Category Archives: humor

More a Shuffle than a Plod

According to the weather report, it was going to be a good day to run: not humid and not too hot. Based on the fact that I’ve taken three days off, it was definitely a good day to run. I spent a good part of the day at work repeating to myself that it would be a good idea to run.

As I walked out of work, I knew that I would run. It seemed to take a long time to walk to my vehicle. I thought to myself, “You’re not going to run. You’re going to plod. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. You can write that in your blog post.”

It was warmer than I really like, which I had figured would happen. I made sure I remembered a headband. I hoped to be able to find a lot of shade. Off I went.

I thought it would be a good idea to run at least one hill. However, I would have to cross German Street, which is not easy at this time of day. I would play it by ear: if I could cross German, I would run a hill. If not, no hill. I would decide which hill if and when I crossed German.

No chance to cross German right away. Perhaps at Caroline? Ooh, here was a chance, if I didn’t wait for the corner. I darted across. At least, as I narrated in my head, I said, “I darted across.” I called myself on that little exaggeration as soon as I was across the street. I hope I moved a little quicker, at any rate.

I realized I was not plodding so much as shuffling. That was OK. I shuffle all the time when I run. It is especially helpful on hills. Then I tripped on the sidewalk. That’s where too much shuffling will get you. I can just hear somebody sniffing, “That’s why I run in the road.” Oh yeah, like there are not sewer grates, potholes and garbage in the road. If this was Lame Post Friday, I could go into some half-baked philosophy about how we always encounter obstacles, but this being Wednesday, I shall refrain.

I did not run the hill to Herkimer County Community College, but I did encounter some upgrades. They were not fun, but I survived. I got barked at by some dogs, but they were all in houses, behind fences or on chains, so that was OK. I debated how long I wanted to run. Not 40 minutes, which I had run last Saturday. Then again, I was trying to build myself up. 20 minutes was surely too short. 30? Between 30 and 40?

I ended up doing 36 minutes, which I thought was pretty good. It was quite a pleasant run when I was in the shade and a breeze blew. In the sun with still air, not so much, but my legs kept going. The funny thing was, my legs would feel like macaroni, then they would feel fairly athletic. I ended the run athletic, the cool-down walk macaroni. I can live with that.

Lather, Rinse, Repeat?

I did, I did work on a blog post. Yesterday and today I worked on a real post. Today I typed in what I had written. And it’s just not good enough. And I just can’t make it good enough right now. Will I be able to make it good enough? Yes, but not today.

I guess this is going to be a Tired Tuesday, although I had hoped to avoid such a thing. Actually, I’m starting to feel it is more of a Wrist to Forehead Tuesday, because I am so conflicted about writing yet another really stupid post. This is what is happening: I typed in the draft I had been working on. I thought, “Oh, I can’t make this work, I’ll just write something off the cuff.” I start to write my usual nonsense, then I think, “Oh, I can’t make another silly post.” I pull up the draft, look at it, and the whole thing starts again.

My novel is going no better, by the way. I spent my whole day at work thinking about what the plot should be, what should happen next, etc etc. Couldn’t come up with a thing. Perhaps I need a new approach.

What, oh what, could I use for a new approach? I can’t think of anything offhand, but I did have one thought. If I can’t finish the other post by tomorrow, perhaps I could write about my New Approach. If I can think of one.

In My Defense, It’s Monday

My existential writing crisis continues (I don’t really know what an existential crisis is, I just thought it sounded cool) (and if anybody tries to enlighten me and uses any form of the word “exist,” I will probably make a sarcastic remark). I began writing a post before work today, but it wasn’t working out. I thought it would be OK, though, because I intended to go running after work. I could do a Running Commentary.

Why do I even think I’m going to run on a Monday? I almost never do, and I did not today. But I had a letter to mail to my sister (yes, I handwrite letters and mail them with stamps, do you have a problem with that? I thought not), so I suggested Steven and I walk to the post office with our schnoodle Tabby. Now I can write a Pedestrian Post.

We went after supper, but the temperature had not cooled down much. It was cloudy, dull and humid. The air was almost completely still. It did not take long to have that overall coating of sweat one’s body often gets this time of year. Tabby did not seem to mind. She pranced along, stopping often to explore interesting smells.

As we went through Meyers Park, I admired a stone bench recently donated by a class from Herkimer High School. I stupidly do not remember the year, but it was somewhere in the 1960s. After the post office, Steven suggested we walk up Main Street and go by the Historic Four Corners.

“Tabby does love the Historic Four Corners,” I said.

We walked up Main Street to German.

“This is where the DARE 5K starts,” I said. I’m looking forward to the DARE 5K. I guess I’d better start running in the evening in addition to walking.

As we continued down German the breeze picked up. That felt good. I’m afraid it was an uneventful walk, but I have great hopes that my crisis will be over by tomorrow and better posts will be forthcoming.

Feeling Un-Cool

I’m just going to put it out there now: I intend to run the Boilermaker next year. And right now, I’m going to write a Wrist to Forehead Sunday post about my intentions.

For the uninitiated, the Boilermaker is an annual 15k race in Utica, NY. It’s huge, in any sense of the word, and it’s the most fun you’ll ever have running 15 kilometers. I’ve run it three times. I had been going to run it this year, but I was having trouble getting my training started and I just let myself feel too intimidated at the thought of me and 13,999 other runners.

Yes, they set the cap at 14,000 runners and it filled up in a matter of hours. That’s how cool this race has become. How un-cool do I feel that I wasn’t one of them? Pretty darn un-cool, let me tell you.

I’ve been doing pretty good with my running just recently. At least, it goes pretty well when I run, but I have not been running enough. My main concern this year is to be ready for the Herkimer DARE 5K August 16. I think I’ve got that pretty well in hand, if I keep doing what I’m doing only a little better.

And isn’t that the essence of running, and in fact life in general (watch out, I’m veering into some half-baked philosophy now)? To do a little better.

Hmmmm… suddenly I’m starting to feel a little better. Anyone can improve themselves. I can improve. Now to get my wrist off my forehead and get going.

Could I Be Getting Fit?

I was so determined to have a Saturday Running Commentary this week that I got out of bed and into my running gear, not even pausing for coffee. Um, I did take the time to wash my face and brush my teeth. Who wants to run with morning breath? Yuck!

Steven has a short day at work, and we have plans for this afternoon, so I did not want to do too strenuous of a run. The sad truth is I had not run since Sunday. Well, these things happen and we must make the best of them. I decided no hills and perhaps a shorter run than my last one, which was 38 minutes.

I thought I would enjoy a dead end run, out German Street and German Street Extension, then back down Germany Street, detouring onto the many short dead end streets off it. I wanted to check out German Street Extension anyways. I heard they had some problems with flooding. Of course I would not run where the road was closed. Safety first for Mohawk Valley Girl.

It was perfect temperature for running, not so cold my hands got icy, not so warm I would sweat too much. That was good, because once again I forgot my headband. I could neither cover cold ears nor protect my eyes from sweat running off my forehead. No matter, it wouldn’t be too long a run, would it?

It seemed to take a long time to get to the end of German. I enjoyed looking at people’s flowers and decorations. One house has a fox lawn ornament, a little the worse for wear, which they decorate seasonally. This morning he sported cool sunglasses and red, white and blue decorations. I need something seasonal on my front porch.

German Street Extension is a nice, quiet residential road, as one might expect a dead end road to be. I plodded along admiring the scenery. Time was passing. How far should I run? I like to run all the way to the end, but how long would that take me? I wasn’t going to run all 38 minutes, remember? Oh well, maybe I would. But I shouldn’t run more than half of 38 before I turned around, right? I didn’t want to run more than 38 minutes, did I? I wonder if it burns more calories if I run and dither at the same time.

I saw two bunnies in a yard, standing perfectly still. I guess many predators’ vision is based on motion. I was just as glad not to see any predators. I know, predators have to eat too, but I don’t want to see it. Really, I ought to be a vegetarian myself, but I was not up to pondering the morality of carnivorousness.

I ended up turning around at just about 19 minutes. I saw where the road was closed up ahead but did not go all the way to the barrier. I was at a very well-maintained looking apartment complex. I thought I might drive out later to see how far I had run distance-wise. I could turn around in the complex lot.

On the way back I could see the river, or is it the canal (how embarrassing that Mohawk Valley Girl doesn’t know these things), over the bank. A tiny bunny was on the bank. How cute! I was really glad not to see a predator get the baby.

As I got back onto German Street proper, I decided I did not have time to run all the dead ends. I took one detour down Willow Street. I wanted to check the name of the street that the path over the hydraulic canal runs to. Suiter. I should be able to remember Suiter, and you see that I did, although now I don’t recall if it is street or avenue. Silly me.

My detour added just a little bit to my run time, and I did 40 minutes. I felt pretty terrific as I took my cool-down walk with Tabby. And I don’t feel too tired out now, a few hours after the fact. Could I be getting fit? Awesome!

Leave Katy Perry Alone!

For today’s Friday Lame Post, I offer some half-baked philosophy about something I saw on Facebook recently. This meme (they’re called “memes,” right?) showed a quote from Katy Perry saying she was reminded about how the angels were helping her. A drawing of a superior-looking woman offered the tart comment that apparently angels were not concerned about starving children in Asia; they had their hands full helping wealthy, pampered celebrities. Oh, these narcissistic entertainers!

At first glance, one is inclined to say, “That’s right! Shame on you, Katy Perry for invoking the angels. YOU don’t need any help!” Then I thought about it and I have to ask, what is she supposed to say? If, for example, she had said, “I’m so talented and awesome, I did all this MYSELF!” no doubt some people would be saying, “Katy Perry, you egotistical slut. Admit you had help!”

Why shouldn’t angels have helped Katy Perry? May I remind you that financial backers of Broadway shows are often called angels. I understand angels come in all shapes and sizes. I really can’t say who any given angel might choose to help.

Let’s get back to the starving children in Asia. Oh, and children in this country with cancer, and homeless pets and people, and all the other truly deserving causes we could name (naming them would take a whole blog post by itself). It would be nice if some angels would help some of those, wouldn’t it?

Waaaaait a minute (in that voice I use when pointing up a plot hole in a cheesy movie)! If angels come in all shapes and sizes, could it be that WE are the angels? I’m betting that any number of my readers already are. We support causes, give to charity, and encourage others to do the same. I daresay most of us don’t do all that we COULD do. For heavens’ sake, I’m a blog-writing factory worker, not Mother Theresa.

Not to be too gooily uplifting, but writing this post has reminded me that sometimes we are the answers to each others prayers. I will continue to look for more ways in which I can help. In the meantime, let’s leave Katy Perry alone.

Better Words Are Not Forthcoming

I am having a Blog Crisis. I started this blog thinking to highlight the Mohawk Valley. I would write ABOUT things, it would not be just a silly diary kind of thing all about me. So why is it, I write a ridiculous thing about not being able to write anything and I get 11 Likes, then I write about the library book sale — a “real” post, so I thought — and one measly Like!

Oh dear, I did not mean “measly,” really. Each and every Like is near and dear to my heart.

But I’m just saying, what am I doing here? Do I really write so much better about not being able to write? Is that really much more interesting than my beloved Mohawk Valley? Oh no, does this mean I am so narcissistic that my writing purely about me is better than my writing about anything else?

SAY IT AIN’T SO!!!

Perhaps my problem is getting so caught up in the number of Likes I get on a given post. Oh, this is getting worse and worse. I’m not only narcissistic, I am dependent on the admiration of others. I must get my validation from outside, not from within!

Oh well, I guess I’m not a particularly valid person to begin with (and I don’t usually go to places where I need to get my parking validated) (sorry, couldn’t resist). But look, I’m over 200 words. We can postpone this existential crisis to another time, possible a Lame Post Friday.

OF COURSE We Need More Books!

I don’t know how well I will do with my writing for the foreseeable future. You see, Steven and I just returned from the Book Sale at Basloe Library in Herkimer, NY, and now I have some serious reading to attend to.

To be completely honest, our finances are not in the best shape these days, and our house is getting rather crowded with stuff. In other words, we don’t need to be running out and buying more books. Who am I kidding? Of course we do! Additionally, this is a library book sale. Good prices and a good cause, that’s a win/win to me.

So we took a drive to the library, parking in the Prospect Street parking lot and walking through the little park to the library on Main. The sale was in the little back room, where Guitar Group meets on Saturdays and Herkimer Now meets once a month. There were several tables covered with books. I was in my element.

At first I did not see anything I had to have, although I enjoyed browsing the variety of titles. Then I saw a Dominick Dunne book I haven’t read, People Like Us. I was delighted. Dominick Dunne is one of my all-time favorite writers. I continued to browse, feeling that if I left with only that book I would be happy.

After a while, Steven told me he had seen another Dominick Dunne book.

“I already have An Inconvenient Woman,” I said. He said it wasn’t that one, but he couldn’t remember which it was. “Oh, here, it is,” I said, spotting Dominick Dunne on a spine. “Too Much Money. I don’t have Too Much Money!”

“Neither do I,” Steven said. I had not realized till I said it how it sounded. I laughed loudly for about ten minutes.

I went on to find several more books. Steven found one book and a DVD of Good Night and Good Luck, about Edward R. Murrow and Joseph McCarthy. We were very happy with our purchases. The sale continues till Friday, so we may return. Or we may make our way to Frankfort Free Library, which is also having a book sale. So many books, so little time.

What I Can Write Right Now

It is a dreadful thing when one has made up one’s mind to write and the only thing one can find to write about is one’s apparent complete inability to write anything worth reading.

Um, you figured out that “one” is me, right?

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, what’s a blogger to do? Today I’m going to do what has worked for me in the past: just write whatever I can write right now and trust that better words will be forthcoming. what I’m really hoping is that they will be forthcoming today, and I can type this into my Drafts section for use one day when I am really desperate (making a Full Disclosure, of course) (um, as it happens, I am using it today. Don’t judge).

Part of my problem is the weather. It is a sticky, icky day, conducive to lounging around near a fan and doing nothing. Of course I am not doing that; I’m at work (writing on a break, as usual). I remind myself that I have written on such days before but the memory does not seem to help.

My novel plods on. OK, it’s a hot mess. I can’t figure out what I want to happen or even how I would like it to end. I am reminded of a poster hanging in a guidance counselor’s office in my junior high school, “If you don’t know where you are going you will probably end up somewhere else.” I thought it a dire warning at the time. Now I think, “If you enjoy the trip, at least that’s something.” But now I’m making global statements and veering into half-baked philosophy. Leave that for Lame Post Friday, Cindy. We were talking about one novel, not Your Life.

I guess I’m not going to solve my novel problem by writing a blog post about now being able to write. Still, it felt pretty good to put some words on paper. One does what one can, after all.

It’s FICTION for Heavens’ Sake!

Full disclosure: I am writing this post for myself. I may not publish it (thus rendering the disclosure unnecessary; the irony is not lost on me). I am pondering my novel and I feel the need to talk about it. Of course, this is dangerous. Sometimes when you talk too much about a thing you no longer need to write it. Well, I’m not going to disclose the story. But I think if I talk about some problems I’m having WITH the story, I can come to some conclusions and/or make decisions. Here goes.

The fact is, my novel has come to something of a standstill. I must work on the plot, obviously. But I have some other questions first.

Ooh, as soon as I wrote that, I could hear a snotty voice chime in with, “Maybe you need to work on your CHARACTERS and let the plot come from THEM!” Yes, there is always someone to tell you how to write. I was about to say, “Thank you for your (quite useless) input,” but, in fact, I am not the least bit grateful (and my characters are actually pretty good, if I do say so).

Enough of this digression. I want to talk about setting. I like a small town setting. A village, in fact, although “village” has such a Middle Age sound (as in the Middle Ages, 1400-1600, not middle-aged like me. Sheesh!). I think of villagers chasing the monster to the old windmill or warning foreigners not to visit the Count that lives in the castle on the hill. But again, I digress.

I am talking about villages like Herkimer, NY, where I live now, or Norwood, NY, where I used to live. Many of your well-loved novels have memorable settings: Savannah in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, St. Mary’s Mead in the Miss Marple tales. I think it is time upstate New York had a memorable setting in a book.

Upstate New York, for the uninitiated, includes any part of New York state that is not New York City. Have you ever looked at a map of New York State? It is not a small state. The true crime shows I so delight in will occasionally cover a case that takes place in “a small town in Upstate New York.” Steven and I yell, “Where? What town?” I wonder if residents of other states feel the same way. Still, I’ve never heard anyone say anything like, “a town in Louisiana other than New Orleans,” as if that were the only point of reference. Oh dear, another digression.

Indignation aside, I thought I would place my novel in a specific spot in the state and fill it with background, atmosphere and, you know, setting. For this novel, I chose the Mohawk Valley.

And I’m running into problems. First I made up a big old house (as in over a hundred years old, not as in “big ol’ house”) with a large yard, a summerhouse and a stream nearby. A murder took place in the summerhouse and I wanted the stream to help the murderer dispose of evidence. I thought I might throw in a thunderstorm with torrential rain for good measure. This is an atmospheric murder mystery, not a police procedural.

So far so good. I saw some other ways to use both the summerhouse and the stream to further the main plot and add a couple of subplots. I started making notes.

And immediately began to second guess myself. Would this novel actually take place in Herkimer? There is a stream in Herkimer and any number of large, historic-looking mansions. I don’t know of any that are in close proximity to each other, but does that matter? Couldn’t I just pick a spot on the stream and pretend the house is there? For that matter, couldn’t I pretend the right spot is there? In short, how much could I get away with?

According to some sources, not much. If you make a street run north/south when it really runs east/west, these sources say, your reader will lose all confidence in you, reject your entire novel and all your hard work will be for naught. I think for some readers this is quite true. If you are not meticulous in your research and correct in every small detail which can be verified as fact, they will point the finger of shame at you and refuse to believe any of your fiction.

I can understand that point of view. I know how it is when watching television or a movie and it’s something I happen to know about, and they completely screw it up. You know, like the school play where they’re still blocking at dress rehearsal? And you really don’t expect that sort of thing in a book. Personally I am completely disgusted with historical novelists who play fast and loose with the facts, unless that’s kind of the point. For example, many time travel stories have our heroes helping history along. Or the “it COULD have been like this” story such as Ken Follett’s excellent Eye of the Needle.

But that is not the sort of thing I’m talking about, and I’m no Ken Follett.

Another school of thought says to go ahead and make everything up: it’s FICTION, for heavens’ sake. If your characters and plot are compelling enough, your reader will go along for the ride, even down a street that could not possibly exist.

I wondered if I should completely make up a town. Then I could decide if a street ran east to west and where the mansion was. I had a couple of choices in this direction. There’s the “thinly disguised” option. I could take the name of a Revolutionary War general who didn’t have a town named after him. Or a Native American tribe. Or a European city. But it would “really” be Herkimer. Or Mohawk. Or Ilion. Only with the creek behaving as needed and the historic mansions where I wanted them.

The other way I thought of was to place a made-up town directly in between, say, Herkimer and Mohawk. Anyone familiar with the area would know there is no such place or even any room for one. It would be like another dimension. A wrinkle in space and time. Yes, one of those suspension of disbelief things.

Well, for heavens’ sake isn’t all fiction an exercise in the suspension of disbelief? Am I not making it all up anyways? I think I’m right back where I started.

What I did was I just started writing, figuring these decisions would work themselves out as I went. That has not happened yet and I feel increasingly unable to go on until I decide these things.

I think my best bet is to just decide. And I’m going to decide on the easiest course for me. I say the novel takes place in Herkimer, and I’m just going to move things around as I see fit. I’ll put a building here, a creek there, and my climactic scene… ah ha! You didn’t think I was actually going to give away a plot point, did you? This is not cheesy movie write-up with a spoiler alert! You’ll just have to read the book.

As soon as I finish writing it.