Category Archives: personal

Post about a Plod

Getting back into running is not easy, even after a short lay off. Come to think of it, it’s not always easy to keep going even when you’ve been at it a while, hence my frequent lay offs. But I thought if I put my spotty record and crappy runs out there, it might inspire others. You know, in a bad example kind of way.

I think I’ve spoken before about how no life is wasted because it can stand as a bad example. I don’t expound too much on the bad example I’ve set, because, quite frankly, it would depress me too much. But I don’t mind talking about what a lousy runner I am. Go figure.

So Saturday I ran for the first time in 13 days. Then I did not run for the next three days. I had my reasons. They are dull. Wednesday I made up my mind that if it was not pouring rain I would run.

“Guess I’m not mowing the lawn today,” a guy at work said.

“Is it raining?” I asked. I confess, I kind of had my hopes up.

“No, but the grass is soaked.”

As I left work, it seemed pretty good running weather. Cloudy, not too hot, and it had stopped raining long enough that there were not too many puddles. I went home, got into gear and got out the door before I could change my mind.

Almost as soon as I started running, I found that it was not so comfortable after all. High humidity. Oh dear. It was not too warm — the clouds helped with that — but the air was heavy. And let’s face it, I was heavy (I think I still am, but let’s stick with Wednesday). This was going to be a plodding run. I plodded.

One good thing about re-starting running is that a short run is still an accomplishment. Another is that I don’t feel obligated to run hills. I was soon pondering how short a run I could do and still call it a run.

I saw a patch of bright color on a tree. That encouraged me. I do love the fall colors. I looked around for other sights to distract myself from my troubles. Maybe some Halloween decorations.

I saw a couple of gravestones in one lawn, one with skeleton parts sticking out of the dirt in front of it. Various ghosts and skeletons hung from different porches. I was pleased to notice some cobwebs that look the way mine usually end up: clumpy. Really, the clumps did not look bad. I felt quite encouraged to dig out my own cobwebs and get to work (um, I haven’t yet, but give me time).

I won’t lie to you: it was a crappy run. I plodded the whole way at an embarrassingly slow pace. I mean, it was a plod. It was not even a shuffle. I plodded for the same amount of time I shuffled on Saturday. Even my cool down walk with Tabby felt a little ploddy.

I could go on about how crappy the run was, but I can see some readers (you know who you are) tuning up their miniature violins. Hey, I was just about to get to the looking on the bright side part! The bright side is that I did it. I ran before my three day lay off became a four day lay off. And I got a blog post out of it. Hope to see you on Lame Post Friday.

Spaghetti and Meatbars

No, I am not mispronouncing my L’s. I actually did make meatbars.

The meal started with a tube of ground turkey that Steven and I had acquired some time ago (long story, not very interesting). Of course, ground turkey is not interchangeable with hamburger, so it sat in our freezer while I made meatball plans which somehow never came to fruition. At last, Sunday I made up my mind to purchase some sausage to mix with the turkey and make meatballs.

My first problem was that I could not find any loose sausage. No matter. I can get the casing off a sausage. I put both meats in a bowl and added some crushed garlic and bread crumbs with Italian seasoning.

I added an egg. Two eggs? It looked like enough meat for two eggs. And that’s where I was quite wrong. Two eggs was too many. My meat mixture was… not exactly soupy but definitely too moist. I tried adding more bread crumbs. I was emphatically not inclined to run back to the store for more meat.

Probably the meatballs would solidify when cooked. I tried rolling a couple. Not a success (no, I did NOT take a picture to immortalize my stupidity) (oh, yeah, I know, I’m writing about it in this blog. But who reads anymore anyways? Almost everybody looks at pictures).

Finally I poured the stuff into a baking dish like it was a cake mix. I smoothed it out and stuck in into a 350 degree oven. Twenty minutes later I had… I guess you could call it Italian meatloaf. I cut it into rectangles and added it to my sauce (which I had been putting together all this time. Should I have mentioned that?).

They did not taste too bad. However, as I write this I slap myself on the forehead and say “D’oh!” I forgot to add grated Parmesan cheese. I must try to remember that the next time I make a batch of meat… something.

Cheese Before Wine

Steven and I began our Friday Mohawk Valley adventures with a trip to Vintage Spirits in Herkimer, NY for a wine and cheese tasting. I was delighted to see that Three Village Cheeses was providing the cheese.

The wine tasting table seemed a little crowded, so I started with the cheese. Tom remembered me from last June. He had read my blog post from that tasting, so that established cordial relations right away.

I tried the feta first and immediately declared it my favorite. So smooth, so deep. I don’t know how people usually describe cheeses (notes of… what? I never taste the notes in wine either, so what does that tell you), but I thought the feta was substantial. The other heavy one was the tomme, which I think I declared my favorite last time. I like the ones that are more complex.

I happily nibbled the mild ones, too, and when I got to the Habanero Havarti (I think habanero should have a tilda over the n, don’t know how to do it on my computer) (point and laugh if you must), I knew I had found my cheese of the day.

I recently bought some store brand pepper jack at Hannaford and found I liked the bite. Well, this was a glorification of that taste. The cheese was cheesier! The pepper was peppier! It was better than yummy!

Having made up my mind on the cheese, I turned my attention to the wine. Of course, as I sipped I returned to nibble. Must experiment with wine/cheese pairings after all.

I believe I can purchase Three Village Cheeses at Ilion Farmer’s Market. If not, I will surely make my way to the cheese factory and retail store at 2608 Newport Rd., Poland, NY. I can get directions via their Facebook page. I think it is time to upgrade from store brand cheese. Sorry, Hannaford!

Wrist to Forehead Walk

I am going to start a new feature and call it Wrist to Forehead Sunday (you know, that dramatic pose with a wrist to your forehead before you swoon from the stress). It seems I reach many Sundays convinced that I am utterly incapable of writing a decent blog post. Today I have at least three perfectly good Mohawk Valley topics to write on and I feel Blank. Rather than write yet another post about Why I Can’t Write a Post Today (which are, I guiltily admit, kind of fun to write), I dragged Steven and Tabby on a walk to the post office and I shall write about that.

To begin with I had written a letter to a friend (yes, I hand write letters which I send through the US Postal service and I delight in receiving one back). I had finished writing it earlier in the day, when I felt unable to write the blog post. I thought if I could write anything I could segue over. The segueing had not happened when Steven arrived home (I admit it: I had segued into doing a cryptogram puzzle in a puzzle book).

While he went up to look at the computer I had an inspiration that we would walk to the post office and I would write about that. First I had a Get Well card to write on Tabby’s behalf to a friend’s pet who is ailing. I wrote a letter from Tabby to Shadoe, utilizing the Historic Four Corners stationery I purchased at the Herkimer County Historical Society some time ago and had not used yet. I thought Tabby would appreciate having a letter from her written on stationery of one of her favorite places to walk.

We set out, walking down our street and admiring our neighbors’ Halloween decorations. One house had some cobwebs nicely covering the porch. I can never get those cobwebs spread out properly. They always bunch up. I pointed out to Steven some skeletons in a fishnet I had noticed earlier in the week.

We went through Myers Park to the post office. It had started to rain a little as we continued up Main Street. Steven put the hood of his jacket up, prompting Tabby to give him what I thought was a funny look. We bypassed the Historic Four Corners by going through a parking lot, in order to spend less time in the rain. This brought us out on Church Street, where I could show Steven the awesomely decorated house I had observed earlier.

They had added a coffin and more cobwebs. There were graves with a head and hand popping up I had not seen before, and some homemade graves I know were not there before. We pointed out to each other all the cool things, and I suggested we return for another walk after dark, because there are obviously things that light up.

After that it had stopped raining, so we continued up Prospect to German. We did not see any more Halloween decorations, but we observed a tree with some lovely orange leaves and a black cat on a porch. Nature’s own fall decor.

Well, I guess this turns out to be not a bad post after all. Or do I flatter myself? At any rate, I feel a lot less wrist to forehead now. See you on Middle-aged Musing Monday. Or Monster Movie Monday, depending on what I do for the rest of the day.

Disreputable Run

I guess Saturday Running Commentary is back.

This morning I ran a couple of errands (OK, one errand), so got running after 9:30. That is the joy of this time of year: you don’t have to get out the door prior to 7 a.m. to run in a comfortable temperature.

I have taken 13 days off running (I went to the calendar and counted). I can explain this as I explain many of life’s vicissitudes: shit happens. I almost talked myself out of it yet again, but then I thought I might be glad if I ran.

One good thing: all my running clothes were clean. I didn’t even have to search the laundry basket for socks. Bonus! I set out with determination and high hopes.

And at first it was not too bad. I knew I would not run any hills, and I knew I would not run very far, and I think everybody knows I do not run very fast. But I ran. I crossed German Street, because I saw a pick-up truck parked across the sidewalk. I did not feel like running around it, and I had a good opportunity to cross. Then as I got closer to it I was glad, because a guy was standing near it talking to two ladies on the porch. Not that I mind running by people and even saying hello, but to interrupt their conversation and run around their pick-up truck seemed a little complicated.

So there I was on the side of German Street with all the hills. Surely one little hill wouldn’t kill me. I decided not to take the chance. I ran up a block of Main Street so I could cross over and run down the nice path over what used to be a hydraulic canal. I looked at the houses now next to a nice path not a nasty ditch and thought they must like it. I saw a lady waiting outside a house. Waiting for a ride to work, I speculated. Then I speculated she worked someplace with a lax dress code, because she was wearing sweatpants. As I got closer she turned so her back was to me. I guess she didn’t want to take a chance I would say hello, but maybe I am again speculating.

I continued down German Street and ran up Dorf Street. I like Dorf. It looks a little back roadsy, because it is very quiet and there are no sidewalks. It curves around too, and that adds a little interest. Dorf crosses Prescott, a dead end street. I started to go up Prescott but saw a pit bull looking dog which may or may not have been on a leash. I turned around. He may have been a perfectly nice dog, but most dogs get a little agitated at runners.

I went back down Prescott onto German and quickly found a place to cross back to my side of the street. I saw a pedestrian walking on the side I’d just been on, coming towards me. I waited till she got closer to wave or say good morning. She kept her eyes pointed studiously ahead. I thought I must look more disreputable than I thought. I wondered if the pick-up truck people would have greeted me but turned off German before I got that far so I will never know.

After a while I got a little tired of running, but I persevered. It wasn’t a bad run at all, except for the people who acted like they didn’t want to look at me. But perhaps I’m reading too much into it. Still, before I go running again I may spruce up my running outfits a little. Too bad I don’t know how to post a picture.

Best Lame Plans

It is not easy to write when you have a raging sinus headache.

My original plan was to write two posts on Thursday. Then Friday after work I would have only to hit “Publish,” and Steven and I could be off on our Mohawk Valley adventures.

Well, Thursday, I found out that it is not easy to write when you are dreadfully nauseous and laboring under strong emotions. Thursday’s post, in case you couldn’t tell, was composed at the computer with not a whole lot of time expended. Believe it or not, a great deal of thought was expended. It just didn’t seem to do me much good.

Fast forward to Friday (today) (oh, wouldn’t we Monday to Friday workers LOVE to be able to do just that). I was determined to write something that I could hurry home and just type in. After all, how hard could it be? It’s Lame Post Friday!

A little voice in my head is saying, “Cindy. Isn’t it time you stopped this obsession of posting every day? It was all very well for the first year, but now how many times a week are you craving people’s indulgence for another dumb post? Shouldn’t you be going for quality over quantity?”

To that voice I say, “Oh, do be quiet. Why can’t you say something interesting, like the voices in other people’s heads? Maybe something involving aliens and a tin foil hat.” I think I would look rather fetching in a tin foil hat. I wonder if it would do anything to alleviate the headache.

Thursday’s Tale about Wednesday’s Walk

I mean to start running again, so I can write some posts about running. I’m not up to it today, though, so I will write about a walk I took yesterday with my schnoodle, Tabby.

It was maybe 40 minutes before Steven was due to leave work, and maybe 45-50 minutes before I had to leave for a meeting of the Ilion Little Theatre Club Board of Directors (did I happen to mention I’m secretary?). Tabby was restless. I knew if we started walking she might think we were going to meet Steven, but I thought if we walked towards her favorite Historic Four Corners she wouldn’t mind so much.

I don’t think she minded too much. She still looked up with interest at every car that passed, especially if they happened to slow down. But she was happy to walk. I was happy too. The temperature was just right for walking and my legs were loving the exercise.

The best thing was a house decorated for Halloween. I love Halloween! This house had an entire graveyard in the side lawn (it was on a corner). Various ghosts and skeletons hung from the trees. The porch boasted a large skeleton and a body wrapped in gauze hanging upside down. Eek! I saw some lights and immediately made up my mind to walk there again after dark (preview of coming attractions).

That was in fact the only memorable feature of the walk. We went down Main Street, though the park by Basloe Library, then around the block back to Main (it was Tabby’s idea). I admired the Post Office as usual, a beautiful historic building, and felt guilty for not writing anybody any postcards this week. We went by Pete’s Tavern but did not go in, because Tabby is not 21. And I didn’t have any money. Oh, yeah, and I intended to drive to my meeting later.

Crazy Otto’s Empire Diner was open for dinner and I thought, “Damn, if Steven was home and I didn’t have a meeting, we could go eat there!” Which may have made a better blog post, but sometimes these things can’t be helped. We also went by Hummel’s Office Plus, closed for the night, and the Belly Up Pub, not yet open.

Last Thursday I posted Lame. I think this Thursday has been even worse. Maybe I need a feature for Thursdays, you know, like Lame Post Friday or Middle-aged Musings Monday. The Thursday Trudge? I wrote a post once called “Trudging through Tuesday.” It received the only negative comment I have ever gotten in close to 500 posts. Oh dear, I think I’ve just asked for trouble. Well, hate me if you must (but not because I’m beautiful) (that was a reference to an ad from the ’80s, not a demonstration of my considerable ego). Point and laugh if you like. I can only do the best I can.

Mid-Week Middle-Aged Memory

Alternative title: “When the Hand Dropped”

Last Sunday while watching It! The Terror from Beyond Space, I suddenly said, “I’ve seen this movie!”

A crew member is missing. The rest of the crew has not yet seen the monster, although the audience has seen its feet (which, come to think of it, look a little bit like the Creature of the Black Lagoon’s). One man is standing next to a ventilation grate, pondering. Suddenly, a lifeless hand drops down, inside the grate, right in front of him. EEEEEEEEEEE!

I remembered that hand dropping down. It is, in fact, the only thing in the entire picture I remember from that viewing. Do you suppose there are other sci-fi monster movies where a hand drops down in a grate? And what occurs to me now as I write this is why is that ventilation grate a great big square at eye level looking for all the world like a window? But that’s neither here nor there. I remember the hand.

It was the ’70s. My parents would go out for dinner and dancing on a Saturday night. These were more elegant times: my mom and her friends would wear long dresses, the men wore suits. I admit to being envious. My older sisters and I, once Victoria was deemed old enough to be the babysitter, got to stay up till Mom and Dad got home.

Oh, the joy and mystery of staying up late! These were the days when cable offered seven channels and some stations went off the air at midnight. It was a challenge to find something to watch. We loved it when one of the all night stations showed a scary movie. Who doesn’t want to see a scary movie? At least, who wants to admit to not wanting to seeing a scary movie? I seem to think I wanted to be scared, then didn’t necessarily like it so much when I was.

So there we were, ready to be scared. When the hand dropped, we jumped.

“I don’t think anything would have scared me more than that hand,” Victoria said.

“What if it was that things head?” I asked. I think the thing’s head would have been more scary.

I took all these fake monsters at face value. If I was meant to be scared, I was scared. I was scared of every monster on Lost In Space, even when I could see where they had recycled a monster from two episodes ago.

Well, maybe not as scared of the recycled ones. Then too, things are always scarier at night, especially when Mom and Dad aren’t home. Lost in Space re-runs were generally shown in the afternoon, so those monsters were automatically less nightmare-inducing.

Sometimes we could catch a scary movie on a Saturday afternoon. Didn’t there used to be a feature called Chiller? A six-fingered hand would rise up out of a swamp and a gravelly voice would say, “Chil-ler!” Those were the days.

I suppose now I could segue into a middle-aged musing about how I am trying to recapture my childhood by watching these old movies. I don’t think that’s it, though; I think I just enjoy writing about them. And, you know, really, what I’d like to recapture is my parents’ young adulthood and wear a long dress to go out dancing on a Saturday night.

Paltry Pedestrian Post

Readers who pay attention to that sort of thing may have noticed that I did not have Saturday Running Commentary yesterday. I still felt under the weather from giving blood on Friday. I suppose by now I’m going to have to begin running all over again, as I have done many times in the past. But I won’t be doing it today. Instead I took my schnoodle, Tabby, for a walk. A Pedestrian Post will have to do.

Steven left for work about quarter to nine, and I went to the grocery store (NOT worthy of a blog post). When I returned, I thought, “Oh dear, now what?” In fact, while I drove to the store I thought I probably could go running. It would not be too hot. It might be a good idea. I couldn’t talk myself into it. I could not talk myself into all the cleaning and other household chores that awaited. Well I’m sure to Tabby, a walk was the most important activity I could undertake.

I put on my crazy old lady hat. It was not particularly sunny out, and I did not expect rain. But I would feel a little more incognito in the hat. Not that I expected to run into anybody I knew, and if I did they would probably recognize me with the hat if not by the hat. It still made me feel a little better.

Then I was glad I wore it, because the sun came out. I suppose I should have expected that, with our Wait Five Minute Mohawk Valley Weather. I could even have used my sunglasses. Never mind, the hat would have to do.

We walked to Tabby’s favorite Historic Four Corners, as usual. When we started down Main Street, however, I saw a dog sitting in front of a Sam’s Deli. He was just lying there minding his own doggy business, but I could hardly count on him remaining still as another dog walked right in front of him. I could not see if he was on a leash or if his person was nearby. I convinced Tabby to cross the street.

This put us right near our church, Christ Episcopal, which, I’m sorry, I was not attending this Sunday. I was afraid Tabby would pull me right up to the door, certain there would be someone inside wanting to pet her (there probably would be; lots of dog lovers in my church). Instead we walked back up Main Street, giving me the opportunity to admire once again the old courthouse, a lovely red stone building.

Then Tabby wanted to cross right back over Main Street and go back the way we came. Oh come on, Tabby! I don’t like walking right back the way I came. She was insistent, though, so we crossed in front of Herkimer Reformed Church. Tabby spent some time sniffing the iron fence around the cemetery in the church yard. They recently re-painted the fence black, so it looks nice, although still a little bent in places. It is an old fence, and an old church (hello! Historic Four Corners; I guess the church would be old!).

I managed to talk Tabby into going up Prospect Street and down German, so we did not walk back exactly the way we came. Not much of note happened on the walk. We met a dog named Sasha, who was more interested in sniffing Tabby than in having me pet her. And I saw a lady who from a distance looked a little like Maxine from the comics. I mean this as a compliment, of course, but I’m not sure it would be taken as one, so I leave out any identifying characteristics of where this happened or who the lady may actually be (I don’t know her, but she seemed nice; she said good morning).

I had meant to have more Mohawk Valley adventures this weekend so as to have a better quality of post today. Sorry about that. Still, it is a nice day for a walk, and Tabby and I enjoyed it. We may take another walk later with Steven. I may write another blog post about it. Just so you know.

Books and Music on a Saturday

I was on Facebook this morning (hey, it’s my day off!) and I saw a post from Basloe Library in Herkimer reminding us that Guitar Group meets today. Come hear some acoustic guitar music, they invited. I love acoustic guitars! I asked what time. 11 a.m.to 2 p.m.

I had wanted to go look for some books of plays, seeking something to replace Dirty Work at the Crossroads for Ilion Little Theatres’ fall production. I had thought to go after work Monday, when Steven could join me. However, acoustic guitar music is a great bribe for going today. Also, I might as well start reading plays as soon as possible, right?

Shortly before 11, therefore, I was at the library, wandering the shelves. I tend to have better luck doing that than looking at the supposed card catalog. I call it supposed, because there are neither cards nor a catalog. It is a computer and we all know, sometimes computers mystify me (OK, it’s not that hard to mystify me). I used to rock those little cards in the drawers! But enough strolling down memory late; I was strolling amongst the shelves.

I quickly found three books of plays and one book about an old Hollywood scandal. I do love an old Hollywood scandal. I went to check them out and asked where the guitar players were.

“I can just go listen, right?” I asked.

“Oh, sure, just listen, learn to play, sing along, they don’t kick anybody out.”

“If I tried to sing, they might kick me out,” I told them, but the folks behind the counter did not think that would really happen.

I found the room and sat at a table in the corner. A man was warming up, sounding really good. A few others arrived and they were all chatting and setting up. They were obviously regulars.

They played a lot of different tunes, mostly older stuff. I confess to singing along with “Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue.” Nobody kicked me out, but I sang quietly just in case. One man played the harmonica. I really enjoyed that. I laughed out loud when they sang the song about Rye Whiskey, particularly the verse about if the ocean was whiskey and I was a duck.

“You didn’t actually bring any whiskey, did you?” I asked. Nobody had. One man brought up the inadvisability of drinking whiskey and driving. He had a good point. I was just kidding anyways. I haven’t had whiskey in years.

I only stayed about an hour, but as I left I thanked them and told them I had enjoyed listening.

“Come again!” they invited.

“I will!” I promised. I intend to. It’s a nice way to spend a little time on a Saturday in the Mohawk Valley.

Frank J. Basloe Library is located at 245 N. Main St., Herkimer, NY, phone number 315-866-1733. They are open Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday 10 a.m. to 7 p.m., Thursday and Friday 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., Saturday 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. (closed Saturdays during July and August), closed Sundays. For information visit their website at www.midyork.org/herkimer, or you can like them on Facebook. Tell them Mohawk Valley Girl sent you.