Author Archives: mohawkvalleygirl

Pedestrian Plan

I spent all day at work trying to psyche myself up to run. For one thing, I needed a blog post. Then my back started to hurt. Then I thought of my dog, Tabby, who likes to go for a walk, and I felt guilty. True, she walks my cool down with me, but that is only ten minutes.

Finally I reached a compromise: If it was nasty weather (which Tabby does not like to walk in), I would run. If not, I would see if my husband, Steven, would like to go for a walk with me and Tabby, which, of course, is one of Tabby’s favorite things to do.

I outlined my plan to a co-worker. I’m always telling people my plans. It increases the likelihood of my following through on them.

“That’s my plan,” I finished.

“And you’re sticking to it,” she added.

“I will try to stick to it,” I admitted. “If I come home and Steven has a pot of coffee and says, ‘Do you want a cup of coffee, honey?’ I’m having coffee.”

She thought this was a good plan too. And that is what I ended up doing. First I had coffee. Then we went for a walk.

I left on my army pants, which I wear to work, but changed into a long-sleeved shirt. Then I put on one of my Christmas sweatshirts, black with cardinals on holly branches with snow falling. An insulated sweatshirt and my toque (rhymes with “spook”) completed my ensemble.

I take so much time telling about my plan to walk and what I wore, because it was a pretty uneventful walk. The vague snowflakes that had been falling had stopped, and there was very little breeze. It was just about to get dark, my favorite time of day.

We admired many Christmas decorations, pointing out to each other all the lights on porches and trees visible through windows. I especially like different colored lights, but white or monochromatic can be nice, too. I restrained Steven from stealing any hard plastic light up snowmen we saw, but we did envy them.

I counted three houses in one block with candles in the windows, one of Steven’s favorite looks, then amended it to four, although the fourth only had a candle in one window.

By the time we got home it was almost dark. I pointed out how Halloweeny the bare trees looked against the grey sky. I like to mix up the holidays a little.

At this point, I am a little embarrassed, because this is a pretty dull post, even for me. However, it is Christmas time. We’re all busy. Maybe most people were even too busy to read this far. Perhaps it would have made a better post if I had let Steven steal the snowman. Questions to ponder.

I’ll try to plan a better post for tomorrow.

Actors Have Bills to Pay, Too

Spoiler Alert! I intend to pretty much recount the plot of the following movie. I will not give away the ending, however, because by that point I had almost entirely ceased paying attention.

I had DVR’d Dracula Rises from the Grave (1968) when I DRV’d the other Christopher Lee Dracula movie whose name escapes me. Saturday I watched it while Steven was at work. I would have waited and watched it with him, but Steven is pretty much All Christmas All The Time these days (with the occasional DVR’d Castle episode or true crime show thrown in).

In pre-movie commentary, Ben Mankiewicz says that Lee did not want to play the role a third time, but the studio talked him into it, probably with a fat check. It must have been, because they sure didn’t tempt him with a great script that offered acting challenges and Oscar talk. Well, I’m not judging. Actors have bills to pay, too.

The movie opens with a cheerful young man whistling as he rides his bike to the church, where he works. When he goes to ring the bell, blood is running down the rope. Eek! I like a movie that doesn’t waste any time. In a creepy shot, we see a slaughtered young lady hanging upside down inside the bell (cue jokes about her face ringing a bell).

The young man spends the rest of the movie saying, “Ah-uh-ah!” instead of actual lines, apparently shocked into imbecility, because he seemed pretty normal before. These movies love to have a character that can only say, “Ah-uh-ah!” I’m sure it makes it easier to write dialogue.

As the movie progresses, the lady in the bell takes on a real “Waaait a minute” quality, because Dracula actually has not yet risen from the grave at this point. It’s never explained. I guess it’s just a set piece to start us off creepy and get the kid out of having to learn any lines.

There’s this fairly wimpy parish priest with the oddest pattern of baldness I’ve ever seen, a narrow strip down the middle of his head. All he wants to do after the bell lady incident is sit in the pub and drink. This is where the Monsignor finds him. The Monsignor is told that nobody will go to church because they fear the evil Dracula. Yes, we thought he was dead, but the shadow of his castle falls on the church, obviously a bad sign.

The Monsignor decides that he and Wimpy Priest will go to the castle to prove the evil has been destroyed. Stand by for the next “Waaaait a minute” development. The two holy men leave before dawn, carrying a really big crucifix for good measure. Finally Wimpy Priest can go no further, they must turn back, soon it will be dark.

Excuse me, what? How far away is this castle? And how big is it if from that distance it can still cast a shadow that touches the church. Perhaps it is on a mountain that goes straight up, but still.

Now, anybody who saw the previous Christopher Lee Dracula movie (whose title escapes me) knows the titular vampire went to a cold, watery end (I can’t say “grave” because that’s where he sleeps when he is undead). So right away Dracula is better off in this movie, because you may recall that he began the other movie as a box of ashes. At least now he is already reconstituted. And apparently the cold water helped him regenerate his vocal chords, because he has lines this time. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Monsignor begins some exorcism rite at the door of the castle, leaving Wimpy Priest to wait for him partway down the mountain. There is a lot of thunder and lightning. I’m not entirely clear on this, but I think what happens is that Wimpy Priest falls, hits his head and bleeds on frozen Dracula.

You may recall that blood revived Dracula when he was ashes, and so it is now that he is frozen. And it doesn’t take a whole person’s worth of blood to do it this time, so bonus for Wimpy Priest: he gets to be in the rest of the movie.

Monsignor, meantime, has completed his exorcism (or whatever it was) and sealed the door to the castle with the big crucifix. I had thought that in cases like this you burned the castle (or house or mansion, as the case may be) and scattered the ashes. Apparently not always.

Boy, is Dracula ticked off when he arrives home to find the locks have been changed.

And we’re off on a vampire revenge caper. We meet a beautiful blonde, a tawdry redhead and a stalwart hero, among others. “Ah-uh-ah” boy makes another appearance, and Wimpy Priest gets to be Dracula’s henchman.

I have to admit, I pretty much stopped paying attention after a while. I only let the recording play out so I could write this blog post. And I see I am over 800 words, so I guess it’s a good idea to stop my plot summary now anyways. It actually isn’t too bad of a movie. I may DVR the other Christopher Lee Dracula movies if they turn up on TCM. I’ll let you know.

(NOTE: The movie title that escaped me earlier was Dracula: Prince of Darkness (1966); I wrote a blog post about it.)

Fun at the Bazaar

Sunday morning, Steven and I had an authentic Mohawk Valley adventure: we went to a Christmas Bazaar at the Church of Sts. Anthony and Joseph, South Main Street, Herkimer, NY.

The bazaar was in the church hall across the street from the church itself. We managed to find a good place to park, which was not easy since people were going to church about then. It was not very crowded at the bazaar, but I was sure as soon as church let out it would be.

We right away put in for a raffle of a wonderful looking plate of cookies as well as the 50/50. I left Steven writing his name on the 50/50 tickets (of course we did 10 for $5) while I looked at the other tables. In a very short time I returned to him and informed him I had solved his problem of what else to get his sisters for Christmas (I can write that with impunity here, because his sisters do not read my blog).

Before we shopped, though, we got some Pizza Fritta and coffee. Pizza Fritta, or fried dough, is one of the staple treats of the Mohawk Valley. It was one of my favorite things to get at the Festival at St. John’s Church in Rome when I was growing up, or at any of the many area firemen’s field days.

What I had seen for his sisters were some beautiful handmade ornaments. Two different kinds of reindeer made with clothespins, reindeer sewn from felt with cinnamon stick antlers, and two different snowmen, one made from a light bulb. I was a little leery of mailing a light bulb, but the lady at the table said, “Oh, just put it in bubble wrap. It’ll be fine.”

Another table had a Chinese Auction, which of course Steven and I love. We took our time making up our minds what to put our tickets on for that. I’d love to win the Waterfront Grille gift certificate, but the lady at the 50/50 table said she had put in at least five tickets for that.

It was exactly the kind of fun community thing I like to attend. And you may notice I got through my entire Sunday post with my wrist nowhere near my forehead.

Running Around Commentary

I thought of that title yesterday, when I was not sure if I would go running today (Saturday), but intended to drive to New Hartford for seasonal purposes.

As I contemplated actually writing this post, however, I ran into a slight problem. I obviously can’t write about what I bought, because some of my giftees occasionally read my blog. I knew that going in. But then, being kind of a paranoid person, I started to think that if I wrote about where I went certain people might figure out what I bought. Some people are clever you know, and I am not that unpredictable.

One of my stops in particular would be an obvious giveaway. Naturally, that is the most fun place. An adventure getting there, an authentic Mohawk Valley cool place to go, AND I told the ladies working there that I was totally going to do a blog post about them! Well, it will have to wait till after the holiday. Or until I can’t resist giving … the … early (in fact, I may have said too much already).

Where was I? Ah yes, headed to New Hartford, getting an early start to beat some of the crowds. Long time readers may remember that I used to work in New Hartford. I will never get over being happy about my WAY shorter commute to Ilion. Every time I drive to New Hartford I feel happy all over again. In fact, yesterday when I was telling a friend at work I intended to drive into New Hartford, I felt happy about it.

Really, it’s not a bad drive for a Saturday adventure. I went by Route 5S, which has some lovely views (although I kept my eyes on the road enough to avoid an accident). It was a gloomy, rainy day, but I still enjoyed it.

Going through Utica is fun, too. I love Utica. The architecture of some of the older buildings is beautiful. I also have a kind of a fascination with the old, decrepit-looking factories. The grey gloomy day enhanced this.

I noted a mere two hundred seventy something days till the Boilermaker as I passed the Runner’s Hall of Fame. I do not intend to run in 2013, but I may find occasion to write about it again.

On into Yorkville, I think. Utica has a bunch of little towns around it: Yorkville, Washington Mills, Whitesboro, New York Mills, New Hartford. Some astute reader may call me out on this and tell me a couple of those are really nowhere near Utica, but I’m sure I saw them on green signs somewhere.

I passed a consignment shop with the tag line “For Attic Addicts,” whose name completely escapes me. How embarrassing. Holland Farms put wreaths on the cows on their sign out front. Mmmmm, half-moon cookies. Perhaps I would stop on the way back. Voss, closed for the season. No hot dogs today! Harbor Freight Tools, one of my Dad’s favorite places to shop. Symeon’s Greek Restaurant. Mmmm, if I was still around at lunch time…

And, of course, a bunch more businesses I haven’t mentioned. Plus the places I stopped at, which I will give a shout out to AFTER Christmas. If the people I bought for like the presents I got for them there. No reason to think they won’t.

Desperate Times Call for Lame Measures

If ever I was in need of Lame Post Friday, today is the day.

For those of you just tuning in (I know I say this almost every week, but I believe I do occasionally have new readers), Lame Post Friday is the day I let myself off the hook with random observations and half-baked philosophy. It’s actually reprehensible of me, because I let myself off the hook on many occasions: Middle-aged Musings Monday, Wrist to Forehead Sunday, Non Sequitur Thursday (although I’ve only had one of those so far). Even Running Commentary Saturday is a little, dare I say, lame.

In my defense, I don’t always use these handy little hide-behinds. If I have something to write about, I write about it. In my further defense, I sometimes get a lot of “likes” on these silly posts.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: if I’m going to post every day, some of the posts are going to be lame. One might argue (you know, that one that’s always ready to argue. I hate that one): so don’t post every day! Wait till you have something to say! I think I’ve had that argument in this space before. So sorry to repeat myself.

It is pouring rain out (random observation #1). This is sad news for me and for the blog, because I was going to go to a tree lighting in Weller Park in Mohawk tonight. It would have made a great post tomorrow (or do I flatter myself?)! Hmm, guess it’s time for some half-baked philosophy about how it’s OK, because…

I got nuthin’. This is it folks: a short post, one random observation. I’ll do one thing. I’ll save this as a draft and post it after I eat. Maybe something will occur to me while I dine.

NOTE: Nothing occurred to me. But I did have some Heidleberg Bread, baked right here in Herkimer, NY from local ingredients. My Mohawk Valley Girl cred survives.

To Tree Or Not To Tree

I know in headlines you’re not supposed to capitalize “or” or “to” or little, unimportant words like that (although think how oddly that headline would read without them), but I thought “To Tree or Not to Tree” looked funny, too. What’s a blogger to do?

It is kind of an important point, because the headline is pretty much all I have today.

Wow, I just sat here staring at the screen for a good three or four minutes (felt like hours). This could be the shortest post yet!

I did try to write something under this title on a break at work today. Usually I can get at least a paragraph or two out of my silly dithering. I wrote something about waxing philosophical about Christmas trees. Then I got bogged down between saving the half-baked philosophy for Lame Post Friday and wanting to make a play on words about waxing things.

I said to hell with this, wrote another page on my novel, and thought I would trust to writing on the fly. It’s worked before.

First Steven and I had to do some Christmas shopping. I have mentioned that he works at a certain big box store which needs no publicity from Mohawk Valley Girl. Well, he qualified for a sweet 20 percent off voucher, good today or tomorrow only, for one shopping trip. We filled a cart! And don’t think that didn’t entail a lot of dithering!

Shopping on a Thursday night in December. What the hell was I thinking? As I threaded my way around people and carts, saying, “Pardon me, excuse me, pardon me,” this chick who worked there barged by me saying “EXCUSE ME!” in a loud voice, as if I was the one standing in the middle of the aisle holding things up!

Other than that little annoyance, though, it was pretty fun. Most people were at least polite if not good-natured about it. At one point, as I was hustling back to toiletries while Steven completed looking for groceries, I got the giggles. It happens to me in bad weather, sometimes it happens to me in crowds. I seem to remember it happened at the Boilermaker more than once.

And what has this to do with “To Tree or Not to Tree,” you may ask. I bet you think I’m going to explain, “Shut up.” But no, I will answer: NOTHING! ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!

And just like that, a new feature is born for Mohawk Valley Girl: Non Sequitur Thursday. Hope you enjoyed it.

A Visit to Downtown Herkimer

I just gave Hummel’s Office Plus in Herkimer, NY a shout out last week, but I had occasion to go there last night (Tuesday), so I dare to mention them again.

Once again in my capacity as secretary for Ilion Little Theatre I was assigned to send a card, a sympathy card in this case. I really hesitate to mention somebody else’s bereavement in this space, although I believe I have done it once before (in a post about purchasing a sympathy card at Hummels’). It feels… intrusive, for want of a better word (I sat here crossing out words for a good three or four minutes before I came up with that one).

Oh, I hate picking out sympathy cards. I can never find the right one. I finally settled on the one that felt the least wrong.

Some comic relief was provided by one of the sales associates. She was wearing the silliest elf hat I have seen in a long time. It stuck straight up before curling to a point a good eight or ten inches over her head. Large pointy ears stuck out of the side. I told them they must take a picture to post on Facebook. They assured me it had already been done. I hope to return to Hummel’s soon and purchase just such a hat for myself.

I went downstairs where Steven and Tabby were waiting. After a joyous reunion with Tabby (I had been gone almost ten minutes), I addressed the card. I had foresightedly brought the address, a stamp and a pen. Then I couldn’t find the pen, but the downstairs clerk helpfully loaned me one of theirs.

Herkimer’s Post Office is in the same block as Hummel’s. Perfect! We could walk Tabby around the block and put the card (along with a couple of other cards I needed to send) right in the mail.

We walked by the Belly Up Pub, and I spoke longingly of their appetizer menu. Of course I’m off deep fried food for the foreseeable future (South Beach Diet), but I can dream. We speculated on Tabby’s possible reception in such a business, but we did not test the theory.

The post office was not closed yet, so we were able to walk right inside to mail our things. Tabby looked hopefully at people waiting in line. One lady said she was cute, but nobody offered to pet her.

We continued around the block. Burrito Jones still isn’t open. A wireless phone company is (Sorry I didn’t make note of which one it was. T Mobile?). A couple of closed businesses. Bummer. Somebody put two smallish blow up snowmen in one empty storefront. Nice. Pete’s Tavern. Well, if we didn’t take Tabby into Belly Up we probably shouldn’t take her into Pete’s.

After we turned back onto Albany Street we noted that Crazy Otto’s Empire Diner was closed for the night. Too bad. I could have gone for a Patty Platter. But, again, not a good place for Tabby. Some folks were still working in Castle Law Firm.

And then we were back to our own car and could happily go home. I don’t know if you’d call this much of a Mohawk Valley adventure, but we enjoyed it, so I thought it might be worth a post.

No Cheese for Christmas?

I do not have a cheesy horror movie to review this week and for that I blame Steven.

Saturday night we watched DVR’d episodes of Castle (to make space on the DVR for more horror movies). Sunday, Steven insisted we watch Christmas. Well, I have to let him get his way sometimes.

I would write about our Christmas movies, but I just don’t know if I can poke fun at them the same way I poke fun at a sleazy horror movie (I know, I usually describe them as “cheesy,” but for some reason, today the word “sleazy” came to mind. I’m sure that in many cases it is apt).

Where was I? I’m afraid in the midst of a Why I Can’t Write a Post Today post.

Wow, as soon as I wrote those words, I stopped writing.

That was as far as I wrote while at work today (on a break OF COURSE). To make an accurate account, there was a long pause between the last two sentences. I did not push it. Instead I flipped over a couple of pages in the notebook and wrote more on the novel I’m working on. So I’m not completely illiterate.

Perhaps a few sentences about Why I Don’t Want to Write About Christmas Movies is in order.

Almost every Christmas movie is somebody’s favorite or the center of a cherished memory. While this may also be true of, for example The Corpse Vanishes or The Screaming Skull, it is less likely, and it seems to me one is more apt to be forgiven in these cases. (Actually, I seem to remember sharing one of my cherished memories when I wrote about It: The Terror from Beyond Space. So you see.) Perhaps I am faint of heart, but I don’t want to be hated on at Christmas time.

I don’t rule out writing about our Christmas movies as we continue to view them, but I warn you: I will probably get a little fluffy and sentimental. What can I say? It’s December. To quote one of my favorite philosophical sayings, You’ll have that.

Where’s the Beef? At Church

I was delighted to see Christ Episcopal Church’s Annual Roast Beef Dinner scheduled for last Saturday. Steven worked till six, and the dinner ran till seven. We would be fashionably late but not unreasonably so.

When Steven and I have someplace to go after he gets off work, I try to meet him outside the house. That way he doesn’t come inside, get Tabby all excited, then leave. It just seems a mean thing to do to a cute little dog. I mean, she is SO happy when we’re both home; I hate to see it come crashing down. I suppose I am getting sentimental in my old age or super-sensitive or something (we’ll call that my Monday Middle-aged Musing for the week).

It was cold on Saturday. I stood at the end of the driveway watching approaching headlights and cursing the ones that weren’t Steven. All I could think of was that Vicki Carr song: “It must be him! It must be him!” At last it was.

There were a few empty tables at the dinner, most of them dirty. A lady quickly cleaned one for us. I always observe that we get top notch service at these dinners.

I got roast beef and mashed potatoes, which I covered in gravy, but I declined the squash and peas. I love being an adult and not having to eat vegetables I don’t like. I know, the younger generation can’t really identify with that, because it has gone out of fashion to make kids clean their plates (oh, nobody needs to tell me why this is psychologically and nutritionally a good idea; I was just making an observation) (or was that another Middle-aged Musing?).

I saw one little boy mowing down a big plate covered with peas and nothing else. I was impressed.

The food was delicious, as you probably expected. I especially enjoyed the roll with real butter. For dessert I dithered for a while between cheesecake and a chocolate pudding cake. I finally decided on the cheesecake. Steven made it to the dessert table a few minutes after me (he took longer because he ate his vegetables). Guess which he picked. So I got to try them both.

While we ate we were highly entertained by the toddler son of a couple of parishioners. He was playing with a roll of tape about four or five inches in diameter. He would roll it down the floor and cheer about how far it went. I could go on for a bit about high tech toys all the kids seem to want, but let’s have no more Middle-aged Musings today.

Before we left we put in for the various items they were raffling: a poinsettia with scratch-off lottery tickets and a couple of stockings with goodies. We chatted with the lady at the table about donating the 50/50 back if we won, which we have known people to do. It did not arise Saturday, though, because we did not win.

That was really no matter. We had enjoyed an excellent dinner. I’ve never personally roasted a beef in my life. I may try. Or I may just wait for the next church dinner.

A Word with the Fat Man

Yesterday my headache felt better as the afternoon wore on. I wanted to have just one little Mohawk Valley adventure, so I put Tabby in the car and headed to the Farmer’s Market at Clapsaddle Farm, Otsego Street, Ilion, NY.

I know I’ve talked about the Ilion Farmer’s Market many times, but yesterday there was an added attraction: Santa Claus! I had seen a flier posted on a bulletin board at work earlier in the week. Saturday morning while writing a note to my sister, I mentioned it.

“I’d like a word with the fat man,” I wrote, just to be nonchalant about it. In fact I didn’t know if I’d get to talk to him at all; he’s a popular guy this time of year.

The flier had said to bring your camera and take a picture, but I stupidly forgot mine. No matter. I don’t know how to post a picture on a blog or Facebook anyways.

Tabby was very excited when she saw where we were. She loves the Farmer’s Market. Lots of exciting smells and nice people who like to pet her. She pulled me to the door most insistently.

It didn’t take me long to find Santa. He was walking around, and he looked remarkably similar to a guy I know from work (although I would certainly never describe that guy as “the fat man”). His suit was beautiful, definitely a cut above the one I bought for Steven at Wal-Mart some years ago. He told me it had been made for him some years ago by a lady now deceased.

I chatted with him and his wife for a while. There was a picture of the two of them dressed as Santa and Mrs. Santa, but Mrs. Santa was in civilian clothes yesterday. She told me they would also be at Weller park next Friday, the seventh, in the gazebo for a tree lighting. I dug a notebook out of my purse and made a note of the date.

As we walked back down the market Tabby got a sample of bacon from Mike Champagne. I had purchased a yummy piece of chocolate covered bacon from him during a previous visit to the Farmer’s Market, but I need to go back on the South Beach Diet.

It was an unusual visit to the market in that I did not purchase anything. I did see some jewelry I admired and some baked goods that looked yummy. I may return next Saturday. For one thing, Santa said he’d be there. Maybe I will remember my camera.