Category Archives: humor

Writing This Time

Well, I did write something today, but this isn’t it.

I started to write a post on the last cheesy movie I saw. When I was watching it, I had a lot to say, although most of it took the form of, “You’d better not hurt that turtle!” and “Helen! Get out of there!” The post should eventually find its way to this space (doesn’t that sound like it will get there with no help from me?). Today, though, it seemed to be taking off in all directions (how’s that for anthropomorphizing a piece of writing?).

Feeling the need to change gears, I turned a page of my notebook (actually turned back a page, just to give you an idea of how organized my notebook is) and wrote a half page or so on my novel. My novel, in case I haven’t mentioned, is not going very well. Far from going off in all directions, it seems to be sitting dead still. It’s like some misshapen blob; I huff and puff and push it, but it won’t start rolling. Sooner or later I will get it to the edge of a hill (or cliff) and will go head over tail, jouncing wildly. Doesn’t that sound like fun?

Like yesterday, I do not despair. For one thing, my sinus problems (I probably shouldn’t say it out loud or I will jinx myself) seem to be receding. I don’t say my head isn’t fuzzy, because it still is (or was that obvious?), but for the first time in days I can conceive the possibility of perhaps feeling a little bit better someday.

Woohoo!

I Do Not Despair

After writing yesterday’s post, I felt indefinably better and thought I would go write something else to see if it made me feel better yet. I thought I could report any results today, on Wrist to Forehead Sunday.

Some of you are probably saying, “We know: she didn’t write anything, and now she’s sitting there with her wrist on her forehead, typing with one hand to tell us about it.”

Well, the joke’s on you, because I am typing with two hands. Still, the writing something else did not go as well as hoped. My brain still felt fuzzy. I thought I could watch a cheesy movie and write about it in the TV Journal. This is a technique that has served me well in the past. Yesterday, not so much.

I would start to write stuff, then the damn movie would go into a long sequence with no dialogue. I can’t keep my eyes on the screen and write in a notebook. My handwriting is messy enough when I can look at it! As dialogue returned, I thought of a number of things I could write in the TV Journal, but my fuzzy brain betrayed me. I knitted instead.

Today, I thought instead of Wrist to Forehead Sunday, I would try for a pedestrian post, so went for a walk with Steven and Tabby. This seemed like a fruitful idea: the weather was drop dead gorgeous. There might be fall/Halloween decorations to observe. Other people might be out walking that I could interact with or at least describe.

Um, no. It was a very pleasant walk, but quite uneventful. I know, that doesn’t usually stop me. Come to think of it, it hasn’t stopped me today. Two paragraphs about the walk after four paragraphs about me trying to write. My word count is higher than yesterday! Woohoo!

Regarding future plans, I do not despair of writing a post about the cheesy movie I saw yesterday. And I’m going downstairs right now to watch another monster flick. And, who knows, as the week progresses, perhaps my head with unfuzz, and I will be back to having Mohawk Valley Adventures.

Stay tuned!

I Whine, Then I Write

A few days ago, when I was taking kind of a blogger’s sick day, I speculated that had I stayed home and napped, drunk tea and read all day rather than going to work, I would have felt better and been able to write a better post. Today I had the opportunity to test that theory.

If you’re guessing I discovered the answer was not so much, give yourself a pat on the back, if you are able to do so without dislocating your shoulder.

Yes, I am still ill. Tuesday will make a week, but I think I will make bold to call my primary care physician on Monday to book an appointment. In the meantime, I need a blog post for today. Naturally I did not go running. I did not even feel up to a slow, gentle stroll with my schnoodle, Tabby. As I made my way upstairs and waited for the computer to get to the right page, all I could think was, “I can’t write a post! What can I write a post about? All I can say in a post is that I feel sick and I can’t write a post!”

Boohoo for me. Sorry about that.

The fact is, now that I am typing and words are appearing on the screen before me, I feel somewhat better. Still headachey, still light-headed, but insensibly somewhat better. Could it be the magic of writing? Or has the caffeine from the tea I just drank kicked in?

No matter, I am over 200 words. I have long decreed that an acceptable length for a blog post. But this somewhat better feeling is so interesting, I may go downstairs and try to write something else.

I’ll report on it tomorrow, on Wrist to Forehead Sunday.

Mad Monster Karloff

I DVR’d Mad Monster Party? (1967) (yes, the question mark is part of the title) partly out of nostalgia, because I remember seeing parts of it on Saturday afternoon television as a child.

I’ve heard this sort of movie described as stop-motion animation, claymation and puppetoon (not sure of the spelling on the last one). In any case, it is pre-CGI, pre-PIXAR, pre-when-did-cartoons-get-so-cool?

The movie is produced by Arthur Rankin and Jules Bass (one of them is a junior; all I wrote in the TV Journal was “Ooh, Rankin/Bass!”), the folks behind many beloved Christmas specials (most of which I now own on DVD) (I probably did not have to tell you that). The animation looks quaint. That kind of animation always kind of bothered me as a kid, because of the jerky movements. Still, it has its charm.

Now it makes me think of playing with stuffed toys or dolls. You know how when you wanted TB Teddy Bear to walk across the room, you didn’t move his legs in steps, you kind of bounced him in little jumps, sometimes wiggling his body back and forth to indicate speed. And of course he could never really do stuff with his hands; you had to do whatever for him. Oh, don’t sit there pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about!

Even as a kid, I realized that one accepts the limitations of the medium when one is absorbed in the characters and plot. Um, that is not exactly how I put it at the time.

In common with today’s animated features, Monster Party has celebrity voices. The characters are made to look like them too, so that’s kind of cool. I especially liked Phyllis Diller as The Creature’s Mate. I loved her song, “You’re Different,” sung to her monstrous spouse. I do like to see happily married couple.

The main attraction is Boris Karloff as Baron von Frankenstein, head of all the monsters. I will never get over my delight in hearing that mellifluous, soothing voice from an actor best known for “Friends! Good!”

The Baron has invited all the monsters Evil Island for the unveiling of his greatest invention and the naming of his successor. All the monsters, that is, except It, who is apparently too monstrous even for monsters. The only non-monster invited is the Baron’s hapless, human nephew, the son of his favorite sister. The sister was apparently an awesome witch until she fell in love with a human and crossed over.

I think it’s cool when writers come up with new back stories for classic characters. I don’t think Mary Shelley ever talked about Dr. Frankenstein’s family. I must re-read that book sometime (it might be good for a blog post).

I think Mad Monster Party? is a fun movie. It’s good as monster movie nostalgia, ’60s animation nostalgia, and a vehicle for Boris Karloff’s voice. I also liked the sly nod to Billy Wilder, but I won’t say more about that, because I did not include a spoiler alert.

An Attempt at a Pedestrian Post

Determined not to spend another post kvetching about my symptoms (well, not the WHOLE post), I came home and took Tabby for a walk. I thought I could check out the state of Halloween decorations in the neighborhood and make a full report.

For one thing, it was (and still is as I type this) a beautiful day. Warm, sunny, blue skies. This is why people love September! As I drove home from work, I saw at least three people out walking their dogs. It was obviously the day for it.

Unfortunately, I wanted nothing more than to lie down, stare at the ceiling and let the room spin (this is the kvetching part which I really cannot restrain myself from including). Over the counter remedies were not the miracle I was hoping for. I spent a good part of the day telling myself that Not As Crappy was at least an improvement. Still, dogs like to take walks, and I thought some gentle exercise in the fresh air and sunshine might help.

I got out the door as soon after coming home as possible, in case I came up with a clever and irrefutable reason not to go. I changed from my steel-toed work shoes into running shoes and grabbed a poop bag. I put on my prescription sunglasses and did not even bother carrying my clear ones. It was that sunny. Oh, and I found my crazy old lady hat. The wide brim was most welcome.

Tabby was so excited, she almost couldn’t be still while I put the leash on her. I hoped she didn’t think we were walking down to meet Steven. Once we started walking, she seemed more interested in sniffing every pole, tree and random patch of grass than in checking out the cars that went by (she doesn’t know from cars; she thinks Steven is in all of them). I let Tabby sniff almost as much as she wanted to. For one thing, that gave me a chance to stand still.

Down Bellinger Street and Church Street towards the Historic Four Corners. That comprised three blocks, by which time I realized that, standing while Tabby sniffed notwithstanding, I was not up to a long walk. I pulled her towards German Street, so we could just go around two blocks. She did not want to do that. When Tabby does not want to go, she stands perfectly still and looks at you. Then she pulls you in the direction she wants to go.

For a minute I let her pull me. Then I looked all the way down Main Street and thought that I just couldn’t do it. I turned us back toward German. She baulked. Finally I compromised by crossing the street. This she seemed most anxious to do, not even wanting to wait for passing traffic (we did, however). Then she still wanted to go south. I won the argument, and soon Tabby was walking along perfectly nicely as if this was the way she had wanted to go all along.

Well, will you look at this. I’m over 500 words and I have not even mentioned the Herkimer scenery. Unfortunately, there were very few Halloween decorations to be seen. No matter. It’s supposed to be even better weather this weekend and SURELY my sinus problems will have resolved themselves by then.

Guess What Day It Is!

The problem with being ill is that all you can do is be ill. Thank heaven for Wuss Out Wednesday.

I daresay I might have been able to write a few paragraphs if I had stayed home from work. I could have spent the day alternately napping, drinking hot tea and reading. If I got ambitious I could have multi-tasked by reading and drinking tea at the same time. But I went to work. I need the money; this is a hobby, not a paying gig.

I guess yesterday I covered the balloon head and why doesn’t it show. Can’t think of anything new to say about my symptoms. However, after reading my true crime book on a break, I thought of something that gave me a chuckle.

I have reached the dramatic courtroom scenes, and I thought, what if a lawyer said something, and the other lawyer jumped up and yelled, “I object!” And the first lawyer said, “I’m just saying.”

Well, I thought it was funny. I went and told a co-worker and she laughed at it (or at me for thinking it was funny, I suppose). Perhaps not as good as having a camel walk around saying, “Hey, Mike! Guess what day it is!” However, one must make do.

Steven purchased some over the counter drugs for me, so perhaps tomorrow I can write a better post. As always, I hope you’ll stay tuned.

I Was Going to Blame the Book

I was moderately pleased with my blog post yesterday, especially since it was not a Monday Middle-aged Musing. I had high hopes of writing something not contemptible today.

To help matters along, I left the book I’ve been reading in my bag. It is a true crime book, and I’m really having a hard time putting it down. I thought it would help if I refrained from picking it up. Oh, I know, leaving it home would have been even more helpful. I’m only human, after all.

I wrote a couple of paragraphs on my novel before work started. I spent the first couple of hours at work thinking about what I would write. My brain hummed along. This was going to work out fine.

Several of you are probably rolling your eyes (you know who you are, don’t deny it), saying, “And then when she got to break she couldn’t write anything. We’ve HEARD this before!”

Well, I didn’t exactly write nothing, but I could not be pleased with my lead. I decided to just write whatever I could and try to cobble it together later. One contemptible sentence. One not so bad (these are my impressions at the time; I haven’t gone back to check on their veracity). The thought occurred to me, “Wow, writing sure is different from reading.” Then, “Well, duh.” The post certainly was not working out well. I wrote a little more on my novel.

I really wanted to get back to that true crime book.

I went back to work determined to think some more about what to write. Really, this is the method I have been using since I got this job and usually it works out very well. Think while working, write on break.

And then I started to feel ill. Steven has had a frightful cold this week. He went to work Monday feeling just awful. Well, I can’t say he never gave me anything (actually, when spoken it’s “never gave me nuthin'”).

There was nothing I could do but suffer. The only thing that made my day the least bit bearable was reading that damn book on breaks. Otherwise, I would have put my head down, fallen asleep, and embarrassed myself either by snoring or falling to the dirty floor.

As the afternoon wore on, I couldn’t understand how I could possibly look normal, feeling the way I felt. Why wasn’t my head eight times normal size and shaped like a balloon? Why wasn’t my face at least red and throbbing in front of where my sinuses were? I comforted myself with the thought that maybe it was not a cold after all. Maybe it was allergies. Isn’t there frost in the forecast? Relief could be a mere day away.

And that is the, as it turns out, extremely long story about Why I Didn’t Write a Blog Post Today. Hmm… perhaps not as contemptible as I had feared.

Don’t Swallow Your Oxygen Gum

In my ongoing quest to find cheesy movies to write about, I watch some pretty bad ones. I try to make it all the way through them, just on principle. However, I think it is OK to write about a movie I didn’t watch all the way through, as long as I make a full disclosure.

Full Disclosure: I did not watch all of Battle in Outer Space (sorry, didn’t write down the year) (I’m not even sure I wrote down the right title; I can’t find it in any of Steven’s movie books). I don’t think I even watched enough to warrant a spoiler alert.

Steven and I tried to watch the movie twice. The second time, we weren’t even sure we had tried it before. The title didn’t sound familiar (I think I have established that it is not very memorable). On consulting the TV Journal before writing this, I learned that it was two weeks between attempted viewings.

Once it started I said, “Oh, yes, we started to watch this. Remember, the credits are in Japanese.”

Steven asked, “Is this the one where the guy goes up in the air?”

The scene Steven referred to is pretty much all I remember from the movie, and it goes way beyond “Waaait a minute” and into “Huh?” or even more vulgar expressions. A group of men (no women in this movie, another thing to dislike about it) are walking through a space ship, in outer space. Suddenly one of them starts to float up to the ceiling. One of his colleagues pulls him back down.

“I forgot there’s no gravity here,” Floating Guy explains. And they continue to walk down the corridor. On the ground! As if there’s plenty of gravity!

Excuse me, what? Just by knowing there’s no gravity they can act as if there’s gravity? It’s never explained. Not even some bad science crap like, “Push the button on your belt to create your personal gravity field.” I suppose some people would have found that harder to swallow than force of mind overcoming all, but I like an explanation, however spurious.

For example, I don’t know if anybody remembers a cartoon from (I think) the 1960s (I saw it in the ’60s) called Marine Boy. Marine Boy could function perfectly well in the water because he had — I kid you not — Oxygen Gum. I was about three years old (don’t sit there doing the math and shake your finger at me like I’m pretending to be younger than what I am) (I’m 49). I took things at face value. The only thing I found odd about Oxygen Gum was that Marine Boy put it in his mouth, gave one chew and was done. I did not have gum very often, but I knew you were supposed to keep chewing it.

I did not spend much of my young life pondering the inconsistency. I suppose it wasn’t too many years later that I began to understand the limitations of animation.

I don’t intend to spend too much of my middle age wondering what the makers of Battle in Outer Space were thinking with that gravity thing. The movie was dull, and there were not enough scientific howlers to distract me from that.

Perhaps I could find some re-runs of Marine Boy on the Cartoon Network.

I Rummage in Middleville

My original plan for Saturday had been to get some work done around the house and just not worry about doing anything blogworthy. Then I saw that a rummage sale was going on at the Methodist Church in Middleville, NY. I’ve been to that rummage sale before. I love rummage sales.

Of course, after the flooded basement incident, I had vowed to purchase no more junk and get rid of most of the junk I still have. I don’t suppose anybody thought I was really going to stick with that. It might have been nice to fool them and do it, but so far, not so good. So I went to the rummage sale.

If nothing else, I like the drive out to Middleville. It is out Route 28, a road I don’t drive very often. A country road with lots of scenery. I like better for Steven to drive so I can spend more time looking at the scenery, but one can’t have everything. Steven had to work.

I found the church with no problem this time. Last time I had to ask directions at a convenience store. It’s not that it’s the least bit difficult a place to find, but I’m talented at getting lost. Before I went in, I saw a man walking a beagle and asked if I could pet it. He said sure, so I got to pet a nice dog, one of my favorite things to do.

It was the last day of the sale, but lots of stuff remained. I looked over the books but found nothing to tempt me. Likewise the clothes. I studiously walked by a stack of videos. Last year I brought a bunch of videos home from that sale, and we have yet to watch any of them.

Then on another table, I saw a stack of gardening books. Some were more interesting than others, but I couldn’t quite make up my mind. Then I thought, last day of the sale, really I’m doing them a favor by taking away the whole stack. So I did.

I also saw a pretty oil painting of a winter scene. We love art. I got it for Steven. A lady working the sale suggested I put my choices at the cash table while I finished my browsing. I also found a small zipper bag (useful in any number of situations) and a metal bell in the shape of a pumpkin. Can’t have too many Halloween decorations.

I got all that stuff for $2. What a bargain! I hope I haven’t added too much to the junk problem in my house. Perhaps I can work on the Get Rid of Stuff subsequently. I could even write a blog post about it.

Nothing Wrong with That

I realize I cannot go on running merely one day per week. However, that was hardly a reason NOT to run today. So I did. First I did some running around which I hoped would prove blog-worthy. That’s still marinading in my brain. I want to have some Saturday Running Commentary today.

So it was later than usual when I started out my run, a little after ten. It was warmer than it has been, but I hoped not too warm for me. At least I wouldn’t need a headband to cover my years, and my hands would not get stiff. I got my gear on and took off.

Down German Street I went, in the direction of the hills by Valley Health or up to HCCC but on the wrong side of the street. I did not feel up to hills. When I got to Caroline Street, I stopped to pet a lady’s dog. I interrupted her cellular conversation to ask permission, which she granted. Then I heard her say into the phone, “Yes, I’m outside. A lady running by just stopped to pet Emma.” I ran on.

It quickly became clear that I was going to find the shade more comfortable than the sun. I thought of myself as a shade-seeking rather than a heat-seeking missile, but way I run really has nothing to do with the way most missiles move.

I thought of running by the high school, but saw two vehicles pull in then noticed two people walking on the grounds. They may have been picking up trash, but I could not see very well. I continued on the sidewalks, picking the side of the street with more shade.

Going down one street, I saw two ladies talking in a driveway on the other side of the street with a little white dog not on a leash. I thought about calling out and asking if I could pet the dog if I crossed the street. Then I thought one of the ladies looked familiar. Then I recognized the dog as my friend Nicky. I crossed the street and went right up to him. He sat nicely and waited for me, much the same way Pudge the pug does, only Pudge is more wiggly when I finally get to him.

“Hi, Nicky, good boy!” I said, also, greeting his person.

“You’re out later than you usually are,” she said.

“I know, I wasn’t going to run till tomorrow, then I said, ‘Ah, I gotta do it!'”

“It’s a beautiful day for it.”

It really was. I enjoyed the shade, but it was not sweltering in the sun and it was not really humid. I confess my body did not feel as happy about running as it has at other times. However, when I finished the run (equaling last week’s time, by the way) and was walking my cool-down with Tabby, I found myself thinking, “Ah, I love running.” Then I kind of laughed at myself. What I guess I meant was I love to have run. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.