Category Archives: personal

Into the Woods

Posted on July 1, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

I suppose some readers might be tired of posts about running, but the Boilermaker is one week from today! In fact, one week from right now as I write this, I will be done running the Boilermaker (but not done writing about it, as I’m sure you’ve guessed). Besides, I ran somewhere different today, and I think that is worth a post.

I started with my usual Sunday run up to Herkimer County Community College (HCCC) the front way. I tell you what, that hill does not get any easier. As I fought my way up it, I reflected on the Boilermaker vs Herkimer’s D.A.R.E. 5K. For a 15K, it is impressive just to go the distance. For a 5K, less so. Unless the 5K includes a big old steep hill. Then you get kudos for just not walking. And if you do walk you still get kudos for just not stopping. And if you do stop, well, there’s always next year. I don’t intend to stop, and I did not stop today.

I kept going up onto the campus, so I was still running uphill. It was after 7 o’clock and already the sun was hot. Well, that just makes it better practice for the Boilermaker, I told myself. And on the Boilermaker there is a considerable number of places where they offer you water. That will be nice. I sure could have used a little shade, though.

My goal was to run for an hour and twenty minutes. That mean I had time to kill (if the time didn’t kill me) (such an outcome was, of course, unlikely, but I had to make the play on words). I decided to run on the nature trail. There would be lots of shade there.

I used to walk the trail once a week with a friend, and Steven and I have taken Tabby there several times. We have not been there in a long time, but I felt fairly confident I could get in and out without getting lost in the woods. On reflection, I don’t know why I thought that. I get lost all the time in the silliest places. If it’s a choice between a left and a right, at least eight times out of ten I will pick the wrong one. Either I trust my instinct and it’s wrong, or I don’t trust it and it’s right. No matter. Even if I got lost, the trail doesn’t go that deeply into the woods. At worst, I would come out on some back road and have to run back to the college. There might be a lot of bugs in the woods. That’s all right, too, I thought. I have witch hazel to put on but bites. Really, there was no reason not to continue.

I could see right away that they had maintained the trail. I followed a nice path of wood chips into the forest. I remembered this, sure I did. I crossed a wooden bridge over a dry stream bed. The path was clear, no choices right or left yet. I could rock this. My only problem was not much breeze, and I had forgotten my headband.

I could hear a woodpecker in the distance that sounded much louder and a little slower than I thought woodpeckers sounded. Maybe it was a mutant woodpecker. Then I came to a sign that said Outer Loop with arrows pointing in opposite directions. Swell! I picked right.

This path was a lot longer than I remembered. It was so twisty I couldn’t tell what direction I was headed in. Some people might have been able to judge by the position of the sun, but I couldn’t remember where the sun was when I went in (oh, I know the sun doesn’t move, we do; you know what I mean).

I knew there was a section that goes out into some fields. You’re still surrounded by vegetation, so you can’t just crash through to the road, and it goes on and on and on. I did not want to go there. Here was another choice. I was sure the left led to that path. I chose right. No! Right went to the path. I went back to go left instead. No! Left went that way too! I went back right. For one thing, part of that path was soft pine needles that felt good on my feet. Then I noticed a third choice.

More pine needles. Ah! Then I saw a shelter I remembered, and a picnic table. Oh, was this the way back to where I came in? Yes! It was! I still had a ways to go and a couple of good upslopes to navigate, but I could see the athletic fields in the distance through the trees and knew I was on the right track.

I emerged from the woods triumphant, and not even half-way through my hour and twenty minutes. No matter. I could loop around the athletic fields and onto Reservoir Road. Then it was downhill and shade till I got to the spring for my mid-run drink.

The rest of the run was pretty good. I petted three dogs, found some nice shade, enjoyed the occasional breeze. I also ran up the hill by Valley Health, just to be hard core (at least as hard as my core gets). I’d say I’m feeling semi-confident about the Boilermaker. My main goal now is to blog about something else at least a couple of times between now and then. Stay tuned!

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Boilermaker Butterflies

Posted on June 30, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

Subtitle: 15Ks Is The Least Of My Worries.

I am using today’s Friday Lame Post to vent my nerves regarding the upcoming Boilermaker road race, to be run (in my case, shuffled) Sunday, July 8 in Utica, NY (I realized I keep mentioning the Boilermaker but never said when or where it was. I do know these things).

As my subtitle says, the actual act of moving my feet for 15 kilometers, even in sweltering heat, does not particularly worry me. Oh, I realize I will probably get a crappy time. I will probably look ridiculous when I do it. It may very well suck. However, I know from experience that I can keep going through almost any amount of suck for just about as long as I decide to. I have shuffled along with the mantra repeating in my head, “Just don’t stop,” many times. It’s not my favorite way to run, but I can do it, and the rewards afterward are undeniable.

I quite frankly do not expect to spend a large portion of the Boilermaker in that stage. The support is great, and the route is interesting. As I said, that is not what worries me.

What worries me is 13,999 other runners. Where are we all going to run? Any given street is only so wide. How mushed will we be in the starter bin? Will we have to run in lock-step or be trampled? What if some people are bad-tempered? Will I become a victim of Runner’s Rage?

These things, I suppose, will sort themselves out, at least by the third mile or so. I’m also a bit concerned by where to go before that. The first year I ran, I had no idea where to park. Somebody had told me how to get to the starting line with the Culver Avenue exit closed, but I looked in vain for big signs that said, “Runners park here!” I did, of course, find a place to park eventually. I’m thinking it was the wrong place, because no other cars were parked there when I returned to my truck, but I did not get a ticket, so that was all right.

After the run, things can get even more complicated. I never did get my lunch that first year. I got it the second year, because I had a run buddy who knew where to go. I seem to remember finding the shuttles back to the starting place without too much difficulty.

I really don’t know what I’m so worried about. All these problems, if they even arise, are not insoluble. Now I’m a little afraid to publish this. I can just hear some readers saying, “Oh, quit your bellyaching! Nobody asked you to run the Boilermaker! Just shut up and run!”

Well, it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to. Or, rather, my blog and I’ll complain if I want to. For heavens’ sake, what miracles of erudition do you want from me on Lame Post Friday? And on July 8, I will run, but I will not shut up. Would you expect less?

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But It Starred Boris Karloff!

Posted on June 29, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

I have not reviewed — or even viewed — a cheesy horror movie in a while. I sought to remedy the omission Wednesday with The Fatal Hour (1940) starring Boris Karloff, part of our DVD set of 50 Classic Horror Movies.

The main reason we picked that one is that one of Steven’s movie books said it was 68 minutes long. This would get me into bed in a timely fashion, as it is important to me to get my beauty rest (and I don’t need anyone to tell me that I clearly do not get enough).

The movie opened with a hot blonde walking into the Homicide Department. I perked up. Was it, could it be… it was! An intrepid girl reporter! I love intrepid girl reporters! Of course she was looking for a story. And naturally everything was quiet UNTIL…

Actually, things started rather slowly, with the off camera murder of a policeman working undercover. Soon we meet Detective Wong, played by Boris Karloff, working on the case unofficially. I only recognized Karloff by his voice, and not the “Friend! Good!” voice he used in Bride of Frankenstein. It was the gentle, comforting voice he used when he narrated How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I kept thinking about How the Grinch Stole Christmas every time Karloff talked. He really had a beautiful voice.

The main bad guy, less so. He had an accent that came and went, and he referred to Mr. Wong as The Chinese Copper. That was probably the cheesiest aspect of the picture. That, and the bad girl’s hat. When I found out she was the bad girl, I realized I should have known right away she was bad, based on the hat.

The movie as a whole, I’m afraid, was not very cheesy. It wasn’t a horror movie, either. It was a detective film. What was that all about? I suppose it made it into the collection because of Boris Karloff. Apparently the people that put these things together do not necessarily watch the movies first.

As a detective movie, it was actually pretty good. The solution was clever. I arrived at it just before Mr. Wong confronted the killer (I’ve seen a lot of detective movies). As usual, I missed a few clues along the way. I’ll need to watch it again to pick those up, as because I’m still not clear on how the killer got one victim.

I was disappointed at the lack of monsters and cheesiness, but I did enjoy the movie. Steven looked at his collection of 50 Mystery Classics and discovered another Mr. Wong movie with Karloff. We’ll have to check it out. For the next Mohawk Valley Girl Movie Review, however, I hope to have something more cheesy to report on. Stay tuned.

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Random Running Commentary

Posted on June 28, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

First a confession: I did not run today. But I thought about running. I know, that does NOT count as running. However, I thought I could manage just a tiny blog post out of some of the stuff I thought about.

The fact is, as I run, I think of all kinds of things. Since I’ve written a blog, I mostly think of things I can put in a blog post about that run. Some of my posts about runs have been over 1,000 words. Yikes! And I do not include all the silly things I think. After I make the post, I always think, “Oh, I didn’t put in blah blah!” I know, some of you are thinking, “Oh, Cindy, you put in PLENTY of blah blah!”

Be that as it may, one thing that has occupied me lately when running has been the songs playing in my head. I absolutely never run with earphones on. Partly because I don’t own any, but mostly because I like to be aware of my surroundings. Also, I am skeptical of my ability to come up with a play list I would like. Suppose I wanted to run slower than the song that was next (I’m almost positive I would never want to run faster)?

As noted in various posts, I often hear the ice cream truck when I am running. I don’t particularly like being stalked by the ice cream truck (although I do like including the possibility in my post), but I must say some of those silly tunes are good to run to. It is not uncommon to have the music playing in my head after the truck has gone.

One song that plays in my head quite often is one from the ’80s that goes, “I know what boys like/ I know what guys want/ I know what boys like/ boys like/ boys like me!” Those are the only words I know. In fact, they may be the only words to that song. I must admit to feeling pretty good as I run along thinking all the boys like me (shut up! I can think what I like!).

A song that caught me the other day was one that goes, “All I wanna do/ Is have some fun/ I got a feeling/ I’m not the only one.” Again, those are the only words I know. And I’m pretty sure there are more to that one. For a little variety, I sometimes think it as, “All I wanna do/ Is run, run, run!”

When I was on the swim team in high school (about a hundred years ago), the girls used to compare songs they sang in their heads while they swam. One favorite was a part of a Journey song I cannot recall that went, “Nah Nah Na-NAH Nah, Nah-nah Na NAH Nah…” I may not have that right, but I bet some of you know the song.

Swimming, of course, is a different proposition from running, which is something else I started thinking about while I was running. I do best at running the more I think about other things. That didn’t work so well with swimming. I started swimming my fastest (which was never very fast) when I concentrated on the pure physical effort. Actually, I suppose that is what I do when I sprint, which isn’t often.

Well, I see I am over 500 words. And I thought this was going to be a tiny blog post. Well, it was fun to write. I’ll probably go running tomorrow. What song will my head play?

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Not a Dead End Run

Posted on June 27, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

I ran for an hour and thirteen minutes on Sunday. I did not run on Monday. The Boilermaker is bearing down on me like Nemesis (when it is capitalized it means the goddess of retribution; uncapitalized, of course, it is our favorite superhero’s main enemy). So I definitely wanted to run on Tuesday (today).

I was delighted that it was cooler than it has been. I would not have let high temperatures deter me, but I figured I would be more comfortable and perhaps run further. I set out.

And my body immediately demanded to know what the hell I was thinking. I was stunned by the question. I had skipped one day! Just one day! What was all this stiffness? Where did these sore muscles come from? I remembered that I did not stretch immediately following Sunday’s run. Could that have started the mischief?

I debated if and which hills to run. To run hills, of course, I have to cross German Street. I bargained with myself: if I could cross at the end of my street, I would head toward the college or Valley Health and run one of those hills. If not, I would head towards Main Street. If I could cross at Main Street, I would run up that hill. If I could not cross at Main Street, I was off the hook.

Main Street looked busy. It is a four way stop, so it is never impossible to cross, but it is sometimes tricky. You may get the “go ahead” wave from one car and not another. Or somebody might be turning without their signal (I HATE that!). Look at all those cars! I could never cross. Then I realized I could. Yes! I sprinted. Then I wondered why I was so happy to run up a hill.

The hill is part of a dead end street that didn’t used to be a dead end street. A car can’t go beyond a certain point, but a person can. At least, the last time I ran it one could. Oh dear, it is a steep hill. Still, it is my goal to run the tough ones. I got to the point where no car may go. I hoped no Herkimer authorities would read my blog and come yell at me for running there. I wondered if I could gloss over the dead end aspect of the street when I wrote the post. As you see, I did not. In fact, I saw a bunch of footprints in some dirt, so I knew I was not the only one to go there. I thought it would be OK. I ran on.

And kept going up. I did not go up as far as the hill goes, though, because that would bring me out too far onto Steuben Road, which has no sidewalks way out there. And cars go kind of fast. When I got onto Steuben, I got over onto the shoulder as far as I could. One truck coming toward me slowed way down when he got near me, perhaps because a car was coming in the opposite direction so he could not get over. I gave him the “thank you” wave. Another truck neither slowed down nor moved over. You’ll have that. At last I was back on the sidewalk.

My legs were feeling better as the run went on, as was my mood. I didn’t mention this before, but I was sorely in need of endorphins today. I never know if I am getting endorphins or not. I mean, on the rare occasions that I get the “I LOVE to run!” feeling, I’m pretty sure that’s endorphins. The “I can rock this” stage, I’m not so sure. Maybe it’s a lower dose.

Endorphins or not, as I walked my cool down with Tabby, I realized I felt… better. And you know, when it comes to the Boilermaker, SOMEBODY has to be dead last. There’s no shame in it. A little embarrassment, I suppose. Then again, perhaps that is a small favor I could do for the other 13,999 runners.

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Funked Up Monday

Posted on June 26, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

Why are Middle-aged Musings Mondays so much more difficult than Lame Post Fridays? And I’d also like to know why so many of my posts turn out to be about How I Can’t Write a Post Today.

I have seriously been trying. I’ve gotten a few paragraphs written, and they actually don’t seem too bad. But I can’t go on (said in a dramatic tone of voice, with one wrist to my forehead).

The point of this blog was NOT to be a forum for my personal problems. Not that there’s anything wrong with a blog like that. Some people find it very helpful to write out their problems. I’m sure some people even like to read about other people’s problems. They can say things like, “Ha! She thinks she’s got it bad!” or “And I thought I had it bad!” Probably they think of good solutions. It’s always easier to solve other people’s problems (hey! that was a middle-aged musing, wasn’t it?).

I just seem to be having an ongoing problem of being in a funk on Monday. Perhaps I overdo it on the weekends. Being middle-aged, I perhaps should not try to act like I did when I was in my 20s. Perhaps it would be helpful if I wrote Monday’s post on Saturday or Sunday, when I am not in such a funk. That’s not cheating. Stop shaking your finger at me!

Oh, you’re not shaking your finger at me because you think I’m cheating. You’re shaking your finger at me because you’ve been thinking for the past three Mondays that I ought to have written that post on Saturday or Sunday. Good idea.

OK, so in posts about running, I admitted to having conversations with various body parts. Now we see I am having conversations with imaginary readers. And if I keep doing ridiculous posts like this, I may be left with only imaginary readers. Say it ain’t so!

I will try very hard to find something better to write about tomorrow. Thank you for your patience.

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A Bank and a Bake Sale

Posted on June 25, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

Saturday I needed some cash and wanted to spend it, so I put Tabby on the leash and we walked down to First Source Credit Union in Herkimer, NY. They are very dog friendly there.

While I was filling out my withdrawal slip, two little boys noticed Tabby and were very interested in her. I told them it was OK to pet her. I explained that first it was a good idea to let her sniff their hands and then pet her on the back. I read that somewhere, that you should pet a strange dog on the back or chest, not on the head. They might get nervous when a stranger pets them on the head. Tabby licked the littler boy’s hand.

“Did she give you kisses?” I asked. After I completed my transaction and picked up the biscuit the teller gave me for Tabby, I turned around to see Tabby on her hind legs, leaning on the bigger boy, being petted. “Did you make a couple of friends?” I asked her. She didn’t let her new friends keep her from eating her treat right away.

We left the bank and walked down a block and across the street to Aubuchon Hardware, where H.A.L.O. was having a bake sale. That was where I wanted to spend a little money.

H.A.L.O. is the Helping Animals Live Organization, a non-profit, no kill cat shelter based in Little Falls. I can’t adopt a kitty due to severe allergies, but I like to support their fundraisers whenever possible. Right away I saw a flier for a great event planned for September: a Chicken Barbecue and Hawaiian Luau Dance. I checked their Facebook page for more details, but it isn’t listed yet. I’ll definitely keep an eye out for that and plan to attend. Steven has lots of Hawaiian shirts.

After I bought a couple of goodies for me and Steven, Tabby and I walked back home. It was quite sunny and warm by this time, so I chose the sidewalks that seemed to offer the most shade. We were glad to get home and near the fans. Just another pleasant little interlude during our Mohawk Valley weekend.

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Kick Butt Run

Posted on June 23, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

I keep saying it’s All Boilermaker All The Time, but it’s really Running A Lot Of The Time. Doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it? This by way of introduction to another post about my day’s run.

It was just prior to 6:30 this morning (Saturday) when I set out. I love running early in the morning. The air is cool, the traffic is sparse, my body is fresh, and best of all: I get it over and done with! Oh, I like to run. I enjoy moving my body, I enjoy looking around at the scenery, I enjoy calling remarks to chance passersby and petting the occasional dog. I know some people don’t particularly like to run but like to have run (much like some writers despise writing but adore to have written). No question: there are many runs that turn into a painful slog and the only good thing I can say about it is, “At least I did it.” I believe I’ve written blog posts about some of mine (and that makes two good things I can say about it; let’s hear it for writing a blog!). And even on a good run, it is a lovely feeling to know I don’t have to run again before tomorrow.

That was a rather long paragraph to say that today’s was a Good Run (yes, I have to capitalize it). And that makes an interesting observation: I get short winded when I run and long winded when I write about it.

I had an idea to run up to Herkimer County Community College (HCCC) the back way. As I ran, I wondered if I should instead run up the kick-butt way. I don’t believe I’ve mentioned it before, because I haven’t run there in a while, but there is a third way to get up the hill to HCCC. It goes by the dormitories and curves around, going up in several places in a rather steep fashion. It’s longer than the back way and steeper than the front way. The worst of both worlds. I don’t run it very often.

As I approached the first hill, I said to myself, “Well, that doesn’t look too kick-butt-y.” and my beleaguered butt said, “Kick-butt-y enough!” Not that my butt bears the brunt of running pain. My legs and my lungs do, and occasionally my lower back. None of them were complaining, so I told my butt to shut up and ran on (yes, I talk to my body parts when I run; it passes the time). I knew the kick butt way ends with an extremely steep little path that comes right out on the front road to the college. Then I could run back down.

Soon I realized I wasn’t sure I remembered which way to run around the dorms. Did this way go up or down? Did this road go through or end in a parking lot? There was a set of wooden stairs I remembered. Ah, running stairs. I was out of breath by the time I reached the top but there was a nice level stretch. That was soon going back down. Oh dear, it looped around and brought me back to the stairs. I didn’t want to run up the stairs again! Try this way. No good.

It seemed the only thing to do was to go down a little ways, then the rest of the way up the back way. As I did this, I realized I would not be going the rest of the way up the back way; I would be going ALL the way up the back way! Well, I told myself, you wanted to get your butt kicked. There are a lot of hills on the Boilermaker. I would be ready.

When I got to the top of the back way, I ran into a dorm parking lot, seeking the last, steep kick butt-y path. Otherwise, I didn’t really feel I had gone up the kick butt way. At last I found it. And realized I had come the wrong way. I had actually missed some steep stuff leading up to the last path. Well, I would have to explore that another day. I went up the last bit.

After this it’s downhill all the way, I promised myself, then reflected that that was the way by body was headed anyways. Ah, running is ever a metaphor for life. As I ran down, I got a horrible stitch in my side. I lifted my hands over my head and breathed deeply, which I have been told helps. I thought I might as well make triumphant fists and pretend somebody was singing the chorus of “We Are the Champions.” I looked at my shadow and thought I looked more like I was surrendering. “Don’t shoot me, Mr. Police Officer!” I kept running.

I was not even halfway to my time. Ugh. I ran around a block before stopping at the spring, so I could get my little drink at least halfway through my run. Now, I told myself, just a leisurely jaunt through the streets of Herkimer, no hills, no worries.

It really was not bad. There was lots of shade to be found. I crossed any street I felt like with very little problem. At one point, I realized the stitch in my side was gone. When did that happen? My legs felt tired near the end, but did not reach that macaroni-like state that causes me to ponder al denti vs. overcooked. And when I got home I fixed myself a ham, egg and cheese sandwich on a whole wheat English muffin. Ah! I do love a satisfying breakfast after a good long run.

And now I have done my two most important chores of the day: running and writing my blog post. Oh, I know, there are other things like laundry and cleaning and gardening. Priorities, people! The Boilermaker is two weeks away! I think it will be fun.

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Short, Sweaty Shuffle

Posted on June 23, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

Subtitle: I Wish I WAS Lame! (You know, just a little reference to Lame Post Friday, and a lament about my lack of running prowess)

Fine time I’m going to have in the Boilermaker. I just went three days without running at all. In my defense, two of those days were, in the words of Cole Porter, Too Damn Hot (that was a Cole Porter tune, wasn’t it? I’ll ask Steven; he’ll know). Friday (today) promised to be cooler. As I sat at work all day sweating, I knew it was not the miracle for which I had been hoping. I also knew that it would be a very good idea if I ran anyways.

Stepping outside after work, I encountered a lovely breeze which gave me hope. The sunshine was still bright and brutal, though. My thermometer was reading 79 degrees, so I decided to postpone my run till 5 o’clock. Perhaps the temperature would have dropped at least a little. As it turned out, I forgot to check the temperature before I set out, so I’ll never know the exact number of degrees.

I’ll never know the exact amount of sweat that dripped off my body, either, but it certainly seemed considerable. As I ran down German Street, I could see that the opposite sidewalk had a lot more shade. But it’s hard to cross German in 5 o’clock traffic. I don’t like to do it unless I have a compelling reason, like I’m going to run one of the hills over there. I was not about to run a hill. I had previously made up my mind to run a short length of time and no hills. I thought I would try being good to myself.

It didn’t feel very good as I went on. I was running very slowly. I mean even slower and more shuffley than my usual pace. At first I felt that I could at least keep going if I kept the slow pace. Well, what’s wrong with a slow pace, I asked myself. You can’t run very fast for the first few miles of the Boilermaker anyways, because of all the runners. And, you know, somebody has to be in last place.

I always remember a story I heard about a guy who finished the Boilermaker dead last. A cop car was keeping pace with him, because it was past time for the roads to be open. The cop kept asking the runner did he want a ride. The runner told the cop to shut up and go eat another donut. I don’t know if that is a true story. If I am in last place in the Boilermaker, I will try to to get snarky with any police officers.

So I pretty much decided where to run based on which direction or side of the street had the most shade (except, as I said, for crossing German). And I must say, there was very little shade to be had. I kept myself going by telling myself, “This may be what the Boilermaker is like.” I had pretty good luck with temperatures the two Boilermakers I ran, but I’ve heard it’s been run in 90 degrees on occasion.

The most notable thing I saw on my run was a beautiful classic Mustang convertible getting a jump from a pick-up truck. What a great day for a ride in a convertible, and I adore classic Mustangs. The most enviable thing I saw was people relaxing on shady porches.

In short, it was one of those runs that afterwards I felt good that I ran more than feeling it was a good run. Tomorrow I should be able to run a six in the morning, a clearly superior time for a run. As for my subtitle about wishing I was lame… well, then I wouldn’t have to worry about the Boilermaker. But I don’t really wish it. I am a little sorry I used up my Lame Post yesterday, though. Because this is kind of a lame post about kind of a lame run. Oh well, as I intend to run again tomorrow, so too I intend to post. I’ll strive to do better. Happy Friday.

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Sorry, St. Anthony

Posted on June 22, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

I have to take Lame Post Friday a day early this week. I was writing about St. Anthony’s festival when I realized I did not remember much about it other than the sausage and pepper sandwich I ate and that the band and DJ were both awfully loud (then again, I always think the music is loud). Oh, and I remember a few nice people petting Tabby. But I don’t remember the name of the band or what all kinds of booths they had besides what we actually ate (there were even other food booths, I seem to recall).

I feel really stupid! I remember giving a shout-out to St. Anthony’s Festival last year and having no problem writing the post. I know, I should go back and read that post, then look for the festival program we picked up this year, THEN write the post. But I’m at work (on a break, of course), so I can’t check these things now. And later I will not have time, because I must prepare to meet Steven for today’s Mohawk Valley adventure. And since that adventure may involve beer and staying out till 8 p.m. or later, I can’t count on writing the post afterwards. So you see my problem.

If ever there was a time for random observations and half-baked philosophy, this is it. So do you think I can come up with anything. NO!!! It’s a wrist to forehead situation.

Actually, we can extrapolate a number of observations just from the situation I described. First observation: I care more about sausage and pepper sandwiches than festival booths and band names. Second observation: I have a cute dog that nice people like to pet. Third observation: I can almost always get a post about not being able to write a post.

I can work up some half-baked philosophy around my exclamation of “I feel really stupid!” First of all (and this is also a not-so-random observation): nobody is perfect. It is counter-productive to leap to insulting global statements based upon one’s inability to recall specific details (I rather like that last sentence). Then again, I didn’t say I am stupid. I said I felt stupid. And sometimes you just have to feel a certain way until you don’t feel that way any more.

How I feel right now is that I have done wrong in writing a Lame Post on a Thursday. Fridays are for Lame Posts. Then again, this week my Friday may not be a Friday, because I might have to work on Saturday. And astute readers (if any) will have picked up on the fact that I have a Mohawk Valley adventure planned for tonight. I can write about that on Friday. Or even refresh my memory and write about St. Anthony’s Festival. The possibilities are endless!

Today, however, I’m on a time budget. What you see is what you get. Happy Thursday, everyone.

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