Category Archives: personal

Surviving the Squall

I had an adventurous drive on Sunday which I thought might be good for a blog post all on its own. We’ll see.

My destination was Chadwicks, to meet my sister and members of her family for church. She had told me directions over the phone Saturday night, which I had written down in a sloppy fashion in a notebook I happened to have handy. I wrote them out again in a slightly more legible manner (I am known for my terrible handwriting).

The directions seemed pretty straightforward: Higby to Graffenburg to Oneida Street. I knew that Higby Road was anything but straightforward: hills, twists, turns. Steven and I once had a rather alarming experience getting lost in the fog on Higby Road. However, no fog threatened Sunday morning. Just a little snow. What could possibly happen?

I had meant to allow get lost time, as I usually do when going to a new place, but I forgot I had to gas up. I almost took a chance on the gas, because “you go by a gas station” was included in the directions, but I thought better of it. Well, I probably still had plenty of time. I usually over-estimate these things. Anyways, it’s OK if you’re a little late for church. You just sneak in quietly and sit in the back.

I had also forgotten just how steep parts of Higby Road are. Up, up, up I went. Like many vehicles, mine does not like to go uphill for sustained periods of time. However, we both persevered.

More worrisome was the snow. It had been coming down in a gentle, Christmas-cardlike fashion when Tabby and I had taken a walk in Herkimer earlier. Now it was finer, more determined, and blowing. A mean snow. It was not exactly a storm, I told myself. More like a squall, perhaps exacerbated by the wide open farmland I was driving through.

Parts of the road were covered with snow, so I drove with care. I could rock this. The twisty, turny nature of the road was a little troublesome, but that, too, I could rock. Still, it seemed to be taking a long time to get to Graffenburg Road. Ah, there was the golf course sign. Easy to find.

And then things began to suck. The road had lots of snow on it. The wind blew curtains of white across my windshield. I slowed to a crawl and put my vehicle in 4-wheel drive. Not full 4-wheel but the “Auto” setting, which is kind of in-between. I wondered if I shouldn’t have chosen full 4-wheel but contented myself with going extra slow. It would be perfectly fine if I was late for church.

I soon found myself laughing out loud. I may have mentioned my odd quirk of laughing at bad weather. It usually happens when I am right out in it, not so often in my car when I am concentrating on staying on the road. I actually was not sliding around much, and the humorous aspect of the situation began to tickle me. It’s March, for heavens’ sake! I started running again. What is with these blizzard conditions? I wondered how late I would be for church and pondered an alternative route home.

At last I reached the turn for Oneida Street. According to my directions I was three or four minutes from my destination. I looked at my clock. 10:26. This could work. Once I was in the village the weather seemed calmer. Perhaps all the houses tamed the wind somewhat.

I made it to church just on time. I found my sister and her family. I could see the day brightening as the sun came out. Perhaps my ride home would be fine. As it turned out, we drove into Washington Mills for breakfast and I went home a slightly different way: lots of Higby, no Graffenburg. I was happy to get home where I could nurse the headache I mentioned in yesterday’s post.

Some readers may now be saying, “Ah yes, that headache. Could it be that the drive was NOT that sucky but the headache made it seem so?” I say keep your tabletop psychology for yourself. I braved the elements and lived to tell the tale.

Not Like a Snake Eating its Tail

Earlier today I was in the midst of a Mohawk Valley adventure and I was narrating in my head and I narrated the phrase, “I continued to narrate in my head…” And that amused me so much I stopped narrating in my head and contemplated how writing a blog has changed my inner monologue. I thought when I wrote my blog post I would mention how I narrated in my head that I was narrating in my head.

Just a quick question: is this like a snake eating its own tail? In other words, is it a sign I’m reaching the end of my usefulness as a blogger? SAY IT AIN’T SO!!!

I believe in fact it ain’t so, but doesn’t it make a good lead for a Wrist to Forehead Sunday post?

Steven and I had rather a delightful afternoon and evening yesterday. So delightful that I have had a bad headache all day today. At least, I’m guessing it is because I drank too much wine. I’m kind of hoping it is, because that means it will go away eventually. But it is a little embarrassing to admit to all and sundry that I overindulged (listen to me, all and sundry, like I have that many readers! Get over yourself, Cindy!).

So, yes, this is Yet Another Post About How I Can’t Write A Blog Post Today. I’ll keep it short. After all, perhaps my readers are having a Wrist to Forehead Sunday too and who wants to read a long blog post? Not me. Hope to see you Monday, when I hope NOT to type, “I had meant to write a real blog post today, BUT…”

(Too Many Parentheses?)

I knew I would not have Saturday Running Commentary when I ran yesterday (I’m not up to running every day yet, nor even doing much after I go running) (oh yeah, I went wine tasting and to get my hair cut after running yesterday; well, that was a major effort) (and my blog post later on was not very good) (and I suppose I’m overdoing it with the parenthetical comments on this one).

Where was I? Oh yes, trying to write a blog post before Steven gets home from work and we go adventuring. One might suggest that I write the post after we’ve gone adventuring so I will have something to write about, but I might be too tired then. Full disclosure: I might also have had a drink or two (don’t judge).

Earlier today I took a walk with my schnoodle Tabby to the post office. I only wrote four postcards this week. I pulled out a letter I’ve been working on to my sister but didn’t feel up to finishing it. I guess I could have just written “Love, Cindy” and stuck in an envelope, but I was at the top of a page and I didn’t want to waste the blank space. Anyways, it was a pleasant walk to the post office, although it could have been a little warmer. And it would be nice if more people cleaned up after their dogs.

Just before logging onto WordPress, I washed my hair for the first time since my haircut. When I got the cut I confess to being a little dithery. I thought I wanted to go longer on top. Then when Claire, my fabulous stylist at the Hot Spot Salon and Spa, was finished, I wondered if we shouldn’t go shorter. Claire liked the way my hair looked and, after all, she is the professional. She said if I still wanted to go shorter after a day or two to call her, she’d fit me in.

I felt bad being ambivalent about my hair like that. After all, everybody likes to have their work admired. I told Claire that if I decided I really liked it I would Facebook her (I think “Facebook” is a fun verb) (unlike “blog,” which I find a little silly). Claire and I are Facebook friends. Also I Liked her professional Facebook page of Claire Does Hair.

So I’ve washed my hair and put product on it and I’m still thinking. I don’t know why I’m so conflicted about this. After all, it’s only hair. It grows out. I’ll get it cut again in another month or two. What’s my stinking problem anyways?

Just the ongoing malaise, I suppose. Another symptom of the disease that has rendered my blog posts less than wonderful for the past few weeks (although I may not be the best judge of that). No matter. One can only do the best one can and drive on. So this is my Scattered Saturday post. Hope to see you all on Wrist to Forehead Sunday. Or perhaps it will be Sunday Running Commentary. A little uncertainly about Sunday will add spice to my Saturday night.

I Daresay I Repeat Myself

I’ve got the dreaded Type It In Then Backspace Over It disease. I think I have started blog posts with that line or something similar before. However, this is the third time I’ve tried to begin this post, I have backspaced over two beginnings so far, it is almost 8 p.m. and I want to get on with my Friday.

I’ve done three things since work which have previously provided perfectly acceptable blog posts: I went running, I tasted wine at a Valley Wine and Liquors, and I got my hair cut at Hot Spot Salon and Spa. Partway through my run I realized I could not write a running commentary. All I could think about was my wet feet. Two running commentaries in one week is OK. Two running commentaries about wet feet is whiny and not very interesting.

I had a vague thought that I could do a silly post about getting dressed for my hair appointment. I’ve written about my wardrobe tribulations before with some success (or do I flatter myself?). Then I didn’t really feel like writing about me being fat and not having many clothes.

Wine tasting is often good for a post. When I remember my wine tasting notebook and take notes about the wines I taste. I actually started to write about my haircut. Couldn’t quite get the lead.

Then again it is Lame Post Friday. What could be more lame than a post about Why I Can’t Write a Post Today? Hope to see you all on Saturday.

Another Non-Sequitur Thursday

When I left for work this morning I did NOT bring the puzzle book which was part of my downfall the other day. I was going to WRITE on my breaks. I did bring a printout of the article I was working on for Mohawk Valley Living. I thought I could work on it.

I got to work early enough to write. I looked over the article. Marked out how I wanted to rearrange the paragraphs. Added a sentence or two. Made a couple of notes of things to look up further. This was great. I felt like a real magazine writer.

It was time to begin work before I got much else done. At my nine o’clock break, I thought I might work on a blog post. Couldn’t think of anything. I’d written a bunch of notes on my novel (currently at something of a standstill) but felt I could add nothing to them. My play was in the other notebook.

That play. I’m going to be seeing the fellow I’m writing it for next week. And I don’t think it is very good. I think I have some major plot problems. I began writing a synopsis of the plot, so as to get a better handle on what I had going on. I continued the synopsis during my lunch break (pausing to call and talk to my husband, obviously a very important thing to do). I think it is very complicated.

When I got home, I got to work on stuff to submit to Mohawk Valley Living, the deadline for which is tomorrow. I finished my article. I took two previous blog posts and edited them for submission. This, I might add, was a long and complicated process, given my old and infirm desktop computer (I’m composing this on the acer). May I just add, the comfortable feeling of being a real magazine writer did not last.

All this by way of saying, I’m too tired to also write a blog post. However, if my dearest husband can help me come up with a catchy title, we can call this another Non-Sequitur Thursday.

It Is What It Is

When I asked Steven could we skip doing laundry tonight so I could work on my article for Mohawk Valley Living, I had no intention of wussing out, Wuss-out Wednesday or not. My brain had other ideas. Oh, that’s an inaccuracy. My brain has no ideas whatsoever! My article isn’t finished. My blog post isn’t written. All I want to do is sit on the couch and crochet.

Some windows were open at work today. As I felt the almost spring air come in, I could feel myself coming back to life. I felt relief, joy and longing. Oh, I wanted to DO something! So I was not thinking about my article, my novel or my play. I was thinking what I could possibly do on Saturday. Or even tonight.

I was aware as I sat there daydreaming that my brain was not functioning up to par. It must have been functioning somewhat, because I got my work done and even managed to work on a couple of puzzles during breaks. Yes, yes, I worked on puzzles in a puzzle book during my breaks, I did not write, stop looking at me with that judgmental expression, you’re not perfect, either, you know.

I did work on my article a little. I think what I’ve got is good, I just want more. I think what I’ve got so far for a blog post is not very good at all. And I don’t want more! I want my crochet! This is dreadfully embarrassing, but as an annoying saying goes, it is what it is. Let’s see if I can do better on Thursday. I hope I’ll still have readers.

Getting My Feet Wet

Yes! Today was the day! I started running again. Naturally I’m going to write a blog post about it.

I told myself all day I would run, so went right upstairs to put on my gear as soon as I got home. It was a lovely 40 degrees out, still cool enough to cover my legs and arms, I decided. I put on a pair of long johns I had been wearing under my skirt on Sunday plus my Army long-sleeved t-shirt. When I started putting on socks and sneakers, I hit a snag.

My running socks are all very short. Did I really want 5/8 inches of ankle exposed? I did not. I found my one pair of winter running socks. These were long enough. And very thick. I pictured them all soggy after I had run through a couple of the puddles I was sure to encounter. Finally I settled on a pair of just regular socks that looked like they might be athletic socks. For heavens’ sake, I was only going to run about 20 minutes. How bad could they be?

I had contemplated running in the road instead of on the messy sidewalks. After all, almost everybody else walks and runs in the road. What am I so wimpy about? Well, it isn’t exactly being wimpy. It is a matter of principle. When I am driving I HATE encountering pedestrians in the roadways. It’s scary! I don’t want to hit a pedestrian! And I don’t want to bash into another car trying to avoid the pedestrian. Yes, I am capable of navigating the roadways with pedestrians, bicycles, motorcycles, cars and the myriad unexpected obstacles one encounters. But I like to give myself every advantage. Thus, I prefer to give other motorists the advantage of NOT having to avoid hitting me when possible.

All that said, I may have still run in the road, but when I was driving home I observed that the only really dry surface was in the center of the road. As long as I was going to run through puddles, I reasoned, I might as well be in the safer space.

The sidewalks weren’t completely covered with puddles. There was also lots and lots of gushy, mushy snow. Not slush, mind you. That’s wetter and gushier. This was soft enough to make for a really challenging running surface. I kept telling myself how many more calories I was burning with the extra effort. And breathing prayers of thanks for the occasional patch of bare sidewalk.

I changed the direction I was running in a couple of times to avoid pedestrians walking in the road. I just felt too stupid slogging along through the gush while they strolled at their leisure down the center of the road, with a fine disdain for their own safety and the peace of mind of any drivers they encountered. I crossed the street a couple of times in search of better sidewalks, but I don’t know how much good that did.
At least it added a few more seconds to my run. After all, I was running for a certain length of time, not a certain distance.

It did not take long for my sneakers to start to squish. You know how the sidewalks get: snowbanks on either side holding a lovely reservoir of cold puddle in the middle, with or without ice. Sometimes I tried to run on the sides where there was ice or snow, but it was really easier just to plow through the middle. Most of them did not have ice on the bottom.

Breathing was not the most pleasant, but I persevered. Soon my legs were… not exactly hurting. Were they… yes! They were WORKING! Then they started hurting. Well, I was prepared for that. I knew it was going to be one of those runs where the only satisfaction I get is the fact that I ran. One of those “Dammit, I did it!” runs.

Incidentally, today’s title occurred to me early in the run, when a little water had seeped through to my socks but they weren’t soaked yet. You know that expression “just to get your feet wet,” when you do a smaller version of something big you intend to do. Like having a walk-on in a play before going for a major role. Or running a 5K while you train for a marathon. Writing a silly blog while you work on your novel.

Well, I thought I was being clever. If you don’t agree with me, just chalk it up to Tired Tuesday. At least I ran (dammit).

Moseying through Monday

I’ve been telling all and sundry that I intend to begin running again this week, but I never said it would be Monday. I sort of thought it MIGHT be today, but I also knew I would find any number of good reasons to begin tomorrow. Or even Thursday (Wednesday has already been designated laundry day). Heck, Friday or Saturday are still this week. But I’m getting ahead of myself. As it happened, I took a nice little walk with my nice little dog, and so I offer a Pedestrian Post in lieu of Middle-aged Musings Monday.

The temperatures had warmed considerably since morning, with bright sunny skies. It was obvious a lot of the white stuff was melting. I say, “Woo hoo!” One reason I thought a walk might be better than a run is that I could check out the state of the sidewalks in my flood boots to see if sneakers were really eligible. OK, that was a spurious reason. When I begin to run, I’m just going to run through the puddles and get my feet wet. I won’t be running long enough at first to risk any possible wet foot diseases that aren’t old wives’ tales (are there any?).

I remembered to put on my prescription sunglasses this time (I had forgotten them on Saturday, to my cost). I changed my work shoes for my flood boots. I was already wearing my thermal sweatshirt. I had switched to that from the jacket I have been wearing. It was a little cool for it this morning, but it was fine for the 42 degrees my thermostat claimed it was. I put on a hat. I forgot my gloves, but they were in my sweatshirt pocket. It turned out I did not need them. Score!

The sidewalks had been plowed at some point, but they were still covered with a couple of inches of gushy snow. That made walking effortful, but I reminded myself of the calorie-burning properties of effort. Tabby found plenty to sniff but spent some time trotting along at a good pace as well. We waded through several deep puddles. I LOVE my flood boots!

We passed a lady carrying a cute little baby and leading a sweet-looking little boy.

“My dog is a good dog, she wouldn’t bother anybody,” I told them, in case they were worried.

Further along we met a pug with his lady standing in front of a house. I was surprised he did not bark at Tabby as she paused to sniff a few patches of snow before we got to them. Then Tabby surprised me by wanting to approach him. She is not usually interested in other dogs.

“She wants to make a friend,” I said. The pug and his person were amenable. While the two dogs were sniffing each other, the door opened up and a bigger dog came bounding out to check out Tabby. Not real big, but bigger than my dog. I’m not sure what breed she was.

“Sasha! Sasha!” called the man with her.

Sasha seemed pretty friendly and apparently meant Tabby no harm. Only Tabby doesn’t like to have her but sniffed and butt sniffing was what Sasha had in mind. The people got Sasha under control. I petted her and the pug and we went our separate ways.

I was enjoying our effortful walk through the slushy, gushy snow, but it wasn’t long before my legs began to feel a little wobbly. That’s what I get for slacking off on my walks. Tabby didn’t seem to be having any trouble, but when we don’t walk, she takes any number of good runs up and down the backyard. Perhaps I should try that.

We ended up walking for more than 20 minutes. I know, I’ll never get back into Boilermaker shape on a mere 20 minute walk, especially one with a pooch that keeps stopping to sniff. Give me a break, will you? It only just now got above freezing. And it’s only the second week of March. I can rock this, you’ll see. I’ll write blog posts about it.

I Pause in Doing Chores to Write…

Sometimes when you feel depressed, if you do a chore, and it makes you feel better. Sometimes it does not, but at least you got a chore taken care of. So you really have nothing to lose by doing the damn chore. No, making my blog post is not the chore I am thinking of. My blog is not a chore to me, I LIKE writing my blog, even when I can’t think up much to say.

The fact is, I am feeling down and have been for a while. I have mentioned that I suffer from depression. I don’t like to talk about it much, because I don’t want people to think I am looking for attention or trying to get out of doing things or — horror of horrors — just whining. Oh, well, I guess sometimes I am whining, don’t judge. But then I feel it might be good to mention it, in case somebody else might be feeling the same way. After all, a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved; a joy shared is a joy doubled.

I think a lot of us are feeling the winter blues. In addition to the well-documented Seasonal Affective Disorder, some of us have been trapped in the house when we want to get out and about. I mean, there is no point in taking your life in your hands on icy roads if you don’t have to. Or maybe you’ve spent so much time and energy shoveling and snowblowing you’re too tired to do anything (but if you have a working snowblower, color me envious!).

For me, the lack of exercise is getting to me big time. I’ve taken my lovely dog Tabby for a couple of walks the last few days, watching carefully that her paws do not become snow-encrusted (must get her a pair of those doggy booties all the well-dressed canines are wearing). I shoveled this morning, which I believe does count as exercise. I know, there are any number of exercises I can do in the house, no matter what the weather. Sometimes I actually do them. Sometimes I just incorporate more movement than strictly necessary into my chores. That can be fun. Full disclosure: sometimes I neither exercise nor do chores. Don’t judge.

If you are wondering what the point of this post is, I guess there isn’t one. However it is Wrist to Forehead Sunday. And expressing myself in my blog has made me feel better. Now I wonder if I shouldn’t do a few real chores…

Oh, the Pain

On the brighter side, it’s been a while since my day off was ruined by a bad headache. On the dimmer side (calling it “the darker side” seems just too Oh-Get-Over-Yourself), I have been having a lot of Bear With Me posts (that’s my new expression for them, do you like it?). However, sometimes there is nothing to be done but to post what I can post and drive on.

I thought I would have a lovely Pedestrian Post when I walked Tabby to the post office this morning to mail my usual post cards (I do love writing post cards). I already had the headache by then, but I thought the fresh air and exercise would help. Unfortunately I reckoned without the effects of the sun on all the snow. You see, it was quite cloudy, so I did not put on my sunglasses. However with the mounds and mounds of white stuff reflecting back what light there was, I was soon in pain. Light sensitivity is a major headache symptom for me (YES, I’m whining about my headache! If you don’t like it, kindly move on to a different blog!).

Returning from the walk I ate a snack and took an over the counter migraine medicine. It did not seem to have much effect and after a while I retreated back to bed. Oh it felt good to lie down and close my eyes. I even slept a little. And woke up still having a headache. I got dressed again and tried the effects of a cup of tea. Tasty, at least.

When Steven came home for lunch we took turns complaining, he about work, me about my headache. That’s what makes a good marriage. Later on we’ll find some things to laugh about together. You know my motto: You can laugh or you can cry; you might as well laugh.

After Steven went back to work I headed to the drug store for a decongestant. The pain seemed to be settling in my sinuses and the stuff you have to go to the pharmacy country sometimes helps. On my way I stopped at T&J’s Fruits and Vegetables, where I found some eggplant, peppers and mushrooms I hope to do something yummy with later.

I am now waiting for the drug to kick in and thought I had better make my blog post before I get the lightheadedness that often occurs (why in the world is my computer underlining “lightheadedness”? Isn’t that a word? It is exactly what I mean). I do apologize for this whiny post. On the other hand, it may give some people that little frisson of superiority, “At least I don’t complain so much!” or “You think YOU’ve got headaches!”

As for me, I intend to drive on. Hope to see you on Wrist to Forehead Sunday.