or a crow or just a big old black bird, but you just know it’s going to peck somebody’s eyes out. I didn’t need a spoiler alert before I told you that.

The movie is, as my friend said, trippy. I don’t think I can even tell you what is going on, because I’m not even sure about what seems to be going on. And this was at least my second viewing. I guess I’ll have to watch it yet again. I may even write about it yet again, especially as it seems I haven’t told you much so far.

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Politically Unspoken

Posted on February 7, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

I have stated numerous times that Mohawk Valley Girl stays off politics. However, as I sometimes write about not writing, I’m going to try to talk about why I don’t talk about politics.

Note: for the sake of this argument “talk” will also mean “post” as in Facebook or other social media (which, I confess, I know very little about).

One reason I don’t like to say what I think politically is that I am not very good at argument. I don’t think of good replies till much later. Also, I tend to believe people when they spout out spurious statistics. Again much later I think, “Where did they get those numbers?” and, more importantly, “Do those numbers tell the whole story?” As a political science professor I once had said, the facts never speak for themselves.

The main reason I don’t like to talk politics, though, is not that most people are my betters at rhetoric. It’s that they don’t use rhetoric at all; they just talk louder.

Simply put, people usually don’t discuss a political issue. They just shout bumper stickers at each other, after which they sometimes degenerate into personal attacks. “You don’t agree with me? You must be STUPID! Or worse! You probably kick puppies!”

Now I’ll argue with myself, in a quiet tone of voice.

People argue in sound bites because sound bites are pithy and often sound clever. And most listeners/readers do not have or will not take the time to listen to a lengthy argument, however well thought out and intelligently stated.

Be honest, when somebody posts a link to a scholarly article on an issue, how often do you click on it and read the whole thing? You can tell I don’t, because I don’t know whether they are in fact scholarly articles or venomous diatribes. I tend to suspect the latter and that is one reason I do not click on them. The other reason is that my computer is frustratingly slow and the more links I click on the slower it goes.

Furthermore (still arguing with myself), many people feel passionately about their views. When they call somebody stupid, they may be engaging in hyperbole, trying to get your attention.

My reply to this is that it is not a very effective method of argument. When somebody calls me stupid, I tend to get mad and stop listening. Calling me stupid just puts a big old gap between us when I had hoped to find some middle ground.

Which brings me to the final argument against me: sometimes people feel that there is no middle ground. Right is always right, wrong is always wrong. Some issues, these people feel, are black and white.

If this is the case, I’m afraid we’re doomed. My desire to bring civility and reason to public discourse is meaningless, because there is no compromise. What a depressing thought. Can Mohawk Valley Girl really believe such in a negative paradigm?

NO! Of course not! I believe people can talk nicely. I believe people can listen attentively. And I’m just going to wait till most of them decide to do so.

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Well, I Watched It and I Need a Post

Posted on February 6, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Spoiler Alert! I’m actually going to try to be more circumspect about this one, just to mix things up a little. Still, one can’t help but give away something.

I DVR’d Sinner Take All (neglected to write down the year) purely on the strength of the clever title. Let that be a lesson to me.

Just kidding. It really was not a bad movie. My problem was that while it was not exactly a good movie, it did not reach the level of cheesiness I seek for my blogging pleasure. Still, I watched the whole thing. I need a post. I’ll write about it.

The plot centers around a rich businessman and his grown offspring, two sons and a daughter. All four receive death threats. It is pointed out that most murderers do not advertise their intent, they just go ahead and kill whoever. It is never explained why this murderer does not follow that protocol. I could hazard a guess as to the ostensible reason (love that word, ostensible), but that would give away who the murderer is. It is one of those, “You couldn’t be sure THAT was going to happen anyways” reasons, but let’s not get into that argument.

The hero is an ex-newspaperman who has become a lawyer. As a reporter he worked for a newspaper owned by the rich businessman. Guess whose lawyer he works for now. This makes it easy for his old boss to get our hero back on the paper to cover the big story once the rich folk start to get knocked off.

The rich guy’s offspring are pretty typical: one son is a driven businessman like Dad, the other a ne’er-do-well drunkard, the daughter a madcap heiress. Our hero’s first task, while he’s still a lawyer, is to bring the daughter home so’s they can have a family summit about the death threats.

Of course she does not want to leave the speakeasy/gambling house she’s in (at least, I don’t know if it’s a speakeasy or legitimate nightclub; they weren’t clear) (this is where knowing the year of the movie may have been helpful, but let us not repine). He persuades her not by logic or appealing to her better nature but by threatening to slug her, so you just know they’re going to fall for each other.

This is only the beginning of the patronizing man-knows-best crap he pulls on her because, after all, he must keep her safe. Funny how later on the only way he can catch the killer is to use her as bait and almost get her killed. Oh, I KNOW it is more dramatic that way. I’m just saying. The irony, not surprisingly, is lost on the characters.

The head lawyer is played by George Zucco, who somebody described as “marvelously theatrical” in Dead Men Walk (which I wrote a blog post about). I was wishing he had a bigger part, because he brought a certain… ambiguity to the role. Or perhaps I was just remembering the vampire.

Well, now I’ve done it. If you watch the movie, you’ll be staring at George Zucco thinking he’s the villain. Or is he? Or isn’t he? I will neither confirm nor deny.

Another character I liked was the cop, a young man who I thought was better looking than the hero. If I’d have been the heiress, I’d have fallen for him. He’s not your typical dumb cop, either. He’s usually a step ahead of our hero, although still a step behind the murderer (I guess it would have been a short movie otherwise).

Of course I was sorry to be watching a movie about a boy reporter and not an intrepid girl reporter. You know how I love those. I perked up when I saw in the credits that Dorothy Kilgallen has a role. Kilgallen was a real life intrepid female reporter (don’t feel right calling her “girl,” although it is OK for movie characters, if you see what I mean). In this movie she is a sob sister with a small but pivotal role.

On the whole, I enjoyed the movie. The plot is convoluted enough to make it interesting. There is no shortage of suspects and if the solution is a little “Waaait a minute,” who am I to quibble? For one thing, to raise my quibble I would need to tell you the solution, and you know how I hate to do that.

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Zombies: A Love Story?

Posted on February 5, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

I wanted to have Monster Movie Monday, so I tried to find one I hadn’t seen yet in Steven’s collection of 50 Horror Classics. I thought I couldn’t go wrong with Revolt of the Zombies (1936). Then again, I’ve been fooled before.

Oh yeah, Spoiler Alert! I really don’t know how to write about a movie with spoiling something. In this case, I’m probably going to be giving something of a plot summary, so I may spoil everything.

The movie takes place during World War I. The first scene finds the main guy, a soldier, trying to warn his superiors about the danger of zombies, tireless, indestructible robot creatures doing the bidding of their master. Or he may be pitching them as a way to win the war. I was counting stitches on my knitting at the time, and I was really just waiting for the monsters to show up anyways. Predictably, the superior scorns the entire notion.

In the outer office, Main Guy has a conversation with his friend, a likable egotist, who advises him to be ruthless and run roughshod over people to get what he wants. I thought, “Ah! Here is the theme of the picture: ruthless vs not. OK, now bring on the monsters.”

During this scene, a guru-looking guy is standing by, straight and utterly motionless. I thought at first he was a zombie wandered in from another scene, but no, he’s a guy that has the secret of making zombies. He’s going to show people what zombies can do. I think. It got hard to follow at this point, although things cleared up a little when they get to Angkor Wat. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Switch to a battle scene where some Asian-looking soldiers (remember, movies of this era are not known for their diversity and sensitivity) have glazed, robotic expressions on their faces. They march slowly toward the European-looking soldiers (by the mustaches, I thought they were French). The robot-like ones are impervious to bullets and annihilate the others.

Excuse me, what? I mean, did that, in fact, just happen? And did Guru Guy make it happen, just to prove a point? If they ever explained exactly who Guru Guy is, I missed it. In my defense, I was still suffering from a cold and was a little fuzzy in the head (insert smart remark of your choice).

The next thing we know, Guru Guy is murdered as he prays in front of some statue. Might have been Buddha. Might have been some Chinese god. This movie really mixes it up with the ethnicities, as far as I could tell. The murderer wants the zombie-making secret. He doesn’t get it but at least he gets away with the murder, largely because the soldiers seem more exercised about loss of the zombie secret than the dead body.

Soon they are all in Angkor Wat, where they might find the secret. The expedition is led by an archaeologist with a beautiful daughter. I’m sure some of you were just waiting for a beautiful daughter to show up (you know who you are).

I was not very impressed with the set for Angkor Wat. It was very obviously a painted backdrop. You can get away with this on stage or sometimes in a movie when it’s seen through a window. Not a very big window. Didn’t they have some stock footage of some similar looking place they could have flashed, then put the outdoor scenes next to a wall or near a tent or something? Of course, one suspends one’s disbelief when watching a movie, but my disbelief was already hanging by a thin thread.

Main Guy tells Beautiful Daughter a story about some guy who gave up everything for the woman he loved. She likes that, but it seems she doesn’t like Main Guy as much as she likes his friend the Likable Egotist. She uses Main Guy to get him and does so — you guessed it — ruthlessly.

Now I like a love triangle as well as the next movie buff, but where are the zombies? Finally, Main Guy discovers the secret. In this movie, you can turn anybody into a zombie using some kind of mental telepathy. For the first zombie, Main Guy is burning some stuff in a petri dish and wafts the fumes toward his subject, but he doesn’t do that more than once. One guy he even zombie-izes from another room.

These zombies, by the way, are not the messed-up, flesh-eating monsters you may have been hoping for. They are merely robotic. Soon Main Guy has like a bazillion of them, including his former friends and bosses.

The only one he doesn’t zombie-ize is the Beautiful Daughter, because he still wants to marry her. She agrees to marry him in order to save her true love’s life.

So what wins out in the end? Ruthlessness or sacrifice for love? Well, I don’t want to give away the ending (despite having given away practically everything else), and, quite frankly, I’m not sure of the answer even having seen the ending. I will say that the Zombie revolt, when it finally happens, is not what I would call a revolt, and I don’t think if even lasts long enough to rate being the title of the movie.

On the whole, I found it an interesting movie, largely because I kept trying to figure out what sort of a picture it was. Supernatural adventure? Philosophical love story? I’m still not sure. Perhaps I’ll get some other movie buffs to watch it with me and we’ll have a discussion. Might rate another blog post. Or would that be too ruthless of me?

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Irony in my Diet

Posted on February 4, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

So there I was, writing a post about a walk on a Sunday, and it was DULL. The walk itself was not dull. I love to walk, especially with my cute little dog.

But just because something is enjoyable does not mean it is interesting to read about. This is particularly true in fiction, by the way. In fiction, you want your characters to have one problem after another. Conflict! That’s the ticket!

Am I going to have a Wrist to Forehead Sunday post lamenting that I don’t have enough problems? That’s right up there with not watching a movie because it’s a good one! I guess you can’t say Mohawk Valley Girl does not get enough irony in her diet (is that double negative an awkward construction?).

I really, truly meant to write a real post today, not another one about Why I Can’t Write a Post. Then again, unlike walks, I seem to find an infinite variety in my excuses not to write. Wait a minute, isn’t writing about not writing yet another irony?

Come to think of it, I did have one small problem on my walk. Tabby pooped right near Meyers Park. I scooped up the poo, with a decent amount of snow, and contemplated the distance to the trash can. I was walking down the street hoping to meet Steven as he drove home from work. If I walked to the can to throw away the poo, would I miss my husband, thus rendering the walk useless and annoying?

I chanced it. I walked slantwise to the can, keeping an eye on the road. Was that him? No, that was a truck. Was that him? No, that was a white SUV. Was that little car him? No, it was maroon. I made it back to the sidewalk! Success!

Steven was late leaving work. We walked all the way down to State Street then back home without encountering him. It was not ironic. It was unfortunate.

And now my question, gentle reader is, which part of the post was more dull: the story of an actual happening or the dithering about why I couldn’t write today? Discuss amongst yourselves.

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The Decongestant Blues

Posted on February 3, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

I think Non Sequitur Saturday has a much better sound to it than Non Sequitur Thursday.

It was cold this morning when I walked to the post office with Tabby to mail some postcards.

Sometimes we call her Tabby Dog. That is more stream of consciousness than non sequitur. Sue me.

The next production for Ilion Little Theatre is now fully cast and rehearsals are going well, so I hear. I may stop by a rehearsal and say hello, just for material for another post.

I recently saw not one but two cheesy horror movies I could write about. The second was more of a philosophical love story, but I don’t despair of writing an acceptable post.

I may have said a few too many times that I mean to start running again. First the weather got too cold, then I got a cold, now I still have the cold AND it’s too cold. I know, I know, some people run with a cold and in the cold. Why don’t you just add some more guilt to my ills?

When I returned to Curves Wednesday I felt so terrific, I almost couldn’t wait to go in Friday. Then on Friday I realized, ooh, I have a lot of ground to make up. With the state my body’s in, I really can’t miss days of exercise.

Sometimes colds hang on and on. And sometimes what you think is going to help, well, not so much. And then you write a really stupid blog post and hope your readers will forgive you.

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No Use Crying Over Lame Posts

Posted on February 2, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Well here we are once again on Lame Post Friday and I am feeling even more lame than usual (insert peanut gallery type remark of your choice here).

I do have just one thing written earlier this week, a random observation about an old cliche:

It’s no use crying over spilled milk.

I’m not crying because I think it’s going to HELP! I am having an honest emotional reaction to an upsetting event. Can you please cut me a small break? I will look for the paper towels in a minute.

The problem is: before making today’s post I checked out Facebook, as is my usual habit. What should I find but a link to another blog I follow about, you guessed it, crying over spilled milk. They do say great minds run around in the same circles (wait a minute, that is what I say; “they” put it a little differently).

Only, that post was not lame. It was a heartfelt essay about a new mother coping with real problems.

So now here I am writing a post about how inadequate I feel writing my Friday Lame Post.

Only, let’s be honest: I don’t feel any more inadequate today than any other day. For Heavens’ sake, I KNOW there are better writers than me and writers writing about more important things than I write about. It’s no reason to stop writing.

I typed that last sentence and then stopped. Just to put a little irony in your diet (one of my favorite jokes). I will close with the link to my friend’s post, so you can compare/contrast and discuss amongst yourselves. Happy Friday, everyone.

http://megactsout.blogspot.com/2013/02/crying-over-spilt-milk.html

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PK’s Saves the Evening

Posted on February 1, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Sometimes things just work out.

Yesterday after work I went to Curves for the first time in a week (as regular readers know, I gave blood on Friday then got sick) (in case anybody is worried, I called the 800 number and warned Red Cross my blood might be bad). Oh, I was glad I went. I’m still not feeling 100 percent, but it felt good to sweat. I went home stinky but happy.

Steven met me at the door (Tabby had run out the door, met me at my vehicle and was running up and down the backyard, sharing her joy with the neighborhood).

“We have no power,” Steven said. Oh dear.

It was not dark yet, but it was a gloomy, rainy day, so it was not easy to see things in the house. Steven had not called National Grid (still want to call them NiMo), because the phone was not working without electricity (which is odd, because I remember, many years ago, the lights being out but still being able to make phone calls). Luckily I had my cell.

We groped around with the aid of our one flashlight till we found the number on our bill (which we DID pay, so that is NOT the solution to why the lights were out, anybody who was thinking that) (you know who you are). While Steven made his frustrating way though the automated line I wondered what to do. Too dark to read the paper. Bad idea to stand in front of the open fridge and look for something to snack on. Couldn’t even heat some coffee on our gas stove, because it has electric ignition.

At last Steven reported that crews were on the job, estimated time of restoration: seven o’clock.

“It’s not even five!” I said, wondering if they had estimated conservatively to be on the safe side or optimistically to soothe irate customers (which obviously would not work in the long run, but I would not necessarily expect a big company to think about that).

Luckily the hot water was working (I mentioned I was stinky, didn’t I?). I suggested I shower and we go out and get something to eat. We had to eat in any case, and this would pass the time while the power got fixed. I regretted that we couldn’t take Tabby, but I figured she could just nap in the dark while we were gone. Dogs are more easily entertained than I am.

I had actually been thinking about PK’s Pub earlier in the day and wondering when I would have the opportunity to dine there again. It really seemed too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Steven pointed out all the lucky houses that still had power as we drove to King Street. I was relieved, because if PK’s was out of power too the whole thing came to a grinding halt.

We were able to get my favorite tall table near the bar. I do love to sit at a tall table. We told the bartender our sad tale that had brought us there.

“Sounds like it worked out for you,” she observed.

I had to admit that was true. It was a lovely dinner. I tried the Chipotle Ravioli. Quite unusual and very tasty. Steven had the grilled chicken platter. The vegetables were done to perfection, he said. He got an Almond Joy pie for dessert. I virtuously refrained from ordering a dessert, then ruined it by having another glass of wine when the bartender asked me did I want one. Then the waitress brought two spoons (I MIGHT have suggested that she do so), so I was really not very virtuous at all. In my defense, the desserts at PK’s Pub are out of this world. They are all homemade and often highly unusual.

We left shortly before seven. The bartender said, “If the power’s still not on, come on back. We have plenty of wine!”

The lights were on, however, so such drastic action was not necessary. I almost feel I ought to thank National Grid. It was a most serendipitous outage.

PK’s Pub is located at 221 King St., Herkimer, NY. Phone number 315-866-3494. You can also Like them on Facebook.

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