Category Archives: personal

I Didn’t Mean to be Melancholy

I had meant to make a post about one of my recent Mohawk Valley adventures, but I’m afraid today is going to be more of a Middle-aged Musings Monday, if not Melancholy Monday, or even a Memories Monday.  Oh, all right, I’ll stop alliterating and start blogging.

Today on my Facebook On This Day, I noted that one year ago today we brought our sweet Spunky home from his foster dad’s (I even wrote a blog post about it).  Regular readers may recall that we sadly lost Spunkman (as Steven liked to call him) far too soon (I wrote a blog post about that, too).  I miss having a dog, but the time seems not right to adopt another one yet.

Logging on to WordPress, I noticed a post from a blogger I follow about how she and her guy adopted a puppy, Meet Harper, the Resuce Pup!  Full disclosure:  I do not read all posts by all the bloggers I follow.  This one I read.   Rescue dogs are the best!  And people who adopt them are awesome!  Oh dear, that sounded like I was tooting my own horn, but I was not, really.  For one reason, I have not adopted another dog since losing Spunky.  I don’t know if I ever will, although as I read somewhere, pets happen.

So I am remembering our little Spunky, and our sweet Tabby, who lived with us from 2007 to 2015.  Dogs enrich our lives immeasurably, but so is the sadness immeasurable when we lose them.  I suppose I could say something profound about how you have to have the sad to appreciate the happy, and I even know such a thing to be true.  But I’m afraid it would sound glib and trite, because profundity is not my strong suit.

I also feel I should apologize for intruding sadness into my silly blog, especially when the occasion for sadness is sometime past.  Then again, who can explain emotions and why apologize for them?  I like to say, sometimes you just have to feel that way until you don’t feel that way any more.  I’ll try for a better post tomorrow.

 

Run then Rationalize

As soon as I started my run today, my legs were not happy with me.  I had been up and had coffee but nothing to eat.  Well, if I would have eaten something, I would have wanted to wait a little while for it to digest, and then it might have been to warm and I’d have had plenty of time to talk myself out of it.  I told myself I did not have to run as long as I ran yesterday.  After all, last weekend I ran 67 minutes Saturday and only 45 Sunday.  I had upped my time by the recommended ten percent to 74 minutes yesterday.  It might be a good idea to ran the same today, but I do not always follow the idea course in my running.

I wasn’t going to run any hills, either.  I had made up my mind to that, although I confess I was not as comfortable with that decision. There are a lot of hills on the Boilermaker (that is the 15K road race in Utica, NY, I am signed up to run on July 9, for anybody just tuning in).  I don’t have to run hills EVERY day, I argued.  A little voice in my head said, “Oh, just start running, you’ll talk yourself into it as you go.” As soon as I started running, my legs informed me that we were NOT going to run any hills and we certainly were not going to run for an hour and fourteen minutes.

Cutting right to the chase, I’ll tell you:  I did not run any hills but I did run for an hour and fourteen minutes.  I crossed State Street and ran on a bunch of streets I don’t usually run on, so it was a very interesting run.  I’ll have to walk it sometime with my Tablet and take pictures to share.  I probably won’t be doing that today, though.  It’s not that my legs would object (they LOVE to walk), but it is supposed to be close to 90 degrees and sunny today.  I’m kind of a vampire.  I admire a sunny day, but it doesn’t pay me to get too close.

As I was running, I was narrating in my head.  It seemed pretty interesting at the time, but now I’m not so sure.  Then again, it is Wrist to Forehead Sunday.   I think this brief description of my run will suffice.  Now you have time to read other blogs.  Isn’t that generous of me?  Yes, yes, I know, that is only a rationalization, but rationalization is not always a bad thing.  To prove this I will end with a quote from the movie The Big Chill:

Jeff Goldblum character:  Don’t knock rationalization, where would we be without it?  I don’t know anybody who can get through the day without two or three juicy rationalizations; they’re more important than sex.

Tom Berenger character: Nothing’s more important than sex.

Jeff Goldblum character:  Oh yeah?  Ever go a week without a rationalization?

If I do not have the lines exactly right, sorry.  I don’t have a rationalization for that, but I hope you will forgive me.

 

Somewhat Skimpy Scattered Saturday

I had meant to re-institute Saturday Running Commentary, but I didn’t get right on it soon after my run.  Then I did a bunch of other stuff, so I think a Scattered Saturday post is in order.  As always, I reserve the right to write about any and all of the activities mentioned at greater length subsequently.

So, the first thing I did was, I drank coffee.  Just in the interests of accuracy.  However, I managed to get into running clothes and out the door shortly after 7 a.m.  I took a long run, an hour and fourteen minutes.  I will OWN that Boilermaker!  At least, I will run it and finish it on my feet.  We’ll call that a win.

Back home and showered (which I am sure everyone who encountered me today appreciated), I wrote post cards.  I also go on the computer but just couldn’t settle down to making my blog post.  I was feeling icky, tired, and not inclined to do anything.  We can’t have that!  I could walk to the post office, which I usually do when I write post cards.  Then I thought how I wanted to write about Moose River Coffee Shop in Ilion, NY, for Mohawk Valley Living magazine.  Writing in cafes is an excellent thing to do.  Also, when one has been having trouble writing, as I have, changing one’s surroundings can help.

Accordingly, I decided to get drive to Ilion, stopping first at Herkimer Post office.  It took some dithering to come to this decision (I’ve been in that sort of mood lately), but at last I had made my plan.  Then I could not find my notebook.  What the hell?!  Finally I said to myself, “Just pick up a notebook.  Any notebook, as long as there are blank pages in it.”  Avoiding the TV Journal and my Running Journal, I found a notebook.  Fine.

When I walked into the coffee shop, I was immediately greeted.  One of my favorite families was there, enjoying coffee and each other’s company.  They invited me to join them.  I got my coffee and did, mentioning that I had originally come in there to write.

“We’ll be quiet and let you write,” one of the daughters said.  I said I would rather visit.  We had a lovely visit, and I got a little writing done after they left.  Not a lot, I confess.  I started a letter to a friend.  However, since I described my surroundings in the letter, I felt it was a rehearsal for my magazine article.  Incidentally, that is REALLY good coffee at Moose River.

Next I headed to the Ilion Farmer’s Market at Clapsaddle Farm.  I purchased tomatoes and Gouda cheese, and chatted with folk artist Jim Parker and the lady that sells eggs (I don’t know her name; how remiss of me not to ask).  Then I went home and did laundry.

My other activities today included a trip to T & J’s Fruits and Vegetables, a wine tasting at Valley Wine and Liquors, and sitting on my deck with a friend.  Now I am trying to get my blog post done so I can relax myself some more and wait for my loving husband, Steven, to return from work.  I guess I’ve kind of skimped on my latter activities today, but you’ll have that on Scattered Saturday.  I hope to give proper shout-outs to the businesses mentioned, and a couple others I’ve patronized in recent days, in upcoming blog posts.  As always, I hope you’ll stay tuned.

 

Lame Lycanthropy (Look It Up)

And the moon is full! Or was that last night?

I like to make a silly post on a Friday.  For newcomers to the blog, the official term is Lame Post Friday, and I often indulge in random observations and half-baked philosophy.  And I repeat that bit of definition perhaps a few more times than is strictly necessary, but you’ll have that.  On this particular Friday, I am taking a vacation day, so I am feeling a little giddy.  I’m just going to type in some silliness and get on with my fun day.  I saw the above photo on my Facebook news feed this morning and said, “ooh.”  It ties in with another photo I downloaded some days ago.  I downloaded it with the idea that I would eventually find other pictures to tie in with it for a blog post and, as you see, I was right!  I love it when that happens.  Now let’s see if I can find that photo in my downloads (must figure out how to organize those downloads; as you know, I am not computer savvy)…

Oh no!  I found it and it is not the photo I thought it was!  It is the Mummy, not the Wolfman!  How could I make such a mistake!  How lame is that!  Wait a minute, it’s lame.  That fits right in.  It’s even kind of random.  I’ll go with it.

Mummy, Werewolf… Compare and contrast. Discuss amongst yourselves.

I downloaded two other Werewolf photos, to round out the post.  I had been looking for one, because, you know, three’s the charm, but I could not decide between the movie poster and a humorous one, so I went with both (is that a run-on sentence?  I don’t care if it is).

I guess it’s the disc cover, not the actual poster, but I think that’s OK. Or is it just more lame? Either way.

The movie had an excellent cast, although I find it rather sad.  I’ll have to do a post sometime on the profound nature of horror movies.

I do not recommend an adversarial relationship with one’s stylist.

It looks as if he doesn’t want a shave and a haircut (two bits), and I can’t really blame him.  He has only to wait till the moon wanes.  And doesn’t that make you wonder what would happen if he did get a haircut as the Wolfman, then the moon waned.  Would his face be like all cut up?  His head completely bald?  I’ll have to do some research on lycanthropy (my computer is underlining that word, but I looked it up in Webster’s and it is correct).

Incidentally, I got the first photo from Dracula’s House of Halloween and the last two from the Wolfman facebook page.  I stupidly do not remember where I got the Loveboat photo and I am too lazy to try to find out.  I did mention this is Lame Post Friday, didn’t I?

 

But I Wanted to Save a Life

I seem to remember making a note to myself in another blog post to the effect that if I am scheduled to donate blood, I should make my blog post in advance so I do not have to worry about it once I’m all woozy.  Yeah, like that was going to happen with all the trouble I’ve been having writing blog posts lately!  Anyways, I’m not as woozy as I have been other times I have given blood.  I say I was… moderately woozy.  I can rock this.

First, I would like to take this opportunity to encourage everyone who is able to, to give blood.  Yes, yes, I know some people have health problems or don’t weigh enough or have other legitimate reasons for deferral.  For people who are scared of needles… for heavens’ sake, NOBODY likes needles!  I daresay even heroin addicts have a bad moment right before they get their fix (although, I admit, I know very little about heroin).   For people who are afraid of passing out, I point to a fellow I knew back in the 1980’s.  He was a six-foot tall, healthy, athletic young man (they called him Lurch), and he said he passed out EVERY time he gave blood.  And he still gave.  For people who fear they will get woozy, well, that’s me.

Ooh, one other thing.  Some people do not want to give blood, because they’re afraid some real stinker will get it,  you know, somebody whose life they would NOT want to save.  Well, any time you give any kind of donation anywhere, there is a chance that it will go to somebody who does not particularly deserve it.  Besides, you don’t know that.  Your blood might save the person who finds the cure for cancer.  Or makes the winning touchdown at the Super Bowl you have a bet on.

Well, that’s enough time on the soapbox.  Of course any donation is an individual choice, and I promise to respect others’ choices, so nobody needs to tell me “don’t judge”  (a spurious exhortation at best, as I will explain in a future blog post someday).

Now I see I am over 350 words, which is not bad for a woozy post.  I was going to go for a Non-Sequitur Thursday, but I couldn’t think of a punchy enough headline.  We’ll just hit Publish and hope for the best.

 

A Month and Two Days till the Boilmaker

I did not run for the last two days, so I knew I must run today.  The Boilermaker 15K is a month and two days away and I do not feel ready.  I feel old and creaky.  So I went on a long, challenging run and now I feel — you guessed it — even older and more creaky.  I suppose one will have that when one is, in fact, old and creaky.  However, I planned earlier to make a Running Commentary post, so here it is.

The Mohawk Valley weather gifted us with a beautiful, sunny day today.   It is a day which calls us to spend time outdoors (I say is, because the sun is beckoning me onto the deck as I type this)  (in fact, what am I thinking, being in here?  My laptop has batteries!  I’m going to finish this post outside) (That took a few minutes.  Now where was I?).  I got home and got right into running clothes and out the door as soon as possible.

I knew it would be a good idea to run a hill or two, but all the hills are on the other side of German Street.  Would traffic allow me to cross the street?  I ran toward German and hoped.  Wow, lots of cars.  And my body was NOT in the mood to run.  Oh, my legs were tired, it was not easy to breathe, my back was sore, I was incapable of moving very fast.  However, I WAS capable of moving.  Maybe no hills today.  After all, if I couldn’t cross the street… but maybe now… no, cars kept coming.  Well, if I couldn’t cross the street, I couldn’t feel guilty for not running hills, could I?  Oh, here was an opportunity.  Damn.  Uh, I mean, good!

But which hill to run?  That sun was certainly warm.  I decided to run into Brookfield Park and down the path in the woods, which comes out on the back road up to Herkimer College (HCCC, to long-time locals).  The road goes up as soon as you go into the park.  Oh, that was painful.  It’s not even that long or steep of a hill.  Good God, I only took two days off!  What the hell, body?  It seemed to take a long time to get into the park, but soon I came to the bridge over the brook, which leads to the picnic area beyond which is the path through the woods.  I decided to go beyond it, to the end of the road, then back to it.

The stream babbled towards me, over rocks, moving rapidly and splashing busily.  The recent rains were no doubt having their effect, but it did not look in any danger of flooding.  At the end of the road is a fenced off area.  I could see a path at the edge of the fence, where apparently pedestrians bypass the fence and walk into the woods.  I,  however, did not do so. I had had the damnedest time getting this far; all I could think was that if I could go no further, I did not want to be too far from civilization.

Soon I was headed into the woods, along the path, which also took a long time.  I was not going to go the rest of the way up to the college. I would keep running.  Then I would stop.  Ooh, stopping sounded good.  But I kept going.  Finally I got back onto the road and headed down.  Then I had another idea.  There were a couple of dead end roads that went uphill.  I could run up those and still get some hills in.  I turned right onto the first one.

And realized that it was not exactly a dead end. It led up to the college by the dormitories, a way I have dubbed the kick-butt way.  Well, I did not have to run up the college the kick-butt way, just because I accidentally went on that road.  I could turn around.  I WOULD turn around.

I did not turn around.  Instead, I got my butt kicked.  It is a good idea to get your butt kicked a month and two days before the Boilermaker 15K, I think.  When I ran down the hill from the college, I stopped at the spring and got a drink.  As I ran onto my street, I passed two ladies and a baby on a front porch.  The baby was crying piteously.

“That’s exactly how I feel right now,” I said.  One of the ladies laughed.

I tell you, it was a lousy run, but I ran and I’m glad I did.  Tomorrow I am scheduled to donate blood at a blood drive at my work, so I will probably not run or walk.  And the Boilermaker 15K will be a month and one day away.  Yikes!

 

The Blog’s Gone to Pot

I took some pictures of what I have so far for a container garden, hoping I could make up in pictures what I lack in words.  Seriously, my brain is dead and writing is just not happening for me.  Well, I’m not going to whine about it (although it is somewhat distressing) (no, no, NOT whine).  Instead, here are some pictures:

I guess you can’t see the flowers very well, but aren’t they pretty?

I had three pots with the design, but one broke last year.  Now that I look at this arrangement, it does not look as symmetrical as I had hoped.  Size-wise it’s good, but I don’t like the two decorated and one plain.  I’ll have to work on it.

Oh dear, you can see the icky garage and crappy window in the background.

I had never seen black Johnny Jump-ups, and I like the way they look with the orange marigolds.

An overhead shot, for a different view.

I liked the combination so much, I did two pots of it.

Ooh, I like what’s in the background of this one.

I tried to have “the thrill, the fill and the spill” in this one, but I think the “spill” looks a little unhealthy.  Perhaps they will pick up as time goes on.

Fresh pesto, you will be MINE!

Basil is the only herb I have so far, but as you see I have a nice amount.  Ooh, I LOVE fresh basil!

I would also like to get some dill and cilantro, as well as a few more pots of flowers.  Unfortunately, the malaise that has been causing my writing to atrophy seems to be infecting the rest of my life as well.  Then again, I see I have managed over 250 words on a blog post I thought I couldn’t write.  Maybe there’s hope for me after all.

 

Monday Meatball Mix-up

This is not really a cooking post.  It’s not even really a cooking mishap post.  Oh, I’ll just write it an decide what kind of post it is when I’m done.  It’s that sort of a Monday.

I intend to give blood later this week.  I have had problems with this in the past, namely feeling woozy and ill after they took what seemed a very reasonable amount of blood out of me.  I thought maybe if I ate things with iron in them all week, I might do better.  What has iron in it, I asked myself.  Liver, but I hate liver.  Spinach.  I love spinach!  However, Steven does not love to just eat spinach.  He likes it in things.  I thought, Italian wedding soup.  Yum!

I knew I had spinach in the freezer and chicken broth in the cupboard (yes, purists make the chicken broth from scratch; I didn’t have all day for this!).  I did not have the little tiny pastas, but I had some little tubey-looking ones I thought would be fine.  All I needed was the little meatballs.  Accordingly, I stopped at the store (YES, the freezer section for the pre-made kind, not the meat department so I could make the balls from scratch; we’ve been through this already).

The first problem was that I did not have chicken broth, only beef broth.  Oh well, beef meatballs, beef broth, this will be OK, just a different flavor.

The second mishap was when I started to put the meatballs in and realized I had gotten the full-sized ones, not the minis.  Oh dear!  This was going to look silly, and be awkward to eat.  However, the broth was in the pot and hot; it was too late to change my mind and make tomato sauce (I believe I have a jar Paul Newman’s.  There could be no possible objection to using Paul Newman’s instead of scratch).

And how did the meatball soup turn out?  I don’t know yet.  I just paused between the last paragraph and this one to put the pasta on.  It’s ditalini, by the way (I checked the box when I went out there). I feel certain it will be fine.  For one reason, I’m quite hungry.  Happy Monday, everyone.

OK, before I added the categories and tags, the pasta was done and we ate.  It was yummy!  I LOVE soup!

 

 

Posting from the Couch

Earlier today I remembered (and posted on Facebook) my personal rule for myself (as opposed to my personal rules for other people, which we won’t get into right now) that on Sundays it is OK for me to be completely useless.  It occurs to me that this is the source of my Wrist to Forehead Sundays: the conflict between the fact that I am useless and the nagging suspicion that I ought not to be.  I suppose a blogger could take a day or two off in the course of a week, but we all know, that’s not for me.

I’m thinking I will eschew Wrist to Forehead Sunday and begin a feature called Sweats and Sweetie Sunday.  I reach the bra off, sweats on portion of the day very early on many Sundays.  Additionally, my husband Steven is usually off work by one in the afternoon, and we almost never have the same day off, so Sunday is our day together.  We do get silly (what a surprise), so I will feel free to get silly on my Sunday post (which will differentiate it from the other days a week not at all).

Today is National Cheese Day. I thought I would like to mark it by watching cheesy horror movies.  However, we could not think of one we really wanted to see today.  I was actually in the mood to watch something like The Postman Always Rings Twice.  During our great discussion about what movie to watch (we would probably watch more movies if we spent less time deciding which movie to watch, but there’s no point in chasing dreams), we started suggesting movies substituting “cheese” for one of the words in the title.  And can I just say, movie makers who make movies with one-word titles are most inconsiderate.

Our suggestions included Cheese on Haunted Hill, Cheese on the Orient Express, All About Cheese, The Bride of Cheesenstein, Plan Cheese from Outer Space (which we just recently watched), Grosse Point Cheese, and His Cheese Friday.  Finally we settled on The Postman Always Rings Cheese.  It is not a cheesy movie, but it could be argued that the characters are a little sleazy (but I shall not argue that, because it would be too much trouble on Sweats and Sweetie Sunday).  Now we are watching Hush… Hush… Sweet Cheese.  Steven had to ask if it was Hush… Hush… Sweet Cheese or Cheese… Cheese… Sweet Charlotte.  It was the former, because in my On This Day in Facebook, I noted that I had made a blog post with just that title.

As an additional note:  Cecil Kellaway is in both of our movie choices for today.  That makes it a Cecil Kellaway film festival.  I hope my blog post has entertained somebody.  As for myself, I am going to continue to sit on the couch and enjoy my movies, cheesy and otherwise.  Happy Sunday, everyone.

 

Posting from the Deck

So I’ve gotten through most of Saturday before making my blog post and oh, what a day I have had!  OK, not really, but it was pretty scattered.  As I was working on one of my last chores/adventures of the day (and how much richer life is when one can feel the two are combined), I thought, “It used to be that on a Saturday when I had multiple adventures, I would spend the next week making multiple blog posts about them individually.  Now I blow my wad (so to speak) on one Scattered Saturday post.  What’s that all about?” (And here’s a Freudian slip I found on proofreading:  I originally put “blog my wad” instead of “blow my wad.”  Isn’t that awesome?) (Maybe I should have used that for the headline.)

I answered myself, “When I started this blog, I was in my late 40’s.  Now I am in my mid-50’s.  Who knew there could be such a difference in the decades?”  It was a silly answer, because, quite frankly, I have to keep reminding myself that I am in my 50’s.  For anyone who wants to know, I am 53, the same age as the Grinch (“Why for 53 years I’ve put up with it now!  I MUST stop Christmas from coming!  But how?”).  I like being the same age as the Grinch.  But this is not what I sat down to make a blog post about.

In fact, it is a little difficult to post right now, because I am sitting on my deck, and the sun is a little bright for computer screens.  I stubbornly remain out here, though, because I brought out all the cushions for our chairs.  I could have just brought out two, one for my butt, one for my feet (naturally one puts one’s feet up on the weekend).  Then I brought out for for Steven, who should arrive home in about an hour.  Then I brought out the fourth, because it seemed unkind to exclude just one (yes, I anthropomorphize chair cushions; I anthropomorphize EVERYTHING, I thought you knew that about me).

Where was I?  Ah yes, on the deck, admiring what I can see of my container garden so far. I feel I should purchase more plants, more pots and more dirt, going overboard as I have in years past (last year being a notable exception).  The important thing is, I have basil.  Fresh pesto, you will be mine!  I’m sure some of my readers will appreciate it if I post pictures.  I’ll be doing that one day soon.  For right now, I’m sitting with my feet up and drinking a beer.  Happy Saturday, everyone.