Category Archives: humor

Back in the Game?

Tuesday morning Steven had to work early, so we got up at the rather uncomfortable hour of 3:30. I thought this would be a good opportunity to run before work as well as before I had a chance to talk myself out of it. Accordingly, I laid out my running clothes Monday night. I was set.

One of my sisters gave me a reflective vest and an LED safety light for my last birthday. I wore the vest once when I felt my outfit was too form-fitting to be sightly. Now I had a chance to wear it for the reason it was intended. I put a tissue in the handy zipper pouch, attached the safety light, and I was off.

Right away I felt I was running faster than I had been. I did not feel gazelle-like or even vaguely graceful, but at least I did not feel that I was plodding along. I turned the light off after a block or so. There were plenty of streetlights for one thing. For another, I was running on the sidewalk. I did not want to confuse the cars.

There was not much traffic in any case. After I turned off German Street it seemed there was none at all. I felt a little uneasy running in practically the middle of the night. Then I started to flash back to Army Basic Training. I joined in March. We always did PT (Physical Training) in the dark. It’s funny how sometimes when I remember Basic Training I remember the camaraderie and feeling of accomplishment. And sometimes I just remember how much it sucked.

I switched channels in my brain by looking for houses with lights on. There were not many. I amused myself by trying to guess what the lights I saw were for. I think most were bathroom lights, left on all night to discourage burglars or help aim.

It was not long before I realized I was doing very well. My legs were pumping along with nary a complaint. My breathing was just fine. Could I be back in the game? A part of me tried to exult, “This is AWESOME!” However, most of me was still feeling ill-used at being out of bed so early.

I had not made a decision about how long to run when I set out. 24 minutes was how long I had gone on Sunday, so certainly no more than that. Maybe not as much. I still had a day of work to get through. 20 would be acceptable, I thought. After all, runs during the week are just to keep my feet in (get it? Like keeping one’s hand in, only you run on your feet? Oh, never mind). Also to burn a few calories. As usual, I have been overindulging in the food department.

I ended up doing 22 minutes. Compromise is a good thing. Tabby was happy to walk my cool-down with me. After stretching, shower and coffee, I consumed a protein-filled breakfast: scrambled eggs with feta cheese and a glass of one percent milk. Very satisfying. It was also very satisfying to be able to think to myself all day, “I ALREADY ran!”

Middle-aged Me

I can’t help how many foolish posts I have in a row. Some Mondays I can only manage a Middle-aged Musing Monday.

You know, I go around calling myself middle-aged or an old lady, but I don’t think I have really internalized what that means. For example, yesterday I went running, walked my dog, mowed the lawn with a non-power mower, did some work around the house, ran around to four different stores and did a few other less overtly physical chores. Then I got up at 3:30 this morning. And I’m surprised that I’m tired.

Other people seem to have plenty of energy to do everything they want to do. Or do they? Perhaps they just spend less time complaining about how tired they are. Perhaps they are too tired to complain and I misinterpret their silence. How much energy does complaining take anyways? I’m thinking not much, because I can almost always manage a great deal.

In order to stop complaining, I will muse about something positive. I absolutely LOVE tea. I am sipping a cup of hot oolong now and it is improving my quality of life by leaps and bounds. It is not giving me enough energy to, for example, finish my container garden or even finish the blog post I started to write about it. For heavens’ sake, it’s a cup of tea, not a miracle.

I end this post with a question, perhaps of the half-baked philosophical type: is “by leaps and bounds” a cliche or an idiomatic expression?

I Must, I Positively Must Write My Blog Post

It’s another Wrist to Forehead Sunday. Actually the only reason my wrist is on my forehead is that I have not made my blog post yet. I must, I positively must make my blog post.

Unfortunately, I have a dreadful case of Writer’s Blank. I know I have done things I could write a blog post about. I’ve had a rather busy weekend so far. It’s not over yet, because I have Monday off, making a Preview of Coming Attractions perfectly eligible. But when I think I’ve done this, I’ve gone here, I’ve cooked that, I might do the other… I just can’t think of a thing to say about them.

This is not really a post about Why I Can’t Write a Post, because I DON’T KNOW why I can’t seem to write a post. And it’s all very well to say to myself, “Oh, just try.” THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING, DAMMIT! Pardon my French.

I’ve said it before and I will no doubt say it again: writing about not writing is still writing. The funny thing is, as soon as I say it, I stop writing. Do you suppose if I hadn’t started writing about not writing that I could have in fact kept writing?

Well, duh.

I’ll see what I can write about on Monday.

Never Give Up, Never Surrender!

I confess to some affection for a silly movie called Galaxy Quest. I won’t write about it today, but I flashed on it during this morning’s run, and I thought this line from it would be a good title for Saturday Running Commentary.

Full disclosure: I ran some hours ago. Usually I like to write my commentary soon after the run and shower (in case any of you thought I was being gross). Today not so much, but I’ll try to remember the highlights.

I was determined to run, since I ate chicken wings at Happy Hour last night and woke up quite fat. I don’t imagine the chicken wings alone are to blame, but they’ll be the handy scapegoat (ooh, I could have called this post, “Good-bye, Chicken Wings”). I first walked Tabby to the post office and went to the grocery store (I bought things to enhance the tossed salad I shall virtuously eat later). Yes, I had plenty of time to talk myself out of it, but I did not.

Sorry to be too personal, but one problem I’ve been having with my running these days is I need to purchase new sports bras. I had a boo-boo due to some chafing. I tried to cover it with a pad, which really needed some adhesive tape, although I figured the pressure of the sports bras (I wear two) would hold it OK. At least it is finally at the temperature where I don’t have to ponder short or long sleeves.

Off I went. And it didn’t feel too good. Once again, I felt that I was running slowly. No gazelle in my head today. That is where “Never give up, never surrender” came in. I didn’t give up.

I pondered Memorial Day. I was wearing my ARMY t-shirt in honor of the weekend. Of course people are all over Facebook telling us how to celebrate: it’s not barbecue day, thank a veteran, don’t thank a living veteran, remember a dead one. Oh, I don’t mean to get controversial and sorry if I offended anyone. But I thought in my head I might be honoring veterans who gave all by maintaining the fitness I learned in the army. I can’t say I learned to persevere in the army, because I knew that going in. But I honed my ability to persevere.

I ran in a different direction from the way I ran on Wednesday. I noticed a porch on a house that wasn’t there before (the porch, not the house), and the absence of a hole that had been in front of another house. These innovations may have been there for weeks, but I just now noticed them. I continue to hone my skills at observation.

I saw some dark purple tulips that I quite envied. We were up to three tulips this year. When we moved in, one yellow tulip bloomed. I keep forgetting to get more bulbs to put down, but I guess this one multiplied on its own. Must work on the yard soon.

When I walked Tabby earlier, I had an eye out for cans and bottles, but didn’t find any. Then I saw a guy carrying an almost full bag of them and guessed he had beaten me to it. He didn’t look very well off, so I guess I’m glad he got the nickels. I did find one can. As I ran, I saw a plastic bottle and briefly considered picking it up. Some people run with a water bottle in hand, so I wouldn’t look too foolish. But I decided against it. I’m carrying too much excess weight as it is.

The run lasted one minute longer than Wednesday’s. To increase my time by the recommended weekly 10 percent would be two minutes. Sunday is my usual increase day, so I think I’m doing OK. I’m glad I ran, although I’m wondering if the post about it is any great shakes. Oh well, with blogging as with running, I will not give up, I will not surrender!

The Dog Ate my Blog Post

Subtitle: Lame Excuses (which I may have used as a title previously) (too lazy to check, sorry). Did anybody seriously think I was going to forgo Lame Post Friday? Say it ain’t so!

My question of half-baked philosophy for today is: why do I get more Likes on these ridiculous posts than I do on my so-called (by me) real posts? Oh dear, have I just asked for nobody to Like this post? Oh well, I guess people will Like or not what they please. I have no control over other people.

So much for half-baked philosophy. What about random observations (on the off chance that there are readers just tuning in: Lame Post Friday is the day for random observations and half-baked philosophy). Steven and I both observed an adorably happy retriever-looking dog sticking his or her head out of a car. Steven at first was not sure if it was a dog, since it pulled its head back in for a moment (he was driving so was not observing as attentively as was I). Then he or she stuck his or her head back out again. Very cute.

Should I mention we were on our way to Happy Hour at the Belly Up Pub at the time? Or will people think I am a lush? Or judge me for drinking and typing? Well, I didn’t have that much to drink. We were only there an hour. We ate some munchies and enjoyed the mellow sounds of Phillip Arcuri. I intend to write a blog post about it.

For now, well, I’m afraid that’s it. I’m going to enjoy the rest of my Friday night. I hope you will do the same.

A Pain in the Blog

Oh dear. I am having a dreadful case of What Haven’t I Written About? If I was in front of my computer (um, clearly I am NOW, but when I wrote this, I was sitting at a desk scribbling in a spiral notebook), I could easily go back and check. Wait and do it later? But we have plans for the evening. I want to type in a short, previously written essay and hit “Publish.” Is that too much to ask of my brain? Apparently it is.

In my defense, I have a dreadfully upset stomach. You know all body part are connected. Again I say, oh dear. I just flashed on this scene from a TV show I saw back in the 70s or 80s. It may have been Trapper John, MD. They were running the Boston Marathon. This short oriental guy (I think he used to play Arnold on Happy Days) fell and hurt his leg. A doctor who was also running the marathon (he was the series regular) (no, I don’t remember his name; I’m not even sure of the series, it was just a flash, after all) expected the guy to stop running, which he did not.

“The pain in my leg, not my head,” he said, jogging happily away.

So there’s my inner critic, sniping, “The pain is in your stomach, not your head.” Oh, shut up.

I suppose most pain and nausea pass eventually (“But stupid is forever,” mocks the inner critic, who does not shut up just because I tell him to). In the meantime, I see now that I am partway though Yet Another Post About Why I Can’t Write a Post. But can I think of anything new to say about that?

Well, I could not at the time. The above is all I wrote this morning. When I logged onto WordPress to type it in and attempt to finish it, I was greeted with Congratulations from WordPress, it is my anniversary as a blogger. Three years I have been at this. I forgot that date was approaching. I think it is pretty darn hilarious that as I mark three years, all I can come up with is a silly post like this. Then again, it is Non-Sequitur Thursday. Thank you for participating.

I Didn’t Rock This

I am becoming quite fond of Wuss-out Wednesday. Of course, it will never replace Lame Post Friday in my affections, but I read somewhere that love keeps on stretching. I suppose I could segue from there into a contemplation of Love. Then this would become a Maudlin Mid-Week Middle-aged Musing. Love the alliteration, but I am not up for that sort of a post.

That is as much as I wrote at work. Then I guess you could say I wussed out. In my defense, it hurt to write (never mind about that; long story, not very interesting). Then I came home and did NOT wuss out. I went running. That’s right! I’m going to attempt a Running Commentary.

I had thought it would be raining by this afternoon. Instead, I walked out of my place of employment to a breezy, pleasant day. I could rock this! My co-worker pointed out that it was feeling a little muggy, but I didn’t worry. I got home and changed into running clothes.

And proceeded to run very, very slowly. And painfully. What was wrong with my legs? I last ran on Monday, a mere two days ago. Oh dear. Earlier today I saw an older man running along at a pace that looked barely more than a walk. I imagine that is pretty much what I looked like. Persevere, I told myself. Persevere.

The mugginess my co-worker had noticed increased as I ran. Get used to it, I told myself. It will only get worse as the season progresses. It really was not too bad, since the temperature was moderate. My only worry was that it would rain, which it certainly felt as if it might. I decided to run close to home, in case of a deluge. I would persevere through a little rain. Any thunder and lightning and I was out of there.

It soon became clear that I was not going to reach the “I can rock this” stage. But it was not a bad run for all that. I sniffed some lilacs I had run by on Monday. Monday two people were in that yard, so I felt self-conscious. They weren’t there today. Further on I saw some white tulips. Beautiful.

I was glad that I ran, although I felt so dreadfully tired I was certain I could never manage a blog post. Oh, look, I just wrote a blog post. Fooled myself.

A Happy Hour Indeed

Last Friday I asked Steven to take me to Happy Hour at the Belly Up Pub.

“I want to sit at the bar and pretend we’re in our 20s and 30s,” I said. When were first started dating, I was in my 20s and Steven was in his 30s. That was a while ago.

We were happy to find seats at the end of the bar, my favorite spot. We had to wait a few minutes for the Bonus Happy Hour to start at five. Happy Hour at the Belly Up Pub usually runs from 6 till 8, but for May they had a bonus hour from 5 to 6. I felt like a cheapskate waiting for a half price drink, but sometimes you just have to save a buck (don’t worry; we tipped the bartender on the full amount).

Live music was provided by Louis Baldanza, who plays a pretty mean guitar. He sang some bad ass songs from the 70s. I felt a little bad, because he kept asking for requests and I couldn’t think of a thing. We enjoyed his sound and made sure we put something in his Tip Jar.

Everything was half price, so we ordered a couple of hot dogs and some french fries. They offer a selection of appetizers: chicken wings, jalapeno poppers, eggplant fries, to name a few. This was our first time getting hot dogs, and they were quite good.

Drawings for giveaways are held every 15 minutes. I won a Belly Up coozy and a coin for a half price drink.

“So if we come early next time, we won’t have to wait,” I said.

Steven noticed that shot glasses were also half price. He collects shot glasses, although neither of us do shots, so he asked to see one. Before he could ask the price, the bartender did another drawing.

“We usually give away a shot glass at six,” she told us. “You won.” How awesome was that!

We had a really nice time, although I did not actually pretend I was in my 20s. Who wants to go back in time anyways? Life is good right now.

The Belly Up Pub is located at 122 West Albany St., Herkimer, NY. For more information, visit their website at www.bellyuppub.com. You can also Like them on Facebook.

Cheesy TV

Here is a new feature I recently came up with: Cheesy TV. Regular readers know how I love to write about cheesy movies. Well, they are not always easy to come by. However, I am discovering a whole world of cheese on cable television.

I have a long-standing addiction to true crime shows. I prefer a real documentary where they cover the facts of the case. I despise re-enactments. I find they are always cheesy and usually unnecessary. However, as re-enactment fests take over my true crime channels, I occasionally tune in to one. And I find they sometimes have a charm all their own. The dialogue in the re-enactments, which is often supposed to play like they’re being overheard, is laughable. The acting is of the scenery chewing variety. And when they show a photo of the actual people, you see the casting director had a very flattering idea of their attractiveness.

I almost feel I should include a spoiler alert, because this episode did not turn out as I expected. However, I also feel I can treat a true crime show, however cheesy, differently from now I treat a cheesy movie. I will also point out that I was paying my usual desultory attention to this one. They may actually have said who was going to end up dead and I missed it.

I will preface this essay by saying: Nobody deserves to be murdered. I suppose there are those who will dispute that statement, but I am not going there today. I would like to talk about a murder victim who, I feel, could have avoided the situation in which the murder took place. I intend to comment on this, and on the cheesy nature of the program which presented the case. I fear sounding insensitive, since an actual person did, in fact, die. Sorry about that.

OK, on with the write-up. Steven and I watched one of the cheesier crime shows on Investigation Discovery: Deadly Affairs. This one is narrated by the divine Susan Lucci, which I feel make it a cut above the rest.

Lucci presents to us a guy who has a girlfriend who is really a guy. They are off again/on again, because the guy is a serial cheater. Then they go on again and move to this cowboy town where the guy insists his lover live as a man and they keep their love affair a secret.

Soon the Guy is having an affair with a hot single mother. At first she doesn’t mind that he has a boyfriend, then she does, so he sends the boyfriend packing.

As soon as the Girl moves in, she discovers the Guy is a control freak. After many public screaming matches (all we see is a fairly hilarious fight about him telling her what order to hang her clothes in), they break up. The Guy can’t stand being alone, so he gets the Boyfriend back by telling him he can live as a woman and they can get married.

However, the Girl did not think they were permanently broken up, and she is not happy with this development. She follows them around, announcing in a loud voice that the fiance is really a man. She even has the nerve to crash their wedding. Naturally the Guy starts having sex with her again. Any slimy hound dog serial cheater would. But he makes no move to get rid of his new wife. Tensions escalate.

Of course I’ve been thinking all this time that Boyfriend/Wife is going to get it, probably from the Girl, because the narration keeps talking about jealousy. Imagine my surprise.

The Girl is out drinking one night and gets all maudlin talking about how she wants to “make amends.” Those are the exact words, used several times. If only she can see the Guy without his Boyfriend/Wife, she can “make amends.” So she goes over to their house at two in the morning.

Hello! Who goes over to somebody’s house at two in the morning and expects the wife NOT to be there? And if you really want to “make amends,” it is a better plan to wait till a decent hour of broad daylight and, for example, SEND FLOWERS! Maybe write a nice note. A conciliatory phone call.

The story is that the Boyfriend/Wife beats the poor Girl to death while the husband is sound asleep upstairs. Did you buy that? I didn’t. I don’t know what went down, and I don’t think the producers of this show did, either. I think they picked the version they liked best, and I’m kind of glad they did, because it certainly gave me something to write about.

I can believe the Girl SAID she wanted to make amends, but I don’t believe that is really what she had in mind. And I sure as hell don’t believe that the horn dog that started it all slept through a beat-down of that magnitude.

Really, when I think about it, it is a very sad story. That Girl did not deserve to be murdered and buried in the desert (oh yeah, I left that part out) (the post is getting a little long). I think what she needed to do to begin with was to find a classier guy to set her sights on. Same goes for the Boyfriend/Wife, although I lost a whole lot of sympathy for him when I found out he was a murderer.

But it is a fun show to watch. Susan Lucci pops up a couple of times looking delicious in an evening gown, about to go out on the town with a hottie who, presumably, does not plan to murder her. Lacking cheesy movies and sometimes time to watch a whole movie, I will continue to embrace cheesy television.

Working Hard in the Yard and Garden

How about a gardening post in lieu of my usual Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I was about to put a question mark, but since I intend to write it before receiving any possible replies, I decided against it.

Perhaps yard work is a better term than gardening. The reader may judge. Steven went to work at nine as usual. I went to the store and picked up a few items (not blogworthy, except for the nice conversation I had with a lady in the yarn aisle), then returned home determined to do something useful before Steven’s return.

I had my prescription sunglasses on, because it was quite a bright day (cue unkind remarks about how I’m not). I thought, why not add my crazy old lady hat to the ensemble (pronounced “ahn-sahm,” as the French do) and mow the lawn?

The lawn had been mowed nicely last Saturday by two neighborhood boys. It could go a few more days before it really needed it, but I find if I’m going to use the non-power mower, sooner is better. I have to use the non-power mower because I am quite incapable of getting the power mower started. I like it because it is quieter, and I get that little frisson of virtue because I am being “green.” Also it is good exercise, which I sorely need.

So there I was, pushing and pushing. The lawn didn’t look too bad. Maybe I would write a blog post about it (and I am!). I still need to do something about the edges of the lawn, but I had another notion for the rest of my outdoor activities for the day.

When we moved into our house, the front yard contained a whole lot of orange day lilies. Not the short, nice ones with spiky leaves on the stems that I see in other people’s yards. They were tall and, quite frankly, a little blowsy. Steven mowed them down, except for a big patch at the side of our porch. There they still grow, along with some ferns of jungle proportions. Not that I’ve ever been to the jungle, but with a plastic gorilla and a Barbie doll, I bet we could film a cool version of King Kong.

Last year I went and cut down all that I could. It was late in the season, so that was all I did. This time I had another idea. First I went and pulled up or cut down everything I could. Then I found an old shower curtain we had in the garage and put that down. That would keep any of that crap from growing back. I had to cut the shower curtain and arrange it. This was going to work.

Next I pulled out a bag of mulch we hadn’t used last year (or maybe even the year before. Oh dear). Three cubic feet, could I drag it out front without hurting my back. Yes I could! I am da woman! I spread it around as best I could. Then realized I should have smoothed out the shower curtain a little better. No matter. I pulled the ends and did the best I could.

The edges of the shower curtain still showed. I had put rocks down on the corners. Could I find some more rocks and cover the edges? That would look nice.

Something else I did when we first started working in the yard was collect rocks. When I would be digging up areas to plant stuff, if I dug up rocks I would save them for future use. There are some in a ring around our rhododendron now. Others reside in a heap under the deck awaiting my need.

Walking back and forth from the deck to the porch probably constituted good exercise, especially carrying rocks of varying sizes. I was careful every time I straightened up not to hit my stupid head (which I am unfortunately prone to do).

Oh dear, I think this made a better story in my head while I was doing it than it does now while I’m writing it. Never mind, I’m almost done. I still need a few more rocks (cue jokes about how I DON’T need more rocks in my head), and then I need to put something on the mulch to be decorative. Some potted flowers or perhaps a stone garden statue.

It’s too bad I don’t have the proper camera and know how to post a picture. Then again, maybe your mental picture looks better than what I actually did and would only disappoint you. At any rate, this is the longest Sunday post I have done in a long time. If you’re still with me, enjoy the rest of your weekend. If you stopped reading two or three paragraphs ago, I still wish you well.