Category Archives: personal

Short Stroll, Scratch n Sniff

It is really difficult to have Mohawk Valley adventures during the winter. Another difficult thing: making a blog post when a cute little dog expects you to keep petting her. Naturally I do my best to oblige.

Yesterday we went for a walk. I thought for sure it would be warmer today so we might go for a longer one. Well, it may be warmer, but the snow is coming down in copious amounts and has been doing so all day. Tabby may enjoy plowing through the drifts up to her chest, but she does not seem to like being out while it is actually precipitating. Perhaps we could have a rousing game of That’s My Toy later on.

In the meantime, I will attempt a short pedestrian post about yesterday’s stroll. Once again I forgot to put my scarf back on (I had it when I got home from work), so my face got cold. I had not put Tabby’s coat on her, but she seemed OK with that. She certainly enjoyed sniffing many places. I don’t think the snow is conducive to dogs’ sense of smell, because Tabby kept digging and sniffing. I kept checking to make sure she wasn’t unburying some other dog’s poo.

“You don’t need to smell that dog’s poo,” I tell her. “You know what poo smells like.”

Her head perked up as we walked down Henry Street, because she saw people. One adult and three children were in front of a house. The man and little boy seemed to be shoveling. Two little girls were in a fort. I haven’t built a snow fort in a long time! We exchanged greetings. Tabby seemed inclined to go right up to them.

“My dog is so friendly,” I said.

Tabby seemed quite happy that our walk was short. She ran right for the door instead of out into the back yard when I took her off the leash. I was happy to get back into the warm house, too.

I see that as a blogger, I should have taken up some winter sports, so I would have more to write about this time of year. Hmmmm…. perhaps I could patronize some local businesses instead. Or watch another cheesy movie. Still, I’ve come up with over 1,000 posts. I can’t quit now.

Don’t Ask Me Why

I felt so pleased with myself for not having Wrist to Forehead Sunday. Let that be a lesson to me: don’t feel pleased with myself! Then again, how can I help my feelings? What am I beating myself up for?

As you may have guessed, I am once again writing a post about Why I Can’t Write a Post Today, sometimes known as Wrist to Forehead Whatever Day It Is (today is Monday). In my defense, it is Monday. And it has been another cold Monday. And I have a few things on my mind.

Oh, stop playing those miniature violins! I’m not whining; I am telling you WHY. But why is not really the important thing, or even a particularly interesting thing. In fact, I would submit that in many instances, “Why?” is a fairly useless question. Ooh, watch me segue into a Monday Middle-aged Musing here.

Mommy tells Junior not to touch the cookie jar. Of course he does, and the jar comes crashing down, smashing to smithereens and ruining two dozen cookies.

“Why did you do that when I told you not to?” Mommy can’t help but ask. You see, I’m not blaming her for asking, I am merely arguing that it is not a helpful question. A more pertinent question might be, “Do you know where the broom and dustpan are and how to use them?” Oh, I’m also not saying Junior shouldn’t have some comeuppance for his misdeed. That’s a whole other question I’m not even going to deal with today.

I suppose a pertinent question for me is not “Why aren’t you writing a real blog post today?” but perhaps, “What do you intend to write tomorrow?” I’ll start planning that right away. As soon as I get my wrist surgically removed from my forehead.

There’s the Bridge!

Yesterday (Saturday) I set out with my friend, Phyllis, intent on having a Mohawk Valley adventure. I guess you could say we had one.

We headed to Little Falls, intending to visit the Mohawk Valley Center for the Arts. For one thing, I knew I could purchase post cards there. I don’t often drive to Little Falls, but how hard could it be? Then again, this is me we’re dealing with.

We drove out State Route 5, which goes right into Little Falls. Perfectly familiar. And then it didn’t look so right.

“I think I’ve driven past my turn,” I said. “Oh, wait, no I didn’t.” And then I did. Oops. Well, at least I knew where it was now.

Little Falls seems to be all one way streets, but I found a place to make a left turn, went up a hill and waited at a stop light to make another left going back towards my turn. That was a steep hill. My SUV acted like it was going to roll backwards as I moved my foot from the brake to the gas, and I don’t drive a standard. Just to give me another challenge, the guy turning right from the opposite direction stopped directly in front of me to pick up a passenger. The guy couldn’t have gotten in at the light, I suppose.

No matter, we were headed towards the bridge I wanted.

“Go right where that blue car went,” Phyllis said. I couldn’t see exactly where the blue car was going because of a big truck in the way. From where I was sitting, it did not look like the turn. I was past it when I realized it was so the turn.

“Can I make a U turn here?” I asked, fully intending to do so anyways. However no signs forbid it, so I guess I was legal. I almost got in the wrong lane and missed the turn again, but Phyllis was watching and directed me.

Once I got on that bridge, everything was easy.

“I’m going to write my blog post just about the drive here,” I told Phyllis. So I did.

Tabby, the Snow-Faced Dog

I thought of this title as I was walking with Tabby around the blog yesterday. I did not use it then, because I wrote some lame thing (it was Lame Post Friday after all), but when I walked with Tabby to the post office this morning, I thought it might be a good post to write today.

We did not make it to the post office last Saturday (sorry, post card friends) and I had a new person to sent a post card to, so I wanted to make sure I wrote and sent some cards. After Steven left for work, shortly before 10 a.m., we set out.

Steven and I had been out shoveling earlier, so I knew it was not too cold (incidentally, BIG thank you to our across the street neighbor, who came over with his snowblower and helped us). I did put on my warmest coat, because it has nice deep pockets, gloves but no scarf. I wore Steven’s fancy earmuffs, so as not to mess up my hair too much, because I had plans for later in the day.

Some sidewalks had been nicely shoveled, plowed or snowblowed. Others not so much. We jaywalked twice to get on the side of the street with the best sidewalk (which in some cases was not saying much). I guess I didn’t really have to jaywalk, but plowing through the snow that was there was getting to be quite the effort. Yes, even the parts that were nicely cleared were not completely clear. And many parts were not even nicely cleared.

And here is my rant of the post: It is not nice to completely clear a path from your door to your driveway and leave completely uncleared the rest of the sidewalk in front of your house. Yes, corner houses have more to clear than others, and, yes, some people have to make great effort to clear anything at all. But I think, and I stand by it, that when you have a wide, beautifully cleared path where you need it, it would not be unreasonable to at least make an effort where pedestrians (including middle-aged ladies and cute little doggies) have to walk.

I’m not asking for miracles! Well, I suppose I am, because I am asking some people to be considerate of other people. To expound further upon this theme would require some half-baked philosophy worthy of Lame Post Friday. We have another six days to wait for that.

In spite of our uncleared sidewalk woes (to be fair, many Herkimer residents made an effort and I am quite grateful to them all), we enjoyed our walk. Tabby, as usual, wanted to stop and sniff every few feet. Also as usual, I tried to strike a balance between indulging my pooch and not taking till spring for one walk to the post office.

It seems to take Tabby longer to sniff at each stop this time of year. Perhaps the cold temperatures make the odors less obvious. Still, she must smell something. She digs at the snow, sometimes burying her face in the drift (hence today’s title). Eventually, she is happy to move on.

I am happy to move on, too. It really is great to get out and walk. Sometimes it’s a little too cold for such adventures, but one must endure these things. I also remind myself, plowing through snow takes more effort and hence probably burns more calories. Score! Yes, there are good things about winter in the Mohawk Valley.

Another Stroll Down Memory Lame

Does anybody else remember this:

“TASTES GREAT!”

“LESS FILLING!”

“I still don’t know why they wanted me to be in this commercial.”

Yes, I am about to write a Friday Lame Post worthy of Non-Sequitur Thursday. The fact is, once again, I got nuthin'(the period doesn’t look right after the apostrophe). (Oh, but it looks fine after the parenthesis.)

I didn’t even try very hard to write anything while I was at work. I managed almost a page on my novel (it seems to be going well, but I’m sure that’s deceiving), and I conversed with a co-worker.

Oh, here’s… I don’t know if it’s a random observation or what, but the word is “converse.” Certain sergeants in the army said “conversate,” as in, “You don’t need to be off there conversating.” My elementary school teachers used to say “visiting,” as in, “Do your work and don’t be visiting with your neighbor!” Incidentally, I almost always visited with my neighbor, even when the teacher sat us boy/girl in hopes of curtailing such a thing.

And how about that, back when boy/girl was supposed to be a bad thing? Was it ever, really? I mean, I didn’t want them to be my boyfriends, but I would always talk to the boys (visit? conversate?).

Just as a final note (and here’s the real non-sequitur of the day): I think today is my 1,000th post. Isn’t that cool? Happy Friday, everyone.

What’s My Problem, Anyways?

I had not meant to have a Non-Sequitur Thursday this week. I had big plans for a Mohawk Valley adventure on my way home from work. And I was going to walk my dog. Either one should have provided sufficient material for at least a short post.

And then it started to snow. Oh, I know, we Mohawk Valley residents are used to snow. We just drive on, sometimes without fully cleaning off our cars (don’t shake your finger at me; I was talking about you!). It wasn’t even supposed to be that bad. The storm was to pass NEAR us, sending us some snow, but nothing to worry about. “Enough to shovel” was the way Bill Kardas put it on WKTV News.

I had somehow gotten the impression snow was not even predicted to start until late afternoon or evening. At work, my co-worker said he thought it was supposed to start around noon. I looked out the window.

“How about ten?” I suggested, pointing. It was in fact about ten minutes before ten (I keep close track of what time it is at work). I continued to watch the snow fall all afternoon (I work facing a window).

Another co-worker arriving in the afternoon said the roads were not too bad; just a little “greasy.” I think Fats Waller said it best: Life sure ain’t easy when you’re fat and greasy (life sho’ ain’t easy when yo fat and greezy, to be more accurate).

I gave yet another co-worker a ride home prior to my adventuring. Before I dropped her off, I had put my vehicle in full 4-wheel drive and decided to go straight home. I’m still not sure why it seemed so bad. It was just a lot of snow, not even a real full-fledged storm such as we central New Yorkers weather with such tough-minded pride.

Still, I drove home slowly and was happy to be there. I went outside and shoveled what had accumulated so far. Admittedly, it was not much, and it was still coming down quite steadily. But I felt I should do something to lighten Steven’s load tomorrow. If Steven decides to shovel tomorrow. He may leave it for me on Saturday, which would be fair since he has done the lion’s share of the shoveling this winter.

Perhaps I have reached Winter Fatigue or I am suffering from that Seasonal Affective Disorder (OK, one of those I just now made up). But not to worry. We are resilient here in the Mohawk Valley. I’ll be out and doing stuff soon, snow or no snow! I’ll be sure to write about it here.

The Problem with Valentines

I finished yesterday’s post saying perhaps I would expound upon Valentine’s Day today. This being Wuss-out Wednesday and still too cold for Mohawk Valley adventures, I will now attempt to do so.

In my sordid past — uh, I mean my ASSORTED past, I spent many years hating Valentine’s Day. Of course there was the build up. The hope that this year would be the one where I would be surprised by… something from… someone. And planning of what I might do to intrigue some particular person who seemed inexplicably unaware of my presence on the planet. Followed by the knowledge that no, this would not be the year, and, yes, anything I might think of to do would not intrigue but on the contrary probably annoy.

Well, it was a made up holiday anyways, perpetuated by greeting card companies, and who wanted a dumb old Valentine, anyways?

Now I have been quite happily married for going on 24 years, and Valentine’s Day is… problematic. In short, he always gets me better things than I get him! OK, in the scheme of things and especially in the context of relationships, there are worse problems to face. But still.

This year, for example, I got my Valentine present early. I came home today to find a lovely vase of flowers and an extremely cute stuffed gorilla sitting in the living room. What a guy! And anybody who is cynically snorting, “Oh, he got you your present early to make sure you got him something on the day,” you can just be quiet. Today was Steven’s day off; this was much more convenient for him and quite frankly it made my day.

As far as my present for Steven, I will either bake him cookies or make him my famous potato soup (which he loves). The advantage of these activities is that I can probably get another blog post out of it.

But I do hope the weather breaks soon, so I can go adventuring again.

How James M. Cain Makes Steven Nervous

How about a new feature called Tired on Tuesday? I may have suggested that before.

I was afraid this would happen when we did not watch a cheesy movie on Sunday. I was just too lazy to look for one. Instead, we watched two film noirs (films noir?) based on James M. Cain novels, The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946) and Double Indemnity (1944).

I can’t write about these movies the way I usually do about more cheesy cinematic fare. They’re really good movies. I suppose I could do a compare/contrast about them, because both are about sexy blondes who enlist boyfriends to help kill their husbands. Or I could be silly and tell how my husband Steven gets a little nervous because they are two of my all-time favorite movies. Or I could bag both movies and write instead about the walk I took with my schnoodle Tabby yesterday.

What I cannot do, it seems, is go right downstairs and watch a cheesy movie or have a Mohawk Valley adventure so I have something to write about.

The funny thing is, I almost had a topic this morning. Steven was driving me to work, and I went into one of my foolish analyses of words, this time critiquing the name of a certain chain drug store. Steven’s reply was, “Blog post.” I won’t write it, though, because on reflection, I feel it is not a spot-on analysis.

And now I see I have over 200 words (love that word count feature), which by my definition makes a respectable blog post. Tune in tomorrow (if you will be so kind), when perhaps I will wax eloquent about Valentine’s Day. Happy Tuesday, everybody.

In Praise of Unpleasant

I came across that phrase in the TV Journal the other day. I had noted it as a potential blog title, and today I find it appropriate for a Middle-aged Musings Monday.

We were watching one of my beloved true crime shows. It was my favorite kind: a case which had been covered in another program. I like to see if they show different aspects of the case. Or if their reenactments are as cheesy (who am I kidding? Reenactments are ALWAYS cheesy).

In this case, a woman kited checks and killed her husband to avoid unpleasantness.

Seriously, she kited checks to cover bad checks and created a huge financial mess, because it would have been unpleasant to deal with the first bad checks. She did not divorce her abusive husband, because it would have been unpleasant to air their dirty laundry in public.

Excuse me, what? What kind of funky, psychedelic rose-colored glasses did this woman wear that she didn’t think all this crap was going to eventually catch up with her? And where can I buy a pair?

I suppose, like Scarlett O’Hara, she said, “I’ll think about it tomorrow.” Of course, a lot of times when Scarlett said this, she was working her but off today and she really did have too much on her mind. There is something to be said for sleeping on your problems, seeing if things look better in the morning, letting our thoughts marinade.

But, oh yeah, we’re not talking about the pause that refreshes. We’re talking about fraud and murder to avoid unpleasantness.

We all know we cannot avoid unpleasantness indefinitely. By facing unpleasantness head-on, we are more likely to come up with solutions to our problems. For example, talking to the bank and paying overdraft fees. Talking to a divorce attorney. Then things may eventually become — all together now — pleasant.

Oh dear. All of a sudden I’m afraid I sound like some 20-year-old spouting a cliche like it’s a wise insight that none of the rest of you peons have caught onto yet. There are columnists like that. I’ve read them in disgust.

Oh well, at least this may set me up for a future Middle-aged Musing. When I say it, it’s an insight. When you say it, it’s just a trifle obvious. When that other one says it, it’s a trite cliche. It could be a pleasant post to write. In that case, it will do no harm to put it off.

No Write, No Run, But Wrist

Oh, it is SO Wrist to Forehead Sunday! I can’t write a post! I don’t want to write a post! I don’t want to write ANYTHING!

OK, got that out of my system. As usual, once I sit down at the keyboard, words come out. Maybe not good words, but I can at least edit out the bad words (you know like %$^#%$^@$(@ and *&*&^$%##!).

I read somewhere that motivation follows action, not the other way around. In other words, if you wait till you are “in the mood” (with apologies to Glenn Miller) to do a distasteful chore, you will never do it. However, once you begin said chore, you find it is not so bad after all. You happily do that and twelve other distasteful chores you have been putting off.

Unfortunately, sometimes it does not work. This morning, for example, I did the dishes and it did not lead me to sweep and mop the kitchen floor. I made a salad and chopped some vegetables for my lunch tomorrow. I’m sure I have praised in this blog the therapeutic benefits of chopping vegetables. Today, not so much.

I fear that if I tried to go running today it would be an unpleasant plod. I had previously agreed to let myself off the hook, due to temperatures below 20 degrees. Then I logged onto WordPress and saw a blogger I follow had published a post about how he went running in 8 degree weather. EIGHT DEGREES! What kind of a wimp am I? (It was Return of the Modern Philosopher , if you want to know.)

So that is the story of my life so far: no writing, no running. Well, if I have learned anything at my age, it is that these moods pass. However, that thought is more in the category of Middle-aged Musings. I’ll hold it for Monday. Hope to see you then.