Author Archives: mohawkvalleygirl

Can’t Give You Anthing But Lame

What a dithery week I’m having.

I had meant to continue my Christmas Carol Commentary today. I even had a couple of paragraphs written. I thought, “Don’t do Lame Post Friday right after Non Sequitur Thursday.” And here it is Friday and it seems I can’t be anything but lame.

I have said in the past that I don’t suffer so much from Writer’s Block as from Writer’s Blank. My head feels like a big, empty wasteland. Well, today I think it’s Block. My head feels like a concrete wall. Nothing is getting through.

Possible reason for this phenomenon:

I got some “likes” for my posts earlier this week, and at least one new follower. What if they read my next post and DON’T LIKE IT AS MUCH? What a disaster!

Oh, I know it’s not really a disaster and logically, nobody will like each post equally as well as all others. But I think many writers can identify with the fear that we will not be good enough. After all, better to be silent and let the world think you’re a fool than to write a blog post and remove all doubt.

Actually, I guess that ship sailed with the first post: everybody knows I am something of a fool. I might postulate that most writers are fools: we put our words out there and think somebody, somewhere might want to read them. And you know what, maybe we’re not such fools after all. I like to read what people write. I’m thinking you do too, because, you know, here you are.

One of the best excuses for a lame post is, at least it’s short. Happy Friday, everyone.

Non Sequitur Thursday

Now I’ve done it. I’ve gone all post-ironic on you.

Regular readers may recall that I instituted Non Sequitur Thursday two weeks ago. Last week I was glad I had it, although I feel it led to a dithery post. I said then that if I used “Non Sequitur Thursday” as a title I was afraid it would make whatever I said after that a sequitur (my computer keeps telling me that’s not how you spell sequitur, but I’ve looked it up in the dictionary like eight times by now) (by the way, it appears that “non sequitur” is a word, but “sequitur” is not).

It’s kind of like that episode of Star Trek (the original Gene Rodenberry series, not any of the movies or spin offs, most of which I did not watch) (thus losing all my sci fi geek cred, if I had any) where Spock said to an android, “Everything I say to you is a lie. I’m lying,” and the poor android short circuited. Um, this does not make me anything like Spock.

I left something off one of my other dithery posts earlier this week: when I was listing my various cop out posts, I forgot Wuss Out Wednesday. I actually never instituted Wuss Out Wednesday, but last Halloween, which fell on a Wednesday, I had a really lame post in which I contemplated instituting such a thing.

Why, oh why, did I not write a post while at work today? No sinus headache plagued me. In my defense, I wrote almost two pages on my novel. I am so behind the eight ball because I have to start getting ready to go to a dinner meeting of Ilion Little Theatre (remember, I made White Trash for it). There is no point in thinking I will be up to writing a post after that. They serve wine.

In conclusion, I am a little embarrassed to post this, but not too embarrassed to hit “publish.” Happy Thursday.

Christmas Cooking

What’s wrong with All Christmas All The Time anyways?

How about a cooking post. I had hoped to have enough oomph one day this week to make White Trash to bring to the Ilion Little Theatre dinner meeting on Thursday. Tuesday I managed it.

First I found a peppy Christmas CD to inspire me. I picked “Roomful of Christmas” by Roomful of Blues. Oh yeah.

I got the white chocolate chips out of the refrigerator. I have four bags altogether, enough for two batches. One Girardelli, one Nestle and two store brand. I decided to mix and match: the Nestle and the store brand. When I taste tested the chips (well, naturally I taste tested! Stop shaking your dieter’s finger at me!), they tasted remarkable alike.

I put them in my fancy double boiler, a frying pan of water with a pot sitting in it, and added two tablespoons of olive oil.

While it came to a boil, I mixed six cups of hexagon cereal, two cups Tasteos (generic Cheerios), two cups peanuts and two cups pretzels. I broke some of the pretzels (on purpose).

Of course I put too much water in the frying pan. I siphoned some off with a turkey baster.

Then I could not find my red and green sugar. It is not part of the recipe to sprinkle colored sugar on the finished product, but I like to be seasonal. Red and green for Christmas, orange and black for Halloween. Wait a minute, did I use it all up last year? Who can remember these things?

I was out of time to search for colored sugar! I had to start stirring the white chocolate chips or they would burn to the bottom of the pan! Oh no!

I hollered up the stairs for Steven, being quite loud about it, because I had the music cranked. He thought something must be horribly wrong, so that was ill done of me. Scaring my husband over colored sugar. What’s the matter with me? (Do NOT answer that!)

Steven came down and confirmed our lack of colored sugar. No matter. White is still seasonal.

I poured the melted white chocolate over the stuff and stirred. Then Steven had to find something else to put his coffee filters in, because I accidentally dropped some on the plastic bag they were in. I never said I was Rachel Ray.

Soon I was spreading the mixture on wax paper to cool. Later on I taste tested it as I broke it apart and put it in a bowl. Steven tried some too. We pronounced it yummy.

In retrospect, I’m sure I’ve shared the White Trash recipe before. However, I thought what with hollering up the stairs and spilling some on the coffee filters, last night’s episode had a certain charm all its own. Anyways, some people just can’t get enough White Trash.

Christmas Carol Commentary

Today I attempt to follow my own advice from yesterday and skip the futzing. I have had no Mohawk Valley adventures since yesterday, so I will attempt some seasonal commentary.

The other day I posted a Facebook status that got some good attention. I share it again, with apologies to any readers who are also Facebook friends: So if I know Dasher and Dancer and all them, why would I NOT recall the most famous reindeer of all?

That has bothered me ever since it occurred to me. Now I’ve been looking for other examples of silly lyrics in Christmas songs.

One of my least favorite songs is “All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth” (although I love the cover of it by The Count of Sesame Street). “Been so long since I could say/ Sister Susie sitting on a thistle.” (Have I mentioned that before? Note to self: look at last December’s posts before I publish this.)

Has anybody ever in their life said that sentence at all, let alone felt sad that they hadn’t said it in a long time? Can I just say, if you have a sister of whatever name who is in the habit of sitting on thistles and that forms a large part of your conversation, with or without teeth, I would advise you to get out more (that’s not a run-on sentence).

(Note written later: I looked at my last December’s posts but did not read through them all. I think I’m good).

And another thing: why didn’t anybody offer to walk Grandma home? Or maybe go fetch her medication for her? Maybe they were all drinking too much eggnog, but that reminds me, should she have been mixing her medication with eggnog? A good question for Grandma’s pharmacist.

Oh, and before anyone gets snarky about it, obviously the eggnog was spiked, by implication if not by actual booze.

That’s all I’ve come up with so far. I intend to continue listening to Christmas music, however, so I will report further as developments warrant. Maybe on Lame Post Friday.

Skip the Futzing

I thought that by instituting Middle-aged Musings Monday, I could take it easy on Monday. Kind of like I take it easy on Friday with Lame Post Friday.

Then I started thinking: Wrist to Forehead Sunday, Middle-aged Musings Monday, Mid-Week Musings, Lame Post Friday, Running Commentary Saturday and the newly discovered Non Sequitur Thursday (I know that puts them out of order, but I wanted to mention Thursday last). Am I writing a Mohawk Valley blog or am I just futzing around?

I guess today I’m futzing. I did not write a post on break at work. I wrote about a page on my novel that will probably end up being quite unusable, if I even finish the novel, which at this point looks doubtful.

Now it sounds like Wrist to Forehead Monday. OK, everybody, just put away your miniature violins, I’ll stop.

As a matter of fact, I dragged Steven and Tabby on a walk just now, thinking I could write about that. It was cold but not too bad. I had attempted a walk with Tabby on Sunday while Steven was at work and it was quite uncomfortable. We made it around one block and that was enough. Tonight’s walk was further and quite enjoyable.

I pointed out to Steven every Christmas decoration I noticed. Then I noticed myself doing that and apologized for being annoying. Steven didn’t mind. He really is a very good husband. Tabby, of course, wanted to stop and sniff almost every post, tree and patch of grass possible. We try to strike a balance between letting her enjoy herself and not taking all damn night about it.

At one point we could hear footsteps behind us so tried to pick up the pace a little. That is a noise that can sometimes make you nervous, especially after dark, but Herkimer is usually a pretty safe place, and for heavens’ sake it was prior to six p.m., not the witching hour (that may be a run-on sentence but I think it’s OK). Then I heard a car next to us click like somebody had used a key fob, so I figured that was footsteps’ car.

As we approached our house I heard wheels behind us, so looked back once or twice. If if was somebody on a bicycle I wanted to get out of the way. It was a lady with a stroller.

“Snowy! Snowy!” the kid in the stroller yelled.

“Every white animal isn’t Snowy,” the lady told him.

I turned around. “No, this is Tabby,” I said. Usually Tabby would want to meet the kid at this point, but we were in front of our house and she was into being home. The lady explained that her mother has a white cat named Snowy, so her boy thinks every white animal must be Snowy. We wished each other a good evening and she continued on her way while the little boy kept yelling for Snowy.

I asked Tabby if she wanted to change her name to Snowy, but she did not seem interested. Steven was pleased that we had walked for almost a half hour. As for me, I have written some 500 words and that almost always makes me feel better. Let that be a lesson to me: next time, skip the futzing.

I Think I Like Cheesy Movies Better

When I saw Forbidden Planet listed on TCM, I got all excited.

“That’s a famous bad movie,” I told Steven. Turns out I was half right: it’s famous. I remembered that the movie was based on The Tempest by William Shakespeare (loosely, I believe) and that it is the movie that introduced Robbie the Robot.

I know Robbie the Robot from Lost in Space. I remember in one episode he played The Robotoid, who was apparently a better robot than The Robot, and The Robot got all jealous and sad. And I seem to remember Robbie being an evil robot as well, but that may have been the same episode. (Of course The Robot started out evil, but let’s not get all bogged down in Lost in Space reminisces.)

When Ben Mankiewicz gave his pre-movie commentary (which I love), he informed me that Forbidden Planet broke the mold of previous science fiction movies by having a budget and taking pains with the script, sets and acting. Who knew? Well, I’ve mentioned in the past it seems foolish to not watch a movie because I’m afraid it will be too good. I thought I’d give it a try.

I almost didn’t recognize Leslie Nielsen without his white hair and with his tongue not in his cheek. Ann Francis is the only girl both on the planet and in the movie, and Walter Pigeon plays her father. Those were the names I recognized in the cast.

I thought the plot of the movie was a little bit “Waaait a minute.” Leslie and ship have traveled two years through space to check on a group that set out to colonize some planet (I forget the name of the planet, and you know, nobody in the movie actually refers to it as “forbidden.” Just saying). Hello, 20 years? They didn’t let the Pilgrims go that long without checking on them, and proportionally travel and communications was a lot less sophisticated back then (I say “proportionally” because, you know, space vs oceans).

Then, after they find all is not well, although Walter Pigeon insists that it is, it’s going to take them like a month to cannibalize their ship to build a device to communicate with earth for further instructions. Excuse me, what? What were their original instructions and what did they expect to find? Didn’t they think they MIGHT need to call home? And how are they going to get back home once they’ve dismantled the ship to build this fancy telephone?

Perhaps I read too much into it. Or perhaps I was not paying enough attention, as you know is sometimes the case with me. I must observe, the movie got a little dull. It certainly moved slowly. The monster didn’t show up till like 45 minutes into it, and then it was just mysterious breathing. We don’t actually see the monster till much later and then we don’t exactly see it.

That, by the way, is my favorite special effect in the picture. The effects and the sets are pretty good for the time. A couple of the scenes look pretty definitely painted, but they’re lovely and nothing really looks fake.

The ending gets exciting. I don’t want to say a whole lot about how things develop and what happens, but it gets kind of heady and philosophical, while still remaining exciting. Not an easy trick to pull off.

On the whole, I would say Forbidden Planet is worth a watch if you’re interested in science fiction, movies and their history together. Next I’m going to read The Tempest, so I can do a compare/contrast on the plots. That might be good for another blog post.

Making Do with a Walk

Once again I did not go running this Saturday. I’ll have a big, exciting blog post when I start running again, so that is something to look forward to (for me, anyways). In the meantime, today I will write about a walk I took this morning with Tabby, my schnoodle (regular readers know I have a schnoodle named Tabby, but I thought I’d mention her for anybody just tuning in. Plus, I like using the word schnoodle).

Steven and I were up early this morning, because he had to work at 6:30. Well, at least I got to sleep in till four. I must be thankful for what I can get. I didn’t waste the wakefulness, either. I left the house when Steven did, all fired up to finish my Christmas shopping before the crowds arrived.

I didn’t do so good. What a time of year to be stricken with indecision! I’ve been saying that for the rest of the day. You see, I can’t even decide on something else to say.

All this is just background, of course. I was partially successful and wondered what else I could usefully get done before my eye doctor appointment at 10:45. Then I remembered I had yet to deposit a check into my mad money account at First Source Federal Credit Union in Herkimer (see, I get to plug a local business, too).

First I had to search frantically for a hat. What in the world did I do with my toque? And what happened to all the other knitted hats I used to have? This one looks dorky, that one looks dorky, oh, here’s a good one. Does anybody else have these problems? I got Tabby into her harness and we set out.

Still no snow in Herkimer, NY. Not even any rain, although yesterday my bunions definitely predicted precipitation. Well, sometimes my bunions are in advance of the event. Not even too cold, but I was glad I had found my hat.

Lots of Christmas decorations to look at. I saw several blow up Santas not deflated, as well as a couple sad looking ones. In the daylight, I especially like to see the large Christmas balls hanging from porches. I saw some swaying in the breeze, although I wasn’t bothered much by the wind. Perhaps it was the Ghost of Christmas Past or somebody (just a spooky thought to brighten my day).

Tabby was not best pleased with the directions I was walking in, but I convinced her to accompany me. She was happy enough once we got to the bank. She loves that bank. The teller gave her a treat, which I believe she was expecting.

After I had transacted my business, Tabby delayed our departure long enough to greet another patron. She jumped right up on him to be petted.

“Well, hello,” he said. “How are you? Nice to meet you!”

“She always knows nice people when she sees them,” I said. Actually, I think Tabby thinks everybody is nice and wants to pet her. Luckily, many people do.

We walked home by a different route so we could see more decorations. I envied all the hard plastic light up snowmen, in particular one who seemed to be giving me a knowing grin.

I’d like to share with you some of my Christmas shopping adventures, but it would be problematic. There would be a lot of “I got a … for …” because some people on my Christmas list read my blog. Sometimes even the place I shopped would be a giveaway. So for now, we’ll have to make do with a walk to the bank. Happy Saturday, everybody.

In My Defense, Here’s a Song

I did not write my Friday Lame Post while at work today. What a surprise. I’ve had good luck with writing off the cuff before, I even had a few ideas banging around in my head (they bounce off the thick skull).

And here I am, with nothing coming off my cuffs (I have four of them, too, two per arm since I’m wearing a turtleneck and a sweatshirt). Why, oh why did I not write during my lunch?

I seem to recall trying that writing thing of having a designated writing time. Even if you just sit there staring at the blank page, this method goes, you sit there just in case. And sometimes something happens. My designated time was my lunch half hour at work. I seemed to get some stuff written, except on my husband’s days off. Then I would call him and talk. I think it’s important to talk to your husband.

Today, however, my little rebellious streak made itself felt.

“I don’t follow common wisdom!” my rebellious streak said. “They say don’t weigh yourself every day: I weigh myself every day! And I’m losing weight! They say just sit there even if you’re not writing. I’m not going to just sit there! So there!”

So I read this really good book. In my defense, the book is letters and diaries written around the time I’ve set the novel I’m working on. So you could categorize it as research. Or you can just shake your finger at me and say, “Next time you’ll know better: write during your designated time!”

That is so easy to say to somebody else. It’s even easy to say to myself when I am not actually doing it. It is extremely easy to sit here and resolve: from now on I will write during my lunch half hour at work (except on Steven’s days off). Doesn’t do me a whole lot of good as I’m sitting here churning out yet another really dull post.

To liven things up, I will end with a Christmas song I wrote about my dog, Tabby. Tabby likes to hear me sing; she wags her tail when I do. Sing this to the tune of “Holly Jolly Christmas.” You can insert your own dog’s name if you like.

Have a Happy Tabby Christmas
She’s the best dog of the year
She’s so sweet,
Give her a treat
And scratch behind her ear.

Have a Happy Tabby Christmas
And when you walk down the street,
Let her sniff,
She’ll take a whiff
And pet the dogs you’ll meet.

Oh Ho, Tabby’s so
Cute and sweet and nice!
She’ll wag her tail for you (so)
Rub her belly twice!

Have a Happy Tabby Christmas
And in case you didn’t hear
Oh, dag nab it Have a Happy Tabby Christmas this year!

I Mean, It’s Like, You Know?

I was unable to write a blog post while at work today, because I was suffering from a screaming sinus headache.

Um, I did not actually scream. My place of employment is pretty loud at the best of times, so it is entirely possible that if I had screamed no one would have noticed. If they did notice, hearing protection is readily available. Good thing; my screams are piercing.

Where was I? Ah yes, nowhere. Partway through the day, in between waves of pain and wondering what in the world I was going to write about, I remembered: Non Sequitur Thursday. All I had to do was write a few random comments and done! On to the wine drinking portion of the evening!

I even thought of using “Non Sequitur Thursday” as the headline, but then I thought it would be a little too post-ironic. I mean, think about it: if you say you are about to say a non sequitur, then you say one, doesn’t that make it a sequitur? And is sequitur one of those lost positives you hear about (you know, like ept)?

I could actually make this Stream of Consciousness Thursday, by seguing into a whole blurb on lost positives (with a slight detour into how come my computer wants me to spell it “segueing” when the dictionary clearly prints “-uing”?). I really, really, want to say it: you know, how people can be inept, but you never hear about them being ept?

My computer, by the way, is also underlining ept, and all I can think of is the pregnancy test. Not something I need to think about at my age!

This is a singularly silly post, and I know I’ve had some silly ones. And I realized I was using “you know” entirely too much (I actually deleted a couple), so that gave me my headline. This was an expression I used to use quite a bit in my younger days. It was my statement on how people often talked without saying anything. A self portrait? You be the judge.

Musings on Magoo

I know I said yesterday that I would plan a better blog post for today, but nobody really got their hopes up, did they? I hope a Midweek Middle-aged Musing will suffice.

The other day Steven and I watched one of our all time favorite Christmas specials: Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol. Like many children in the ’60s (no, not in THEIR 60s, in the years following 1960. Sheesh!), it was our first introduction to the Charles Dickens classic.

The old Mr. Magoo cartoons have fallen into bad repute these days. Some people say they do not find it amusing to make fun of someone’s disability, in this case nearsightedness. This is, of course, a worthy sentiment. If I recall the original cartoons, the joke was that Mr. Magoo was completely oblivious to the fact that he could not see and to all the trouble it got him into. Everything always worked out for him in the end.

That doesn’t make it right to make fun of him, the argument continues. Perhaps not, but consider this: Many vision problems are easily correctable with a pair of glasses, and many people are too cheap, vain or stubborn to provide themselves with glasses. I think cheapness, vanity and stubbornness are OK to make fun of.

Ebenezer Scrooge falls into the cheap category.

“Could I need spectacles?” he asks himself. Then, realizing spectacles cost money: “Must be this gruel. Sour, sour!”

Later the Ghost of Christmas Present: “So you’re the man who’s too tight with a penny to buy himself a pair of spectacles!”

So you see.

If you don’t buy my rationalization, just remind yourself: Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol was made in 1962. We know better now. Use it as a teachable moment and enjoy the show. We did.

And don’t be too cheap to buy yourself a pair of glasses if you need them.