Category Archives: personal

But About Me…

Thursday night I went to a meeting of Herkimer Now, a group whose goal is to revitalize the Village of Herkimer, NY. I intend to write a fuller post about Herkimer Now, but today I’m going to talk about me.

When I walked into the meeting at Basloe Library (one of my all time favorite places), the guys that were there introduced themselves, so I told them my name.

“With?” one of them inquired. Oh dear. Of course, these were all local business owners or community leaders of some sort.

“Um, nowhere in particular.” Then, feeling some explanation of my presence was called for: “I write a blog about the Mohawk Valley. I thought I might write a post about you guys.”

So naturally they wrote down the name of my blog. One fellow asked was “girl” spelled with a “u.” Apparently that’s how all the cool gurls do it.

“I’m not cool,” I admitted. Hmmm. Mohawk Valley Gurl. Never thought of that. But now that I think about it, sometimes you see it spelled “Grrrl,” especially when it’s plural. I feel so conventional. It’s embarrassing.

Now, I write this blog every day. I get some pretty positive feedback. I know some of my posts are pretty good (if I do say so). But I’m still not entirely comfortable presenting myself as Someone Who Writes a Blog. Or even as a Blogger, which sounds younger, hipper and, it must be said, a trifle less literary. I worry that people will Expect things from me.

“That’s a good thing,” I can just hear somebody arguing, with or without an admonitory finger shake. “You should expect things of yourself.”

For one thing, there’s that dirty word “should” again. For another thing, setting up Expectations (Great or otherwise) has a distinct chilling effect on creative endeavors. Sometimes you have to back into these things.

My other concern is, as blogs go, this one is kind of, well, rinky dink. I was all excited to be over 150 followers. I’ve seen other bloggers get twice that many “likes” on one post. I am not exactly big time.

Then again, 150 followers is nothing to sneeze at. And every “like” or positive comment is appreciated. The Herkimer Now people may find my blog perfectly enjoyable.

Later on at the meeting, a man was talking about the newsletter and how he wanted to add articles, especially about local businesses.

“If only there was someone,” he said, “Maybe someone who just happened to walk into a meeting. Someone who likes to write about local things. Maybe who has a blog.”

I’m probably misquoting, but it was along those lines. I felt extremely flattered. Of course I would be happy to write for them. With writing and with theatre, if somebody asks me, my answer tends to be yes. Unfortunately, I left the meeting without giving them my email. It was the day my computer died, so I did not feel it was the best way to get ahold of me. I’m still computerless. In fact, I’m typing this on a computer at Basloe Library (did I mention it’s one of my favorite places?).

So perhaps we have a new feature: It’s All About Me Saturday. I like it. But stay tuned, I’ll have more to say about Herkimer Now. Um, later.

Lame Computers, Anyways!

Yesterday I began my post with a lament about what a lousy blogging week it has been. Little did I know, it was about to get worse.

Um, I mean, I began the post I was handwriting in my notebook while on a break at work. I don’t remember how I began the post that got published and, quite frankly, I do not want to go back and look. The computer told me I have 55 minutes of time and I may need all of it to move forward.

So yesterday, blog post that never saw the ether of the internet (as opposed to the light of day) in my spiral notebook (to differentiate it from a computer called a notebook, which I do not have), I called my husband Steven during the nine o’clock break, and he informed me that the computer was down. It is not a new computer. It was graciously given us by my sister whose daughter had no use for it. It has served us well (thanks, Vicki!) (oh, and thanks, Diane, the sister who gave us our previous computer; not good to go online with, but excellent for word processing purposes).

Lately our monitor has been going black for no apparent reason. This is NOT due to a mis-set sleep mode. It goes black when you are in the middle of doing something. If you turn the monitor off then on, it comes back on for periods lasting from one second to the rest of the session. Usually one second. If you re-start or turn off the computer then turn it back on later (an excercise in patience using bursts of one-second screen time) (but I don’t repine over that; I need to build up my capacity for patience), sometimes it is fine.

Until Thursday.

When I got home Thursday (Steven was at work by that time) (and don’t you just hate the way that works out sometimes!), I expermimentally turned on the comptuer. One second screen time, utilizing the off/on method. It was showing a message, however, which was difficult to read in one-second spurts. Something about a corrupt file in disc drive C, I think.

Well, I have a disc in that computer that I have never taken out. I save everything on it that I want saved. I thought, I’ll take that disc out and see what happens. Do you think that disc drive would open. No!!!

At one point, I realized it was almost 4:30, and I remembered the library closes at five on Thursdays. I sprang into action. I showered, threw on clothes (not neglecting earrings) and got to the library by twenty to five. I can make a blog post in twenty minutes! I’ve done it before!

There was a computer free. Yes! Unfortunately, library computers (quite sensibly, I admit) close down before the library. When I logged on, the computer told me I had seven minutes. It could still work!

I wrote a foolish sentence or two. Wanted to write more, as is often the case with me once I get going. Refrained. I even managed to log onto my email. Didn’t look at everything, but saw what was there (nothing earth-shattering, as they say) (that’s one of those hyperbolic expressions many poepl love to use; there’s a good topic for a future Lame Post Friday). I even had a few minutes of the seven left, because when I hit “exit,” the computer asked me was I sure I wanted to end my session early.

I went home, feeling a little inclined to burst into tears, although I know that as disasters go, this one was minor. I turned the computer back on and finally got the disc drive to open. There was nothing there. WHAT? What have I been saving to all this time?

I was by now out of ideas.

And now I have written a lengthy piece telling the whole sordid sotry, and I’m betting that when I get to the library after work, I will not have time to type it all in. Only, as you see, I did. HA! But what about tomorrow? Could be a problem.

Well, what does my blog do, really, but entertain a few people, most notably myself. The world will keep turning if I miss a few days. Literature and the blogosphere will survive. I suppose I will, too.

I Get So Proud of Myself

I went all day without being able to think of a single blog topic. I was seriously thinking of reinstating Wuss Out Wednesday, a feature I toyed with last Halloween. Then after work I went to Curves to exercise, and I will attempt to entertain with what transpired.

In case you didn’t know, Curves is circuit training. You go around a circle twice, exercising on the various machines and running in place on pads in between. At least, you don’t have to run in place. You can march in place, or do aerobics, anything to keep your heart rate up. I’ve seen some ladies shadow box. I usually dance. I like to do the twist. I figure it worked for Chubby Checkers, it’ll work for me.

At each machine, there is a little box into which you insert this computer tag they give you. It is set to you and records your workout. The little box flashes green if you’re doing good, orange if not. Monday I was unable to make the orange go away entirely on some of those machines. So today I wore an bright orange shirt, as a kind of a “Fine! Be that way!” to my body.

At Curves, I tend to be kind of a comic relief. I sing along to the songs I know. I make remarks about some of the lyrics (for example, have you ever noticed that Madonna’s “Open Your Heart To Me” is a total stalker song?). I sometimes dance in a very silly fashion. And when I get no orange or make the orange go away on a machine, when I’m done on that machine, I shake my fist at it and say, “Got you that time, you bastard!” I shook my fist a lot today.

After the workout (and stretching — LOVE the stretching!), you can put your tag into the computer and view your results. One of the results screen shows two views of a body (generic, not your own) with green or yellow dots on the various muscle groups. I keep getting yellow dots. Grrr! Today I got all green!

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I jumped around and pumped my fist in the air. “I get so proud of myself,” I explained sheepishly.

And that is my story for today. I don’t know if Curves commentary is as interesting as running commentary, but this is all I got. I don’t know what I’ll come up with for tomorrow, but remember it’ll be Non-Sequitur Thursday. Hope to see you then.

Oh, For a Bare Sidewalk

I had planned to run today, and that was good news for me, because I did not have a blog topic and a run is almost always good for a post.

Was that a run-on sentence? I have a tendency to write these long sentences, then claim it is not a run-on sentence and invite doubters to diagram it and see. So far nobody has called me on it.

I put on my running clothes as soon as I got home from work, not allowing any time to talk myself out of it. I had not put out my running clothes last night, which would have been a good idea. However, I haven’t folded laundry the last couple of loads, and that was almost as good.

It was warm this afternoon. The forecast said 40. I didn’t check any thermometers, but it felt a little colder than that when I left work. Still, not frigid. I put on leggings and a long-sleeved t-shirt but not sweatshirt, hat and mittens. I was also hoping for some bare sidewalk.

It was a silly thing to hope for. Why, just the other day I was writing about Steven jumping over puddles. Did I think they had evaporated that quickly? They had not.

I skirted the long ones as best I could. Into the mud to get around this one, into the snow for that one. Watch out for that ice! Can I leap over that one? Splash! My feet got a little wet.

As I ran, I seemed to be moving very slowly. But at least I kept moving. Eventually I found whole stretches of bare or almost bare sidewalk. Bliss! I even looked around at some of the houses, envying screened in porches as usual. On one open porch I saw a row of red wooden Adirondack chairs. I’d like to get some cool furniture for my deck or front porch. Then again, I look forward to sitting outside even if it’s on dining room chairs I haul out the front door.

I ran for as long as I ran on Saturday. I even picked up the pace a little at the end. Not a full out sprint, which would have made me breathe funny. But I lengthened my stride and almost achieved that athletic lope I so envy in other runners. At least I told myself that was what I achieved. Perhaps it looked quite different to an impartial observer.

No matter. I ran, and that’s the important thing. I burned a few calories and got a topic for a blog post. Now it’s time to start pondering what I could possibly find to write about tomorrow.

Questionable Musings

Middle-aged Musings Monday is just about what I’m up to today.

Oh, I don’t feel too bad. I’m actually reasonably content with my lot in life today. For one thing, if I can just get through the week, I have a three day weekend. And Monday off makes next week only a four day week. Talk about a win/win!

But to get on with the musings, lately I’ve been alternately musing on and beating myself up over the fact that at this late date I still don’t have my act together. I’ve written posts about this before. It should surprise no one that writing these posts has been no help in the getting together of said act.

I marvel at my continued capacity to Just Not Do Things. For example, daily stretches to minimize my recurring back pain. Every couple of days I think, “Oh yeah, I was going to start doing those stretches every day. That would be a good idea.” Do I sit right down and start stretching? Do I even set a time to plan to do them in the near future? You can guess the answers to these questions.

Oh, but that reminds me of something else I’ve been musing about lately that I find more interesting than my ongoing tribulations: I HATE it when people don’t answer a question but instead make a remark calculated to convince you that you are an utter idiot for asking.

I used to have a rather nasty college professor whose favorite response was to look at you as if nothing could exceed her pity for such stupidity and say, “I think you can answer that question for yourself.”

I can just hear people with higher self-esteem than mine piping up with remarks such as, “As your professor, it was her job to challenge you,” and, “Didn’t you learn more by finding the answer yourself than by her just feeding it to you?” and, of course, “Well, you probably could answer the question for yourself.”

My response to these arguments is to realize that the world is just chock full of people who delight in trying to make me feel even more stupid. Well, you needn’t feel so pleased with yourselves; it isn’t that hard to do.

A favorite answer of army sergeants to questions they don’t feel like answering is, “Well, that’s where common sense comes in.” I always wanted to say, “In other words, you don’t know either,” but you want to watch how snarky you get with people who outrank you.

It is really no wonder that I got into the habit of prefacing questions with, “This is probably a stupid question.” The pat response to that, of course, is, “There are no stupid questions,” or “The only stupid question is the one not asked.” If this is truly the case (and I like to think it is), why do so many people not just answer the damn question?

I had one platoon sergeant who would say, “There are no stupid questions, only stupid people with questions.” This did not offend me, because at that time in my life especially (as, I confess, at many other times), I spent a good portion of every day feeling stupid. Also in his defense, he would usually answer the question.

I wonder if my low self-esteem and perception of myself as stupid have anything to do with my inability to get my act together. This is surely a point to ponder. I will not phrase it in the form of a question, however, because I have a pretty good idea of what some people would say.

No Spring in My Step

So there I was, having Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I had managed to grocery shop, do dishes, put in a load of laundry. Where, I asked myself, was the Mohawk Valley adventure in that? Then my husband Steven came home from work and graciously agreed to go with me and our schnoodle Tabby on a walk. I decree that it is perfectly acceptable to write a blog post about a walk.

It wasn’t bitter cold out; in fact, it was above freezing. This was evidenced by the fact that the snow was melting and making some major puddles. Still, I wished I had remembered my mittens. I compensated by pulling my hands into my sleeves. Unfortunately, I was wearing the coat that fits, not the insulated sweatshirt where the sleeves are way long, so this was not as helpful or as comfortable as one could have wished. Did I mention it was Wrist to Forehead Sunday?

As we walked down the sidewalk (can’t trust the cars around here to be careful of a cute little doggie after all), we saw a major lake of a puddle up ahead.

“Let’s not plow through that,” I said. “Let’s cross the street.”

The other side of the street had been neglected by the sidewalk plow, but there was a beaten path. Mushy snow offered less moisture to penetrate our sneakers. Tabby didn’t care either way: wade through water, plow through snow, she was happy.

We spent the rest of the walk skirting large puddles, crossing the street to avoid larger puddles, and walking through small puddles. It felt good to walk, and I did feel grateful that, after all, melting snow means spring is on the way. As happened on my run, though, I was not able to enjoy the scenery as well while watching where I could put my feet for the least soaking possible.

Then Steven got the bright idea to leap over a puddle. He got a running start. He leaped! He made it!

“I am not going to try that,” I said. And me the athlete of the family. I hang my head in shame as I type.

As we walked down Main Street, we came to a long expanse of bare sidewalk. Awesome! We sadly observed closed businesses. Less awesome. There are some signs of life. Pete’s Tavern still does a business. Collis Hardware is still around. Crazy Otto’s Empire Diner is a going concern. The lady in Hummel’s Office Plus waved at us as we went by. Tabby likes to go in and say hello sometimes, but I thought her muddy paws were best kept outside. Belly Up Pub was open too.

We went through Meyers Park and started up Bellinger Street. I saw a puddle up ahead.

“Are you going to jump that one?” I asked. Then as we got closer, “Oh, no, that one’s bigger now that I look at it.” Steven attempted it anyways. He got a running start! He leaped! He didn’t make it! I should perhaps mention that he had not changed out of his work pants before we started out. “Oh, no, and I already did laundry,” I lamented.

“Water dries,” Steven pointed out.

“Mud doesn’t,” I said. “At least, it does and then it’s dirt.”

I did enjoy our walk, even though I am SO looking forward to warmer temperatures and no snow. For one thing, it gave me a 500 word blog post. Unless I read the draft to Steven and he insists I take out the part about him jumping the puddles. Some of you are probably still thinking I should have attempted it, too (you know who you are).

Running Commentary to the Rescue

I started running again earlier this month but have not been having a great success of it. Among other things, the weather has turned against me.

Just as a side note: I feel a great resistance to including that last sentence. It is quite true that it got extremely cold and many people do not run in extreme weather. Yet when I admit that I am one of them, all I can see in my head are people giving me disdainful looks and getting out miniature violins.

But, you know, I think those people only live in my head, and I’m going to kick them out. I think most actual, non-head-living people can respect others’ choices to run or not to run. I know I would rather applaud people’s accomplishments than denigrate their shortcomings, especially when “shortcomings” means “failure to live up to arbitrary standards set by unreasonable people that live in their heads.”

Well, that was a digression. I had meant this to be a straight running post. I guess sometimes I can’t help but stray into a little half-baked philosophy.

Be that as it may, I decided to run today because it had passed 1 p.m. and I had neither hide nor hair of a blog post. I thought, “Running Commentary will come to my rescue!” (Oh, wait a minute, that is a much better title than “Well, I Had to Write About Something”)

As soon as I made the decision, I felt better. I have missed running. At odd moments I will suddenly think of a street that I only see when I run down it. I miss those streets! Then I think I MUST start running again and continue to work and build myself up, because most of those streets are not a short jaunt from my house (I see those streets all the time).

I got dressed, reminded my schnoodle Tabby that she doesn’t like to run with me, and set out.

The temperature was above freezing, and I could see a few raindrops in the puddles. The snow on the sidewalks was mushy but not yet slushy. I can understand why some people run in the road, but I choose not to. For one thing, on days like this it would have to be the middle of the road or I would be running in puddles. I took the mushy snow.

“It burns more calories,” I told myself. “It takes more effort.” I continued to make the effort.

As I went, I had to think that I probably did not look as if I was running at all. Slogging through the snow, dodging around the puddles — ooh, bare pavement! Awesome! Watch out for that ice. I did not look around and observe houses and yards, as I enjoy to do when I run. I figured it was a good way to end up on my butt if I hit some ice or ankle deep in water if I encountered a puddle.

Some of those puddles were like reservoirs, the snowbanks on either side making effective retaining walls. I confess, I was two blocks beyond the deepest puddle before I came up with “retaining walls.” At first I thought “dams,” but you don’t usually have a dam on either side of a reservoir (and, yes, I said, “Damn!” when I stepped in the reservoir). Well, I like anything that adds interest to my run.

It was really a pretty good run. I added a little bit to the length of time I ran (I always run for a certain length of time rather than a certain distance). I even kind of sort of sprinted at the end. At least, I lengthened my stride and picked up speed. It was awesome! My legs felt long, lean and powerful! I hoped I didn’t hit any stray ice.

Tabby graciously walked around the block with me for my cool down, as usual. When we were almost all the way around, the rain turned to snow and got heavier. How clever of me to get my run in before winter returned.

Wish I Had Written That Spare Post

I think I was really onto something with the idea of “In Case of Emergency Hit Publish” (or else I was on something, I think the saying goes). However, the sad truth is, I have not written any other spare posts. Could be a problem.

This morning instead of writing my post, I started writing another play. I haven’t quite finished the last play I was working on, but it has gotten to the point where I need to type in the first draft, print it out and ponder my options.

There I was, scribbling notes on a Christmas play. I wasn’t really nuts about it so far, but I persevered. And I had my reward, because in the midst of my note making, I came up with something I liked. Ha ha ha (satisfied chuckle). I hope nobody feels frustrated that I can’t share it with you, but I think I’ve mentioned how it is a mistake to talk about a piece of writing before it is finished. In fact, I’ve said too much already.

Still, I thought, Non-Sequitur Thursday. How hard can it be? Moreover, it can’t be too long of a post, because I have a dinner meeting of Ilion Little Theatre tonight.

Here’s a grammatical note, just to veer into Stream of Consciousness Thursday instead: I think the proper construction is “too long a post,” but I seem to like better the sound of “too long of a post” when I say it in my head. I always say things in my head when I write them. Sometimes after I write them I call Steven upstairs and say them out loud.

To continue with my Thursday story, as the day wore on, I developed a rather severe headache. I think it has something to do with the weather, but I’m not a doctor, so what do I really know? I was in pain. I did not write further on subsequent breaks.

Now I am at home and the headache has subsided. The result of the Equate Migraine Relief? The blue Gator Ade? Being home with my husband and dog? The coffee Steven made for me? No matter. I’m good to type, if only I had written something to type in.

And just like that, I have over 300 words. Oh, I love this blogging hobby. Tomorrow I will attempt to forgo Lame Post Friday and come up with something real to write about, but I can make no promises. As always, I hope you’ll stay tuned.

Saturday Shout Outs

I must begin today’s post by repairing an omission in a previous post titled, “To Market, To Market.” I had purchased a lovely a sweet treat for Steven for Valentine’s Day but neglected to make a note of the company that made it. Imagine my delight when I found the business card in my wallet.

Allow me to recommend Tamsin’s Sweet Shop of Clinton, NY. Website http://tamsinssweetshop.wordpress.com/ (imagine my further delight to find she also blogs on WordPress). She is also on Facebook.

To continue with Saturday’s post, I think I will give another shout out to The Knight Spot in Frankfort, NY. Steven and I went there Thursday night for our Valentine’s dinner. I’m not saying it is the most romantic atmosphere in the Mohawk Valley. More of a down home, family, diner type of atmosphere. But I had conceived a craving for a patty melt earlier in the week, and The Knight Spot makes one of the best.

We had no problem getting a booth. I ordered a bottle of Yuengling Beer. Steven got coffee but also ordered a chocolate shake to go with his dinner (which The Knight Spot also does superlatively). He got an open-faced hot roast beef sandwich with mashed potatoes, gravy over both. As I said, I got a patty melt.

The Knight Spot is located at 264 E. Main St., Frankfort, phone number 315-894-4054. They are also on Facebook.

About That Play…

When we last left our hero (um, that’s me) (I went masculine as gender neutral, because I did not want to refer to myself as an illegal substance), she was about to stop writing her blog post and instead work on finishing a play she had started. OK, enough with the third person crap.

What I’m saying is, I did not write my post on breaks at work today, as I usually do. I trusted to last minute inspiration and my ability in the past to write something on the fly. Or is it off the cuff? I get my clothing metaphors confused.

It is, of course, Lame Post Friday, my day of random observations and half-baked philosophy. I seem to recall mentioning yesterday that we should save the half-baked philosophy about finished works for Lame Post Friday. And here we are.

I find it sad but true when I read a novel or a play or even a magazine article that is not very good: my first thought is, I could do so much better. My second thought is, well, why didn’t you? One reason the worst novel in the world can get published over my deathless prose (I don’t really think it’s deathless; I just like that expression) is that that novel GOT FINISHED.

And here is some more half-baked philosophy: one can take the above thought two ways. It could be an inspiration to write more and concentrate on finishing. Or it can be a discouraging criticism: if you haven’t finished a damn play yet, you never will, give it up now!

Well, which way did you think I was going to take it? You know I like to keep my blog positive! So I spent my time before I had to start working and my break writing my play. Unfortunately, I dare not tell you anything about it, because it is a work in progress. It’s not that I fear my gentle readers will steal my ideas, but I do fear “helpful” criticism (and I am certain MY readers would never offer any other kind). More to the point, I fear that having talked about the play, I will no longer feel the need to write it. I told the story, it’s done. It can happen.

In fact, I think I’d better shut up now.

Happy Friday, everyone.