Category Archives: personal

No Use Crying Over Lame Posts

Well here we are once again on Lame Post Friday and I am feeling even more lame than usual (insert peanut gallery type remark of your choice here).

I do have just one thing written earlier this week, a random observation about an old cliche:

It’s no use crying over spilled milk.

I’m not crying because I think it’s going to HELP! I am having an honest emotional reaction to an upsetting event. Can you please cut me a small break? I will look for the paper towels in a minute.

The problem is: before making today’s post I checked out Facebook, as is my usual habit. What should I find but a link to another blog I follow about, you guessed it, crying over spilled milk. They do say great minds run around in the same circles (wait a minute, that is what I say; “they” put it a little differently).

Only, that post was not lame. It was a heartfelt essay about a new mother coping with real problems.

So now here I am writing a post about how inadequate I feel writing my Friday Lame Post.

Only, let’s be honest: I don’t feel any more inadequate today than any other day. For Heavens’ sake, I KNOW there are better writers than me and writers writing about more important things than I write about. It’s no reason to stop writing.

I typed that last sentence and then stopped. Just to put a little irony in your diet (one of my favorite jokes). I will close with the link to my friend’s post, so you can compare/contrast and discuss amongst yourselves. Happy Friday, everyone.

http://megactsout.blogspot.com/2013/02/crying-over-spilt-milk.html

PK’s Saves the Evening

Sometimes things just work out.

Yesterday after work I went to Curves for the first time in a week (as regular readers know, I gave blood on Friday then got sick) (in case anybody is worried, I called the 800 number and warned Red Cross my blood might be bad). Oh, I was glad I went. I’m still not feeling 100 percent, but it felt good to sweat. I went home stinky but happy.

Steven met me at the door (Tabby had run out the door, met me at my vehicle and was running up and down the backyard, sharing her joy with the neighborhood).

“We have no power,” Steven said. Oh dear.

It was not dark yet, but it was a gloomy, rainy day, so it was not easy to see things in the house. Steven had not called National Grid (still want to call them NiMo), because the phone was not working without electricity (which is odd, because I remember, many years ago, the lights being out but still being able to make phone calls). Luckily I had my cell.

We groped around with the aid of our one flashlight till we found the number on our bill (which we DID pay, so that is NOT the solution to why the lights were out, anybody who was thinking that) (you know who you are). While Steven made his frustrating way though the automated line I wondered what to do. Too dark to read the paper. Bad idea to stand in front of the open fridge and look for something to snack on. Couldn’t even heat some coffee on our gas stove, because it has electric ignition.

At last Steven reported that crews were on the job, estimated time of restoration: seven o’clock.

“It’s not even five!” I said, wondering if they had estimated conservatively to be on the safe side or optimistically to soothe irate customers (which obviously would not work in the long run, but I would not necessarily expect a big company to think about that).

Luckily the hot water was working (I mentioned I was stinky, didn’t I?). I suggested I shower and we go out and get something to eat. We had to eat in any case, and this would pass the time while the power got fixed. I regretted that we couldn’t take Tabby, but I figured she could just nap in the dark while we were gone. Dogs are more easily entertained than I am.

I had actually been thinking about PK’s Pub earlier in the day and wondering when I would have the opportunity to dine there again. It really seemed too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Steven pointed out all the lucky houses that still had power as we drove to King Street. I was relieved, because if PK’s was out of power too the whole thing came to a grinding halt.

We were able to get my favorite tall table near the bar. I do love to sit at a tall table. We told the bartender our sad tale that had brought us there.

“Sounds like it worked out for you,” she observed.

I had to admit that was true. It was a lovely dinner. I tried the Chipotle Ravioli. Quite unusual and very tasty. Steven had the grilled chicken platter. The vegetables were done to perfection, he said. He got an Almond Joy pie for dessert. I virtuously refrained from ordering a dessert, then ruined it by having another glass of wine when the bartender asked me did I want one. Then the waitress brought two spoons (I MIGHT have suggested that she do so), so I was really not very virtuous at all. In my defense, the desserts at PK’s Pub are out of this world. They are all homemade and often highly unusual.

We left shortly before seven. The bartender said, “If the power’s still not on, come on back. We have plenty of wine!”

The lights were on, however, so such drastic action was not necessary. I almost feel I ought to thank National Grid. It was a most serendipitous outage.

PK’s Pub is located at 221 King St., Herkimer, NY. Phone number 315-866-3494. You can also Like them on Facebook.

In My Defense, I’m Still Sick with a Cold

So there I was, with a perfectly innocuous Miss Marple movie I could write a blog post about, yet I was writing about a rather unsavory dream I had. My object was not psychoanalytical in nature but to disprove the notion that the ideas you wake up with in the middle of the night and forget are actually any good anyways.

This was when I realized how unsavory the dream actually was, and I thought, “Wait a minute! My mother reads this blog!”

This would make an excellent introduction to a discussion on self-censorship and how we really can’t worry about whom we offend. Look, I understand the Let It All Hang Out school of art as well as the next exhibitionist. But I also agree that for some things, there is a time and a place.

The place for my dream (oh, all right, it involved body parts and probably not in the way some of you are thinking) (you know who you are) is in my notebook, safely disguised by my messy handwriting, till I re-write and edit it till I feel it is ready for public consumption. Or it will stay in the notebook and rot while I go on to write something else, having learned what I can from that bit of nonsense.

So you can stop shaking your superior artist fingers at me. I read Writing Down the Bones. I know all about first thoughts and practice writing. I just don’t think I have to post every damn thing I write. Unfortunately, since I like to post something every day, I post a lot of what I write that perhaps some people think would be better off left in said notebook. Well, think what you like.

As my headline said, I am still suffering from a head cold. I’m fuzzy, I’m unhappy. I will cease to inflict myself upon you. Let’s try for Miss Marple again on Wednesday.

Side note: Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg, in case you’ve never heard of it, is a very interesting book about writing and creativity. I recommend it.

Snapshots of a Weekend

It is not Wrist to Forehead Sunday. For one thing, with the cold I am suffering, I am completely disinclined to move my limbs at all. I raise my hands to the keyboard. That’s as far as they go. Oh, well, occasionally as high as my nose, but that will give you a nasty mental image, so let’s not go there.

Where was I? Ah yes, in need of a blog post. I can just see some of you shaking admonitory fingers at me. How many foolish posts about not writing a post can I get away with, you are asking me in righteous indignation.

I seem to remember saying people could shake their fingers, their heads or their groove things at me and welcome. I thought it was a clever line at the time. Imagine my chagrin when I heard the song and in fact it is “Shake your booty,” not “Shake your groove thing.” Well, shake what you like. How about Shake’n’Bake for dinner? After all, feed a cold.

So I thought I’d mention in passing a few little things I did this weekend. Saturday I watched a movie called Crack-Up, which I had DVR’d back in October the same day I DVR’d Prehistoric Women, which I seem to remember writing kind of a fun post about (I’m not flattering myself here, it was indeed fun for me to write; I only hope it was also fun to read). Crack-Up was not nearly as fun or cheesy, but I don’t despair about finding something to say about it sometime.

For Saturday night dinner Steven called one of our favorites, Salvatore’s in Herkimer, NY. We got Greens Salvatore and Zitis with tomato sauce. Yum! So prompt of delivery, too. This time I held onto Tabby so she could not personally greet the delivery person, much to her chagrin. It was such a good dinner, I thought it not inappropriate to give them another plug. You can go to the Salvatore’s Herkimer Facebook page for a link to their website.

Gee, that’s only two snapshots. Oh, what do you people want from me? I took a couple of naps, talked to a sister on the telephone, made some silly comments on Facebook, finished knitting a scarf. I felt grateful to not have to leave the house.

So there you have it, another blogger’s sick day. Let’s hope for better health and better writing tomorrow. Happy Sunday, everyone.

In Case of Emergency, Hit Publish

Sometimes coffee is not the miracle one is hoping for.

Full disclosure: This is a Middle-aged Musings post I’m writing with no real plan as to when to post it. I thought it might be useful to have a spare column kicking about, in case of emergency.

It is Monday as I write this. Many people do not sleep well Sunday night. I’m one of them. One can temporarily overcome the deficiency with coffee. Coffee also has mood-boosting properties, which I, for one, find welcome. Sometimes not so much.

Well, at my age (middle), one does not lightly abandon an old friend after a disappointment. Besides, it still tasted good.

My second musing for the day is: sometimes the Write It Anyways philosophy works. I wrote a whole post on Saturday about how I could not write a post about my intended topic. I felt even worse on Sunday but was too embarrassed to admit it could happen to me two days in a row. The result was perhaps not brilliant but perfectly acceptable.

A small side note about the post: my sticking point was the first sentence. I wanted something less mundane than “We went here and did this.” And I felt quite incapable of going on to the second sentence and writing the first one later. Sunday, I accepted the mundane. There’s some half-baked philosophy lurking around there somewhere, but I’ll save that for Lame Post Friday.

Getting back to the Write It Anyways school of thought, I drove to work this morning feeling dry as a bone, writing-wise. I was even composing in my head a lead of “Sorry, kids, it’s Middle-aged Musings Monday.” Then when I sat down with my notebook (I had some time before I had to start work), I thought I would just try to write about a local business we had recently patronized. It worked!

So what have we learned here? I’m going to go out on a limb here and say, “Not much.” Like coffee, sometimes Do It Anyways works and sometimes it does not. And the next time it doesn’t work for me, now I have a spare column.

Side note after I typed this in: Regular readers may remember I mentioned this column yesterday, saying that I had not typed it in. So today I in fact had to type it in and not just hit Publish. Still, I thought it was too good a headline to waste. My only regret is that now I don’t have a spare post any more. Guess I saw that one coming.

I’m Type O

Well, it is Lame Post Friday and instead of my brain coming up with the usual random observations and half-baked philosophy, all I can think of is a spare post I wrote earlier this week.

You see, Monday was an awesome writing day. At least, an awesome writing morning. I wrote Monday’s post, then I wrote my “About” (you know how these blogs always have an “About” you can click on. Well, I think ever since my blog started, mine has said, “Put stuff here to tell people about your blog.” In the “About” I wrote I even mentioned how long it took me to write it. I try to be upfront about my writing shortcomings).

After “About” I went on to the next page and wrote a Middle-aged Musings. My plan for that was to put it under Drafts and publish it when I needed something. I even thought of a good title, “In Case of Emergency, Hit Publish.”

All this writing pretty much took up all my ambition for the week. I have not typed either the “About” or the ICOE draft into my computer. Which is really too bad, because I have a feeling that tonight I am going to wish I could just hit Publish. Let that be a lesson to me.

That is what I wrote on breaks at work. Then I went to give blood (a blood drive at my work) after, as it turns out, not enough food to eat. Oh, it was not pretty (cue unkind remarks about how I’m not particularly anyways). I have done dirt to myself this way before, but today it was bad enough that I seriously worried at least one co-worker. She made a guy call the boss, who called the nurse, and oh, I do not want to talk about it. I was strongly advised to NOT donate to future workplace blood drives.

So a draft post I had merely to publish would have been welcome. Instead I typed in what I wrote earlier, as it was shorter than said post, and I will hit Publish now. And, as usual, I will try to do better tomorrow. Happy Friday, everyone.

Curvy Me

I believe I’ve mentioned in passing that I work out at Curves in Herkimer, NY. I thought it was time I wrote a post about it.

My friends Kelly and Phyllis had been going to Curves for some time. I had noticed they both looked pretty terrific (actually they looked pretty terrific to start with, but you know what I mean). When Phyllis started telling me how many inches she had lost, my interest was caught.

I’ve lost weight through running and the South Beach Diet, but my figure is still not where I’d like it to be (I know, looks aren’t everything, yeah, yeah, yeah). Also, I felt I needed to work other muscles that those used in running. Doing push-ups and sit-ups on my own was not cutting it, especially since I was not exactly maintaining consistency with that program.

So now I go to Curves Monday, Wednesday and Friday after work. It’s an intense workout that lasts about a half hour and seems to utilize every possible muscle (although my knowledge of anatomy is imperfect).

You badge in with a little card that looks like those membership cards all the stores give you these days. Then as you go around the circuit, you put the card in each machine so it can track your progress. There is a little light that shows green for good and orange for not so good. Oh, I hate to see that orange! In between each machine is a pallet that you jog or march or dance on till the lady interrupts the music to tell you to change stations.

Oh yes, the music. They play quite a mixture of music, all of it set to the same beat. I make myself obnoxious by singing along to the songs I know. At least, I don’t know if anybody finds it really obnoxious. I think some folks are amused. Hey, anything to keep myself motivated.

The best thing about Curves is the people that go there. Everybody is supportive and encouraging. We yell remarks or jokes across the room and definitely let others know when they are looking good.

Curves also offers coaching, diet tips and more. Phyllis, Kelly and I may check out the Zumba class one day (that will surely rate a post). I purchased some excellent Curves socks to wear when I work out, and I will probably get a new sports bra or two as well. Perhaps a pedometer, to see how many steps I get in at work every day.

Curves in Herkimer is located at 300 Prospect St., phone 315-866-3100. They are open Monday through Thursday 5:30 a.m. to 7:30 p.m., Friday 5:30 a.m. to 6:30 p.m., and Saturday 7 a.m. to noon. For more information, visit their website at www.herkimercurves.com or you can like their Facebook page. See you on the circuit!

A Short Post about a Band

Saturday night Steven and I finally got to hear a local band we’ve been interested in since we became friends with one of the members: The Rick Short Band.

Our friend is Rick DeJohn, the bass player. He’s a member of Ilion Little Theatre Club (ILT). He’ll be doing sound for Dirty Work at the Crossroads this spring (preview of coming attractions).

Saturday the Rick Short Band was playing for Animal Jam, a fundraiser for the Steven Swan Humane Society. Well, we are all about helping the animals, so this was a win/win situation. We made immediate plans to attend and were delighted to be joined by four other members of ILT.

We loved the band! They rock! I regretted that there was no dance floor, because I would have liked to boogey down. I was at first reminded of how old I am, because it seemed a little loud to me. Then I remembered that I’ve always been a little sensitive to loud music, even in my younger and yet more foolish days. This a minor quibble, though, because rock music is supposed to be loud.

The band plays original music, and it’s not easy to describe music (I mean, how many times can you say, “They rock!”). However, if you go to the Facebook page for The Rick Short Band, you will find links to ReverbNation and you can listen for yourself.

The other members of the band are Tanya Davis, lead vocals; Eddie Reilly, drums; Doug Boehlert, lead guitar; Tracy Bowens, backing vocals; and Rick Short, guitar. I hope to have an opportunity to hear them again soon. Hope to see you there!

Saturday Shopping

Steven’s and my Saturday Mohawk Valley adventures included an indoor garage sale at the Baptist Church in Ilion, NY. I figured it would be as good as a rummage sale.

The blurbs in the paper I had seen had only said Baptist Church without including the address. I felt sure we would be able to find it anyways, but I was still happy to see an address of Second Street in Saturday morning’s paper. Then as we drove to Ilion I could not remember if it was Second Street or Second Avenue (don’t get me started on street names!). Steven thought we would still be able to find it. He was driving.

“We’ll probably say, ‘Oh yeah, that church’ when we see it,” I said. We go to a lot of church sales.

It was easy to find. Getting into the parking lot was a little trickier, but we managed to get a space.

I noted by a flier on the door that Indoor Garage Sale meant that vendors paid the church to set up a table. Individuals as well as professional dealers were displaying their wares. It was fun to look around, but we did not find anything to buy. I admired a vintage Saltines tin one of the antique dealers had. Steven checked out some decorative plates, one by Normal Rockwell.

As we left the church, I noticed Cornerstone Consignment Shop not even a block away. I’ve been there a couple of times. Steven has not, although he does remember browsing their outdoor display during Ilion Village-wide Garage Sales a few years ago.

It is a very well-stocked shop with multiple rooms on two floors, all filled with stuff. Steven found a shot glass from Rosamund Gifford Zoo in Syracuse. We have been to that zoo but not recently. Perhaps another trip there for a blog post is in our future. Or maybe one to the Utica Zoo. I like zoos.

While we were looking at things upstairs, I found a furry fedora, such as an old man who lived across the street from my family in Rome used to wear many years ago.

“Steven,” I said, “now that you are in your 50s, maybe you should have an old man hat.”

Another shopper promptly took me to task for so designating the hat. It turned out to be a friend we had not seen in a few years (how the time flies, especially when you are in or approaching your 50s). We had a nice chat during which he assured us it was a hat he would not scorn to wear himself.

The hat was too small for Steven or me, so anyone hoping for a picture (if and when I eventually learn to post photos) is doomed to disappointment.

So a sale and a store netted us one shot glass and the renewal of an old acquaintance. Not bad for a Saturday morning.

The Cornerstone Consignment Shop is located at 68 Morgan St., Ilion, NY. Phone number 315-894-0477.

Breakfast Before Adventures

Saturday Steven and I had the opportunity to have breakfast out together. Since we intended to go to Ilion anyways, I suggested Farmhouse.

Farmhouse Restaurant is located in a very small building on Central Avenue, right next to the fire station. For the longest time we would drive by it and say, “How in the world do they fit a restaurant in that little building?”

It turns out to be a little crowded but a very good place to eat. The atmosphere is homey and the decor is fun. Vintage tins and other decorations are on a shelf that runs around the wall just under the ceiling. Old-fashioned wooden games sit on the window sill and some of the tables. I especially admired a hand-embroidered tablecloth on one of the tables. The waitress told me the original owner had done it, as well as most of the other decor.

Steven ordered French toast with fried eggs and sausage, plus orange juice. I more conservatively went with fried eggs and sourdough toast (my favorite). Do I need to say we both got coffee?

While we waited for our food, I picked up the wooden game on the table. It was a triangle with golf tees stuck in holes. The object was to jump one tee over another till you eliminated all but one tee. I used to have a plastic version of it when I was little. I seemed to remember getting very good at it. Not so much on Saturday. Then when I thought about it, I figured I probably did not get very good at it but played it enough that once in a while I somehow got down to one or two pegs. Steven didn’t do a whole lot better when he tried, so no bragging rights for either of us.

I felt really stupid when I bumped the table with my knee and spilled some of Steven’s orange juice. We mopped it up with napkins till the waitress brought a cloth. A little later a lady at another table called to the waitress asking for her orange juice.

“She’s afraid I’ll spill it,” I said.

“I can spill my own orange juice,” the lady assured me.

One table had a number of books on it. I asked if they were for sale. It was actually an exchange. I could take one and bring it back and/or bring others I was done with. In fact, I have a few paperbacks I don’t intend to read or don’t intend to read again. I picked up a murder mystery and got interested in it. You know me and books.

We enjoyed our breakfast very much. We happily set out for further Mohawk Valley adventures. Farmhouse Restaurant is located at 9 Central Ave, Ilion, NY. Phone number is 315-894-3276.