Category Archives: Uncategorized

Mission to Middleville

Posted on April 24, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

Saturday I was on a mission to find costumes and props for the play I’m in (which, once again, is Harvey with Ilion Little Theatre). I had found a couple of rummage sales in the newspapers, and I thought to hit the Thrift Store and some consignment shops (or it is shoppes?).

I headed first to Middleville, NY, thinking I’d go further afield then closer to home (I feel I should put NY; after all, I’m on the internet, people all over the world could read this) (or do I flatter myself?). Steven and I have been to rummage sales at the Methodist Church there, so I felt confident I could find it on my own (hmmmm, what do you think is going to happen?).

Out Route 28 I drove. I don’t go that way very often, so it gave me something new to look at. Hey, anything that adds interest for me. As I passed Heidelberg Bakery, I thought I’d have to stop and eat at the cafe sometime. When I wasn’t on a mission to rummage sales that close at noon.

I noted several school buses at Mudville but did not see where they were from. I wondered if some sort of baseball tournament was going on and thought that would be fun to watch. (Ooh, maybe I should do a blog post about Mudville sometime.)

There were the Herkimer Diamond Mines with the campground across the street. I watched for pedestrians as the sign advised me to do, but I did not see any. I guess it’s a little early in the season for camping, but not being a camper myself, of course I don’t know.

Naturally, once I got to Middleville I could not remember exactly where the church is. It only took me one false turn to find it. I was happy to note a handily placed Stewart’s in case I needed to stop and ask directions, but luckily did not have to resort to that. I say luckily, because I have had the experience of stopping into a convenience store and asking only to have the clerk apologetically tell me he or she does not live in the area.

Two ladies were working the sale, and I was the only customer at the time. They cordially invited me to buy as much as I wanted; they were hoping to get rid of it. That’s the beauty of going on the last day of a rummage sale.

I did not find anything for the play, but I found some good junk for me and Steven, including some VHS tapes that I think somebody recorded movies from television on. I thought they had intriguing titles, mostly to do with murder. I figured what the heck, I’m buying them cheap, the money goes to a church and if we don’t like them we can always re-donate them somewhere else. And it was fewer items for the ladies to take care of at the end of the day.

I headed back toward Herkimer feeling I had made a good start on my mission. I guess I don’t know why I felt that way, since I hadn’t found anything for the play, but the day was young. My adventure continued.

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Posted in Community Events, Middleville, rummage sales, shopping, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Flustered Friday

Posted on March 24, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

Oh Friday, sweet Friday. What a cliche to be so happy it’s Friday.

I’ve felt flustered all week, and I believe it has shown in my blog posts, most notably in a digression on time management and missing my turn onto Washington Street. What is flustering me about that today is that such silliness would have been perfect for Lame Post Friday. But I wrote them during the week and left them in willy nilly as written (I do like the term willy nilly. For one thing, it rhymes with silly). That’s what I get for not editing. I should say, for not editing sufficiently. One can’t help but do some editing between between page and screen (um, computer screen. I don’t write for the cinema screen. Or even the screened in porch).

That leads me to ponder writing in general and writing for blogs in particular. There is a prominent school of thought in writing that says our first inspiration is usually the best. Keep that inner critic quiet; write exactly what you think at the time. The ultimate expression in this school of thought is free writing. You just write. Don’t stop the pen for any reason.

I have never been able to do free writing, not for one day ever in my life. Sometimes I start writing and my pen does not stop moving for some length of time. But if I say to myself, “Don’t stop,” my brain dries up. I can’t think of a thing to say.

I think I’ve talked about this in a blog post before. Probably one day when I was writing about not writing. It’s all very well to say that writing about not writing is still writing, but apparently I do not have much to say about not writing.

But I digress.

Wait a minute, how do I digress on Lame Post Friday? This is the day my mind is allowed to flutter hither and thither (is it thither or tither? Or is the proper expression hither and yon?). Random observations, remember?

What I was about to observe about blog writing is that willy nilly spontaneity seems to fit right in. Many bloggers just write what they feel, composing at the keyboard and letting it go. It’s a great form of self expression. Of course, it doesn’t have to be that way. Other blogs are thought out, tinkered with and polished. That’s a great form of self expression, too.

I don’t really know where I was going with this.

But I wrote it on my break at work, and after work I am typing it into my computer. I’m busy and flustered and 80 to 90 percent whelmed, so I’m letting it stand. It may be ridiculous, but this is my post for today. Thank you for playing.

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A Not So Fun Run

Posted on March 22, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

Since Sunday’s run went so well, I felt quite confident setting out on Tuesday. Silly me.

I had spent the afternoon at work feeling the warm temperature, watching clouds come and go, and pondering my life for the week. With only twenty-four hours in the day, ten of them devoted to work and a certain number (rarely high enough) to sleep, one can’t do everything one would like. In the army there was always some officer or NCO ready to intone the mantra, “Time management,” as if it were some magic formula that actually increased said 24 hours. Of course, they never gave the formula or even any specific organizational tips. I’m sure they did what I do: NOT everything.

That was a digression (sneaking in a middle-aged musing, I suppose). To get back on track (appropriate for a running post), I chose to run. I noticed right away that it was warm and humid. Of course I had been noticing that all day, but now it was emphasized.

I saw a young man run down the street I intended to turn onto. I thought briefly of turning the other way, then decided not to flatter myself. There was little chance of my catching a pedestrian let along a young man running.

He was dressed in black. I don’t like to dress in black on the bright, sunny days. I get too hot. I had searched my drawers for a large, white shirt. I found a Hummel’s Office Plus t-shirt we had purchased at a rummage sale at our church a few years ago.

It was soon clear that this would not be an easy run. My legs acted as if they had never run one step ever in their lives and I was ridiculous for asking them to. I wondered if this was the difference between running in forty degree weather and running in seventy degree weather. Then I thought it was more likely the difference between running in the morning of a day off and running after ten hours of work.

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s how to persevere through a difficult run. I started looking for things to mention in my blog, to distract myself. I saw a lady walking a dalmatian, a beautiful dog. They were on the other side of the street, so I could not ask to pet the dog, as I like to do. I was pleased that there were no puddles, especially as I ran down a section of Caroline Street where there is often a deep one. My bunions have been saying rain, but they often say that a day or two before it actually does.

Soon I was having trouble with my breathing. Nothing too serious. Only, with my sinuses it is next to impossible to do the “in through your nose out through your mouth” thing they say you’re supposed to do. My throat dried out in an uncomfortable fashion. I experimented with breathing through my nose. No good. I remembered that a friend had recommended concentrating on my exhale at times like this. Make sure I’m getting rid of the bad air to make room for the good. That seemed to help. I wished I had run toward the spring so I could stop for a drink. I thought about the bottle of ice water I had waiting for me on my deck and was encouraged to keep moving.

When I was almost home, I passed a couple of ladies with kids and dogs, pushing a four-seat stroller.

“Is there room for me in that stroller thing?” I called.

“There is!” one answered. “I’ll give you a piggy back — you look like you’re working way too hard!”

“I’m trying!”

She started to say something about being an anti-runner, but I was past before she finished. That’s the trouble with these running conversations; sometimes you miss the good parts.

I managed to keep running for my set length of time. I thought that was pretty good of me. I confess I spent a good portion of my run saying, “Each step is one more step I can make on the Boilermaker.” I know it’s a difficult run when I notice each step.

But you’ll have difficult runs. I could say something profound about making it through difficult times in life, but I think we all get the idea. Maybe that could be some of my half-baked philosophy for Lame Post Friday.

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A Walk, a Run and a Forfeit

Posted on February 24, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

I have been trying to run many days, but not every day. For one thing, I have to take my dog for a walk sometimes. For another, I get tired. I’m not a young woman, and I’m not convinced I consume enough fruits and vegetables to constitute a healthy lifestyle (although a neighbor lady used to flatteringly call me “young lady” when she chided me for not wearing my crazy old lady hat) (she didn’t know I call it my crazy old lady hat) (but I digress).

I ran Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Monday, I substituted a walk to the post office with husband and dog, Steven and Tabby respectively. We had to mail a few things anyways. Besides, the moonlit stroll had not turned out so romantic; I wanted to try again.

Well, the Mohawk Valley wait-five-minute weather did me dirt again. It was cold. It was not romantic. It was not even that much fun. Still, it was fresh air and exercise, and Tabby seemed to enjoy it. You can learn a lot from a dog about appreciating life.

The next day it felt cold once again as I left work. I grumpily told myself I could and would skip two days in a row. Then I stopped at the drugstore, which of course took longer than anticipated (it almost always does; you would think I’d get better at anticipating). By the time I got home it seemed not as cold.

By the time I was outside actually running, it seemed just as cold. However, I was out and started. I kept going. The sidewalks were bare and dry, so that was good.

I observed Christmas lights still hanging on some porches. They were not lit, but the sun had not set yet. Quite possibly those people do not light them after Christmas. The holly and red ribbons on one house looked nice in the daylight. A snowman smiled at me from a screened in porch. That got me thinking about screened in porches. I do envy a screened in porch. I amused myself my noting the different ones and deciding which I admire most. Of course, Tuesday was no porch sitting day, but spring is coming.

Wednesday I had intended to walk with Tabby again and hoped Steven would join us. But it was no good. I was too tired. I sat and had a cup of tea. I looked at the television and tried to knit a few rows. I even wished I had one of those old lady chairs in my bathtub so I could take my shower sitting down.

Did I mention not being a young woman? I suppose there are other women out there older than me with boundless energy. I’m hoping they have too much energy to sit and read a blog. They can be out having adventures, not commenting to me that I am just a lazy bum. And I don’t need to hear about anybody’s feisty grandmother! (That’s not true, of course; I love to hear stories about grandmothers.) (Maybe I’ll do a blog post about mine.) (Is is bad form to end a piece on a parenthetical comment?)

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Trudging Through Tuesday

Posted on January 25, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

It really was not that bad of a day, but I felt like being alliterative.

I wrote three different blog posts while I was at work today: one before starting work at 7 a.m., one during the 9 a.m. break and a third at the 2 p.m. break (I called my husband during lunch; it was his day off). Actually, none of the posts was complete, and the third was really short, because I was busy making silly jokes with my co-workers. Be that as it may, none of those posts pleased me.

I got home from work in time for my one of my favorite crime shows, City Confidential. Today’s city was Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I’d really like to check out some of these cities, and not just because of the murders that took place there. After City Confidential, I got interested in an episode of Notorious. They were showing a case I had seen profiled on another show, Power, Privilege and Justice, I think.

Before you go thinking I’m all morbid, loving these crime shows, let me assure you these shows are classy entertainment. The coverage is in-depth and informative, and there are no cheesy reenactments. I hate cheesy reenactments, and very few reenactments are not cheesy. The shows were not graphic either, as evidenced by the fact that we ate dinner during the second.

Throughout my TV watching, my dog Tabby kept coming up to me and gazing at me with appealing brown eyes. I knew what she wanted, so after Notorious I put my bra and sneakers back on and got out her leash. I only could have skipped City Confidential and walked her when it was still light out, but we can’t always look that far ahead.

Tabby pulled me as she often does toward the Historic Four Corners. I could see the Herkimer County Courthouse two blocks away. I remembered how when we had first moved into Herkimer, I would go running and get a little confused in the streets beyond Washington. Eventually I would look up and see the courthouse and know which direction to head.

We turned down Main Street and walked by a few open businesses and some sadly closed ones. Tabby looked speculatively at a small family getting out of a car, no doubt thinking they’d like to pet a cute dog. Unfortunately they crossed the street without giving her a glance. I heard the father telling the little boy to hold his mother’s hand.

Tabby wanted to go through the little park by Basloe Library, but I made her go down one more block, feeling I needed a little more exercise. When we approached Meyers Park, I remembered it is closed from dusk to dawn, according to the sign. Of course we have walked through the park in the dark many times. Tonight, however, we walked around the perimeter. For one thing, that sidewalk was more clear.

I saw some red lights in the distance and thought, “Christmas!” It was only a Swann truck. Good eats, but pricey. I especially like the Racetrack cones, but I’m on the South Beach Diet. We walked by St. Francis de Sales Church. The light in front of the statue of St. Francis made a big shadow of St. Francis’ head on the church wall.

We had a few minor disagreements on our walk. Tabby wanted to sniff more times and for longer than I felt like standing around, and when we got closer to home she wanted to jay walk. Dogs don’t know from crosswalks. Still, it was a pleasant enough walk. A little colder than I like. I pulled my fingers into the hand part of my gloves and made fists. I took a hot shower when I got home, which made my hands hurt. They’re feeling better now, and I see I’ve managed to type over 600 words. Not bad for not using any of the three posts I wrote earlier.

And now, speaking of classy crime shows, I think I’ll go watch World’s Dumbest Criminals.

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Mid-Week Lame

Posted on January 11, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

I’ve said that I don’t get Writer’s Block so much as Writer’s Blank. That is, I sit staring at the page or computer screen and think, “I got nuthin’.” Well, now I have something new and I don’t have a name for it.

I sit down and write a paragraph. Bing, no problem. Then I look at it and say, “That’s dumb. Nobody wants to read that. Erase that and write something else.”

This can go on for several paragraphs. Sometimes I erase it (or cross it out if I’m writing). Sometimes I let it stand, because if you read these things later, they often don’t look so bad.

The problem is, while it is standing there, I don’t feel like writing anything else. It’s like I just ate something that didn’t taste good and I don’t want to take another bite. If I erase it, I can usually write another paragraph which I immediately erase. I really don’t like doing that. Suppose the paragraph was perfectly all right? Now I’ll never know.

I must say, I’m not having a very good time writing this, and that is sad, because usually I enjoy the act of writing. Usually, once I get over the Blank and write a paragraph, I write another paragraph and so on till I have a blog post. Today I’m writing another paragraph and trying really really hard not to erase it.

Oh, it is a bad day for Mohawk Valley Girl.

I feel really bad making this post today (Tuesday) because I feel it is really lame, and we all know Friday is the day for lame posts. All I can do is (once again) apologize, and try again tomorrow. My reasoning (once again) is that if I’m going to make a blog post every day, some of them are bound to be lame.

Hit publish quick before I erase this whole thing!

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Fun Breakfast

Posted on January 3, 2012 by mohawkvalleygirl

Friday morning after a not too awful doctor’s appointment, Steven and I treated ourselves to breakfast at the Farm House Restaurant, 2 Central Plaza, Ilion.

The restaurant is in a tiny building. We have noticed it on many occasions and were frankly quite fascinated that it could house a whole restaurant. I further notice it when I go in to work at 7 a.m. and see the neon OPEN sign lit. I think how nice it would be to go to breakfast before work and wonder why I didn’t leave the house earlier.

On entering, we found the dining room is indeed tiny. There are about five or six tables, not very far apart. We sat at one and looked around at the charming country decor. A toddler at a nearby table was listening with delight to a snowman that sang a Christmas song. We saw a couple such toys at our table. Our waitress told us one needed batteries but the other worked. We listened to a snowman sing “Let It Snow” accompanied by two marshmallows. Fun!

I ordered my favorite of a breakfast sandwich. Steven had one of his favorites, French toast with eggs over medium. We heard the waitress tell three ladies at another table to take their time if they wanted to just sit and visit.

“We’re open till eight,” she said.

“We might stay that long,” one of the ladies said.

I soon noticed the ladies were sitting under a sign that said, “Beware Pickpockets and Loose Women.” They seemed like such fun ladies, I just had to draw their attention to it. They had not noticed but were very amused.

“I’m a pickpocket,” one said. “I don’t know about these two.”

“This has to be our table now,” another declared.

I told them they should get a picture, and one immediately handed me a camera.

It was a very enjoyable breakfast. I don’t know if those fun ladies will be there when I go again, but I’m sure the food will be just as yummy. For more information about the Farm House Restaurant, call 894-3276.

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Winter Comes to the Mohawk Valley

Posted on December 29, 2011 by mohawkvalleygirl

Perhaps I jinxed things the other day, when I mentioned I was pleased about the green Christmas. Nah, that can’t be it; people have been remarking about the lack of snow for a while now. Be that as it may, I thought Wednesday’s weather was worthy of a post.

I first encountered the winter Wednesday morning. I was feeling rather bah humbuggish as I experienced problems trying to wrap presents for Christmas II at my parents’ house that evening. I thought a little fresh air would help, so on went the sneakers (me) and the leash (Tabby), and out the door we went.

It was cold! Once again I had not put a scarf around my face, to my regret. Little white flakes swirled around us, then moved faster as the wind picked up and got mean. Tabby only wanted to go around the block, even taking the short cut through the apartment building parking lot, which was OK with me. At least it blew the bah humbug out of me and I was able to complete my Christmas preparations with equanimity and even a little joy.

As the day wore on the snow kept falling. Perfect weather for a cup of hot tea (I had finished most of my chores by then). Then I thought I would take Tabby for a more lengthy perambulation (we avoid saying the “w word” in our house) before our drive into Rome (about 30 to 40 minutes, depending on traffic and how seriously I take the speed limits). I struggled into my army winter boots and we set out.

It was a little warmer since the wind had died down. I was glad of the boots, as the snow had started to drift across the sidewalks. Not too deep yet, but a preview of things to come. One man was out with a snow blower, blowing out the driveway and walk of the apartment building. I encountered some iciness crossing the streets, but no mishaps. Tabby went about two blocks down German Street, then turned around without fanfare or even an inquiring look at me, and led me back home. After we turned around the wind picked back up, and I was once again regretful I had forgotten a scarf (will I ever remember that scarf?).

After we got back and I had gotten Tabby inside and cleared the caked snow off her feet, I went back outside and shoveled a little. Just the end of the driveway and the sidewalk in front of the house. It was really quite easy. Not much snow had piled up and it was light enough to push.

A check of Facebook revealed a couple of cancellations in Frankfort and Utica, and some comments by people of how some roads were getting bad. Oh dear. I called my Dad and asked how things were in Rome. After some discussion, we decided I would start the drive and turn around at the Frankfort bridge if things seemed bad.

When I got ready to load the car and go pick up Steven, I put on my other boots. I had been delighted to get these boots for 50% off at K Mart last year. The army boots are excellent for dryness, warmth and traction, but they are a royal pain in my rear to get into and out of. The K Mart boots are slip on and perfectly warm.

As I brushed off the car (another joy, because it is my height, which the truck is not), I questioned my delight in the slip on boots as a big clump of snow fell right into them. Never mind, I told myself, I can borrow dry socks from Mom. Tabby eagerly jumped into the car and her kennel and we were off.

Village streets were predictably bad, but State Route 5 seemed OK. As Steven got into the car, I explained my plan. So far so good. Things started to get dicey as we neared the Frankfort bridge, but I suggested we give it to the four corners. Not the Historic Four Corners I blog so much about, but the ones near Dave’s Diner. From there it would be easy enough to get on 5S and go back home. 5S has the added advantage of two lanes of traffic. I can go slow, and impatient people can go around me at their own risk.

We did not get that far. We got as far as the Market Place Deli (formerly the Snack Shack), and that seemed to me a very good place to turn around. Snow was accumulating on the highway, and I felt a skid or a fishtail could easily happen. We went back home and called my disappointed but understanding parents.

I suppose some would call me a wimp for such behavior. These people would shake an admonitory finger at me and ask me how long have I lived in the area, and don’t I know what to expect in December? Apparently I do. After all, I own two pair of boots and a snow shovel. And I know that sometimes plans have to change. Maybe I can plan something more exciting for my next blog post.

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Christmas Carol Rant

Posted on December 26, 2011 by mohawkvalleygirl

I’ve actually ranted this rant a number of times. Most recently I went off on this stuff Christmas Eve, then said to my nieces they didn’t need to read my next blog post; they’d just heard it. The next day one niece asked if I had indeed blogged about it. I had not. So here it is.

I love Christmas music. I think it is one of the best things about the best time of year. I love Christmas music so much, sometimes it makes me cry. That said, I really REALLY HATE what some singers do to Christmas songs.

I like peppy, happy Christmas songs. I can be-bop to Brenda Lee’s “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” all day long. I don’t like ballads in the best of times. And what I really can’t stand is a drawn out, slowed down ballad that you have no idea when it is ever going to end.

Singers, like all of us, can be self indulgent. Sometimes they indulge themselves with long, drawn out notes in ballady, emotional songs (my computer is telling be ballady is not a word, but I think it is descriptive). Sometimes they sing as if they are being paid by the hour, adding syllables where none existed or making the syllables that are there last way beyond their natural life.

I studied music in high school. I know that the different shaped notes mean you hold them for specific lengths of time: this note lasts a quarter beat, that note lasts two beats. How long a beat is may vary, but within those confines we have a specific rhythm which the songwriter intended. This is comforting to me. It means that a song, however many verses it may have, will eventually end. There is one — only one that I know of — symbol which placed over a note means you can hold it a little longer. This symbol usually is placed on one only one note in a song, often the last note. Many singers behave as if this symbol is over every damn note in the song.

I hate it! You never know when the song is going to end — you never even know when you are going to get to the next line! I listen to the song saying, “Get on with it! Go to the next note already!” I imagine there are songwriters turning over in their graves, or at least cringing as they cash their royalty checks.

This happens in music all the time, but I tend to notice it most often at Christmas. I believe it springs from a number of factors: I listen to music more at Christmas, and many Christmas songs tend to lend themselves to this sort of emotional self-indulgence. Christmas is an emotional time (hence my crying over Christmas songs).

One may ask, why am I being such a Scrooge or Grinch about this (choose your favorite fictional reference)? This person would say to me, “Let the singers sing how they want to sing! Some of us like to hear it that way!” Oh well, to each his own as the old lady said when she kissed the cow. If you like that sort of thing, listen away. You have plenty of opportunity. For myself, I will make some more mix tapes of my favorite peppy, happy tunes and dance and sing the rest of this Christmas time away. Happy days, all!

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A Sweet Tableau

Posted on December 20, 2011 by mohawkvalleygirl

When we last left our heroine (um, that’s me), she had gotten to church and found it was the day of the children’s Christmas Pageant (OK, enough with the third person; how pretentious). (You know, I think I started another post in a very similar fashion. Oh well, I like it, so at least one of us is happy)

It is always nice to go to church at Christmas time. There are poinsettias on the altar. People in the congregation wear their Christmas sweaters. We sing Christmas carols for some of the hymns. My church sings every verse of every song. The church I grew up in did not do that. Two verses and done. Sometimes during the six verse songs my throat gets a little sore, but in general I like it.

Actually, the music made me feel sad at first, because the church organist died this year. He was a truly sweet man. He never missed a Sunday if he could help it, and he always had a smile and a kind word. Apparently we don’t have a replacement organist yet, but a couple of strong voiced parishioners led the singing. Also, a young man played violin for two songs, and a young lady played the flute for one. Very talented young people around here.

The Christmas pageant was in place of the homily. Of course I usually enjoy Father Paul’s talks, but there’s just nothing like live theatre.

It was a very traditional pageant. Two girls who read very well narrated. The various characters came forward at the proper times and took their place in the tableau. Then two girls each played a song on the organ. My favorite characters were the littlest angel and the littlest shepherd. The angel couldn’t have been more than two or three (I can never guess ages accurately). A pig tailed red head, she was wearing a one piece pajama with wings attached. I think the littlest shepherd was her brother, maybe a year older. As he came forward, he went into the pew with his father to sit back down. His father directed him back toward the altar with the others.

I really enjoyed our pageant. I’m sure many other churches were enjoying similar spectacles. Isn’t Christmas great?

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