Category Archives: personal

Chicken Anne Boleyn

Well, I started the day having Mohawk Valley adventures, until I got sidelined by a sinus headache (could have been a migraine; I don’t know from headaches). After taking a nap and lamenting my wasted afternoon, I managed to fix something for dinner that I thought might make an acceptable cooking post.

First I pre-heated the oven to 400 degrees, then sat back down to read my book some more. A wise woman once told me you can’t rush into these things (I think it was my mother). Finally I rousted myself back into the kitchen, where I put some frozen pre-cooked chicken strips into my cast iron frying pan to heat (it always takes longer than the package says). I covered it with a glass lid that just happens to fit the pan perfectly (the pot the lid went to broke a long time ago).

Then I took some fresh asparagus, rinsed it, broke off the tough ends, broke it into pieces and put it in a glass baking dish. I had some oil in the refrigerator with garlic and spices in it, which I had used the last time I roasted vegetables. I poured some over the asparagus and put it in the oven. Set the timer for nine minutes, although I figured it would take longer than that.

I put some water on to boil for some cheese tortellini, then read my book some more. I stayed in the kitchen reading it, though, to keep an eye on the chicken. It’s a biography of Anne Boleyn, which I’ve read before, but these history books always bear re-reading.

After a while I thought to put some frozen spinach in with the chicken. I poured some of the garlic/spices oil over that and kept it covered. It took even longer than expected, but that was OK, because the tortellini water took a long time to boil. The asparagus, too, took longer than expected. I kept taste testing it. I love asparagus.

Eventually everything was done. I put it in a metal bowl, added some pepperoni, feta cheese and Italian salad dressing and stirred well. I had actually meant to do all this at least an hour before I did it, chill it and call it salad. As it turned out (we’ll blame the headache), Steven was due home any minute. I decided it could be warm salad. Leftovers will be regular.

Perceptive readers may have noticed I did not cook with wine, as I like to do. Well, I knew I had a blog post to write. I didn’t want it to be full of typos.

I Didn’t Edit Out the Lame

An interesting phenomenon has been happening with some of my blog posts lately: I edit.

Of course I’ve always edited to a point. Whether I write it first then type it in or compose (NOT compost, Ron) at the keyboard, I read it over and change a word here and there. Lately, however, I’ve been deleting, moving and completely re-writing entire paragraphs. Even adding paragraphs. It’s kind of fun.

I’m sure there are some “real” writers out there rolling their eyes. “Of COURSE you have to edit!” they are saying, with or without a sniff. “Editing is an important part of writing — maybe the MOST important part. Did you think your stuff could stand as written?”

Two schools of thought there. Others believe you should NEVER edit. You must be spontaneous and fresh, sticking to your “first thoughts.” “First thoughts” is an expression I got from Natalie Goldberg in Writing Down the Bones. For Goldberg, as for many creative souls, the Editor is that bad voice that lives in your head and says things like, “Don’t write that! That’s stupid! Why are you even writing at all?”

Regular readers (Hi, Sherry!) know I have conversations with a similar entity in my own head on a regular basis. I would submit that it isn’t only writers that hear such a voice. I think a lot of people who suffer from low self-esteem hear an unkind voice telling them they are ugly or stupid or worthless.

I don’t want to stray into psychiatry over here. Half-baked philosophy is my bailiwick. And I didn’t start out to write out about self-esteem; I meant to do a post on writing.

Well, how about some half-baked philosophy on the relationship between writing and self-esteem?

Or not.

Full disclosure: I wrote this last week (yes, while I was stressing over the silly weekend) with no real notion of when I would use it. Today, I thought it would fit right in with Lame Post Friday. And it will have to do, because I have nothing else, least of all time to come up with an alternative.

Further full disclosure: I did very little editing on this when I typed it in. The irony is not lost on me.

Musings on Lack of a Muse

It’s no use: I have to hide behind a Mid-Week Middle-Aged Musings. Unfortunately I have very little to muse about.

I had thought I could spend the week happily writing about my Finger Lakes wine tasting adventures. It turns out they are not as easy to write about as the tastings at Vintage Spirits and Ilion Wine & Spirits. I suppose I could spend the post musing on why this is so, yet I feel strangely disinclined to do so.

I like to say I have Writer’s Blank rather than Writer’s Block, although sometimes I have Write It Then Cross It Out Syndrome. Today, however, it really feel like Block. There are words in my head, and my pen simply refuses to write them.

I know there are people out there who have no patience with this sort of crisis. I don’t say writers, because a lot of these people have never written a word in their lives, yet they feel certain that they know exactly what my problem is. As for the people that have written a word in their lives and claim never to have a problem of this nature, well, every writer is different (oh, how tactful of me to refrain from saying they are full of beans) (oops).

I think writing is an obstacle course (I did not say “like an obstacle course” because I prefer metaphor to simile). Sometimes you have to bull your way through the obstacle by main force. Sometimes you can climb or even jump over it. Sometimes you must carefully take it apart one piece at a time. And sometimes the best thing to do is to go around it and find a different way.

How’s that for something new to say about Why I Can’t Write a Post Today?

Prior to Six in the Morning

Here’s one good side effect of writing my blog: I open my notebook and flip through pages and pages of writing. I must be a writer! Look how much I write!

That said, I’m experiencing a little resistance lately and not a little Writer’s Blank. Oh, sure, I’ve got pages of notes from Finger Lakes wineries (we visited a few last Saturday). Yet I am not moved to write about them. Now, let’s not get into that discussion about Never Mind Mood and Motivation Follows Action. It’s boring.

Instead, I offer another Pedestrian Post. This one has something a little different, because I walked Tabby (our schnoodle, for anyone who didn’t know) prior to six this morning.

When we first got Tabby I would roll out of bed, into sweats and take her out on a leash for her first business meeting of the day. At first around the backyard, then down the sidewalk. Eventually, Steven tried just letting her out the back door. She is a good dog who stays where she should, and first thing in the morning she generally wants to do her business quickly and get back inside to hang out. Funny how dogs can’t wait to get up in the morning but very shortly after that are napping on the couch.

This morning we got up a little earlier than we have been, because Steven pulled a rare early shift. Hate getting out of bed, love the extra time. Soon it occurred to me to use a little of the extra time to take Tabby on a short perambulation (like many dog owners, we avoid using the actual word “walk”).

I’ve read in dog books that it is a good idea to take your dogs for a walk before you leave them. They might get a little tired and just nap while you are gone. In any case, it is always good to spend quality time with your pet. I try to take Tabby for many walks (and not just when I need a blog post), especially if I am going to take off for parts unknown (at least to her, sometimes to me). After my delightful walk this morning, I shall make even more of an effort to do so prior to the work day.

Part of the reason the walk was so delightful is that it has AT LAST gotten warm out. Fifty-two degrees, according to my thermostat. It felt like heaven. The sun was not completely up, so the world had that half light I so enjoy at dusk but rarely see at down (oh, I’m usually up at dawn, but it’s more a matter of noticing it’s gotten light out than watching it get that way).

I like seeing the tree branches outlined against the grey sky, although I am really looking forward to buds and leaves. I saw some daffodils in one yard. I planted some daffodil bulbs, but they haven’t done much so far. Now I can’t remember where I put them.

Prior to six is a nice quiet time to walk. I heard an empty can blow down the road, then the softer tinkle of wind chines. A sign for some law offices swayed in the breeze but didn’t creak. In the far distance we could hear some traffic but did not see any.

We only went around two blocks, because I didn’t have a whole lot of time, but it was very pleasant. We were headed back towards home when Tabby did her business. Tuesday is trash day, and I thought about how some people do not scruple to put their dogs’ poo in other people’s trash. I decided against such an action. It was not that much further to my own trash can in any case.

So I finished our excursion thinking that walking in the early morning is the Way to Go. I hope to have my act together enough to do it again soon.

Inn the Finger Lakes

I feel a little frivolous publishing a post about my wine tasting trip after just looking at breaking news about what happened at the Boston Marathon. However, I have nothing wise to say about that, and I did write this post before I knew anything terrible was going to happen. Therefore, I make bold to offer the following comments about the night preceding my Finger Lakes tour.

Wine weekend started Friday when my sister, sister-in-law, mother and I drove to Seneca Falls, where we had a room in the Hampton Inn.

Regular readers (Hi, Diane!) know that Mohawk Valley Girl does not usually plug chains (although I seem to remember doing so just recently; sorry). However, one encounters very few hotels or motels that are not chains these days. That’s especially true when you go someplace unfamiliar. Usually somebody in your group (in this case my sister) goes on-line and finds something.

Some nit-picker (you know who you are) will be pleased to point out that the Finger Lakes region is NOT in the Mohawk Valley. Well, I do sometimes venture out of my beloved home territory. The Finger Lakes are easy driving distance from the Mohawk Valley for a day or weekend trip. Can I get on with the post now?

The Seneca Falls Hampton Inn is a very good representative of its brand. The people that work there are all very friendly and helpful. They were accommodating about supplying extra towels and bedding, and they were happy to let me fill my large thermos from their supply of hot coffee that is available at all times (one of my favorite extras in a hotel or motel). We also enjoyed the hot breakfast buffet.

This is a short post today, because I have another bear of a week ahead of me. Please stay tuned as this blog next turns into All Dirty Work at the Crossroads All The Time.

Walk after Wine

I hope nobody thought I was going to have anything more strenuous than a Wrist to Forehead Sunday after a day of wine tasting in the Finger Lakes with some rather rowdy members of my family. If anyone did, I can only say, Why in the world would you think that? However, I did manage to take a nice walk with my schnoodle, Tabby, and I don’t despair of typing a few words about that.

Um, I put typing because I am composing at the keyboard as opposed to hand-writing it on paper first, as I often do. I suppose one could think it has something to do with the snide Truman Capote quote about another writer, “That’s not writing, that’s typing.” Well, anybody can feel free to quote Truman Capote at me. At least it’s a change of pace from pointing and laughing.

It was afternoon before I found my running shoes and got myself ready to get out the door. As usual, Tabby guessed my purpose and started running at the door, jumping and barking long before I was ready to actually fasten on the leash and go. I knew it was not as warm as one might hope, but thought I could get away with my crazy old lady hat rather than knitted toque. I also put on the large windbreaker with the huge pockets. Put two poop bags in the pockets (she very rarely poops twice in one walk, but one likes to be prepared). Found my sunglasses, because I thought the sun had come out.

I didn’t need the sunglasses after all, but that was where the large pockets came in handy. I only had to listen to them ka-thunk in the case and against my thigh for the whole walk. Well, one makes these sacrifices in order to be prepared. We started down Bellinger Street in Herkimer, NY (for the benefit for anybody just tuning in).

It was really not a bad temperature out at all. I understand it had snowed some places around here, but I saw no evidence of it where I was. Nice dry, bare sidewalks. A little muddy in the yards, but you’ll have that.

We saw two boys walking two beautiful setter-looking dogs up the opposite side of the street (it would really be nice if I learned to reliably recognize breeds). The dogs were pulling quite energetically on the leashes, but they did not seem interested in Tabby. I told Tabby to never mind about them, and no barks were exchanged.

Tabby pooped before we walked through Meyers Park, which was nice. That way I can throw the poop into a trash can as we walk by (see, that’s why I like to have two poop bags). Nobody was in the park. There was even very little traffic as we crossed Prospect Street and headed towards the downtown area.

The tribute to Ape was still up in front of Basloe Library, across from the former Glory Days. Ape was the police dog who lost his life helping take down that guy who shot people in Mohawk and Herkimer recently. I looked sadly at the plywood where windows used to be in the old Glory Days building. Perhaps somebody will buy that building and put in something cheerful.

On up Main Street, past the Historic Four Corners. I admired some of the large old buildings. I think most of them are cut up into apartments now. I saw a lovely patch of crocuses in front of a house further down the street. I really must put more crocus bulbs in my own yard this fall.

It was a pleasant walk, though I see now a little uneventful. I must say it exactly suited my mood, after my strenuous weekend. Now I’m off to watch a cheesy horror movie or two, and I shall hope for more energy later in the week so I can write about them.

A Little Less Stress?

Regular readers (Hi, Rick!) know I have spent the week in a state of stress over what ought to be a stress-relieving treat, namely a wine tasting trip to the Finger Lakes with certain female members of my family. I thought I might take Lame Post Friday to give an update on my stress.

Full disclosure: I’m writing this on Thursday, hoping to alleviate a little stress on Friday. I wrote Thursday’s post on Wednesday, Wednesday’s and Tuesday’s posts on Monday. I don’t remember what I wrote on Tuesday.

This morning WKTV News (out of Utica, NY) declared that it was Stress Free Thursday. Considering that I have spend Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday kvetching about the stress I’m under, I felt this spoke directly to me.

Bill Kardas, the weatherman, said life is too short to stress about things. This, I thought later, while not half-baked in itself, could lead me to some some half-baked philosophy suitable for Lame Post Friday.

“Life’s too short” is a reason many people use for many things. I like it. I think as a reason I like it even better than “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” my most often used reason. I daresay nobody but me remembers, but regarding the first wine tasting trip I took with my sisters, I explained, “Under the heading Life’s Too Short, we decided to do this and set a date.”

The occasion was my grandfather’s funeral. There is nothing like a funeral to point out how short life is and how important family is. Oh dear, now I’m getting sentimental as well as philosophical. That’s deadly.

I was gearing up to philosophize (half-bakedly, of course) about how we cause our own stress, as in, “I’m really stressing out over this.” But now I’m feeling all cuddly and soft. Well, one can’t always plan how one is going to feel.

This is Lame Post Friday, after all (or it will be when I publish this). I’m allowed to be random. I hope you all have a stress free weekend.

Gone Fishin’ — I Mean Wine Tasting

So I had a minor tirade on Non-Sequitur Thursday, some truly half-baked philosophy for Lame Post Friday, now I have to come up with something for Saturday.

Astute readers (I’m sure that includes all you lovely people) will realize I am writing this on Thursday, in hopes of getting my blog posts typed in and set to publish ahead of time. This will enhance my ability to enjoy the upcoming Finger Lakes Wine Tasting tour I am embarking upon with some of my family.

My favorite kind of Saturday post is Running Commentary. Unfortunately, I have not run and have no time to run now. I hope to take my dog, Tabby, for a walk sometime this evening. However, I want to write this post NOW (on a break at work, so, no, I can’t drop the pen, take a quick hike and go on). I suppose I could make something up and pretend I took a walk or even a run, but this really isn’t that kind of a blog.

So, what, am I going to write a post about What I Can’t Write a Post About? Is that better or worse than a post about Why I Can’t Write a Post Today? To answer that question would require some half-baked philosophy suitable for Lame Post Friday. Well, I’ve posted lame on a Saturday before. I’ve even had Wrist to Forehead Saturday on occasion. I’m afraid what I’m coming up with right now, though, is a new feature: I Got Nuthin’ Saturday.

Well, I’ve taken blogger sick days before. A co-worker suggested I call in sick on Friday in order to leave early for my Finger Lakes adventure. Since I have been talking about going wine tasting all week, I thought that would be bad policy. Likewise, no blog reader will believe I am suddenly ill (unless it is stress related; anybody could believe that).

So call it a personal day. Or what happens when one tries to write three blog posts in one day. I won’t work on Sunday’s post till tomorrow at the earliest. In the meantime, as you read this (if anybody is still reading), I might be raising a glass with a tiny taste of wine in it to you, my lovely readers. Cheers.

Can’t Say All the Syll

I would like to spend today’s Non-Sequitur Thursday on a minor tirade in defense of three syllable words. I don’t know that there’s anything particularly non-sequiturish about it, but it is what happened to come out of my pen.

Full disclosure: I am actually writing this on Wednesday, in my on-going quest to lessen my busy week stress. I’m not sure it’s working.

So here’s my question: When did people get too lazy to say all three syllables of a word? Some time ago I got annoyed when sportscasters started calling Syracuse “The ‘Cuse.” I think this really started on t-shirts and bumper stickers. That’s where I saw it first. Then the sportscasters started in and I realized Syracuse as I know it is doomed.

And you notice how they put the cool “the” at the beginning. Hello! You shorten the word by two syllables but add a one syllable word. That’s a net savings of only one syllable. And one could argue that since it’s adding a whole other word, it’s not a savings at all.

Also, nobody spends time with their family any more. It’s “the fam.” That one’s all over Facebook. Statuses share how somebody had a great time with “the fam.” This one’s not even a net savings, because it’s typed. T-h-e-space is one more keystroke than i-l-y. So these folks are just being cool.

The example that got me to write about this foolishness comes from my beloved cable television. A cheesy series which shall here remain nameless invited its most loyal viewers to purchase “merch” from their online store. For heavens’ sake MERCH? Why don’t you just say “stuff”? “Things”? At least she didn’t say “the merch.” If she had, I could have suggested “items.”

I think part of the problem is we’ve all gotten too cool for school. Sarcasm is our default setting, and we just can’t be bothered. Well, there are things I can’t be bothered with, too, but yet I can usually manage to say an entire word.

Oh, one exception: I rather enjoy the expression “Not no mo’.” Of course, that’s not even saving a syllable, just an “r” sound, which is not really a very burdensome sound to make. I just think it sound cool. So, YES, I, too, succumb to the lure of seeming cool. Point and laugh if you must (and I know some of you must) (you know who you are).

Bargain from the Basement

I believe I mentioned going shopping with my sister last Saturday in hopes of finding a fabulous outfit for this Saturday’s projected wine tasting tour. One of the best stops was at The Village Basement Consignment Shoppe in New Hartford, NY.

The Shoppe is located in the basement under Joette’s. It’s one of those buildings built into a hill. The entrance is in the back of the building, where the parking lot is. We could already see some cute clothes through the window.

I love consignment shops, because you never know what you might find. They are a little problematic, though, because you might not find it in your size. Then again, I tend to shop the clearance racks, where there is no guarantee your size will be left.

What I found Saturday fit me perfectly: a silk-looking shirt in royal blue and white. And it was only four dollars! What a bargain!

Earlier that day I had found on a clearance rack (of course) at Burlington Coat Factory a pair of black pants. I have not tried on the two pieces together yet, but I’ve kind of got my hopes up.

The Village Basement also has furniture, books and all kinds of stuff. I only checked out clothes on Saturday, so I must make a return trip soon to look at other things. When I do, I will probably venture upstairs to Joette’s, which has all kinds of wonderful jewelry and accessories.

Full disclosure: I am writing this post on Monday. I am trying to lessen my stress from having so much to do as the week wears on. I thought at least I can get ahead on my blog posts. Now if I could also work on laundry during my breaks at work, I would be all set.

And having typed this post in on Tuesday, I will disclose: still stressed. Also, I tried on the pants and shirt together: don’t like them. I still like each piece separately, so that’s good, but I am still without a fabulous wine tasting outfit. Stay tuned for further developments.

The Village Basement is located at 70 Genesee St., New Hartford, NY 13413. Phone number 733-4794. They are open Wed. to Fri from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., Sat. 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.