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A Few Lame Thoughts

Ah, Lame Post Friday. My day of random observations and half-baked philosophy. My day when I’m too happy that it’s Friday to write a so-called real blog post. That is today.

I randomly observed snow falling at least three times this afternoon. This leads me to some half-baked philosophy about the change of seasons. Spring to summer to fall to winter to spring, etc. Is the lesson here that a different season will follow or that eventually spring will come again? Ooh, this is a philosophical question. Does life truly change or is it an endless cycle in which certain things happen over and over? Birth, life, death…

I can’t really expound upon these questions with any real erudition, because, I admit it, I’m not really all that smart. At least, I believe I do have some semblance of intelligence, but I don’t have any real, true, insightful answers to life’s deep questions. Does anybody? That was another philosophical question, put your hands down (you know who you are).

I don’t know if anybody has guessed from the above paragraphs, but I’m tired. It seems I am always tired after work these days. Not enough exercise? Too much fattening food? Middle-age doing its dirty work? These are not philosophical questions, but nobody need feel obligated to answer.

I have conflicting plans for Mohawk Valley adventures this weekend, but I hope to have some good things to write about. If not, you know me, I’ll always think of something. Happy Friday, everyone.


Beyond Lame

It is a rare day when I can’t even seem to write a post about Why I Can’t Write a Post Today. Then again, it is Lame Post Friday. How lame is it to not even be able to write a lame post?

In my defense… oh, never mind my defense. It’s just more kvetching about my ill health. What in the world is the matter with me anyways? All I do is complain. Then again, the more you complain, the longer God lets you live, according to an older sister of mine.

That is pretty much what I wrote at work. Then I worked on my novel, so at to ease my guilt, and wrote a letter, because I like to write a letter. My usual method while at work is to think about my blog post while working then write it on a break. I had other things to think about today. I’m going wine tasting with the girls tomorrow. That is, the girls in my family. I could go into some half-baked philosophy about how hanging out with your family is both more and less pressure than hanging out with friends, but quite frankly, I’m afraid some of my family might read this. Probably they won’t, but you never know.

In the meantime, my headache is back, so to avoid more tiresome kvetching, I will end this post. Just barely over 200 words. I say it’ll do.

It’s a Non-Sequitur, It’s a Memory, NO, It’s Lame Post Friday!

Full Disclosure: I’m writing blog posts ahead this week. We’re going away for the weekend, and I don’t want to worry about getting up extra early on Friday or finding a computer on Saturday (the only full day we’ll be gone) (oh dear, I hope nobody made a note of that and intends to rob my house) (well, if you do, please clean the bathroom while you’re there, it’s disgusting) (and anybody that just said “TMI” to that last bit, Shut up! You know I hate that expression!).

Where was I? Ah, yes, this will be either Non-Sequitur Thursday or Lame Post Friday. I’ll decide when I type it into the computer. As you may have guessed, this post is a silly one.

When I registered at the Superhero Sprint on Saturday, they gave me an itty bitty box of candy, maybe an inch long, half-inch wide, quarter-inch deep. It had the Incredible Hulk on the outside and said it contained Candy Sticks.

I put the box in my purse and did not think about it again till the other day at work, when I happened to notice it. Now, I like to say I don’t see the point of candy that isn’t chocolate. That is not really accurate, of course, but I’m sure chocolate lovers see my point. Furthermore, I am trying to cut down on sweets (for me that is easier than cutting back on salty treats and deep-fried yumminess). I asked my friend Karen if she wanted them.

“What are they?”

“I know know; it says Candy Sticks. I thought it might be good if you needed that little sugar boost.” For my own sugar boost needs, I generally rely on hot chocolate out of the machine or substitute caffeine.

Pause for PSA: Kids! Don’t use artificial stimulants!

Back to the blog: Karen opened up the box and we peeked at the candy sticks.

“Why, those are candy cigarettes,” I exclaimed. “Remember candy cigarettes?” Not being worried if she dated herself in front of me, Karen nodded.

They weren’t exactly candy cigarettes, because they didn’t have the red food coloring tip (probably made with red dye number whatever that caused cancer). Still, the resemblance was striking.

“Think of it,” I said. “For years, all those candy-cigarette-making-machines stood idle, because it wasn’t cool to sell candy cigarettes any more. Then somebody got the idea, ‘Hey! We’ll make candy STICKS instead!’ And all those machines got used again!”

I don’t know if Karen was similarly struck at the thought or if she just likes to laugh at my nonsense. But I thought the whole story was good enough for a silly blog post. Candy cigarettes! What a blast from the past!

Ooh, I just realized, I could save this post for Monday, when it could be a Middle-aged Memory. But, no, I think I will use it for Lame Post Friday. For one thing, I’m too tired to write up and type in yet another post.

Have a nice weekend!

Lame Lament

So here I am on another Lame Post Friday, feeling a little discouraged about this whole blogging business.

Oh, I can hear it now, the mean people saying, “So stop writing a blog! Nobody asked you to!” And then they say, with a sniff, “We’re not MEAN, we’re REALISTIC.” I explain, “Shut up” (an SJ Perelman reference I have used numerous occasions).

That parenthetical comment raises the half-baked philosophical question of where are the lines drawn between reference, homage and stealing somebody else’s stuff? I do hope the fact that I gave credit to Mr. Perelman absolves me from charges of plagiarism (which some people feel is the sincerest form of flattery).

My other philosophical question (half-baked, of course) is where is the line drawn between discouragement and feeling sorry for oneself? I believe the difference is one of point of view. I feel discouragement; you feel sorry for yourself (oh, not you, dear reader; I’m just giving an example).

I actually thought to write a non-lame (or perhaps semi-lame) post today. I was cooking something unexpected for supper and thought to write about that. Then I realized: far too much trouble for a Friday. I’ll save it for tomorrow or next week.

If boasting no other virtue, a lame post should be short. I’ll sign off now. Happy Friday, everybody.

Keeping It Lame

There are times when one certainly appreciates Lame Post Friday (one is me in this case). However, one must also admit (still me) that even on Lame Post Friday, one must write something.

One might think I had thoroughly hashed out the subject of How Stupid of a Post Still Counts as a Post (one is not me in this case). One might be right. On the other hand, I’m betting most of my readers don’t read every single post (but God bless you if you do!). On a third hand (using my foot as a hand?), perhaps I can think of something new to say.

Well, I think I did. Using a foot as a hand is not a silly joke I have made before. Perhaps some did not find it a particularly funny joke, but at least it had the charm of originality.

Oh, here’s some half-baked philosophy: what can you say when originality masquerades as talent? Another question: just because something has never been done before is that sufficient reason to do it?

I’m thinking right now of some current and recent movies (like in the last few years). Some movie makers are known for “pushing the envelope” (I might research where that expression came from for another post. I mean, what envelope? Just saying). Torture porn falls under this category, as do ultra violent films. I’m not saying none of these films have artistic merit (I don’t watch many movies from this century). I’m asking, does their entire merit consist in the fact that they have done something that has never been done before? Discuss amongst yourselves.

Well, that was a totally wimp out discussion. You may have noticed I did not mention any specific movies or in fact make a strong stance on the issue. I just brought up the question.

In my defense, the heat wave in the Mohawk Valley continues, and neither my place of employment nor my residence boast air conditioning. And anyone who is rolling their eyes and forming the words, “You think you’ve got it bad” or “I don’t want to hear it,” just give it a rest. My brain has been baked, steamed, boiled and stewed for five days now. This is all I got.

I Don’t Know What to Doo-Dah

It has been a bad week for writing. There, I’ve said it.

And now begins the chorus of “Oh, just write,” and “Never mind your MOOD,” and “Writer’s Block? There just ain’t no such animal!”

To answer those in reverse order: Who said I had Writer’s Block? NOBODY! Did I even mention mood? NO! What am I doing right now? WRITING!

But I have not been writing well, and I have not been enjoying writing (well, maybe that last paragraph was a little fun). This being Lame Post Friday, I thought it would be OK to kvetch a little.

And that is when I completely run dry, because who wants to listen to a middle-aged lady kvetch? Not me! How about my usual random observations and half-baked philosophy instead?

Ilion, NY will soon celebrate their Ilion Days festival, including the Doo-Dah parade. There is a sign up at my place of employment looking for people to march in it. I have been going around asking people if they intend to march, because I like saying “Doo-Dah Parade.” It’s fun. Try it.

Did you try it?

Under the heading Now What Stupid Thing’s Going To Happen? I’ve got a soft tire on my vehicle. This could lead to some half-baked philosophy alluded to earlier in the week: what did we do to deserve this? My philosophical advice to myself is: don’t look too closely at it, or I might find I’m actually getting a lot less than I deserve in the Stupid Things department. How does one keep score on these things? Another philosophical question.

Friday Lame Posts should be short, so I’ll end here. Anyone wanting more information on the Ilion Days and the Doo-Dah Parade (more fun to say than type, but what are you going to do?) can go to or call 894-2308.

Lame at the Laundromat

My real Mohawk Valley adventure on July 4 involved going to the Laundromat. I wrote the following while there, largely because I had neglected to bring a book to read. This being Lame Post Friday, I make bold to use it.

I have not been to the laundromat in years. Steven and I used to make quite an event out of it. We’d wait till we were wearing our bathing suits instead of underwear, load everything into the car (one more reason we drove a station wagon) and head out, usually on a weeknight. This was a good time to go in the North Country, where we used to live.

The most we ever filled was, I think, ten washers. It gives me a little giggle even now, thinking about it. Being me and Steve, we made silly jokes the whole time. I even started to write a song about it: The Dirty Clothes Blues.

With all this in mind, losing our washer and drier in the flood (um, they didn’t float away, they just got flooded) was the least of our worries.

“We’ll just go to the laundromat till we’re more beforehand with the world,” I declared.

“We used to have fun doing that,” Steven remembered.

So I had envisioned a fun if silly couple’s activity. However, what with mud and sweat, our clean clothes ran out faster than anticipated (and I don’t have a bathing suit any more). I put on my last pair of clean shorts and a sports bra and said, “I need to do laundry.”

Steven felt bad about not accompanying (he was working a double shift), but I made light of it.

“It’s the Fourth of July,” I said. “How many people are going to be doing laundry?”

Famous last words.

Steven helped me bring the baskets put to my vehicle. I had decided on a modest three loads. That is, all the dirty clothes that were NOT in the basement. Those are out on the back deck, awaiting a HOT washing or else a decent burial, as we will decide. The only sad thing was that our schnoodle, Tabby, saw us loading stuff into the car and immediately concluded that we were all going on a fun road trip. Imagine her disappointment. And mine.

A quick stop to pick up detergent (another casualty) and I was off to Ilion, NY, to the new laundromat there. At least, I can’t remember how new, but recent at least. I drive by it on my way to work and know it has a large number of machines.

The first thing I noticed was the number of cars in the parking lot. Well, that falls squarely under the heading Should Have Known. Weren’t basements flooded all over the Mohawk Valley? Didn’t many of those basements contain washers and driers? I found a parking space and hoped for the best.

And everything was fine. Like I said, large number of machines. I had a moment of sticker shock when I saw the washer said $5.50 as the price. I felt better when I realized that sucker could hold two of my baskets. Then I saw smaller washers that were only $2.50. Perfect for my small load of whites.

This was cool.

The truly lame moment happened after I was done writing and doing laundry. I got all the way home (a modest distance, but still) and realized I had forgotten my detergent at the laundromat. You know how people handle big problems with aplomb but fall apart at the dumbest things? All week people have been telling me I was reacting very well to this being flooded thing. I have tried to keep my spirits up and not lose my sense of humor.

Well, doing something as stupid as forgetting my brand new detergent at the laundromat made me dang near burst into tears. I made the drive back to Ilion, cursing my (lack of) brain and telling myself it was no big deal. Either the detergent would be there or somebody else would be happy to not have to buy some. Perhaps even another flood victim.

My not so random observation on this Lame Post Friday is that half-baked philosophy will only get you so far. I recovered my detergent. I still felt really, really dumb.

As Lame as the Nose on my Face

I know I said on Wuss Out Wednesday I might not have a Lame Post Friday this week. I’m thinking nobody really took that thought seriously. It is Lame Post Friday, and here I go with random observations and half-baked philosophy.

My first observation, and you may judge its random qualities for yourself, is that I am a terrible kvetch. Seriously, I complain all the time. In my defense, I’ve heard that the more you complain, the longer God lets you live. Or, as Rosanne Rosannadanna said, it’s always something (at least, I think Rosanne Rosannadanna said it. It was some Gilda Radner character; I never watched much Saturday Night Live) (oh dear, is that one of the things I should never admit about myself?).

Where was I? Nowhere in particular. Trying not to complain so much. Today at work I realized I was doing it and tried to stop, with indifferent success. Toward the end of the day I thought I achieved a happy medium. I said, “You know, I don’t think I should have taken both the decongestant and the headache medicine. On the brighter side, I don’t have a headache and my nose isn’t stuffed up.”

You see, I looked on the bright side, so I thought that was a step in the right direction (that must qualify as half-baked philosophy). A co-worker said it was good if my nose wasn’t running, because I would have to go catch it.

“I would just let it go,” I admitted. This is what mixing medications does to you. I spent the rest of the day wondering what I might say to someone who then said to me, “Well, it’s as plain as the nose on your face.”

Any suggestions?

It Is Friday, After All

I just wrote (typed, really) a paragraph that I did not find too despicable, then realized I have probably said something quite similar on previous Lame Post Fridays. Perhaps several times. Oh dear.

A long time ago I instituted Lame Post Friday as a way to relax myself and celebrate the weekend. I had recently gone from a job with retail hours to a Monday through Friday job. The thrill of Friday has never quite worn off.

Ooh, that raises a potentially lame topic: When one has a Monday through Friday job, is the Thrill of Friday outweighed by the Drudgery of Monday? And for some people, the sadness begins on Sunday. I’m sitting here trying to think of a descriptive noun for Sunday. Not the Dread of Sunday, because that sounds like we’re dreading Sunday when we’re really talking about the Dread of Monday on Sunday, and that’s just not symmetrical enough for me. I’ll work on it.

In the meantime, I’ll finish out the post with something that amused me on a run that did not make it into the blog post. This will not only be amusing, it will make up for not having a Non-Sequitur Thursday yesterday.

As I ran through Myers Park, I wondered how “Myers” was spelled, in case I wanted to mention it in the blog post. I saw the sign that told how the space was previously a cemetery but the bodies were moved to make it a park. That naturally made me think of the movie Poltergeist, particularly the climactic scene, which I found quite hilarious, with Craig T. Nelson yelling at the real estate guy, “You son of a bitch, YOU DIDN’T MOVE THE BODIES!!!” While rotting corpses surged out of the mud. It was cool.

And that’s my post for today. I hope you all have a lovely weekend.

I’m Back

I just hate to forgo Lame Post Friday. I know, I know, I took up at least three posts this week being ill. It would, perhaps, behoove me to write a real post today. Unfortunately, as I sit at the keyboard typing at 5:17 p.m., I think that ship sailed. No time to compose and edit! I’ve got to write on the fly!

And as usual, I got nuthin’.

I actually considered and discarded several half-baked philosophies while at work today. I was feeling a little better for the first time. I mean the first time that lasted; since Sunday evening I would feel brief bouts of relief and think, “Ah, the worst is over.” Didn’t last. Oh dear, there I go, back to talking about my health.

Ah, here’s some half-baked philosophy I can live with: it is easy to obsess over the physical.

An example: For years I didn’t obsess over what I ate. I enjoyed food. I got hungry, I ate. Easy. Till one day I decided to go on a diet. It was the Soup Diet. It ruined my life. Suddenly, all I could think about was what I could and couldn’t eat. All I could talk about was the day on the diet I could eat beef. I couldn’t WAIT for banana day!

And I didn’t even lose that much weight.

As a side note (and this might be worth a little more half-baked philosophy): I didn’t learn my lesson about dieting either. I kept trying, usually with the same dumb diet, always without success. Till I discovered the South Beach Diet, which is really only a diet for the first two weeks, then segues into a sensible way of eating. But I digress.

What, I now ask, am I digressing from? This is Lame Post Friday, for heaven’s sake! The whole damn post is a digression! But, whatever. As with Non-Sequitur Thursday, I seem to veer more into Stream of Consciousness, but that really has less of a ring to it.