Category Archives: personal

Breakfast with Rachel

Posted on September 2, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

I put Rachel’s name in the title, so she can pretend she’s famous. At least, perhaps she is famous in certain circles, but I don’t think my blog will increase her fame. I’m afraid my blog is a little rinky-dink compared to some. Still, I like it.

Where was I? Ah yes, forgoing Wrist to Forehead Sunday for once (I hope) to write a little about my breakfast with my friend, and to give another shout-out to Crazy Otto’s Empire Diner.

When Rachel told me she would be passing close enough to Herkimer, NY to stop for a brief visit, she suggested we meet at one of those yummy places I write about. Since we would be meeting for a latish breakfast, I thought she would like Crazy Otto’s.

Obviously, lots of people like Crazy Otto’s. They didn’t have a booth free, so we sat at the counter. I pointed out the Georgia license plate Steven and I contributed to the decor. She was suitably impressed.

After hearing the specials we perused the menu. I picked something I had never noticed before, French toast with coconut flakes. Rachel wanted pancakes with eggs. This came with choice of meat. The waitress recommended sausage, which I must say looked pretty good. I may have to have another meal at Crazy Otto’s soon so I can try it.

It was really wonderful to sit and talk with a friend I had not seen in years. I only felt bad that it was just a meal and not the whole weekend. I guess anybody who knows me knows I could talk for three days at a stretch, but I would have let Rachel talk, too.

As I write this (I am composing at the keyboard, just to give you the proper mental image), I feel a bout of Wrist to Forehead coming on. Rachel read yesterday’s post, where I said I would write a post about our breakfast. She expressed (via Facebook comment) that she was looking forward to reading what we talked about. I commented back that now I felt the pressure to come up with something profound. Well, everything Rachel says is naturally profound, but this blog, not so much.

Never mind, we had a lovely breakfast, and I hope it is not another eight years till we see each other again. If you are meeting a friend you saw eight years ago, or one you just saw yesterday, or eating breakfast by yourself, I recommend Crazy Otto’s Empire Diner. Their website is www.crazyottosempirediner.com. You can also like them on Facebook.

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Whine O’Clock

Posted on August 31, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Yes, it is Lame Post Friday, and it should surprise no one that I got nuthin’.

I was about to say I’ve had a bear of a week, but I seem to remember last week being rather bearish as well (ooh, look at that, according to my computer “bearish” is so a word; I thought I had just now made it up). Earlier today I told a co-worker I was in a terrible mood, because all I could think about was things that piss me off. She advised me to think about something else.

“What should I think about?”

“3:30 this afternoon.” That’s our quitting time. “Wine-thirty.”

“It’s whine-thirty all day long for me,” I admitted. “Because all I do is whine.”

See, you get the pun right away when you write it down.

I thought it was a kind of a preemptive strike on my part (I’ll be damned, according to my computer pre-emptive is not hyphenated) to admit that I was whining. You know how upsetting it can be when all you want to do is relieve your feelings by expressing your discontent and you get told to stop whining. Actually, I had taken care to go to the co-worker that doesn’t usually say that. You have to be careful who you whine to. Uh, I mean express your discontent.

I was going to go into some half-baked philosophy about whining and perspective, but I believe I have covered it before. I would look back, find the post (or posts, I know I repeat myself sometimes), but hey, it’s Friday and I’m one of those lucky bastards who have a three day weekend. I’m thinking it’s beer o’clock.

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Maybe Next Time with Peas

Posted on August 30, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

People share all kinds of good advice on Facebook lately. Decorating ideas, recipes, security concerns… and some health suggestions.

My cousin posted a rather silly looking picture of a girl sitting crouched over on the edge of her bathroom sink. To cure a headache, the caption said, sit with your hands and feet in warm/hot water and put a bag of frozen peas on the back of your neck. It went on to explain how this worked, but I don’t read all these things any more than I pay attention to all the plot points on cheesy horror movies.

My first thought, which I immediately posted as a comment, was that I could never do this as there are never frozen peas in my house. I hate cooked peas, always have. I like to eat raw peas straight out of the pod, I add for the sake of pea lovers who might be inclined to cut my acquaintance. My sister suggested I purchase one bag of frozen peas for just such a purpose. I thought this not a bad suggestion, as I would be disinclined to cook and eat any vegetable that had spent an appreciable amount of time on the back of my head.

Of course I did no such thing.

However, suffering from yet another headache this afternoon, I thought I would try the technique, as best as I could. I did not sit on the edge of my bathroom sink. For one thing, I’m far too lazy to clear it off for such a purpose. For another, I really do not need to know whether my fat ass will or will not crack marble (I’m hoping not, but why put it to the test?) (oh, I know, back on the South Beach Diet for me). I sat on the edge of my tub. A frozen gel pack substituted for the peas. Nobody took a picture for Facebook and other embarrassing purposes, so if anybody had their hopes up, sorry.

And I am sorry to report: it did not work for me. Maybe I had the wrong kind of headache.

On the brighter side, I thought it would make an acceptable blog post for a Non-Sequitur Thursday. Hmmm… I guess nothing particularly non-sequiturish about it, but it will have to do. I hope to see you (figuratively speaking, of course) on Lame Post Friday.

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At Least I Have Clean Socks

Posted on August 28, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

I was going to put “Underwear” instead of “Socks,” but felt certain some wise ass would say, “TMI!” my most loathed and abhorred thing to hear (except, possibly for “We have to talk”) (and now I’ve given myself the heebie-jeebies, just thinking of those two things).

My computer is telling me “heebie-jeebies” is misspelled, but the dictionary says it is correct (I was going to put that in the above paragraph in parentheses, but feared having too many parenthetical comments) (oops).

Where was I? Ah yes, another post on Why I Can’t Write a Post. In today’s case it is another Blogger’s Sick Day, though, because I have a dreadful headache. I will take time to share two things that made the end of my day a little bit brighter.

As you may have guessed by the headline, we did laundry. And we didn’t plan ahead enough to have something in the crock pot waiting for us when we got home. And we didn’t have our act together enough to order something for pick up on the way home. And I was hungry enough to get irritated (oh, all right, I’ll admit it doesn’t take much) (there I go with the parentheses again).

Enter my wonderful husband, Steven. I was going to grudgingly accept the idea of sandwiches when he suggested taking some good rye bread we happen to have and some deli ham and cheese and making grilled sandwiches. How good did that sound! Yummy! How does such a little thing as some time on a frying pan transform pedestrian, blah, at-least-its-food into a tasty treat suitable for blog mention? I don’t know, and it’s not the day for half-baked philosophy, so let’s just enjoy. I did.

I went to check my Facebook notifications before making my blog post and discovered… I won a Croghan Bologna contest! I LOVE Croghan Bologna! I’ve been scheming how to talk Steven into a road trip to or through Croghan, NY to get me some. I know it will make a great blog post.

So my headache is still with me, but my day is brighter. And perhaps by tomorrow my blog will be more interesting. As always, I hope you’ll stay tuned.

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Fun at the Mill

Posted on August 27, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

I thought I would write a little bit more about Sunday’s visit to the Fly Creek Cider Mill.

It is always an enjoyable drive from Herkimer to Fly Creek, over mountains with great scenic views. I looked at farmland, lakes and more. Luckily, Steven was driving.

We went into the main building while we waited for my sister and two nieces to arrive. I thought it couldn’t hurt to get a head start on some sampling. That is one thing I love about Fly Creek Cider Mill, lots of free samples. They have dips, sauces, spreads and more. My favorite this past Sunday was a spinach and artichoke dip, which they had heated up. We bought a jar of that.

We also tried a few of the wines. Hard cider was also available for sample, but I didn’t want to be greedy. The Mill is part of the Cooperstown Beverage Trail, which a lady gave us a booklet about. Could be a future blog post (or posts).

After the others had arrived, we had some more samples and wandered upstairs to look at the many gifts and decorations available. I almost feel it is too early to think about Christmas decorations, but, oh, I love all the Santas! Of course, it is never the wrong time for Halloween, as far as I’m concerned, so I thoroughly enjoyed looking at those things.

When we had browsed and tasted our fill, we made our purchases and went outside to see the animals. There are chickens, ducks and geese, walking around a fenced in area or swimming in what I think is Fly Creek. We fed them some corn, available in gumball-type dispensing machines for twenty-five cents. Note to self: bring more quarters next time.

Steven and I try to get to the Mill at least once every year. I hope to go again in a couple of months, when the drive down will be enhanced by the changing leaves.

Fly Creek Cider Mill is located at 288 Goose St., Fly Creek, NY 13337, phone number 607-547-9692. Their website is www.flycreekcidermill.com. You can also Like them on Facebook.

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Me and the Angels

Posted on August 26, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

I believe in angels, but I do not believe in Facebook posts. Yes, half-baked philosophy is once again creeping onto days other than Lame Post Friday. What’s a blogger to do?

Earlier today, Steven and I took our schnoodle Tabby for a walk. As we approached home, we discussed our agenda for the rest of the day. I added, “Unless somebody was to call us up and say, ‘Oh, come here and do this!'” We both remarked that really nobody does that to us any more, we reminisced about a couple of times it had happened and was fun, then we were home.

Steven got on Facebook and shared one of those pre-printed things about angels seeing us struggling with something and they were about to make something good happen to us. If we re-posted it. Or something like that.

And then the phone rang. It was my sister asking did Steven and I want to meet her and two of her daughters at Fly Creek Cider Mill. Steven thought it was a great idea. So did I! We made the date.

Steven got back on Facebook and shared a picture of Fly Creek Cider Mill and the story of posting the angel thing and then getting a fun invitation. Could there, in fact, have been a connection? Who cares! We had a fun afternoon! I can probably get two or three blog posts out of it as the week wears on.

But today, I felt like writing about the angels.

Could my sister actually be one of them? Discuss amongst yourselves.

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Me vs. the Yard

Posted on August 24, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Anybody who is anxiously awaiting the return of Saturday Running Commentary (I am), keep waiting. It’ll get here. This week, I went to Curves and exercised instead. When I got home, I thought I wouldn’t waste the sweat but do some work in the yard.

Lots of stuff has been growing up around the garage, none of it pretty. Oh, we had some pretty things there earlier this year. Some lovely irises, some pink flowers whose name I never knew, some chives and parsley (maybe not exactly pretty, but yum).

Now it is overgrown with weeds, and some of them are getting quite tall and unsightly. I like to blame the inordinate amount of rain earlier this summer rather than my lack of diligence at weeding, but really, does pointing fingers get us anywhere in this situation? In fact, you don’t even need to point your fingers at the weeds I ought to be pulling up. I can see them perfectly well.

I started in back of the garage. Yikes! I rarely see in back of the garage. I like to sit on my deck, where that part is nicely hidden. Today I was confronted with a huge bush/tree/something. It comprised several different plants, I think, some of them with some nasty stickers. I was armed with gardening gloves and clippers. I strode bravely into the fray.

And was soon saying, “Ow! Ow! Dammit!” Those gardening gloves are not exactly impenetrable. And they only cover up to my wrists. It is not long sleeve weather. I did not get very far on what I now think of as the Monster of the Back Yard. For one thing, the sun had moved around and you know how sensitive I am about direct sunlight (at least, I suppose new readers, if any, don’t know, but I am).

I moved to the side of the garage, the unsightly part we see when we are sitting on the deck. The worst of the weeds were among the irises. Now done blooming, and even the greenery didn’t look too healthy. I figured it would be OK to cut or pull the green stuff as long as I left the bulbs in the ground. After much huffing and puffing, I accomplished it. I left the most of the greenery from the unknown pink flowers. It still looked pretty good, and I managed to get most of the weeds around it.

Moving on up, I came to a place where last fall Steven had planted some flowers from my container garden on the deck. We thought we’d see what happened, not being clear on if they were annuals or perennials. Some stuff had grown. It had not bloomed, so I had begun to suspect that they were not flowers. I began to pull them up as ruthlessly as I could manage (not being a particularly ruthless person).

And noticed a pleasing aroma, even penetrating my screwy sinuses. I sniffed closer. Why, yes, that was mint! I forgot I had put some mint there. The ground had been hard, it hadn’t been such a much when I planted it, well, I’ll be a ding dong daddy, as my grandmother used to say. They say mint will take over your yard. I say, have at it! I plucked some mint and brought it inside. Later I will make some mint tea. Aaaahhhh!

And that is my gardening story for the day.

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Wrist to Lame Forehead

Posted on August 24, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Today at work, I had my whole blog post written in my head. Well, most of it. I figured I’d come up with a few other sentences once I started writing. Then I went on break, I opened my notebook, and… nothing.

I bet you knew that was going to happen. I can just hear one of those smug artsy fartsy types saying, “Of COURSE nothing happened! You can’t write something in your head before you sit down to write it. You have to be SPONTANEOUS!” Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sometimes thinking about something before I write it works very well.

But speaking of being spontaneous, I hadn’t planned to write anything like that second paragraph. I had rather hoped I could segue back into what I had written in my head this morning (I think it’s still there). I am dreadfully sorry to be doing yet another post about Why I Can’t Write a Post, but here it is.

Still, on Lame Post Friday, there are worse things to write a post about. I’m going to count that as half-baked philosophy (regular readers will remember that Lame Post Friday is for random observations and half-baked philosophy) (they will also remember that I feel I have to say that almost every time).

What is this, Wrist to Forehead Friday? Say it ain’t so!

I had meant, as a matter of fact, to write a pedestrian post full of random observations made on the walk Tabby and I took last night. Unfortunately I did not observe much. Mostly I observed the sky looking more and more threatening till it finally rained on us. Oh, and I observed the bag I was carrying blow around like a wrinkly, misshapen balloon. I thought it looked a little foolish, but nobody will ever ding you for carrying around a plastic bag when you are walking a dog, however much it fills with air and whips around.

Ooh, look, over 300 words. Now to come up with a dramatic conclusion that brings all this nonsense together, so I can feel like a real writer. Then again, maybe I will just have to feel like something else tonight.

At least I’m not one of those artsy-fartsy types.

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What? No Peter Cushing?

Posted on August 23, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Spoiler Alert! I’m actually not going to give a lot away, especially not the ending, because I had stopped paying much attention by that time. In my defense, it was Saturday night and way past my usual bed time.

I DVR’d Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb (1964) with high hopes, thinking it must be the sequel to The Mummy, which I enjoyed recently. As I learned from Ben Mankiewicz’s pre-movie commentary, it is the second of four Mummy movies made by Hammer Studios (I referred to them as Hammer Films in my post on The Mummy, but I specifically noticed Mankiewicz said Hammer Films this time) (in the interests of accuracy). The movie was directed by the son of the guy that owned Hammer at the time. I suppose that would explain it.

My first disappointment was that neither Peter Cushing nor Christopher Lee were in the movie. I like Lee better as Dracula than as the Mummy anyways, but I felt Cushing was a real loss. Still, I thought I would try to enjoy it. A Hammer Studios monster movie must be worth a watch, right?

The movie opens with some guy tied by his hands to two stakes in the desert, guarded by an Arab-looking guy (1960s Hollywood version) (but I didn’t need to tell you that). A group of nomad-looking guys ride up on horses. Without a word, one of them kills the guy and chops his hand off. This gives everyone a good laugh (except, of course, the dead guy), and they ride off with the severed hand.

Cut to a luxurious tent, apparently the living quarters of the archaeologists excavating the tomb. A guy is pouring a French lady another drink. She flirtatiously asks is he trying to get her drunk. He says he will try to do so when they return to London (another spoiler: he doesn’t), and she coquettes that she will let him. It must be pretty dry out there, even for a desert, because I didn’t think he was such a much.

It turns out the dead guy of the previous scene is her father. She flees in tears.

“Let her go,” somebody says wisely to the boyfriend. People are always saying that in movies. I don’t know if they do in real life, because I am usually the one fleeing in tears, or at least I was in my dramatic adolescent past (although in my case, I sadly suspect it was more of a collective, “Thank God she’s gone!”) (but I digress). I think in the case of this movie, the movie makers wanted French Lady to be alone when she discovers in her bed (I did include a spoiler alert, didn’t I?) the severed hand (oh, you probably saw that coming; I did).

Another dramatic shock happens when they discover a dead body amongst the artifacts they are taking back to England. I got a good laugh over that, because, well, the body looked a little comical. Meaning no disrespect to the fictional dead.

Speaking of good laughs, Steven and I both cracked up when… I can’t remember who said what, but suddenly everyone froze in a dramatic pause and looked at… the sarcophagus. Which looked a little like Tutankhamen with a pig nose.

Soon they’re on a boat headed back to England. A couple more dramatic things happen, including the introduction of a mysterious, handsome stranger. He beats up a would-be assassin and tosses him overboard. That seemed a little careless to me. Wouldn’t you, for example, like to ask the guy who he works for?

Things get a good deal less exciting in London. French Lady starts playing Old Boyfriend against Handsome Stranger, but that isn’t very compelling, because Old Boyfriend doesn’t get very jealous. We find out, via dialogue, not demonstration, that French Lady is a rather brilliant Egyptologist, having studied hard to earn her father’s love (remember him? She doesn’t seem to). It seems Old Boyfriend wants her for her brain. What an insult! It is so refreshing that Handsome Stranger understands she wants a home and to stay in it. Well, this is before the feminist ’70s (no, I am not going to entertain a discussion on family vs. career; this is not that kind of a blog).

Where was I? Ah yes, losing track of the movie. It’s not what you call fast-paced and action-packed. And I don’t remember the ending. Something happens in a sewer after we find out a BIG secret about Handsome Stranger. So if this movie pops up again on TCM, I may try to watch it till the end. I may even write another blog post about it.

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On the Streets of Ilion

Posted on August 22, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Yesterday I mentioned running errands as part of the reason I was too beat to blog (ooh, that would be a good title for my next Wuss-out Wednesday) (I bet I already used it). Today (Wednesday) I thought I would wuss out with a short post about What I Did After Work Yesterday.

First I had to leave work late. Not because I was working, but because of Ilion traffic. You see, there is a factory in the middle of the village whose largest shift lets out at 3:30 p.m. Monday through Friday. I might work there, but this is not a work blog. My point is, there are certain directions it is not easy to drive in Ilion, NY between 3:30 and four p.m.

Actually, things let up somewhat by 3:45, so I was OK. I drove to the Salvation Army Thrift Store (also known as Salvation Armani; I love that expression) with little or no difficulty. I dropped off my donation, also with little or no difficulty. Then I drove back into downtown Ilion.

A little difficulty.

Nothing too bad, but Ilion is kind of weirdly laid out. No offense, Ilion. I grew up in Rome, NY, which I always considered kind of screwy. In Rome none of the streets are quite parallel with the result that many of them do not come out where you expect. In addition, Rome boasts many one way streets, most of them inconveniently located, as far as I’m concerned. So I always thought, growing up in Rome, other towns could hold no terrors for me.

Turns out, not so much. Um, I was not filled with terror; that’s just an expression.

I drove around and up Otsego Street to Kinney Drugs. Kind of a screwy parking lot (no offense, Kinney Drugs), but I managed it. Then I had to figure out how to get to Rite Aid (it was a drug store kind of day). There is a whole complex of stores, doctor offices and other businesses that I have yet to fully figure out. I drove around it.

I guess it didn’t make that good of a story after all (I know I don’t need “of” there, but I kind of like the sound of it). Perhaps if I would have found a street map of Ilion and really explained my course. That would hardly have been wussing out, and it is Wuss-out Wednesday. Hope to see you on Non-Sequitur Thursday (when Rocky the Squirrel says, “Again? But that trick never works!”) (and whoever gets that reference, I’m pretty sure they would only have said “Rocky says,” so, sorry, but I wanted to make sure SOMEBODY got it).

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