Author Archives: mohawkvalleygirl

Readers All About It

In yesterday’s dithery post, I said that when I tried to write about Strike Story, Ilion Little Theatre’s fall production, I got all bogged down and it was not good. Well, today, I looked at what I wrote and it really doesn’t seem too bad. Since I’m having another wrist to forehead kind of day, I’m going to type it in and see if it’ll fly as today’s post.

I mentioned before how Strike Story replaces Dirty Work at the Crossroads (postponed till May — watch for it!), how it was originally presented at Little Falls’ Black Box Theatre, and how it was written by a Angela Harris, a local writer, telling the story about the 1912 textile strike in Little Falls.

The play is unusual for Ilion Little Theatre and for me, because it is Readers’ Theatre. The actors have the script in their hands and basically read the story (hence the term Readers’ Theatre) (I bet you already figured that out). It is more stylized than a regular play. In some productions the actors don’t get up at all. In one piece I saw, they did the whole thing behind a screen, pretending it was a radio play (I actually thought that was kind of silly, but what do I know?)

I know some of my readers are theatre people from way back (Hi, Rachel!), and that pedantic paragraph was wasted on them. Oh well.

In Strike Story, all the players are on stage the whole time. When our characters have lines we stand up and move around the stage. Many of our lines are directly to the audience, but there is some character interaction. Sometimes the drama comes from characters not speaking to each other but telling the same story from differing points of view.

It is an interesting story that could spark some heated political and social debate among viewers. I won’t say more than that, because Mohawk Valley Girl stays off politics. It is a fascinating look at local history.

The play runs November 2, 3, 9 and 10 at 8 p.m. and Nov. 4 at 2 p.m. in Ilion Little Theatre, Remington Ave, Ilion, NY. For more information, visit their website at www.ilionlittletheatre.org their facebook page.

In My Defense, It’s Halloween!

Maybe I need to start a feature called Wuss Out Wednesday. I know I had Mid-Week Middle-Aged Musings, but I don’t feel up to musing.

Last week I seem to remember writing “In My Defense, I’m in a Play.” I started to write a more extensive post about the play and I got all bogged down in talking about Readers’ Theatre and it went downhill from there.

I saw a cool Vincent Price movie I’d like to write about, but my movie posts tend to run long and often need editing after consulting references. Will I have time for such a thing? No! I’ve got trick or treaters to greet!

That was as much as I wrote while at work today. I just finished greeting about a million trick or treaters. I’m cold, I’m tired, I’m irritated, and I haven’t eaten supper yet. On the brighter side, it was fun when we ran out of candy and I told everybody it was because Steven ate it all. The last dozen or so kids got Halloween pencils and other prizes we had previously purchased for Halloween parties past. I’ve been wanting to get rid of those pencils for years.

Steven just called up the stairs that dinner is ready, and I am just barely over 200 words. Happy Halloween, everybody! See you in November!

Mohawk Valley Morning

Saturday Steven did not have to go to work till two, so we had a Mohawk Valley Morning. And I don’t need anybody to be a wise-ass and tell me that since we live in the Mohawk Valley, every morning is a Mohawk Valley morning. I already know that.

We started out by walking with our schnoodle, Tabby, to First Source Federal Credit Union in Herkimer, NY. We had to deposit a check into our mad money account. This gave me an opportunity to imitate Carolyn Jones in House of Wax: “I don’t need any mad money (tee-hee-hee); I never get mad!”

We walked home by way of Margaret Street, so I could show Steven some Halloween decorations I had noticed earlier in the week. I just love when people get into the season. I admired pots of mums on many front steps. We envied some hanging ghouls, a vampire with Elvis sideburns and several gravestones. We don’t have any gravestones, or any mums for that matter. Come to think of it, our vampire doesn’t have sideburns. Improvements to consider for next year.

After we got Tabby back home we headed for the H.A.L.O. Trash to Treasure Sale at the Mohawk American Legion. As usual I said I wanted to sit on the legion’s front porch some nice day. They have a couple of wooden glider swings I like.

H.A.L.O., I’ve mentioned before, is the Helping Animals Live Organization, a no cage, no kill cat rescue. It’s run by some pretty nice people, and we support them whenever possible. We went to their Trash to Treasure Sale last year (I believe I wrote a blog post about it) and were happy to have a chance to go to this year’s.

The sale was huge with many nice things, some possibly antiques (I’m not that knowledgeable, but they looked pretty good to me). I found a purse that might work for my character in Dirty Work at the Crossroads (next May at Ilion Little Theatre — preview of coming attractions). I also picked up a Green Mountain Coffee thermal mug. It’s always good to have a few extra thermal mugs around, in case somebody visits from a distance and you want to send them on their way with a cup of hot coffee.

After shopping we were feeling a little peckish so stopped for breakfast at Mohawk Diner. While there we asked where Mohawk Fire Station was. As soon as the waitress told us, I said, “Oh yeah, I’ve driven by there a bunch of times. Silly me.”

The Fire Station was holding a Chinese Auction. We love those. This was a good one, 100 tickets for $5. I had a ten so bought us each an envelope.

“After all, it’s for the fire department,” I told Steven when he suggested that 100 tickets for both of us might have been sufficient.

We took our time walking around and deciding what to try for. Did we win? Could be. Then again, we MAY have won something that MIGHT be a Christmas present for someone. I’ll never tell.

Just Sew the Head Back On!

Spoiler Alert! I’m going to tell most of the plot of today’s movie. I’m really more interested in commenting about it than in being circumspect.

We continued our enjoyment of Peter Cushing as Dr. Frankenstein with Frankenstein Created Woman (1967).

I was a little disappointed that the movie did not pick up where Revenge of Frankenstein ended. On consulting Leonard Maltin, however (Leonard Maltin’s 2007 Movie Guide, Penguin Group, New York, 2006), I find that this movie is in fact the sequel to Evil of Frankenstein, which I did not see. That explains it.

The movie opens similarly to Revenge, however, with an ominous shot of a guillotine. The intended beheadee this time is not Dr. F but a common or garden thief and murderer. He is laughing at his fate until he sees his son in the distance watching.

The guillotine certainly makes for a chilling beginning, especially when we see the bloody blade being raised after the head drops. The guillotine, of course, was an efficient means of execution. That guy with the big ax sometimes missed, I’ve read. But guy with ax or guillotine, one thing you can say about getting beheaded: there was no chance they were going to bury you while you were still alive. Come to think of it, in a Frankenstein movie, I guess that’s not much of a fear anyways, because he digs up bodies. But I digress.

Flashing forward, the executed man’s son is all grown up and passes by the guillotine every day on his way to his job as — did you guess? I didn’t — Dr. Frankenstein’s assistant. Dr. F is also assisted by a bumbling old fool of a doctor, who is actually pretty endearing. I was reminded of Holmes and Watson (which is a little blog foreshadowing, by the way, because I also DVR’d The Hound of Baskervilles, starring none other than Peter Cushing as Sherlock Holmes).

Things get a little weird for a Frankenstein movie. He doesn’t sew any dead body parts together. So once again, the possibilities of the guillotine are wasted. Well, I guess not entirely, but that part comes later.

This time out, Dr. F is interested in the soul, which he says does not leave the body right away upon death.

“Where does it go?” asks Bumbling Old Doctor. I don’t think Dr. F has a good answer for that one.

As the movie progresses, we find out that Hans — that’s the guillotined guy’s son — is in love with the daughter of the owner of the local tavern. She is scarred and crippled. The origin of the scars is not explained, but it looks as if half her face has been burned. However, since she has a Veronica Lake thing going on with her long red hair, she is still cute. The crippled thing is harder to disguise, especially when some drunken upper-crust louts demand she wait on them, so they can make fun of her. Oh yes, the audience is wanting these guys to be cut up and used for body parts.

Ah, but this is a different Dr. Frankenstein. He wants to put somebody’s soul into a different body, and he gets his chance when Hans is sentenced to the guillotine.

I know what you’re thinking: “Just sew his head back on! It’s what you do!” That is what I was thinking it. But now that I think more about it, I remember that in Revenge of Frankenstein, he said he couldn’t put a dead brain into his patchwork body. But now it’s all about the soul, and the brain is not even mentioned (insert brainless joke of your choice).

You know, the more I think about it, the more I think Cushing’s character is just a regular old mad scientist, and they named him Frankenstein to buy into the franchise. Canny marketing strategy. I mean, I would have watched the movie anyways, but you can’t always go by me.

Where was I? Ah yes, Hans’ soul is put into the dead body of his girlfriend, who drowned herself in despair after he got guillotined. Yes, I’ve skipped a few plot points. You know how I am about details.

So what happens to the girl’s soul is a question nobody asks, but I think the answer is she’s still around, although she has no idea who she is or how she got there. However, she is now a beautiful, unscarred, uncrippled blond. I guess it’s a good thing she doesn’t know who she is or the first words out of her mouth may have been, “Thanks a lot, Doc! You couldn’t have done that while I was alive, I suppose?”

Just about the time I was complaining, “Isn’t there any comeuppance for those louts?” Blondie turns into a murderous vixen, commanded by, yes, Hans’ dismembered head, which she has apparently dug out of the grave (the doctors let him get buried after they got his soul).

Hey, maybe if Dr. F would have known what Blondie was up to, he could have put the louts’ souls into other people’s bodies, too. That would have made for a much longer movie, though, so I guess it’s just as well.

The movie ends pretty abruptly, with almost everybody dead, except Dr. Frankenstein. So he is all set for another sequel. I hope TCM shows it next Saturday.

Can’t Be Too Cheesy

Spoiler Alert! I’m not going to give away the whole plot, but I might ruin a surprise or two.

TCM has not shown any Whistler movies lately, but they have obliged with a few Hammer Films.

I made a note of “It’s a Hammer Film” in the TV Journal when we watched The Revenge of Frankenstein (1958) last Sunday. Last night I found I was correct to do so. Ben Mankiewicz, in pre-movie commentary to another Frankenstein movie, informed us that Hammer Films became known for the horror genre.

Revenge of Frankenstein stars Peter Cushing as the mad doctor. I first became aware of Cushing many years ago, when he had a part in the first Star Wars movie (that’s the first MOVIE, not the first “episode,” of which I know very little). Cushing, as I understood it, was one of a couple of older, highly respected actor’s actors brought in to class up the operation. Now it’s a name which, when I see it in a movie, I say, “Can’t be too cheesy.” Still, any horror movie from the ’50s or ’60s is going to have a certain kitsch factor, especially one about Frankenstein. Hello! Sewing together dead people to bring them back to life! Even Kenneth Branaugh could bring only so much weight to that.

The movie opens with Dr. Frankenstein facing the guillotine for his crimes. Apparently this is not the first Frankenstein movie in the series (“Revenge of” kind of clued me into that already). But there is no problem following the plot from where they start, no need for lengthy flashbacks. Actually, in a Frankenstein movie, flashbacks look a little silly. I mean, we all KNOW the story or at least enough that we can follow along (I, of course, know the whole story; I read the book) (sorry, didn’t mean to sound smug).

I was a little disappointed that Dr. F didn’t get beheaded and sew his own head back on, but that would have been a whole other movie, I suppose. Instead, the scene changes before the blade clangs down and I don’t think anybody is too much surprised to learn that our “hero” escaped execution with the help of a confederate (that’s all we’re told about how it was done. I personally would have liked a flashback showing the trick) (after all, you never know when you might need to know these things).

The next thing we know, a certain Dr. Stein (subtle!) is practicing medicine in, oh, I forget where. Presumably a country with no extradition policy or no guillotines. The local medical association is a little miffed he hasn’t tried to join or otherwise seek their permission before stealing all their patients.

It seems the ladies love Dr. Stein. Hmmm. I guess the young Peter Cushing had a sort of charm. Maybe it’s that crisp, businesslike aloofness. That unattainability that drives some women nuts.

At any rate, Dr. Stein’s waiting room for his upper crust patients who pay through the nose is always full. He uses this income to subsidize his free clinic for the poor, which is another thing that the ladies love about him. So unselfish! So dedicated! They don’t realize he is using that clinic as a source for body parts (but you knew right away, didn’t you?).

I do hope he washes the parts before he uses them, because a lot is made of how the poor people don’t wash. One fellow in particular — I think he is employed at the clinic in some menial capacity — brags his head off about how that’s why he’s so healthy. Um, he does not literally brag is head off, although I guess that would have been appropriate in a Frankenstein movie that opens with a guillotine.

Dr. Stein has a crippled assistant named Carl, and he acquires a young doctor protege. The young doctor recognizes who Dr. Stein is, but does not think he is evil. He thinks he is brilliant and wants to work with him and learn. There is a also a beautiful, young, upper crust girl who volunteers at the clinic, and the stage is set.

And that is about as far as I want to go, because, spoiler alert aside, I really don’t want to give any more away. There are some unexpected twists and turns. You may see the ending coming, but it’s still pretty satisfying. I didn’t see it coming a mile away, but pretty much guessed it just before it happened. I felt pretty pleased with myself that I guessed right.

I Ran, I Commented, I’m Done

I wondered if any of my readers missed Saturday Running Commentary, so I thought I would run and comment today. I never ran till after 2, when Steven went to work, but I figured you can do that in the fall.

The trouble with waiting to run is that you’ve got plenty of time to talk yourself out of it, which I almost did. I went to the store to buy groceries instead. As I was pushing the cart back after loading three big bags into my truck, I realized I was happy to be outdoors, because it was such a nice day. Well, self, I thought, there is one good activity that will get you outdoors for a little longer.

Of course, raking leaves is another activity that would get me outdoors and that definitely needs to be done. Still, I’m trying to get back into running and it is not going to be easy due to certain other time commitments I have recently made. I decided to run.

I was not immediately glad I did. Sometimes waiting till later in the day is a good thing: your muscles are not stiff and just waking up, you’ve eaten something nutritious (I hope), OK, that’s all I got. My muscles felt that they had been working enough (only walking, but you know how leg muscles are). My body acted as if it hadn’t been fed in days (like that’s ever going to happen!). I just kept going.

A friend of mine has been mentioning to people lately how I run up the hill to Herkimer County Community College. I have not run that hill in at least a month (too lazy to go downstairs and look it up in my running journal), but I figure if Phyllis is going to be talking about it I’d better get back to doing it. Only not today. I turned in that direction, though, because there are a couple less intimidating hills I thought I might be up to.

Finally I settled on the Unknown Park. I recently learned that it is in fact Brookfield Park, but I am so used to calling it the Unknown, I may continue to do so. There is a pretty good upslope as soon as you turn in. Wasn’t fun. Ran it anyways.

A couple of young girls were walking towards me, but they crossed to the other side of the road when they saw me. That was good, because it put them on left side facing traffic (of which there was none just then). I don’t think they did it to be safe, I think they did it to avoid the crazy old lady (me), but I was glad to see it nonetheless.

As I ran through the path in the woods I stopped to pet an adorable black pug, with the owners’ permission. I think he was just a puppy. He was so wiggly and cute, I ran on feeling refreshed. One more short upslope, I told myself, and then it’s downhill all the way. I felt good about that, because I knew I wasn’t lying. Not like on the Boilermaker when they keep telling you it’s all downhill from here and you know darn well it’s not.

Back on the road, I was going to turn left where it said “No Left Turn” as usual (must be a rebel, after all), but I saw a group of male college students walking in the opposite direction, right side with traffic, of course. I had no reason to think they might say anything rude, yet I did not feel inclined to run right into them. I thought, I never go straight at this intersection, I’ll go straight for once. Not that it was a road less traveled, because I run on that stretch of road all the time going toward the college. Still, a different direction is at least something different.

I stopped to pet two more cute dogs on German Street. They were the shaggy kind, Llasa Apsos or Shih Tsus or something. One backed off, the other was friendly. Then as I ran on the shy one ran after me.

“Now she wants to be petted,” the owner said, with a laugh. I turned around and obliged. “She has to play hard to get,” the owner said.

I ended up running longer than I had run Tuesday or Thursday, so I felt pretty good about that. Other than that satisfaction, though, I felt tired. I managed to spend a little time raking leaves, just because I thought I ought to (I know, I say I never do what I ought to, but I guess once in a while I do). Then I felt beat. Dare I say, too beat to write a decent blog post? Yet I see I am over 800 words. I’ll say today I went for quantity, not quality.

Off the Lame Cuff

So Wednesday I never wrote my blog post till after 6:30 at night and I sat at the computer and wrote it off the cuff, and I got eight likes. Can I get away with it again today? I sure hope so.

In my defense (guess I can’t get away with using that in the headline twice, can I?), it is Lame Post Friday. And I was still studying my lines from the play. I came up with some half-baked philosophy while I was at work. If only I could remember any of it.

Here is a random observation: I saw a little dog pee on one of those blow-up Halloween decorations. It was a great big old spider with four giant purple and black legs creating an arch with its body. The arch was right over the people’s front walk, but they had caution tape around it so apparently nobody was supposed to walk underneath the arch. As Steven and I drove by it tonight, their cute little dog walked right up to and lifted his leg.

“That’s the funniest thing I’ve seen in several weeks,” I said.

Actually, I made myself laugh at work today. Bill was looking for Ed, but I had not seen him.

“He did not share with me his plans,” I said, because, you know, that’s how I talk sometimes.

Then Ed came back and asked where Bill was.

“He’s looking for you,” I said. “And I said, ‘How the hell do I know where Ed is? He goes where he wants to go! He don’t tell me nuthin’!'”

“Well, where’s Jeff?” Jeff is the boss.

“How the hell do I know where Jeff is? He goes where he wants to go! He don’t tell me nuthin’!”

“Where’s Hal?” He only asked because he knew where this was going.

After I wrote the preceding, I went back and changed all the names, to protect the innocent. In fact, my name is now Evelyn (cue the jokes on whether or not I’m innocent).

I note with some satisfaction that I am over 300 words. A lame post? Assuredly, but it is Friday after all. Amusing? Well, it amused me, so at least one of us is happy. Hope to see you Saturday.

Cheesy Bikinis

I DVR’d Prehistoric Women (1967) based on its description on the digital cable guide channel, something to the effect of brunettes enslaving blonds in the jungle. What’s not to like?

The movie opens on the male protagonist (naturally), the leader of a safari who feels “responsible” for the jungle. Blah, blah, blah, get to the cheese already! He comes across some natives and watches their extended dance sequence. I don’t know if this was the well-researched, educational portion of the movie, but it involved a lot of butt-wiggling, especially on the part of the scantily clad female natives.

Our hero is captured by the natives and faces judgement by the White Rhino or some such nonsense (you know I don’t pay much attention to these details). Suddenly everybody but Hero freezes, some natives with their speeds in mid-air, and a wall to another part of the jungle opens up. This, I felt certain, is where we’ll meet the blonds and brunettes.

And so it proves. First Hero meets this gorgeous, dewy-eyed blond who bites him and runs away. Then they are both captured by the evil brunettes and thrown into a cave/jail.

“Are you here to help us?” the young blond asks, at her dewiest.

He’s like, “Uh, yeah, sure,” even though he really doesn’t know what’s going on yet (neither do we, but who cares?). Soon he meets the head brunette, who naturally wants to make him her boy toy.

At this point I couldn’t quite understand why all the girls were not having sex with him, because it struck me as such a porno plot (no, I don’t watch pornos, but I saw one once and, anyways, it is pretty well known what constitutes the plot of a pornographic movie, so just quit snickering) (you know who you are).

According to Leonard Maltin (Leonard Maltin’s 2007 Movie Guide, Penguin Group, New York, 2006), who gives it a star and a half, the movie has a cult following because of the “commanding, sensual performance” of the head brunette. Oh, please! The movie has a cult following because a whole bunch of women spend a lot of time running around in leather bikinis!

I don’t know where these women found blow-driers and eye-liner in the jungle, but they are certainly all gorgeous. It is not clear who they’re being gorgeous for, because all the men are confined in some cavern doing hard labor (the benefit of which is also not clear, because, you know, jungle). And, no, there is no girl-on-girl action, barring a couple of wrestling matches in which nobody loses a top (so don’t get your hopes up). I’m sure this flick had no problem garnering a PG rating.

Anyways, our Hero naturally does not want to be boy toy, the more so because he has fallen in love with Dewy Eyes. So Head Brunette throws him underground with the rest of the men. While there, he finds out the whole back story of why they are all there, brunettes in charge etc.

It’s a real “Waaaait a minute!” plot. For one thing, it’s been this way for as long as Dewy Eyes can remember, but the women are all in the 18 to 24 age group. The men have a greater age range and are a good deal less gorgeous. Really, I don’t see why they could not have provided some eye candy for us female viewers. But perhaps I ask too much.

One blond, in a moment of wisdom, says they must stop looking at the men as their enemies. I personally am not a fan of the battle of the sexes, so was in agreement with this sentiment, but I had thought this was a story about blond vs. brunette, a premise that could take up a whole blog post all on its own if I were so inclined.

But that’s neither here nor there. I was highly entertained by this ridiculous movie, even thought I saw the “Or was it?” ending a mile away (no, I’m not going to tell you! I didn’t even include a spoiler alert!). Oh, and you can tell Leonard Maltin if you see him that he doesn’t have to make up stories about commanding performances. I don’t mind if he likes to look at ladies in leather bikinis.

In My Defense, I’m in a Play

This is a Mid-Week Middle-Aged Musing. At least, that’s what I’m calling it. In fact, once again, I got nuthin’.

Part of the problem is that I am in another play at Ilion Little Theatre. You see, after Dirty Work at the Crossroads got postponed, our little group needed another play for our fall production. After much discussion (to put it mildly), we decided to host another group’s play.

Angela Harris, a Mohawk Valley native, has written a readers’ theatre piece about the Little Falls textile strike of 1912, entitled Strike Story. It was presented in the Black Box Theatre at Canal Place in Little Falls recently (I may have mentioned in a blog post that Steven and I attempted to attend but it was sold out). One of our members went to see it, liked it and thought it would work just fine on our stage. The Little Falls group was amenable, and so it was arranged.

Unfortunately, not all participants could make all the production dates that were set. This is where I come in. I was suggested for one of the parts. I felt so flattered, how could I say no? I somehow had the impression it was a small part. Thinking back, I don’t know where I got that impression, because it is not the case. It is kind of a large part. Oh dear.

All this by way of saying, I have been studying my part on breaks at work, not writing blog posts. I made it OK yesterday by running after work and writing about that. Today after work I had to do something else (which may make tomorrow’s blog post), and somehow it got to be after 6:30 and I have neither fixed supper nor made my blog post.

Anyways, here is the one musing I can come up with: I am a theatre junkie. I just can’t say no! It doesn’t matter what it is, if it is theatre and somebody asks me to do it, I jump in with both feet. In this case, I am kind of glad I did it. I never did readers’ theatre before, I love local history, and I am inspired that this lady actually wrote a whole script and finished it. I’m going to start writing myself. Only, it seems, not blog posts. Try me again tomorrow, and Happy Wednesday.

Back at it Despite the Back

Over two weeks ago I had some problem with my back (you may have read about it in my blog), so I have not been running since October 3. That is just not fun for me, so I was determined to begin yet again today (October 23 — eek! 20 days! Say it ain’t so!).

My back has actually been feeling much better with very little effort on my part. Then I noticed my weight was starting to creep up, and that can exacerbate back pain (oh, I love that word exacerbate). Of course I knew my first step had to be to stop eating like a huge honkin’ hogger (my favorite way to eat), but I also knew that running would help.

It was raining as I left work, but I did not let that deter me. For one thing, it was a mere sprinkle, not a deluge. The temperature was just about where I like it, somewhere in the 50s. Of course all my running clothes were clean, so it was no problem getting into gear and getting going.

So far so good. I turned right onto German Street. Steven, Tabby and I had gone left the last walk we took, so I thought I would look for different Halloween decorations. I knew I would have to cross Main Street, but I hoped for the best.

Right away I saw two college-age-looking girls on the sidewalk ahead of me. Oh dear, I would have to say “Pardon me” and go around them. Well, so what, I told myself, the worst thing that could happen is you’ll run through some wet grass. There is no reason to think those girls will not be perfectly polite. Anyways, at the rate I run, I knew it would be at least a couple of blocks before I caught up with them.

It took less time than I thought, so maybe I’m not such a plodder after all. I said, “Pardon me,” as planned. One girl was on a cell phone, but the other girl smiled at me.

“I need to do that,” she said.

“It’s been two weeks since I’ve done it,” I told her as I ran on. You see, I had not at that point checked previous blog posts for dates so did not realize the 20 day thing.

I saw plenty of ghosts, scarecrows, skeletons and pumpkins. Many porches sported cobwebs, both clumpy and nicely spread out. One house in particular had an elaborate graveyard in the front lawn. I made a note of that one for when Steven and Tabby and I take another walk. I also saw the cutest little pumpkin lights in an enclosed porch. Got to get me a string of those.

Soon I realized it had stopped raining. Bonus! I never reached the “I Can Rock This” stage. I alternately plodded and shuffled, but it didn’t feel too bad. Eventually my back started to hurt a little. I promised myself I would do stretches later, per the papers my friend at work gave me.

As I was running I composed a blow-by-blow in my head, very little of which I have used here. Then again, I don’t think every running post has to run up to 1000 words.

I was listening to WVHC, 91.5 fm, Herkimer County Community College’s radio station, as I drove home from work. The student on the air said, “Happy Tuesday. Not that anybody has any reason to be happy on a Tuesday.” I may be misquoting. Well, I do so have a reason to be happy. I started running again. Happy Tuesday to the rest of you, too.