Category Archives: personal

Fun Breakfast

Last Sunday Steven had the day off, which is rare, and we had a lot of cleaning to do in our recently flooded basement, which these days is not the least bit rare. We still were not able to cook on our stove, and we needed sustenance before we began. I offered to cook scrambled eggs in the microwave, but Steven said, “Let’s go out.” Where to go?

I have often driven by the Family Fun Center, a bright purple and fuchsia Victorian-looking building (not that I know from architecture) on Main Street in Mohawk, NY, but never ventured in. I thought it was more a place that families went for parties or activities or, you know, fun. I knew they did a Friday Fish Fry, because a sign out front says so. A co-worker said they did a good breakfast, so after debating where to go on Sunday, we decided to check it out.

It’s often problematic to go out for breakfast on a Sunday, because this is probably the most popular day for breakfast out. I do hate fighting a crowd. I said if we could find a parking space, we could probably find a seat. As we walked in the back door (we tried the front, but a sign there said to use the back), a little girl immediately said, “Hi!”

“It is a fun center,” I said, after returning the greeting. We sat in a booth and looked around.

It is an old house with large rooms and an ornate ceiling that I admired. The dining room is brightly painted and decorated with retro and antique Coca-Cola memorabilia. I do enjoy a restaurant with cool things to look at. Adjoining the dining room is a room with a pool table and video games. I did not walk in and check out what all they had, but it looked like a fun center to me.

I ordered an egg sandwich on a roll with bacon, egg and cheese. Steven got eggs over medium with bacon, toast and some very yummy potatoes (I tried them). We had a strenuous day of basement cleaning ahead of us, but we felt we had fueled up for the endeavor.

Where’s Bill Murray When You Need Him?

OK, so I started to write a post this morning about how hot it is. I knew I had set a precedent for such a subject about a year ago with a post titled “I’m Me-elting” (I know how to make a ping-back to that, but I’m not sure it’s really worth a click) (although I did kind of like the last paragraph).

From that last parenthetical comment you see that I looked up the post. I had, in fact, just about decided not to use what I had written this morning but instead to make it a kind of a cooking post, telling about what I threw together for supper just now. Then I thought, oh what the hell, I’ll look at “I’m Me-elting” first, just to see what I said.

Well, I hadn’t said much about the heat but immediately went into a kind of a cooking post.

What is this, Groundhog Day?

So I’m going back to Plan A and write about the heat, making this another Wuss-Out Wednesday.

This year’s heat wave started just as I was dealing with my flooding woes (I’ll say it again: not as bad as some people’s, but bad enough to upset me!). I said to a friend at work, “I remember last year when the worst thing I had to deal with was how hot it was. Boy, those were the days!”

I thought about that for a minute then said, “Oh dear, do you suppose something worse is going to happen next year, so I’ll say, ‘Last year all I had to deal with was heat and a flooded basement. Boy, those were the days!'”

I live in fear.

Just kidding. I admit to sometimes trying to peer around that figurative bend in the road, to see what stupid thing is going to happen next. But that gets into half-baked philosophy, more suitable for Lame Post Friday. And I just thought of a silly headline that really makes today kind of like Non-Sequitur Thursday.

Incidentally, I thawed some shrimp, made cocktail sauce and cooked broccoli in the microwave. And served some black olives which happened to be in the refrigerator, by way of garnish. I include this information in case anybody is saying, “Gee, I wish she would have done the cooking post.”

I bet nobody was.

Help from the Belly Up

I realized I had neglected to write about a Mohawk Valley adventure Steven and I had the Saturday before last. We went to the Belly Up Pub in Herkimer, NY for their Summer Saturday, which on July 6 was also a fundraiser for victims of the recent flooding in the Mohawk Valley.

We went to a previous Summer Saturday and enjoyed it very much (perhaps you read my blog post about it). We may not have attended another that Saturday, what with our own flooded basement blues, but we felt we should support the cause. Also, blues notwithstanding (or maybe because of the blues), I thought it would benefit me to get out of the house for the evening.

We stopped for dinner first at Crazy Otto’s Empire Diner, handily located just a few doors down. After filling up on burgers and homemade chips (or is that a misnomer: homemade in a restaurant?) we repaired to the Belly Up.

It was early enough to easily find a table inside (tall bar tables such as I love). We figured we could go outside for dancing later if we decided to. For the moment, the air conditioning felt good.

It continued to feel good, and we ended up not going outside at all. DJ Big Poppa was spinning tunes. We enjoyed his selections. Our friends Phyllis and Jim joined us, and we had a fine time visiting and making silly jokes (two of my favorite pastimes). At one point we saw somebody setting up a camera.

“And me having a bad hair day,” I lamented. This, of course, was another silly joke. I have only one kind of hair day since my St. Baldrick’s Day adventure in June. It’s actually now about a half inch long (haven’t measured). I think it looks cute, although I may be flattering myself.

I didn’t pay too much attention to the camera after that, but I guess they did interview somebody. A fellow I work with saw it on the news and said Phyllis and I were in the background. I knew there was a reason I should watch my local news on Sunday.

We later learned the evening raised over $1,800, to be donated to the United Way CNY Flood Recovery Fund. This is especially good news, as it seems FEMA is not going to come through with help for individuals. In light of that, I’m wondering if we will see fundraisers in other venues. Way to set the example, Belly Up Pub!

Not Beaten, But Not Upbeat

My spell of bad writing days continues.

I was not able to write my post while at work today. I don’t feel able to write it now, either. I know other bloggers seem to like my silly posts about Why I Can’t Write a Post, but all I can think right now is, “My mother is going to read this!”

Ooh, didn’t that sound like I was going to write something racy? Sorry to disappoint (you know who you are).

The thing is, I bill this as a positive blog — “totally fun,” it says at the top. But one cannot be upbeat at all times. At least, I suppose one could, but not this one. And I bet the one that could gets on most people’s nerves. (Should I have put that last sentence in parentheses?)

I have not yet dried out from the flooding experienced recently by the Mohawk Valley. Of course I have a lot to be thankful for. I lost far less than others. I had help from family and friends. My basement is now in the process of drying out completely. My husband and I are in the process of cleaning out the mildew (yuck!). The hot water heater is on the way to being replaced, at which time the gas can be turned back on (warm showers and cooking on the stove! Woohoo!) (Ooh, that’s another thing to be thankful for: the electricity never got turned off).

It is, in fact, good weather to appreciate a cold shower. And who wants to heat up the kitchen by cooking on the stove anyways? I haven’t washed a pot or pan in two weeks!

Am I beginning to sound like the annoying one who is upbeat at all times? I didn’t think so, but it is good to check these things.

So I guess this is my Monday Middle-aged Musing for the week. I am well aware of many things I can be thankful for. Sometimes this knowledge does not bring about a corresponding rise in spirits. In other words, sometimes you just have to feel that way till you don’t feel that way any more.

And I hope tomorrow I will feel more like writing.

The Bluebeard Blues

Some time ago I was unable to complete a blog post about a cheesy movie, although I managed as usual to write something about how I couldn’t write anything (funny how that works). Today I shall try again.

Oh, yeah, usual Spoiler Alert.

I decided to take a break from my flooding woes with a movie from “50 Horror Classics,” the DVD collection I purportedly bought for Steven on his last birthday (I say purportedly, because I’m the one that watches them) (and because I like the word “purportedly”).

I chose Bluebeard (1944) starring John Carradine. I seemed to remember that Carradine was Kung Fu on a TV series years later, but I never used to watch that show, so I could not be sure (later my husband Steven told me it was David Carradine. I guess there were a few of those Carradines).

Leonard Maltin says this is a “surprisingly effective story” (Leonard Maltin’s 2013 Movie Guide, Signet, 2012). I’m surprised he thinks so, although I often disagree with Maltin.

The action takes place in Paris, I forget what year (if they ever said so), but the ladies are in long dresses and big hats. Some unknown murderer is strangling ladies and dropping them in the Seine. At least, since it is Paris, I thought it must be the Seine. I kind of shy away from the water scenes after my recent flooding experiences (that’s in addition to my usual not paying too much attention).

Nobody wants anybody to walk home alone. Some girls leaving work impatiently await their co-worker. She sidles out and tells them they needn’t have waited. She is blonde and obviously “the sexy one,” so I accordingly waited for her to make trouble, perhaps leaving that sweet, innocent-looking brunette to be the heroine.

Sweet Brunette introduces her friends to this puppeteer they meet while walking safely home. He hasn’t been giving many puppet shows lately, because of people not wanting to stay out so late, what with the murderer in all. The girls talk him into it, leading to a rather long scene with no action except for these puppets singing opera.

It turns out Sexy Blonde, not Sweet Brunette, is the heroine, but she stops acting so Mae-West-y about the time the puppeteer/murderer asks her to make some costumes for his puppets. Um, you knew as soon as I mentioned the puppeteer he was going to turn out to be the murderer, didn’t you? Oh well, that’s why I include a spoiler alert.

It seems this guy is also a painter. He paints a lady, then kills her. I gather he dates his assistant, dumps her when he goes to paint another lady, then comes back to the assistant after he’s strangled the lady he painted. I found it a little convoluted, but I guess I’m easily confused.

Maltin says the killer “falls for smart girl… who senses something is wrong.” Oh well, I suppose she is smart enough, but she’s no intrepid girl reporter. I’ll be perfectly honest, I was not paying a great deal of attention by this time and I don’t remember much. This whole review is written from my notes in the TV Journal and the blurb in Leonard Maltin.

I must say I think my posts about not being able to write about this movie were more effective than my actual post about the movie. However, since it is Wrist to Forehead Sunday, I make bold to hit publish. Wait till you read about the next cheesy horror movie I watched.

I Am Never Going to Get to that Murderer

I tried, just now, to finish the post I was writing about the movie concerning the murderer dropping his victims in the Seine. I wrote a whole post about how I got hung up on it last weekend. I thought sure when I got back to it, I would breeze through it.

Not so much.

I think the problem is I got hung up on the Seine before I had written as much as I thought I had. And what I had written was, well, really not as good as I had hoped. What’s a blogger to do?

My original plan, in fact, was not to write about movies today at all. I wanted to do a Saturday Running Commentary. Then I decided not to run. I took my schnoodle Tabby for a walk instead. A pedestrian post, perhaps?

It was a pleasant walk, before the day got too hot and humid. It was, unfortunately, quite uneventful.

The reason I decided not to run was that I was recruiting my energies to clean my house. We plan major basement cleaning (the site of the flooding I’ve been kvetching about for two weeks now) after Steven gets home. My self-imposed assignment while he worked was to clean as much of the house above ground level as I could get to.

Well, I’ve done a cleaning post before. I don’t know that it makes for that great a post, but it adds interest to the actual cleaning. When you are mentally searching for words to describe cleaning a toilet while you are actually cleaning said toilet, it somehow becomes just a little less burdensome to clean the toilet.

There is also the thought that one could wait till later to make the blog post. One could think of more things to write about the movie. One could watch a different movie. One could have further Mohawk Valley adventures that would be more worth the writing about.

One, of course, being me.

But I want to get this done now, so here it is. Call it Wrist to Forehead Saturday, call it another Blogger’s Day off, call it Yet Another Post About Why I Haven’t Written a Post. In fact, under the circumstances, you can even call me late for dinner. Ooh, maybe that should have been the headline.

I Don’t Know What to Doo-Dah

It has been a bad week for writing. There, I’ve said it.

And now begins the chorus of “Oh, just write,” and “Never mind your MOOD,” and “Writer’s Block? There just ain’t no such animal!”

To answer those in reverse order: Who said I had Writer’s Block? NOBODY! Did I even mention mood? NO! What am I doing right now? WRITING!

But I have not been writing well, and I have not been enjoying writing (well, maybe that last paragraph was a little fun). This being Lame Post Friday, I thought it would be OK to kvetch a little.

And that is when I completely run dry, because who wants to listen to a middle-aged lady kvetch? Not me! How about my usual random observations and half-baked philosophy instead?

Ilion, NY will soon celebrate their Ilion Days festival, including the Doo-Dah parade. There is a sign up at my place of employment looking for people to march in it. I have been going around asking people if they intend to march, because I like saying “Doo-Dah Parade.” It’s fun. Try it.

Did you try it?

Under the heading Now What Stupid Thing’s Going To Happen? I’ve got a soft tire on my vehicle. This could lead to some half-baked philosophy alluded to earlier in the week: what did we do to deserve this? My philosophical advice to myself is: don’t look too closely at it, or I might find I’m actually getting a lot less than I deserve in the Stupid Things department. How does one keep score on these things? Another philosophical question.

Friday Lame Posts should be short, so I’ll end here. Anyone wanting more information on the Ilion Days and the Doo-Dah Parade (more fun to say than type, but what are you going to do?) can go to www.iliondoodah.com or call 894-2308.

Post-Flood Perambulation

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that we are in the habit of referring to walks as perambulations, because most dogs know “the w word.” As I was writing this post in my head while I fixed dinner, I thought, “I’ll call it Wednesday Walk. Alliterative.”

And then I remembered today was Thursday. That’s what I get for cooking with wine. Or does that make this Non-Sequitur Thursday? No matter, Steven and I just took a walk with our schnoodle Tabby, and I’m going to write a post about it.

It was Steven’s idea to take a walk. Of course I always want to walk with our nice dog, but lately it’s been so stinking hot and humid. And it has rained just about every damn day (perhaps you’ve read some of my posts about the area flooding). Today was beautiful.

I had written most of a letter to my sister during work today. I suggested Steven add his two cents and we walk it to the post office. After a minor crisis looking for the stamps and some debate about appropriate footwear (are there still copious patches of mud from the flood?), we were off.

Sunny with a nice breeze. No mud to speak of, although we did encounter a few patches of dry dirt where bare sidewalk ought to be. Really, things are getting cleaned up nicely. For the past two weeks many houses have had sad piles of garbage next to the curb, the ruined contents of basements. Most of that has been hauled away.

We admired some flowers in flower boxes and on porches. Some front yard gardens were still blooming and beautiful. Some yards had not fared so well.

The breeze died down and the sun began to feel a little stronger. I encouraged Tabby to not stop and sniff while we were in the direct sunlight. I was more lenient in the shade. Steven pointed out that Tabby had not been for a walk in a few days; she was making the most of it.

We got the letter mailed then walked all the way up Main Street and down German to home. Herkimer is definitely looking better. Here’s hoping for better days to come!

Dinner and the Laundry

I mentioned in passing that Steven and I went to the laundromat yesterday (Tuesday). I thought I’d give that local business a proper plug today.

Colonial Laundromat in Ilion is located at 59 Central Ave, about two blocks into town coming off State Route 5. It’s clean and large, with various capacity machines.

We picked the biggest machine for things that had been in the basement during the flood and two of the next-largest for other things. We utilized one of the four change machines to supplement our supply of quarters. Another patron pretended it was a slot machine and cheered getting a big pay-off. That is one of my favorite laundromat jokes.

As I said, it is a nice clean business. A young lady was going around with a squirt bottle and rag, making sure it stayed that way.

Even though doing laundry involves a great deal of sitting around, we were working up an appetite. As our clothes tumbled in the drier, I realized the operative thing to do was to order food for us to pick-up on the way home. This entailed some discussion, because of course we had not planned ahead and, for example, stored any restaurant numbers on my cell phone or even written them in my notebook.

“If restaurants around here were smart,” I said, “they’d hang up fliers in here, so people doing laundry could say, ‘Oh, let’s eat here when we’re done!'”

Hmmm, no fliers. Finally Steven asked the young lady with the squirt bottle did she have a phone book. She did. I made the call, to Sorrento’s, right across the street, at 86 Central Ave.

When the lady heard where we had ordered, she said if she had known, we could have looked at her menu. She orders from there a lot. It didn’t really matter. I had known all day what I wanted for dinner: antipasto salad and garlic wings.

A short time later, as Steven went into Sorrento’s to get our food and I waited in the vehicle, I realized we hadn’t even needed to bother her for the phone book. There was the phone number right on the sign: 315-894-9991. We could have looked out the window and seen it.

So going to the laundromat was not so bad, especially with our reward of a yummy supper.

Tired on Tuesday

I was afraid this would happen, and I don’t have a label to hide behind.

Wrist to Forehead Sunday, Middle-aged Musings Monday, Wuss-Out Wednesday, Non-Sequitur Thursday, Lame Post Friday. I was about to add Running Commentary Saturday, but since that one involves actually going for a run and writing about it, I don’t think it’s in the same category as my taking-it-easy days. In my defense, I don’t use all those categories every week. In my — accusation? guilt? where’s that thesaurus when you need it! — I’ve been using them a lot lately. In my defense again, I’m still recovering from a flood.

This could go back and forth for a while, but I think my point is clear. I do not have a blog post for today and I do not have an excuse not to have one.

For any astute reader who just said, “What about that murderer dumping bodies in the Seine you keep saying you’re going to write about?” I answer, “Good question.”

That post is partially written, but I want to write more and edit what I wrote so far and, you know, make it sound really good.

“So do that now,” the reader continues, beginning to sound less like an astute reader and more like that inner critic I keep mistaking for a legitimate blog reader.

Listen kids, Aunt Cindy is tired (oh yeah, like any nieces and nephews read my blog!). The temperature and humidity are enough to melt any wicked old witch (yes, admitting to belonging in that category), I worked all day, and then I came home and went to the laundromat and did LOTS of laundry.

Yes, my husband helped me with the laundry. What are you getting at?

In fact, as I waited for the washers and then the driers, I worked on another blog post about a movie, this one in the psycho-biddy genre. Just to give a preview of coming attractions.

Even as I was writing, I said to Steven, “Oh, I am just going to go home and write something off the cuff. It’s all I can handle today.”

So here it is. I’m afraid not as clever as I had hoped, but it will have to do.