Author Archives: mohawkvalleygirl

Running with a Headache

I’m writing this later than I usually make my Saturday posts, but I had a dreadful sinus headache earlier. It is inexplicably gone, but I’m trying not to notice that too much or it might come back. You know, like it hasn’t gone far, and if it sees me noticing it’s gone, it’ll say, “Ooh, she misses me! I’d better go back!”

Now some of you are dialing the men in the white coats (two dated references), because my headaches talk to me. Hey, I write fiction. I can anthropomorphize anything.

Be that as it may, I did get myself out running, because I wanted to use it as a blog post. I didn’t care to do an “I-can’t-post-because-I’ve-got-a-headache” post because I’m saving something for Wrist to Forehead Sunday.

It was dreadfully cold yesterday, and I had expected it to be less so today. So much for great expectations. I had a pair of stretchy pants I thought I might as well run in. I put on a long-sleeved t-shirt and winter running socks. Found my toque but didn’t bother looking for my mittens. Regretted that almost as soon as I was out the door. No matter, it would be a short run.

I did not run during the week at all. One more thing to regret, but I did not repine. The only thing to do in these situations is tough it out and try to run sooner next time.

Oh, that air did not feel good. I debated whether to run any hills but ultimately decided moving my legs at this rate was effort enough. I had walked Tabby to the post office earlier so I knew my could move. I was only asking them to move a little faster, and not much faster at that.

At least, maybe it was faster than I thought. I saw a couple walking two blocks or so ahead of me. Soon it was only a block and a half. Then a block. I usually take a lot longer to catch up with pedestrians. Perhaps they were extra slow. I turned down a side street when they were less than a block away. I was feeling unsociable.

I looked around for Christmas decorations. I saw a couple of the hard plastic light up snowmen such as Steven and I coveted last year (I wrote a couple blog posts about it). Steven says they are called “blow mold,” but I don’t like to call them that, because I’m afraid people will think I mean those big blow up things. Those are fun to see when they are billowing in the breeze all full of air. When they are limp and deflated, they look a little sad. I don’t want one in my lawn.

I did see a smaller blow up snowman in a lawn and heard the sounds of the Nutcracker Suite playing. I couldn’t tell if the snowman was swaying in the breeze or if he was moving in time to the music. In any case, it looked good, and that part of the Suite played in my head for the rest of the run. It was good running music. You know how I love music to run by.

As I approached my house, still a good three blocks away, my legs told me they would like to walk. I told them to keep running. That led to three blocks of half-baked philosophy I’d like to share. You almost never HAVE to stop running. You CHOOSE to stop running. Now I’m not a terrible hard-ass drill sergeant about this. Sometimes stopping running is absolutely the right choice to make. And I’m always an advocate of feeling glad about however far you did run. But I have learned, and I stand by it: most of us can run further than we think we can. I proved it to myself again today.

When I was walking my cool down with Tabby the wind picked up and it became uncomfortably cold. The Nutcracker was still playing in my head. It was the section that goes doo-dootle-oo-doo-DOO-DOO-DOO. I know, that probably doesn’t tell you much, but I thought it would look funny to type it that way.

As always I was glad I ran. Right now, though, I am even more glad that my headache is gone (I whisper that last sentence). Soon I’ll be off on more Mohawk Valley adventures. Maybe tomorrow won’t be Wrist to Forehead Sunday after all.

Thank You, Hummel’s

I may have mentioned once or twice that I am secretary for Ilion Little Theatre. I’m not a very good one, so I hope none of my fellow board members reads this blog.

One of my duties is to send thank you notes to people who make generous donations. What this duty consists of is me making a note during the meeting that a card must be sent, forgetting about it till I type up my minutes for the next meeting, then saying, “Oh yeah, I have to do that” and running to the store for a card.

Somebody suggested I purchase a box of Thank You cards, thus saving myself a whole step in the routine. Accordingly, Steven and I made our way to Hummel’s Office Plus in Herkimer, NY last night. I first called and made sure they carried packets of Thank You cards (who can be sure in these non-writing times we live in?).

“Oh yes,” I was told. “They’re blank inside.”

“Just what I need,” I said. Then I hung up the phone and went to change my shoes. I was still in my blue collar outfit, and my feet can only put up with steel toes for just so long.

The trip had the added advantage that Tabby would get to ride in our new Trailblazer for the first time. I may do a whole blog post on our new Trailblazer, but that’s a preview of coming attractions.

I left Steven and Tabby downstairs chatting with Ryan, the manager, and went up to the gift shop. At first the only cards I saw were obviously thank you’s for a baby shower. Cute little animals mocked me. I saw a rather sexy vintage-looking mouse (it may have been Minnie or one of her forebears, but she didn’t look Disney to me). Then I noticed a classy set in green with a design.

“This doesn’t look too Christmasy because it’s green, does it?” I asked one of the ladies that work there.

“Oh no, that’s not a Christmas design,” she assured me. I don’t know why I don’t trust my own judgement on these things.

There were a number of definitely Christmasy things for me to admire. I looked at snow globes and singing angels and wished I had more time. I saw at least one thing that would be a very good present for Steven. I can’t tell you what it is, though, because he reads this blog (sometimes I read it to him before I hit “Publish.” Hi, Steve!).

When went back downstairs, Tabby greeted me as if she hadn’t seen me in a month. I love dogs. Steven had purchased some superglue for snowman repair, so we made use of both the office supply and the Hallmark sides.

It seems I see things urging me to Shop Local a lot these days, so I suppose I could feel virtuous about my purchase. Only I didn’t shop there because somebody told me to. I went because it is a good place to shop.

For more information on Hummel’s, visit their website at http://www.hummelsop.com.

Cheesy Nightmare

Spoiler Alert! This is another one of those movie postings where I’m pretty much going to tell you the whole plot. Well, I might leave a few things out. We’ll see.

I’m hoping my readers can bear another horror movie review. When I checked my TV Journal yesterday for the title of the shrew movie, I was reminded that I had also watched Nightmare Castle.

I thought I had seen Nightmare Castle before, but I did not remember much about it. The box said something about a guy killing his wife and her coming back to haunt him. Sounded like a good premise to me.

It seems the guy is something of a mad scientist (better and better!), although the nature of his experiments is not immediately clear. His wife, a voluptuous brunette with a taste for brandy, is taunting him (big mistake!).

After she has laughed at him in a cruel fashion, she tells him she’s only jealous because she wants to spend more time with him. Then she accuses his assistant, an older, not very attractive woman, of watching them make out. Assistant denies this, but she obviously hates the wife and is probably in love with the husband. These assistants usually are. I’m sure that’s one way for a mad scientist to get cheap help.

Off husband goes to whatever conference his wife was scorning/being jealous of, and Wife gets on with her clandestine affair with the gardener. At least, I don’t know if he’s the gardener, but he’s young and muscular and they make love in the greenhouse.

Guess who comes home and catches them? I’m not sure how he overpowers them when it’s two against one and the lover is obviously in pretty good shape. Just another “Waaait a minute” situation. Or maybe they explained it and I was changing yarn colors on my crochet (it’s a green and red afghan I may donate to Ilion Little Theatre to raffle during their Christmas musical).

At any rate, Husband has them chained to the wall in his laboratory (pronounced lah-BOR-a-tory) when he finds out Wife is going to have the last laugh. She has made out a new will leaving all to her crazy little sister. Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha!

So he tortures and kills them. I must say, I hope they don’t do a remake of this. I am made queasy by trailers for the so-called torture porn movies being made these days. I greatly prefer the older, more circumspect movies. It’s still a pretty creepy scene.

What’s an evil husband to do? He married the lady for the castle, so he’d have a place for his evil experiments. Now she’s left it all to her kid sister in the loony bin. I don’t know why he doesn’t just pretend she’s still alive, especially since, as we later learn, her crypt is empty. Maybe they didn’t have joint checking.

It should come as no surprise to anyone who has ever seen one of these movies that he marries the sister, an innocent blonde who looks remarkably like the dead woman (yes, it’s the same actress in a blonde wig). Soon the Gaslight stuff starts, only this guy is by no means a Charles Boyer (if you don’t get the reference, stop reading now and go see Gaslight, unless you only like bad movies).

Still with me? It’s about this point where the movie gets a little more convoluted and a lot more interesting. Not Very Attractive Assistant has miraculously turned young and beautiful, but, alas, not as young and beautiful as Kid Sister. Ah, but maybe it’s not so miraculous. Perhaps it is the result of Evil Husband’s experiments (yuh think?).

I could not blame Assistant for being ticked off at this point. I’m sure she thought the plan was to off Evil Wife, get the castle, and make Assistant beautiful so she could be the Evil Husband’s new girlfriend. Then he comes home with this blonde chippy!

Now that I’ve gotten to the interesting part, I think I’ll stop, because you might actually want to see this movie. It gets suspenseful and a little scary at the end. I enjoyed it. And if Steven ever starts doing mysterious experiments in the basement with a not very attractive older assistant, I will not laugh at him. I may have an affair with the gardener, though, because that would be Steven. He’s a busy guy.

It Sure Wasn’t Shakespeare

Spoiler Alert! I intend to give away all major plot points of the following movie, including how they escape from the monsters and who lives at the end.

As I write this (on a break at work), I find I cannot quite recall the exact title of today’s cheesy horror flick. Something about shrews. Attack of the Killer Shrews or Giant Killer Shrews. You may guess from this that it is not a particularly memorable movie, and you’d be right.

I know what else you might be thinking: Shakespeare. I suspect the makers of the movie anticipated such a thing as well, because they have one of the characters say, “As in ‘Taming of’?” Which is exactly what Steven said when I informed him which movie we’d be watching. Imagine my husband having something in common with the main guy of a cheesy horror flick (I don’t say “hero.” I would not call most of these main guys heroes.)

It seems Main Guy is captain of a boat bringing supplies to an island. According to these movies, there are a bazillion isolated, difficult to reach islands, usually peopled with mad scientists, who often have beautiful daughters.

The scientist on this island has a beautiful daughter, but he’s not particularly mad. We know, of course, what animal he is researching, and the first ones we see are small.

“It looks like a rat,” remarks Main Guy. Actually, it looks like a mouse. “Does it bite?” he asks, as he holds it in his hand.

“Only when it’s hungry,” is the answer.

I forgot to mention that Main Guy does not intend to depart that night or even unload, because of an imminent hurricane. So it’s tough luck on Beautiful Daughter, who counted on leaving the island with him. She tries to convince him to stay with them in the house, not because he is so handsome and debonair (he’s neither), but because she is afraid. He, of course, intends to spend the night on the boat. In a hurricane! What the hell?

Scientist Dad has several people working for him in capacities that are never fully explained. One at least is a pure research assistant. He spends his last minutes recording his exact symptoms as he dies of poisonous shrew bite. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

First we meet Beautiful Daughter’s ex-fiance, a drunkard who left the cage door open. I don’t think we find out which of those if either factored into her breaking the engagement, but then, you know I never pay close attention to these things.

Soon we are all being terrorized by the giant shrews, which look like mice with long hair and are the size of wolves (I was going to say “dogs,” but you might say, “Chihuahuas? Great Danes?”) The close ups of the sharp teeth are scary enough. The beady eyes peeping through various orifices less so. In those shots you can pretty much tell they made use of perspective as a special effect.

The giant shrews have apparently eaten all possible food on the island and will soon begin eating each other, thus leaving the humans only one really fat shrew to deal with. It’s a good plan, except that the shrews discover the people and want to eat all of them first, quite naturally.

So the shrews start picking off the people one by one. It turns out the shrew bite is poisonous, so if you get bit you’re a goner even if you’re not dinner.

When they’re down to just four survivors — Dad, Daughter, Main Guy and Ex-Fiance — they decide to duck walk to the beach in oil drums. I’m not kidding you. Have you ever tried to duck walk any distance? I have not, but the mere thought of it hurts my thighs. They put these slits in the oil drums so they can see out, although I think that is mainly so we can have some scary shots of sharp teeth trying to break through.

So there they are, oil drums strapped together, only three of them because Ex-Fiance has decided to remain on the roof (guess what’s going to happen to him). The camera shows close ups on each face as they make their fearful way. Boy, are they good duck walkers! Their heads and shoulders don’t move at all! I know some dancers who would love to achieve that kind of isolation!

Oh, you don’t have to tell me I’m carping. Listen, I’m not method actress myself. I don’t feel I would need to actually duck walk through a jungle to convincingly look as if I might faint (did I really need to tell you Beautiful Daughter almost does?) (faint, I mean, not actually duck walk). Still, if I had been directing that scene, I would have insisted on at least a little up/down movement.

I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear that all three make it to safety. I was a little relieved they let Dad live. Many movies would have killed him off. Some even would have offed the girl. I thought Ex-Fiance’s death was rather pointless. Often that character gets to do something heroic and sacrifice himself, since he obviously isn’t going to get the girl. Or he could have done something dastardly to save himself, but it backfires and he gets his comeuppance.

But no, he just jumps off the roof, while Steven and I yelled, “What are you thinking?” I suppose he figured the shrews were distracted, and he could run faster than the other three could duck walk. But, hello! How distracted do you think the shrews are?

Here’s a shrew, trying to get at a duck walker in an oil drum and he doesn’t have a can opener (oh, I’ve been there. It was cream of mushroom soup, but a similar frustration). Now here’s this fine specimen, out of a tin can and marinaded (remember? he’s a drunkard). What would you do if you were a hungry shrew? I thought so.

Scientist Dad says in X amount of time the shrews will have eaten each other, and the menace will be over. Phew! You don’t suppose they’ll start having babies really fast first, do you, and replenish supplies? Or maybe go vegetarian till something better comes along? Learn to swim? In short, adapt in time for a sequel. Well, if anybody hears of a sequel, please let me know.

NOTE: On consulting the TV Journal, I see the title is The Killer Shrews. Leonard Maltin doesn’t list it.

Of Hogarth and Karloff

A friend who enjoys my postings about Classic Horror films recently sent me a DVD of two with Boris Karloff. What a lovely addition to my collection! Sunday Steven and I enjoyed Bedlam (1946).

According to the box, Karloff plays the evil head of an insane asylum. Insane asylums have been staples of horror movies and haunted houses for years, especially older, unenlightened ones. Since it was an older movie, naturally this would be an older insane asylum. Then I saw it was a period piece. Goody.

The opening credits are shown over a rather menacing looking painting. Jut as I was thinking it looked like a Hogarth print, I saw that the movie had been inspired by a William Hogarth painting.

I am not an art scholar, and I don’t know much about William Hogarth, but I have looked through books of his stuff. I know he painted in the 1700s and that his works are realistic depictions of the grimier side of London life. He was very moral. One of his series, A Rake’s Progress, depicts the stages of life of a bad man who comes to a bad end.

So I sat back and waited for some grit. And a bad end for those who deserved it.

The movie takes place in 1761, a time when those deemed insane were locked up and badly treated. People would pay tuppence to walk through the asylum and marvel at the inmates in their cages.

Boris Karloff is smooth and sinister. His gentle, kindly-sounding voice serves the part well.

I found it more of a moral tale than a horror tale. There are a few creepy images of the inmates. One of hands reaching out from darkened cages is very effective. When Karloff’s character finally gets his comeuppance, I thought it was fairly horrible (that’s not a spoiler; in a moral tale you must know there will be a comeuppance).

I really liked the movie, but I can’t call it a cheesy horror flick. It was interesting and at times suspenseful. I was concerned about what would happen to the characters. It was even, dare I say, thought provoking. And it reminded me about William Hogarth. I will soon make my way to the library in hopes of looking at a book of his works.

Ad-libbing with Artichokes

I have not done a cooking post in a while. Sunday I made a spinach and artichoke dip without benefit of recipe that I thought might be worth a paragraph or two.

I had followed a recipe for spinach and artichoke dip once, I think. I don’t quite remember where I found the recipe or if I followed it exactly, but I seem to remember mozzarella cheese, mayonnaise, and it tasting pretty good. I found a couple of recipes for artichoke dips in my recipe books, but I wanted spinach and artichoke. I had purchased frozen spinach that morning at Hannaford specifically for the purpose. I decided to do my own thing.

First I set the oven to 350 degrees to preheat (it doesn’t have a preheat setting, which is just as well, because I always forget to take it off preheat and put it on bake so I burn whatever I’m cooking). I thawed the spinach in a colander by pouring boiling water over it. I let it drain, helping it along by pressing out some of the water with a fork. While it finished draining I grated some mozzarella cheese.

I drained a jar of artichoke hearts and chopped them, not too small. I put them, the cheese and the spinach into a ceramic loaf pan. I added some mayonnaise.

You may notice that I did not measure anything. The cheese looked like it might have been a cup, likewise the spinach. The artichokes were, I think a 4 oz. jar (if I still have the jar, I’ll check before I post this. It will depend on if Steven has already done this week’s recycling). A couple of big spoons of mayonnaise looked good. I added a healthy sprinkle of grated parmesan cheese for good measure.

I stirred well, put it in the oven and set the timer for 25 minutes. That was how long the recipe closest to what I did called for. I figured it only had to melt the cheese. We let it cool on a trivet for, oh, probably less than ten minutes, because we were pretty hungry by that time. I chopped up some whole wheat pitas to go with it, but I imagine crackers or chips would have been good, too.

It was a yummy dip. I guess I could call the recipe as follows: Put some stuff together that sounds good. Put it in the oven. Try not to burn your hands getting it out of the oven or your mouth getting it into your stomach. Enjoy.

(NOTE: Steven already did the recycling, but per my recipe, use whatever amount of artichoke hearts looks good to you.)

Winter Walk

It seems every Sunday is now a Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I just couldn’t put pen to paper and write a real post. So I fell back on my old standby: Steven and I took Tabby for a walk and I will write about that.

In the last few days, winter has come to the Mohawk Valley, complete with snow. Yesterday I tried to take Tabby for a longish walk. It was a mere grey and gloomy day when we started out. Before we had gone a block, it was snowing. Before we had gone two, it was blizzard conditions. We made it around the block and were happy.

Today the white stuff has been drifting down off and on. It was on when I took my run, but the temperature wasn’t too bad. Maybe a little bad when the wind chill made itself felt. After Steven got home from work a little after one, I asked would he stroll with me and the schnoodle. Eventually he was ready and we set out.

The snow had stopped but the wind had picked up. I had on my insulated sweatshirt and pulled the sleeves down over my hands. Steven had sensibly worn his coat. Tabby, of course, has her natural fur coat on at all times.

We admired some of the neighbors’ Christmas decorations. Steven has plans for our front porch, but they may not come to fruition till after next week. It was gloomy enough to see people’s lights somewhat but not dark enough for them to really show. I enjoy taking Tabby out for her last business meeting of the day this time of year.

Tabby as usual wanted to walk to Herkimer’s Historic Four Corners. I liked the way the graveyard in front of the Reformed Church looked in the gloomy light. Steven admired the wreaths on the light posts. Tabby turned up Main Street towards German so we did not see any more of downtown Herkimer this walk.

We went on up Main Street then over to the path over what used to be a hydraulic canal (which looked more like a nasty ditch, but that was a while ago). The cold wind was getting to my sinuses by this time, but my legs were enjoying the exercise. Tabby seemed happy about it, too.

As we finished the walk, I said, “And now I’ll make my blog post, without apologies!” Then I said, “Who am I kidding? I’m going to apologize! I always apologize!” It seems Lame Post Friday is taking over my week. But I shall persevere! Just last night we watched a Boris Karloff movie I’d like to write about. And I expect to do some Christmas shopping at some interesting local businesses. Please, please, stay tuned.

Running Through the Snow

It seems this sinus headache isn’t going anywhere, despite drugs and hot tea, so I may as well write today’s blog post. It’s only Saturday Running Commentary, after all. How hard could it be?

The headache had not really kicked in before the run. I did not get up early enough to run in the dark, as I did on Thursday. We slept in till the luxurious hour of 6:30. Woohoo! After two cups of coffee, I decided it was time to either run or eat with the intention of running later. Snow was predicted for later, so I thought I would run while the running was good.

I put on leggings and long sleeves, since the temperature was below 40 degrees. I found my toque but decided not to search for mittens and to wear my sweatshirt only for the cool down. I sensibly put a Tabby poop bag in the sweatshirt pocket so I wouldn’t have to remember it later.

Imagine my surprise when I went out the back door into snow! Lots and lots of swirling white flakes, not yet sticking to the ground but looking rather picturesque in the air. Never mind, I was ready to run and I intended to do so.

It wasn’t even that cold. I pulled my sleeves down over my hands and puffed along feeling not too uncomfortable. I took the hill by Valley Health again. I know, I must start running the longer, steeper hills. Possibly as early as tomorrow.

Skies in the distance were blue, so I headed in that direction. The snow tapered off then came back. Soon I was headed back toward grey skies. I do admire a grey November sky.

When I went to cross back over German Street, the light was about to turn against me, but there were no cars there. One car waited at the red light, perpendicular to me. Was he about to make a left turn into me? He did not have his signal on, so I thought, if he wants to make a left turn and I’m in his way, it’s his own damn fault! His light did not turn green till I was mostly across anyways. Then he went straight, per his lack of turn signals. Good man! I think it was actually a youth. What was a kid that age doing up so early? Or was it still up so late? I’ll never know, but it gave me something to ponder as I ran.

Walking my cool down with Tabby later, she did her business and guess what was NOT in my sweatshirt pocket? I was certain I had put one there! Serves me right for not double checking. Luckily I had a couple of tissues and we were almost home, so I did not litter a neighbor’s lawn in a manner which I deplore in others.

It was not a bad run at all. Other than the snow, however, it was fairly uneventful. I shall try to observe more bloggable phenomena during subsequent runs. Stay tuned.

I Suppose It Actually Is Friday

Really, Wednesday was my Friday this week, but I didn’t post lame then, so I thought, “Hey! I can have Lame Post Friday today!”

As soon as I wrote that, I felt sure that some pedantic person out there is saying, “Stop with the ‘my Friday,’ ‘Not Really Friday’ already! Wednesday is Wednesday! Friday is Friday! And nobody wants to read your lame posts anyways!”

OK, it’s not some generic pedantic person out there, it is one of the many critics in my head. The fact is I don’t have a damn thing to write about and I want to make this post so I can get on to the sitting on the couch watching cheesy movies portion of my day. Well, that’s not really true. I have a few subjects, but the fact is I have not written about them.

“So write about them now!” says the little voice in my head that thinks everything is just so easy. The bastard.

Sometimes the act of writing begets more writing. You get just one sentence or phrase or even word down on the paper and others follow. Some days, not so much. You get one word. Gritting your teeth, you make it a phrase. Straining to keep your fingers from the backspace button, you make it a sentence. Then the little voice in your head says, “Nobody wants to read that crap!”

And that’s where I’m at now. Seriously, I just erased three sentences before leaving “And that’s where I’m at now.”

Earlier I went up the attic and found our Christmas CDs. Before that I was at Hannaford, where I purchased some Bigelow Oolong Tea, of which I am sipping a cup. It tastes so good, I wish I could write a whole blog post just on that. Mostly I wish I could just sit and sip it and enjoy the GRP Christmas Collection which is currently playing.

And really, why not (stand by for a foray into a Middle-aged Musing)? It is the Friday of my four day weekend. Yesterday was a holiday. I worked hard all last week and weekend. I am now going to relax.

And tomorrow I will write a better blog post for your delectation. I hope.

It Was a Dark and Sunny Run

You know, you can almost always talk yourself out of running. More difficult to talk yourself into almost anything. The best method I’ve found is to quietly put on the running clothes and get out the door without too much said.

Actually, some stuff was said, to Steven and in my head. We saw on WKTV news this morning that there was a Run to End Hunger on the Utica, NY Parkway this morning. I believe news personality Don Shipman intended to run in it (actually, he is probably running even as I type this. Go, Don!). I know some places do a Turkey Trot around this time. All that notwithstanding, I ran alone and I liked it.

Steven pointed out that it is still dark at six in the morning.

“That’s OK; I’ll wear my reflective belt. I know where it is,” I said. Then I almost forgot it. Back upstairs to get it, which had the added advantage that I lured Tabby away from the door, where she was standing hopefully. Tabby does not like to run with me but neither does she like to be left out. I can understand the emotion.

Finally I was off, in the dark in the cold. I had taken the precaution of wearing leggings, long-sleeved ARMY t-shirt, sweatshirt and knitted toque (you know how it’s pronounced). I could not find my mittens, but the sweatshirt sleeves were long enough to pull down over my hands.

And right away, it wasn’t too bad. My legs were not mad at me. My lungs were breathing in a perfectly normal fashion. In short, I could rock this.

I looked at all the houses as I ran by, hoping to see a few lights on. I never like to run, walk or drive by all dark houses. I feel too lonely. I thought some people might be up this early putting their turkeys in the oven. I bet my mom was. Every time I saw a light, I thought, “You go, turkey cooker!”

I ran up the hill by Valley Health. No problem! I ran by more dark houses. Then one with no lights on, but a television running. It made an eerie blue glow from some angles. I enjoy an eerie blue glow. Let’s keep that Halloween spirit going!

As I type this, I have to realize, it was rather an uneventful run. But it felt AWESOME! I could have kept going for HOURS! Of course I did no such thing. I stopped after a sensible amount of time, and Tabby graciously joined me for a cool down walk around the block.

The sun was up by now, so I felt better and better. What a great time to run, I thought. It was dark, and now it’s not. I feel TERRIFIC! Then I thought, I’m going to post that as my Facebook status when I get home. I did.

So that was the start of my Thanksgiving morning. And now I’m thinking, maybe the bad runs are better for the blog. The good ones can make for, I’m sorry, kind of a boring post. Not to worry, though. I’m sure I’ll be more ate up in the future. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!