Category Archives: personal

Maybe I Should Have Backspaced Over It

That’s it, then. I’ve got the dreaded type-a-sentence-then-backspace-over-it disease. We all knew it was coming. One day I’m saying things like, “I can SO write!” and “I LOVE to write!” The next thing you know, I hate every word that comes out of my meager mind. Many writers have been there. Those that have not… oh, who are you kidding? We’ve ALL been there!

I had thought of doing a Monday Middle-aged Musings about the horridly cold weather. I was going to call it “Mid-Winter Musings.” I don’t really have anything new to say about the cold and the snow. Oh, except for a line I keep repeating that I think the huge snowbanks are a metaphor for my troubles: getting bigger and not likely to melt away any time soon.

Actually, it’s a pretty good metaphor. You look at snow falling and you think, “Aw, that’s nice. It’s pretty.” Because you’re in your warm house looking out, and it has not snowed in a while. Maybe it’s almost Christmas. Maybe you’re out in it, but it isn’t all that cold. You can look at individual flakes and they really are beautiful.

Then it begins to pile up. You have to shovel it and drive through it. It’s cold and the wind is blowing. You track it into your house and it makes a mess. As time goes on, the pristine white banks get all dirty and nasty. Wait a minute, where am I going with this? Life is pretty until it’s not? To hell with that!

I think I’ve talked myself right out of my blues, just from sheer cussedness. You say life sucks? I say kiss my fat ass, it does not! And I’ve written almost 300 words that I do not intend to backspace over. This has got to be the most disconnected post I’ve written yet. For the record, I’m only drinking tea.

Wrist to Turkey Neck

As usual, it is Wrist to Forehead Sunday. It’s not that I want to add to the litany of griping about the cold, but… damn!

I am cooking the turkey I purchased yesterday, in order to run the oven and thus render my house warmer. It is working nicely and smells pretty good too. It was a bit of a process getting it into the oven, as often happens with me.

To begin with, of course I did not plan ahead and thaw the damn thing in the fridge for two or three days. I had it in cold water in my sink all yesterday afternoon and evening. I set the timer and was pretty vigilant about changing the water every half hour, so I felt safe in doing this. By ten o’clock, I thought the bird was on its way to thawdom, so put it in the fridge overnight.

This morning I discovered that it was no such thing. The center was still frozen. I still was not too worried, because yesterday, when I was consulting the marginally helpful Internet for thawing tips, I had discovered that it is not a bad thing to cook a turkey from frozen. Then I thought I had remembered that you aren’t really supposed to rinse the bird, as I have always done and indeed as the plastic wrap said to do. Back to the Internet.

OK, don’t thaw, but take the giblets and neck out. I know a friend of mine once left the giblets inside the bird, still in the little bag, because she didn’t stuff the bird and didn’t know about the giblets (it was her first turkey), so I was not too worried. But I thought the neck might better come out. It was frozen in there. Damn.

I’ll just add than when I search the Internet I usually go to a site called GoodSearch, www.goodsearch.com, because it seems they donate money to charity (should I have mentioned that when I first mentioned searching the Internet? Should I not already know that, seeing as I have been writing for many years? Oh, it IS Wrist to Forehead Sunday).

The sites I was directed to said it was OK to leave the giblets in, as long as they were not in a plastic bag. Well how was I supposed to know if they were in a plastic bag if they were still inside the turkey? Back to the bird. At last I found the giblets in the neck cavity (the irony is not lost on me that the giblets were in the neck end while the neck is stuck up the butt). Not a plastic bag, but I took them out and put them in the pan as I usually do.

I didn’t mind the neck still being in the bird, because I knew it wasn’t in a bag, but there was a plastic doodah I thought I should remove and that was stuck good. Consulting my Goodsearch sources, I was delighted to find a place where the question was not only asked, they referred to it as a “plastic thingy.” Unfortunately, the answers were contradictory.

At last I resorted to rinsing the damn turkey. After all, every other turkey I have ever cooked I have rinsed and I’m not dead of turkey poisoning yet. But how annoying, as rinsing the bird has always been my least favorite part of cooking a turkey (there is that bad moment when it feels like a body, which in fact it is, but I prefer to gloss over my own carnivorousness). And the neck still would not come out.

Finally I said to hell with it and put the turkey in the oven, which by now was plenty pre-heated (although some sources say that if you are cooking something for more than an hour you do not have to pre-heat the oven. I must say the last thing I felt like at that point was to write a blog post about the ordeal. However, that was three hours ago, and now that I have actually written the blog post, I feel much better about everything.

It’s Not the Cold, It’s the Post-Play Letdown

Welcome to another Scattered Saturday. I’d just like to mention that I am in the middle of a HUGE case of post-play letdown. Who knew it could be this bad? It’s worse than my post-Christmas letdown and my post-Christmas letdown could stop a Mac truck. But I did not begin this blog post to whine and cry about my troubles, but rather to give you a brief overview of my day.

I thought today was supposed to be dreadfully cold, like zero and below. Come to find out, that’s tomorrow. Today’s high was supposed to be in the 20s. 28 according to one source, 22 according to another. That sounded like a rather crucial seven degrees to me, but as usual I hoped for the best. It was still single digits when we got up (slept in till six. Woohoo!) but had risen to 11 by the time Steven left for work about 10:20.

I had written my usual postcards and wanted to take Tabby for a walk. Was it really only 11 degrees out? It hadn’t seemed so bad when Steven opened the door to leave for work. I took a chance.

Sometimes you gamble and you lose. My eyelids were cold! That is a very uncomfortable feeling. Not as bad, however, as the guilt I was soon feeling when it became clear that Tabby’s paws were so cold as to be painful for her. I think it wasn’t too bad till after we left the post office, but there was nothing I could do but get the poor pooch home as quickly as possible. I did try to use my mittens to brush her paws temporarily clear of snow. I think she appreciated the effort.

After rubbing Tabby’s paws down and giving her a treat, I thought to head right out to the grocery store and get that out of the way. It was a brilliant plan, only flawed by my failure to remember my purse. I came home and said to hell with it.

I then spent some time cleaning the house, rather ineffectually I must admit. This was a necessity, because as part of my efforts to stave off post-play letdown, I am planning a party for next weekend. Luckily I have a whole week left to work on it.

Much later I broke down and went back to Hannaford. I bought a goodly amount of food, which now I have to cook, or at least chop up and mix together. One must eat after all. First I washed the dishes, so I would have part of the sink free to thaw the turkey in water. Turkeys were on sale for 89 cents a pound. I thought with tomorrow zero and below how nice it would be to have a turkey cooking all day in the oven. I only wish I had remembered to purchase potatoes.

So you see it really has been a Scattered Saturday. Scatter-brained mostly. However, at least I have my blog post written. Perhaps soon I can move on to the bra off, sweats on, wine drinking portion of the day. I hope you’re all having a lovely weekend.

Better to Have Lame and Lost?

Lame Post Friday is meant to be lame. Don’t hate, don’t judge.

I spent my breaks at work today writing my play (the one I mentioned yesterday). I went back to work with a glowing feeling of I LOVE TO WRITE. What are those writers thinking, the ones who say, “Oh, I hate to write but I love to have written.” Yeah, yeah, to have written is nice, but I LOVE TO WRITE (sorry, must put it all in caps).

Of course some days I love it more than others. Which makes me think of running. I love to run. I love the physical act, I love looking around at the scenery while I do it, I love the way it makes me feel. Most of the time. Other times, I do not feel good when I do it AT ALL. Those are the days when at least I am glad to have run. In other words, I shall not judge the other writers (nor hate on them; see first paragraph).

It is beastly cold in the Mohawk Valley today. I think I have written other posts about my brain freezing up when it is very cold. Much like it melts in extreme heat. This Mohawk Valley Girl requires moderate temperatures in which to write, or at least in which to write anything good.

Which, I suppose, explains this blog post. All I can do is say again, don’t hate, don’t judge. Hope to see you on Scattered Saturday.

At Least I Got My Plot

It’s all about the bananas.

I mostly said that to get your attention. I had been about to lead off with how I did not write today’s post while at work (yes, yes, on breaks), because I was writing a play. I thought it might be fun to tell you why I am writing a play.

In the play I was just in at Ilion Little Theatre (yes, still talking about that), we had a lot of laughs. One cast member was especially determined to be silly, Andy Vogel, who portrayed Constable Goddard (I feel free to use his name, because it appeared in the newspaper and on the program after all). During one rehearsal, I, or rather my character, turned around to say something to Goddard, and there was Andy, eating a banana.

“Why were you eating a banana?” I asked him after the rehearsal.

“I thought it would be funny.”

OK, it was funny. I don’t mind an occasional joke of that nature during the rehearsal process. It can break up tension or help you practice concentration. During performance? Oh hell no! I lived in fear. Then I had an idea. I told Andy if he pulled no shenanigans during performances, I would write a play for him with lots of bananas. He was delighted at the notion.

So that is what I am doing. At first I confess I spent hours looking for an idea. I would get one, realize it did not quite fit my needs, get another one, not like it at all… you know how it goes.

To tell you more would give away more of the plot than I want to talk about at this point. If a writer talks too much about what she is writing, sometimes she doesn’t want to write it any more. In fact, already I’ve said too much.

In any case, that is my post about Why I Did Not Write a Post Today. For a Non-Sequitur Thursday, I think it will do.

What Was the Sidewalk Plow Thinking?

I have been sadly remiss in taking my little dog, Tabby for a walk lately. In my defense, it has been cold, cold, cold. I do not want a frostbitten pooch. Then again, dogs like to go for walks. It is not too much to ask to take your dog for a walk.

So when I got home from work today, I grabbed the leash and a couple of poop bags (I always carry a spare) and off we went.

I don’t know if I mentioned the big heap of snow that has been dumped on us lately. I’m too lazy to go back and check, although I’m pretty sure I wrote about the sad saga of getting the Stratus stuck in the end of the driveway. More snow has fallen since that day. We would be in big trouble if it was not for a couple of VERY NICE neighbors with snowblowers.

The sidewalk plow has been busy too, so I thought perhaps a walk was eligible. The temperature was not even too bad, sunny and 20s. Of course the shadows were fairly long when we went out, around 4 p.m., but days are lasting longer. I felt pretty OK about taking a walk, till we ran into a snowbank in the middle of the sidewalk.

That was when I discovered that the sidewalk plow had not been everywhere. No matter, Tabby always likes to cross the street about there anyways. It wasn’t really much of a snowbank either. We were both able to clamber over it. Across the street we discovered another place the sidewalk plow had not been, but some nice resident had at least cleared a shovel-width. That is what I try to get in front of my own house, at least as a minimum.

Further up, it seemed a narrower shovel had been used. Then no shovel at all. We persevered through a foot-trodden path till we were on German Street. This was better. Tabby found lots of places to sniff and was soon the snow-faced dog she often becomes on winter walks. We could not turn down Prospect Street due to snowbanks, but Main Street was OK. For a while.

Well, I won’t continue the saga of “here it was plowed, here it was snow.” You get the picture (it would be nice if I posted a few pictures, wouldn’t it? Must upgrade my own technology). Tabby enjoyed the walk, and I certainly needed the exercise. I mean to start running again soon. I’ll probably write a blog post about it when I do.

Mmmmm… Sourdough

Ever since I moved to Herkimer, I like to bring Heidelberg bread to dinners and family gatherings. When I saw that people were bring real dinner items to the cast party of Busybody (I bet you thought I was done talking about that play. Fooled ya!), I signed up to bring the bread.

The play closed on Sunday the 8th, with cast party to almost immediately follow. Accordingly, on Saturday morning I headed out Route 28. I figured as long as I was going, I might as well have breakfast at the cafe. I did not know how crowded it would be so was pleased I could easily get a parking space.

Now where to sit? I started to sit at a table for four (the smallest available at the time) but changed my mind and moved to the counter. Sometime I would like to come in with a crowd and sit at the booth with a church pew for a bench. The counter had the added advantage that I could easily see all the baked goodies and decide which to purchase when I got my bread. I just love a treat.

I ordered poached eggs with sourdough toast. I was so pleased the sourdough was available. It is my absolute favorite, and they don’t always have it. As I sipped my coffee (well of course I got coffee! Did I even have to mention that?) and waited for my food, I worked on a letter to a friend. It is one of the joys of my existence to sit at an eatery and write a letter, blog post, novel, whatever. Hemingway did it in Paris. I do it in the Mohawk Valley.

Two men stood in front of me talking while a little girl holding a bakery box stood with varying degrees of patience.

“I’d have eaten whatever was in that box by now,” I told her after a while. That is why I did not purchase my baked goodies before ordering breakfast.

When the waitress refilled my coffee I asked her what kind it was. Paul de Lima from Liverpool, NY. I have a sister who lives in Liverpool. I wonder if she can get me some.

Along with my bread I chose a couple of tea cookies and a raspberry/cheese danish for Steven’s and my treat. The bread was a hit at the party, but not so big a hit that I did not bring any home. This was good news for me, because I was a little sorry that I had not gotten two loaves.

Heidelberg Cafe and Bakery is located at 3056 St. Rt. 28, Herkimer, NY, phone number 315-866-0999. For more information, visit their website at http://www.heidelbergbread.com/ or Like their Facebook page.

No Momentum Monday

Earlier today I had a few lovely moments of I Can SO Write! Unfortunately it did not last long enough for me to also write my blog post. However, I did say I was going to need today for recovery from the play I was in that ended yesterday (if you are just tuning in and did not hear about the play, just look back at the last few weeks of posts. I’m sure I mentioned it). Moreover, it is Middle-aged Musings Monday. I’ll just come up with something reflective and drive on.

If only I had something to, you know, reflect upon. Right now I am mostly wondering why my bout of Can So Write did not last longer. What is it with momentum? Sometimes you got it, sometimes you don’t.

Oh, I can just hear that pesky inner critic now: “Nobody “gots” momentum. You CREATE momentum by doing whatever it is you want to, you know, moment.” (He pronounces “moment” with the second syllable accented.) Really, that is pretty good advice. I bet it was not the inner critic who said it; he’s never that helpful.

So what I needed to do was to keep writing till I got some of that there momentum. Now I think of it. In my defense, I’m tired. It is a cold winter day and I am not a young woman. Judge me if you want for my lack of momentum. I’m sure my inner critic will agree. I’m signing off till Tired Tuesday.

The Last Pre-Show Post

Under the best of circumstances I often have a Wrist to Forehead Sunday. Today I do not have the best of circumstances. I have pretty damn good circumstances, I will admit. But they are not ideal for writing a wonderful blog post. For this I have my dithery self to blame (the computer seems to think “dithery” is not a word, but I believe it describes me accurately).

At 2 p.m. begins the closing performance of Busybody, the play I am in at Ilion Little Theatre. It’s always bittersweet when a play ends. How could it not be? For better or worse, this script and these people have been a huge part of your life for, in this case, over two months. For “Busybody” it has been for better. Delightful cast, humorous script, wonderful audiences, great director and awesome light/sound guy.

And I will admit, it is not just my appreciation of the others involved. It is my own petty ego gratification, because I have a big part and, dammit, I am doing a good job. OK, not a perfect job. Last night there was a (to me) painful pause in which I suddenly remembered that the next line was mine.

“Ow, I know!” I burst out, in my Cockney accent (that’s why it’s “Ow” instead of “Oh”), pretending that my character had just now had a clever thought. The moment passed. Nobody seemed to care.

Lame Post Friday is the day for half-baked philosophy, or I would ask myself why it is I feel quite sheepish in saying, “I’m doing a good job.” Can I not appreciate my own success? I think I have been pretty clear that it is part of a group effort and not my own wonderfulness carrying along everyone else willy-nilly. These are questions for another day.

For now I will continue to dither and panic (well, maybe not panic, but certainly get butterflies) about getting to the theatre, remembering props and costumes, not to mention lines. Oh yes, and once again I’ve forgotten to eat. That I can fix. Have a nice Sunday, everyone. I’m off to break a couple of legs.

Another Scattered Saturday

I said last week that I thought Saturday Misadventures ought to become a feature, but on reflection, I think Scattered Saturday would be better. Two Saturdays ago I had a Scattered Saturday and I thought it made a pretty good blog post (although perhaps I flatter myself). At that time I was preparing for the busy, stressful week of Production Week for the play I am in at Ilion Little Theatre. At this time I am preparing for that play’s penultimate performance (love that word, penultimate). Next Saturday I will probably remain scattered merely because it is in my nature to do so.

Yesterday I said I planned to have a Mohawk Valley adventure without having a Mohawk Valley adventure planned. I woke up with morning with a plan. Yay me. Naturally I had coffee with my husband before implementing the plan.

The weather cooperated by being not too frigid, since the first part of my plan involved walking to the post office with my nice dog, Tabby. I had written my usual postcards. I love to write postcards. A light snow was falling, but the breeze was not bad. My thermometer said 23 degrees, which sounded about right. I could rock 23 degrees, I told myself. I could even run in 23 degrees, if I so chose. I thought with a play this evening a walk would be better. Tabby liked it, too.

Next I went to Heidelberg Bakery for breakfast (full blog post to follow). Then I went consignment store shopping (again, full blog posts to be written). I hit Cornerstone Consignments in Ilion, NY, and Gypsy’s Closet and Valley Exchange in Herkimer. Then I was tired, so I went home. Must recruit my energies, after all.

I guess Scattered Saturdays are actually Previews of Coming Attractions. With the play closing tomorrow afternoon, I may actually have time to write them. As always, I hope you’ll stay tuned.