Category Archives: personal

In My Defense, I’m in a Play

This is a Mid-Week Middle-Aged Musing. At least, that’s what I’m calling it. In fact, once again, I got nuthin’.

Part of the problem is that I am in another play at Ilion Little Theatre. You see, after Dirty Work at the Crossroads got postponed, our little group needed another play for our fall production. After much discussion (to put it mildly), we decided to host another group’s play.

Angela Harris, a Mohawk Valley native, has written a readers’ theatre piece about the Little Falls textile strike of 1912, entitled Strike Story. It was presented in the Black Box Theatre at Canal Place in Little Falls recently (I may have mentioned in a blog post that Steven and I attempted to attend but it was sold out). One of our members went to see it, liked it and thought it would work just fine on our stage. The Little Falls group was amenable, and so it was arranged.

Unfortunately, not all participants could make all the production dates that were set. This is where I come in. I was suggested for one of the parts. I felt so flattered, how could I say no? I somehow had the impression it was a small part. Thinking back, I don’t know where I got that impression, because it is not the case. It is kind of a large part. Oh dear.

All this by way of saying, I have been studying my part on breaks at work, not writing blog posts. I made it OK yesterday by running after work and writing about that. Today after work I had to do something else (which may make tomorrow’s blog post), and somehow it got to be after 6:30 and I have neither fixed supper nor made my blog post.

Anyways, here is the one musing I can come up with: I am a theatre junkie. I just can’t say no! It doesn’t matter what it is, if it is theatre and somebody asks me to do it, I jump in with both feet. In this case, I am kind of glad I did it. I never did readers’ theatre before, I love local history, and I am inspired that this lady actually wrote a whole script and finished it. I’m going to start writing myself. Only, it seems, not blog posts. Try me again tomorrow, and Happy Wednesday.

Back at it Despite the Back

Over two weeks ago I had some problem with my back (you may have read about it in my blog), so I have not been running since October 3. That is just not fun for me, so I was determined to begin yet again today (October 23 — eek! 20 days! Say it ain’t so!).

My back has actually been feeling much better with very little effort on my part. Then I noticed my weight was starting to creep up, and that can exacerbate back pain (oh, I love that word exacerbate). Of course I knew my first step had to be to stop eating like a huge honkin’ hogger (my favorite way to eat), but I also knew that running would help.

It was raining as I left work, but I did not let that deter me. For one thing, it was a mere sprinkle, not a deluge. The temperature was just about where I like it, somewhere in the 50s. Of course all my running clothes were clean, so it was no problem getting into gear and getting going.

So far so good. I turned right onto German Street. Steven, Tabby and I had gone left the last walk we took, so I thought I would look for different Halloween decorations. I knew I would have to cross Main Street, but I hoped for the best.

Right away I saw two college-age-looking girls on the sidewalk ahead of me. Oh dear, I would have to say “Pardon me” and go around them. Well, so what, I told myself, the worst thing that could happen is you’ll run through some wet grass. There is no reason to think those girls will not be perfectly polite. Anyways, at the rate I run, I knew it would be at least a couple of blocks before I caught up with them.

It took less time than I thought, so maybe I’m not such a plodder after all. I said, “Pardon me,” as planned. One girl was on a cell phone, but the other girl smiled at me.

“I need to do that,” she said.

“It’s been two weeks since I’ve done it,” I told her as I ran on. You see, I had not at that point checked previous blog posts for dates so did not realize the 20 day thing.

I saw plenty of ghosts, scarecrows, skeletons and pumpkins. Many porches sported cobwebs, both clumpy and nicely spread out. One house in particular had an elaborate graveyard in the front lawn. I made a note of that one for when Steven and Tabby and I take another walk. I also saw the cutest little pumpkin lights in an enclosed porch. Got to get me a string of those.

Soon I realized it had stopped raining. Bonus! I never reached the “I Can Rock This” stage. I alternately plodded and shuffled, but it didn’t feel too bad. Eventually my back started to hurt a little. I promised myself I would do stretches later, per the papers my friend at work gave me.

As I was running I composed a blow-by-blow in my head, very little of which I have used here. Then again, I don’t think every running post has to run up to 1000 words.

I was listening to WVHC, 91.5 fm, Herkimer County Community College’s radio station, as I drove home from work. The student on the air said, “Happy Tuesday. Not that anybody has any reason to be happy on a Tuesday.” I may be misquoting. Well, I do so have a reason to be happy. I started running again. Happy Tuesday to the rest of you, too.

Breakfast at the Bakery

About halfway through last week, I decided that since Steven had Saturday off we would have breakfast at the Heidelberg Bakery and Cafe, 3056 State Route 28, Herkimer, NY. I spent the rest of the week upheld by a vision of sourdough toast.

We got up early on Saturday, so I knew we would beat the crowd. I admired once again the larger tables with benches that look like church pews, but we sat at the same table for two we had sat at last time.

“It can be Our Table,” I said. It was our anniversary. I was allowed to be sentimental.

Of course we got coffee. I had been looking forward to the coffee from Utica Coffee Roasting Company as well. I don’t know why they don’t sell Utica Roasting at Hannaford, seeing as they love to carry local. I’ll have to ask.

I ordered fried eggs with sourdough toast. Steven ordered French toast, which is made with raisin walnut bread, and sausage. When I told the waitress how I had been looking forward to sourdough toast, she told me they don’t always have it. Well, I’m sure there are other good choices as well. I love Heidelberg bread.

We decided to get a treat before we left. After pondering cookies, brownies and strudel, we settled on a small apple cake. We ate most of it on Sunday. I may go back soon and get another.

Heidelberg Bakery and Cafe is open Monday through Saturday from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m., Sunday from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m. Phone number is 315-866-0999. You can like them as well as Utica Coffee Roasting Company on Facebook. Utica Coffee Roasting Company (which probably rates a blog post all its own) is located at 92 Genessee St., Utica, NY, phone 315-269-8898.

Wrist to Forehead Sunday

This happens all the time. I promise Mohawk Valley adventures which I fail to deliver. Well, I did threaten to institute Wrist to Forehead Sunday in case of just such an emergency, so here goes.

So let’s see now, Middle-aged Musings Monday which sometimes becomes Mid-week Musings, Lame Post Friday, Running Commentary Saturday which I have not been able to deliver on for a couple of weeks now… Wait, didn’t I have something for Thursday? The Thursday Trudge, I think. Why don’t I just say this is a whole blog about how hard it is to write a blog and have done with?

I did have some Mohawk Valley adventures yesterday that I expect to write about eventually. We had breakfast at Heidelberg Bakery Cafe and visited the Ilion Farmer’s Market as well as Ilion Wine and Spirits. We’ve been watching cheesy movies for a good portion of today. I actually may not have to go lame again till Friday.

We took two walks with Tabby today. She is such a sweet, good dog. Inclined to stop and sniff a little too often, but she doesn’t hold a grudge when we insist she continue the walk before she’s ready to. It’s a cloudy day with a bit of a breeze but not too cold. The trees are becoming bare but you can still see some bright color. And there are ghosts, pumpkins, skeletons and spider webs on many porches. Plenty of entertainment with our exercise.

Did I mention that yesterday Steven and I celebrated 22 years of wedded bliss? Well, we did. He’s a pretty good husband, and I’m… well I can only do my best. Luckily this is not a marriage blog.

I see I am over 200 words of this nonsense. I recently received e-mails telling me I acquired two new subscribers. Why do I always do such a colossally stupid post right after I get new readers? They’re going to unsubscribe from me in a big fat hurry. Then I’ll have a reason to put my wrist to my forehead. Hope to see you Monday.

Of Lime and Grime

So about halfway through cleaning my bathroom and feeling awfully grumpy about it, I said to myself, “That’s it! I’m doing a post about cleaning!” Immediately my chore took on a new interest, as I thought of things I could write later.

For example, I thought, the Lime Away does not seem to be actually taking away the lime. Then I realized it was not Lime Away but something called The Works, and I am not clear on which is lime and which is grime. (Isn’t that a crime?) (I just love to rhyme) (OK! I’ll stop! Sheesh!)

Then I got into a wrestling match with the disinfecting wipes. They are supposed to pop so handily out of the dispenser. I daresay the name brand does, but I am not at all sure of that (perhaps a head to head comparison for a future blog post?). Ah, it was the end of the bunch. No wonder.

My bathroom wasn’t really that bad, although I confess I do not give it a weekly cleaning as I used to do. Back in the last century, when Steven and I both had nine to five (or thereabouts) jobs, we used to clean the apartment every Saturday. We’d put on our album of Pippin (yes, album; I did say it was the last century, didn’t I?) and be done before the grand finale.

I haven’t thought about that in years. Today as I scrubbed and huffed (um, that’s huffed as in, “Humph! I have to clean the bathroom!” not huffed as in that substance abuse thing I’ve heard certain young people are into) (Or is that old news? Well, so am I old), I wondered if some music would help. Steven was hard at work in the kitchen downstairs, though, so we would have had to blast the music for us both to enjoy it. That may have perturbed the dog.

Cleaning did not take us an onerous amount of time. And writing a blog post about it was the opposite of onerous. Now Steven is in the shower (I hope he doesn’t mess it up), and soon we will embark on this weekend’s Mohawk Valley adventures. Stay tuned!

Spare Me the Existential Post

So I don’t have much of a headache, and my back doesn’t feel too bad. Lame Post Friday ought to be a breeze.

Of course it’s not. You didn’t think it would be, did you? I wasn’t sure, myself. I thought it could go either way. Looks like it’s veering into Existential Writer’s Crisis. Nice.

Existential is one of those fancy words that people use to sound erudite that don’t really mean much. “Spare me the existential pose,” one character says to another in the movie Big Chill. He could just as well have said, “Spare me the pose,” or even, “Spare me” (I guess some people wish they had been spared the whole movie, although I like it).

Where was I? Ah yes, in crisis. Not much of one, really. My wrist is not on my forehead. It just looks as if I’m writing yet another post on Why I Can’t Write a Post.

And that was as much as I wrote at work today (on a break OF COURSE). I spent the rest of the afternoon wondering if some reader would post a condescending comment explaining to me the meaning of existential philosophy. I had my reply ready, “You sound very erudite.”

Still, as soon as you start thinking about the condescending things people might say to you, you tend to stop writing. At least many of us do (probably that condescending comment-poster does not have that problem) (you know who you are).

When I got home I looked up existential in not one but two dictionaries, to make sure it means what I think it means. I don’t believe in quoting the dictionary, so to give you the definition, I will quote a movie, The Ref, an awesome Christmas movie (although Steven categorizes it as Twisted Christmas). Kevin Spacey and Judy Davis are a married couple in therapy, which they seem to sorely need but which is not doing them much good. I may be paraphrasing:

Kevin Spacey: In the meantime, she never finishes anything she starts. Photography classes. Cooking classes. Existential philosophy courses.

Judy Davis: At least I go after my dreams!

Kevin Spacey: Do do what? To take pictures of Lutefisk to prove the nothingness of being?

Why can’t I write shit like that? (That’s from another movie: In Soapdish, writer Whoopi Goldberg says it when real life drama intrudes on the set.) Just when I thought my sidetrack into the meaning of existential was going to derail my crisis.

But, crisis or not, I see I am over 400 words, or if you don’t count my movie quotes, over 300 words. That’s a respectable Lame Post (as respectable as they get). Happy Friday, everyone!

Crazy Dinner

Wednesday evening Steven and I had some shopping to do, so I suggested we grab a bite at Crazy Otto’s Empire Diner, 100 W. Albany St., Herkimer, NY.

I know I have written about eating breakfast there on several occasions, but we don’t often get there for dinner. I thought it was definitely worth a post.

I was a little afraid the whole thing would come to a grinding halt by our finding out that Crazy Otto’s was only open for dinner on the weekends, but we were in luck: Wednesday through Saturday they are open till nine.

Once seated in a booth, a nice young man offered to start us off with a beverage (decaf coffee for me, regular for Steven), and we perused the menu. I already knew what I wanted. I had, in fact, suggested Crazy Otto’s specifically to order the Patty Platter: a burger sans bun served with cottage cheese on a bed of lettuce and tomato on the side. Perfect for my weight loss goals and perfectly tasty as well. Steven ordered a Patty Melt, one of his favorites, with french fries. That comes with a small cup of bread pudding, so he enjoyed a dessert as well.

The diner was not crowded, as it usually is when we make it there for breakfast, especially on the weekend. I enjoy to sit in a booth and look out on the main drag of Herkimer. I could see the top of the old warehouse that holds Fat Cat’s Fish Fry (must make it there for a blog post one day), Dollar General, Mavis Tires and Cole Muffler.

Our waiter kept us well supplied with coffee as we enjoyed our repast. I especially liked the tomato, fancily sliced and quite fresh and flavorful. I wondered if it was local, but foolishly forgot to ask.

I highly recommend Crazy Otto’s for any meal of the day. For more information you can call them at 315-866-8801, or you can Like them on Facebook.

Karma and Krispy Kreme

Why is it that sometimes I remember something that happened years ago and it still makes me just as angry as if it just now happened?

Other people say, “Oh, I don’t get angry about the past — it’s PAST,” or, more metaphorically, “You’re letting those people live rent-free in your brain.” That’s all very well, but what if they ignore the eviction notice? The worst one, because I fear it is true, is, “They’re not here. You are tormenting YOURSELF!”

This is one reason people like to believe in karma. It is very comforting to think that some time, some place, some how, THEY’LL GET THEIRS!!! (number of exclamation points dependent on how much dirt they did you)

It is hard to argue with karma theory. I can say, “It’s not true! Look at them, still living high off the hog (or is it high on the hog? Subject for future post), still getting whatever the hell they want, because they just take it.” The karma person replies, “You might not be there to see it, but…” Like I said, it’s a comforting thought, but I’m not quite sure I believe it.

One thing that occurs to me, though, is that people are rarely truly contented with what they have. I look at Matilda (I use the name because I have never in my life actually met anybody named Matilda), and I think she has everything: husband of her choice, nice home, beautiful clothes, lots of money. What I don’t see is that Matilda is absolutely tormented every time she looks at Winifred, who has a nicer home! And more money! And is single so she can sleep with whoever the hell she wants!

I don’t think that’s karma, though. Karma would be if Winifred slept with Matilda’s husband, because Matilda stole him away from Audrey years ago. Audrey would not necessarily be there to see it, but…

I did not start out to write about karma today. I had quite a different Mid-Week Middle-Aged Musing in mind. However, while I was thinking about it, my mind started to wander and suddenly all I could think about were a few particular people who did me dirt. What’s a writer to do but write what’s on her mind and hope to segue into something more interesting as we go.

Well, at least it interested me. The funny thing is, I’m feeling better now. Because I think karma is going to get them? Because I realize that in their minds they have their own unhappiness to deal with? No, I think I just took my mind off it.

And that raises another interesting thesis: the advice Just Don’t Think About It, while often good advice, is not always easy to follow. I don’t know about you, but for me, as soon as you tell me not to think about something, that is the only thing in my brain. Try it. Don’t think about donuts! Now I got Krispy Kreme on my mind. I can just hear some of you now (you know who you are): “I find it very easy not to think about donuts. I don’t even like donuts. I never even eat a donut.”

Some people can invoke Scarlett O’Hara’s famous mantra, “I’ll think about it tomorrow.” As long as they tell themselves they can think about it another time, they can put it out of their brain. Me, I need to displace what I’m trying not to think about. If I can think of something else to think about, I’m gold. So thank you, Matilda, Winifred, Audrey and Krispy Kreme.

Looking for Halloween

Now I’ve done it. I used up both movies we watched on Saturday for my Monday post, and now I’ve got nothing for Tuesday.

In my defense, Saturday’s movies really felt like a double feature. That, coupled with my inability to recall the plot of one or the title of the other, made combining them for one post seem like a natural. What I failed to take into account was, I get tired by the end of the day on Monday. I did not have the energy to have a Mohawk Valley adventure for Tuesday’s post.

So I sat at work today, cursing my fate. Previously in these situations I have gone for a run after work and written about the run. Was it time to ease my way back into running? My back suggested not. Then I remembered that Steven would be home when I got there. We could take a walk with Tabby, admiring various Halloween decorations around the neighborhood, and I could write about that.

I had some coffee first. A wise woman told me you can’t rush into these things (it was my mother). Tabby was very excited when she saw me putting on my sneakers. I let her run around the back yard barking her excitement while Steven smoked a cigarette (I know, an unhealthy act to precede a healthy one; you tell him). Finally we set out.

We walked up toward German Street, then turned left toward Caroline. Tabby was not best pleased with this. For some reason she always wants to go right onto German. Tabby has such a sweet disposition, though, she graciously agreed to the change in plans.

I specifically remembered seeing some cool decorations on Caroline when I was running (it wasn’t really that long ago, but it feels like it). At first, though, all we saw were a few beautiful trees, one bright yellow, a couple orange and red. I saw some all-season lawn ornaments and said if I had those I would at least cover them in cobwebs. Maybe a vampire cloak for the lawn jockey.

In the next block we saw the house with the lumpy cobwebs and the gravestone in the front lawn that I remembered from my run. I pointed out to Steven how the bunched up spots really looked OK. He had found a bag of the stuff in our attic. I must see what I can do with it later.

We saw a number of pumpkins on various porches. Steven had purchased a little one at the Mohawk Farmer’s Market last week. I said we needed a bigger one, to have lots of pumpkin seeds to roast. Steven said we should get a really big one and put the little one in its mouth, like some pictures he’s seen on the internet (Steven has a major collection of Halloween pictures on his Facebook page).

Twice Tabby wanted to head towards home and we convinced her to go another block. At last we turned back toward our street. She was happy about that, although she couldn’t have been too anxious to get home judging from the number of trees and posts she wanted to sniff.

It was not a long walk, but it was very pleasant. And it made my back feel better. Note to self: walk more. And look for a Mohawk Valley adventure to blog about tomorrow. Happy Tuesday, everyone.

I Forgot the Plot

Saturday I watched not one but two Whistler movies DVR’d from TCM (does that sound like I’m spelling things so some little kid doesn’t know what I’m talking about?).

The first was Return of the Whistler. I confess, I spent most of Monday morning trying to remember what the plot was so I could write about it. So, yeah, I guess you could say it is not very memorable.

A man and woman are on their way to get married. We sense there is something about this woman she is not telling us. At least, I think we’re supposed to. I was mostly trying to figure out what her accent was supposed to be. She’s French, we find out later. OK.

When they go in to see the Justice of the Peace, somebody stops and monkeys with their car with the result that they are stuck. Which is just as well, because the JP as been called away and can’t marry them till morning. By morning, however, the bride has disappeared (come now, you didn’t think they could spend the night in the same room before they were married, did you?). Then things get complicated.

And that is pretty much all I can tell you without giving away some of the jolting twists of the plot. I don’t want to do that, because jolts are about all this movie has going for it. The romance is blah, the solution is silly, and there is zero comic relief. And no Richard Dix! I don’t think anybody even gets killed, which makes it a little odd that the Whistler is even involved.

I did not realize the second movie was a Whistler movie till we actually watched it. I couldn’t recall the title of that one this morning, but luckily had made a note of it in the TV Journal: The Mysterious Intruder. When we watched it, we noted a subtitle “A Whistler Movie.” Richard Dix stars in this one, and it is directed by William Castle. So right away I liked it better.

I DVR’d it because I liked the description, something about a detective tracking somebody who leaves a trail of bodies. Now, in the scheme of things, serial killers do not interest me nearly as much as a personal murder for an understandable reason. But for a cheesy old movie, trail of bodies sounded good. As it turned out, all the murders were for a sound reason, all stemming from the original killing for gain.

This, by the way, is often the case. Hercule Poirot said murder is a habit. You steel yourself to kill one person for what you think is a compelling reason. The next thing you know, you have to kill some other guy, because he’s onto you, and then somebody else, because she’s going to get the thing you killed the first guy for. Less and less steel is required.

But I digress. Anyways, there is no indication that this killer had any problem killing the first guy.

Richard Dix plays a private investigator. The movie opens with this old guy trying to hire him to trace this little blonde girl he used to know. He’s pretty cagey about it, but indicates that great wealth is at stake.

And this is where, once again, I really don’t want to go on, because I would no doubt give away major plot points. In fact, it may be giving too much away to tell you that things are not what they seem. Oops.

The movie clips right along, fast enough that you don’t notice the pick-up-truck-sized holes in the plot. In fact, I spent a good portion of Monday morning (when I wasn’t trying to remember the other movie) saying, “Waaaait a minute!” But at the time, I zipped right along with the rest of them.

In conclusion, I’d say either movie is entertaining enough to catch on a dull night home. And trying to remember one plot and saying “Wait a minute!” about another added some interest to my Monday morning. I don’t have a rating system like thumbs up or three apples. Maybe that’s what I’ll spend my Tuesday morning thinking about.