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Sunday evening, Steven and I walked, dog and lawn chairs in hand, to Myers Park in Herkimer to enjoy a concert by the Symphony Syracuse Brass Quintet.

Steven had seen the article in the Telegram on Thursday and suggested we attend. The program would feature Sousa marches, Ragtime and other popular themes.

“I love Ragtime,” I said.

“I like other popular themes,” Steve said.

We were glad the weather permitted the concert to be held in the park. The quintet played in the gazebo. There was already a good sized crowd when we got there, but we found a nice spot for our chairs.

The music was wonderful. It was a little hard to hear the quintet member introducing the pieces, which was too bad because he was very knowledgeable and it’s fun the hear the stories behind the songs. They opened with what he described as “the number one dance hit of 1587.”

The first half of the concert featured Baroque and Renaissance music. Once piece was the Hornpipe from Handel’s Water Music. This was recognizable as some royal sounding music used numerous times in movies and on television, none of which readily come to mind. If this was an audio blog or pod cast I could say, “You know, the one that goes bah BAH bahm, ba ba ba bah bahm.” Then you would have to listen to me sing. Never mind.

The quintet closed the first half with an antiphonal piece, which they spread out on the gazebo to play. The piece was introduced as “the Baroque version of Dueling Banjos.” During intermission we walked around and chatted with a few people we knew. Tabby, of course, was convinced that every person there was anxious to pet a cute little dog.

For the second half of the program, the group jumped to the late 1800s in this country for Ragtime. The term means ragged time, or syncopation. They started with Scott Joplin’s The Entertainer. It made me want to see The Sting again.

The trombone player introduced the next piece, The Junk Man Rag by Lucky Roberts, because it makes copious use of that unique trombone move, the smear or glissando.

“We do it a lot,” the player said, “because we can.”

This piece sounded familiar, and had my toe tapping. It is a later rag, and you can easily hear it as a precursor to another favorite sound of mine, jazz. The quintet also played a Gay ’90s Medley and a medley of George M. Cohan songs. I had to stop myself from singing along.

They closed with a piece originated by the Canadian Brass, a group which broke all the rules. They mixed Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus with “The Saints Come Marching In” and called it “The Saints Go Hallelujah.” I bet that’s a mash up the writers of Glee never thought of. What a fun piece! Many people were clapping along.

After a standing ovation, the trumpet player said, “I heard my dad yell ‘Encore!'” They obliged with a Sousa March. The Phillip Sousa Marching Band, we were told, were the rock stars of their time. It made me want to stand up and march. At the end we all stood and clapped again. Some people whistled. I yelled “Bravo!” Steven and I have a little controversy. I say you go “woo-hoo” only at rock concerts or in bars. For concerts and the theatre you yell “Bravo!” I did not hear any woo-hoos, and I believe I was the only one yelling “Bravo!” but it was a very appreciative crowd nonetheless.

The concert was the final even of the General Herkimer Days Festival, which began July 8. I’m sorry to say it was the only event I attended, but I’m very glad I did attend. I’ll be looking for more concerts in the park.

I promised a second post about the Boilermaker, so here it is.

I had run the Boilermaker once and felt that was enough, but it did not work out that way. Cindy, a friend and co-worker of my sister, had run the Boilermaker in the past and was inspired by my feat (and my feet) to start running again. She declared that we would run it together. How could I refuse?

As it turned out, when it came closer to the day, my would-be running partner decided she had not trained hard enough and would wisely sit out. But her boyfriend, Dave, was registered and ready for what Cindy called the Boilermaker Experience.

See, Dave is a serious runner. He runs to run. I know a lot of people run the Boilermaker to improve their time. They are more concerned about the athletic aspects of the event. I am more concerned about the fun aspects of the event. In the first place, the sheer number of runners makes running your best race difficult. I hesitated about running the Boilermaker for a long time, because running in the midst of that mass of humanity did not look that fun to me. I’m glad I eventually ran it, though, because it is, in fact, a great deal of fun. All those runners may make it difficult to set your own pace, but it is a great bunch of people out to have a good time. You can’t help but appreciate being part of something so big.

I daresay I could run a better time if I did not wave back to the people who encouraged me, call out remarks about the more amusing signs, and in general enjoy the scene. This is what Cindy meant when she spoke of the Boilermaker Experience. My assignment was to make sure Dave 1) sang along with a band, 2) ate a popsicle, and 3) high-fived a a kid.

I made sure Dave did all three. He even had to back track a few steps to high five a couple of kids. He told me he enjoyed it very much. In return, Dave made my Boilermaker experience a little easier. He drove us there and knew a good place to park, and he got us through the crowd so we got our lunch and beer, which I did not do on my first Boilermaker. Cindy and some members of my family found a great place to sit and be spectators. I even got to pause for a quick kiss with my hubby, which is a thing I saw a lady do the year before and was quite envious.

I should mention, too, that the Boilermaker offers a full weekend of entertainment. Friday featured an expo, where racers can pick up their packets and a number of goodies donated by local businesses. My first year all I did was pick up my packet and find the Information Booth for more details of exactly where to go on Sunday. The second year I was able to take a little more time to walk around the booths. All sorts of businesses and non-profits turn out. Saturday offers a walk and a pasta dinner.

You can find out all about the Boilermaker on the Utica Roadrunners website: http://www.uticaroadrunners.org. I encourage everyone to come out and watch or run. Next time I hope to be there myself.

This weekend I am sadly missing one of the all time greatest things Utica has to offer: the 15K Boilermaker Road Race. Of course, I am missing it for a very good, family reason, but the fact remains. Missing it.

I was never really aware of the Boilermaker as I grew up in Rome, when I only ran when forced to by circumstances. After I joined the army and learned to love running, my father suggested I run the Boilermaker, but nothing ever came of it till I had left the army and gotten fat and sedentary. For a couple of years, while I ran sporadically to keep my qualification to the National Guard, I kept saying, “Oh, I’ll run the Boilermaker one day.” Finally in 2009, several years out of all armed forces, I decided to do it. I started training in March, and I ran it. I registered late and had to pay an extra $15. A co-worker said, “That’s fifteen bucks that’ll say: ‘I ain’t quittin’!'” As they say, true dat.

What a fun race! Yes, it’s long and yes, it’s hot. There are hills. Quite frankly, nothing to frighten someone who ran in Monterey, CA or who trained by running up to Herkimer County Community College (I did both). And what support! Every step of the way there are people cheering you on. Bands are playing. People are waving signs and ringing bells. Somebody hands out popsicles. Every mile there are people handing out water or ice cubes.

If the spectators ever get boring — and I never saw them do that — the other runners will entertain. My first year I saw a man in a super hero costume complete with cape and a girl with a martini glass on her head. At least, it may have been a cosmopolitan glass. I drink martinis. While running through the golf course I had to sprint briefly to catch up with a fellow whose shirt said, “Slow and steady still gets us to the beer at the end of the race.” I just had to let him know he had inspired me. Kind of ironic: I sprinted to admire “slow and steady.” I like that.

I could go on and on about the Boilermaker. In fact, I think I will. I see my word count is over 300 and I like to keep my blog posts short. I will make tomorrow’s post about my second year running the Boilermaker. And just wait till 2012.

I thought I might be able to make it a weekly thing of taking a walk and watching a monster movie and, of course, blogging about it. Unfortunately, TCM did not cooperate with my plans and only showed the monster movies during June.

We did go for a walk Thursday, though, and rescued a cute little dog. I guess rescued is a strong word. Helped find her way home is closer.

This was actually the second cute little dog we encountered on the loose. The first was less than a week ago. We were on German street about to cross Main when a little foxy looking dog started across from the opposite side, making straight for Tabby. I thought I had seen the dog once when I was driving by, under a nearby bush. We found the bush, but the house it was in front of looked deserted. We went to the house next door and Steven rang the bell. No one answered, but soon a lady came out of the garage.

“Do you know this dog?” I started to ask, but it was clear the question was unnecessary, as the dog ran happily up to her.

The next day we happened to walk by that house, and the little dog was on a leash.

“He won’t get away this time!” the lady called to us.

Thursday we were on Gray Street when we saw a yorkie in front of a house. She started across the street towards Tabby. We walked over so she would stay near the house she apparently came out of. This time I rang the bell which no one answered. Then we heard a voice calling from the back of the house. Angel, which we found out was the dog’s name, was less inclined to go running to her owner. She wanted to play. But eventually she went back where she belonged, and we continued our walk.

It was a good long walk. We utilized the paths over what used to be the Hydraulic Canal (not drainage ditch), which I mentioned in a previous post. As we headed back home, we passed some teenagers walking perpendicular to us.

“Bellinger Street and Bellinger Ave.,” one girl remarked. “I never knew.”

It is kind of a weird quirk of this area that we have both streets and avenues of the same name. Ilion and Herkimer both do it and I don’t quite understand why. These are small villages. Could they really not think of enough street names? Of the two, I think Ilion is worse because they do it with numbers as well as names. Come on! Numbers are infinite! Why would you need to reuse them?

This has turned into one of my longer posts, especially for being just another one about taking a walk. Well that can only be a good reflection on the area I have decided to call home. Do you suppose other places offer the same infinite variety? Try yours and report back.

One thing I particularly like to do is send postcards. When I was in the army I periodically sent postcards to all my nieces and nephews. When my younger sister was home recovering from a heart operation, I sent her a postcard every day. The last time I went away on vacation I sent my co-workers a postcard in case they missed me. Currently I send cards to a soldier I know in Afghanistan and one in Ft. Gordon, GA. I’m waiting on the snail mail address for a third.

I have a big pile of post cards to choose from, because I used to collect post cards before I got so into sending them. They range in subject and origin, but these days my favorite ones to send are local.

Most recently I sent my Georgia soldier a picture of a lovely funeral home in Little Falls. I felt the main attraction of that card to someone in Georgia was the new fallen snow. To my Afghanistan guy I sent one of a country road. I’ll be honest, it could have been from many places in New York or even Vermont. The back of the card only said, “Country Road,” but it was from a New York company. I like to think if was from around here.

I seem to have a lot of postcards from Little Falls. It is, of course, a very picturesque spot. I think my cards of the Herkimer Courthouse and 1834 Jail ended up in my sister’s scrapbook. I have one of Grace Brown and Chester Gilette (of the 1906 murder) I haven’t quite made up my mind to give away. I think I’ve sent all the ones I had of the Herkimer Home. I retain one of General Herkimer directing the Battle of Oriskany from the ground after he was wounded. I haven’t sent that one yet, because the blurb on the back takes up so much space I would not have room for much of a message. Someday when I’m feeling short-winded, perhaps.

I think people like to receive my post cards. Even if they can’t decipher my hand-writing, they can enjoy a picture, often of the beautiful Mohawk Valley.

I suppose this would have been a better post if I had a scanner and knew how to use it, so could show my readers these post cards. Sorry, maybe one day I will. Someone might even argue that this has been a lame blog post with a spurious connection to the Mohawk Valley. Well, I had fun writing it, so with apologies to S.J. Perlman, I would explain to that person, “Shut up.”

I have a family wedding to attend this weekend. I bought a new dress and new sandals. Do you think I would trust my own talents to paint my toenails for such an occasion? I’m feeling a little stressed this week, due to things that have no place in my totally fun blog. But I was determined to do something about my overgrown toenails with the chipped orange polish I put on myself about a month ago.

I went to Luxury Nails, 103 N. Washington St., Herkimer, NY. I knew I was taking my chances by walking in, but I figured if nothing else I could make an appointment for my other free morning this week. Luck was with me, however, and they took me right in.

I felt a little guilty, as Steven was working around the house while I sat with my feet soaking in warm, bubbly water. About the time the exfoliant was being rubbed on my callouses, however, all I felt was happy. I can and do paint my own toenails. I even have a pumice stone and a few other tools of the trade. But sometimes I just want the attention of a professional.

I decided to get a manicure as well, something I have done once before in my life, about six years ago. I used to paint my fingernails all the time, back in the ’80s. That was when Wet’n’Wild first hit the shelves. I had some wild fingernails in those days. I never knew what to do about my cuticles, though. I still don’t know, but ooh, they look nice.

Back in the ’80s, my blue fingernails were startling to some people (like the priest at a church I attended once). Now I felt downright conservative, asking for just plain color. I love to see the designs and decorations on others. I think the new cracked look is a little strange, but to each his own, as the old lady said when she kissed the cow. For me, straight color is the way to go.

I was quite delighted with my gold fingernails and green toenails. As I sat with my hands under the blower, I chatted up another patron. She had light blue fingernails and was a first time customer at Luxury Nails. We admired each other’s choice of colors and agreed that it is important to treat ourselves well.

Of course, now I have traded one stress for another, as I feel convinced I will chip my lovely nails before Saturday. No matter, they look wonderful now and will probably continue to look good enough for at least the near future. Luxury nails is open Mon. to Fri. 10 am to 8 pm and Saturday 10 am to 7 pm. For an appointment call 315-866-0020.

I confess I did not take advantage of any 4th of July happenings in the Mohawk Valley. In my defense, I worked Saturday and Monday, and we had a few things to take care of on Sunday. Ah, but what excuse can there be for a veteran like me? I did not even watch my DVD of 1776 (too long), and I lay in bed on the night of the fourth hoping whoever was shooting firecrackers would finish soon, because the noise was bothering my dog.

We did go for a very pleasant walk earlier and explored a spot we have walked by many times but never looked at closely: Herkimer Reformed Church, located at the Historic Four Corners.

The church is a beautiful stone building, surrounded by an iron fence. In between the church and the fence are some very old gravestones. Steven suggested we take a closer look at the grave stones. The gate was open, so we walked in.

Time and weather have worn away the words on most of the stones. We made out a few dates from the seventeen and eighteen hundreds. I could read part of one for the wife of Conrad Folts. No doubt an occupant or relation to occupants of the Folts Home, now a nursing home (and perhaps the subject of another blog post). Many of the graves had markers with a star and a flag, showing that a veteran was laid to rest there. I felt that was a good thing to observe on Independence Day.

A plaque on the church itself informed us that the church was founded in 1723. Later I checked their website and learned that the stone building was built in 1834, after the second building to house the church burned down.

So that is what I did on the 4th of July. I explored an historic church on the Historic Four Corners, and paid my respects to the graves of several veterans.

For more information on Herkimer Reformed Church, visit their website: http://churches.rca.org/herkimer/index.htm, or you can find them on Facebook.

I strive to keep this blog positive. I made the sub headline to read “My Totally Fun Blog,” not just to sound like a valley girl (get it?), but because I wanted a fun blog. That said, I feel I must talk about a fairly un-fun thing that happened to me the other day.

As I was running a car stopped and the driver, a young man, said, “Excuse me,” in a very polite tone of voice. I thought he wanted to ask directions. People often do stop me when I’m walking or running to ask directions, and I direct them as best I can. I approached this car in a helpful spirit, and the man said, “Have you ever seen one of these?” Ahem.

This is a family blog, so I will only say, I have seen them. I do not have one.

I got away from the car fast, before he could show me anything else. I automatically looked at his license plate and noted it. He drove away. I turned around, ran home, and called the police.

What a disgusting thing to happen! I will add this: what I saw might not have been real and might not have been his. I took the merest glance at it and that was enough for me. My disgust remains unabated.

Here I am, writing this blog in which I go on and on about how wonderful it is to live in a town where you can just go for a walk or a run, and then I meet up with some pervert. Thank goodness something like this didn’t happen to me till now: I’m 47 and have been around the block. If it would have happened when I was 15 and innocent (I was), I would have been devastated.

I suppose as encounters with perverts go, this one was pretty tame. I know many more terrible things can and do happen to women out running or walking. This to me was a reminder of that. If the man meant it as a joke, it was not a funny one, and it was obviously one I was not meant to share. A male co-worker told me that any way you looked at it, this was wrong, and I did the right thing to call the police.

I went running the next day with no incident. I will continue to run and to walk my dog unaccompanied. I won’t even refuse to give directions to any passing motorists. But it is going to take me a while before I feel as comfortable about it as I used to feel. And that makes me sad.

My hair had grown out to that in-between stage, and I had been struggling with bad hair days for at least a couple of weeks. I had to time my next cut, though, because I have a family wedding to go to July 9. Must have good hair for that!

So on Friday, my last weekday off before the big event, we made our way to Cuts & Colors, 402 Mohawk St., Herkimer, where we had made an appointment with our hairdresser, Jackie Williams. Jackie has done our hair for a number of years now. So nice to have a regular stylist who knows the look you want.

Cuts & Colors is a full service salon. It’s an open, airy place with hardwood floors and big windows so you can check out what’s going down on Mohawk Street. At least, I can check it out till I take my glasses off to get my hair washed and cut. Never do remember to put contacts in for these things. The stylists are all friendly, and it’s the kind of chatty place I particularly like.

As always, I brought up my sister who wants me to dye my hair to take the grey out. I dyed my hair for years, just for fun, because the few greys I had at the time weren’t particularly noticeable. I usually did the L’Oreal Light Auburn, with occasional forays into other shades. Now I embrace the grey, and Jackie says it looks distinguished. Who can you believe if not a hairdresser? Wouldn’t she recommend an expensive color treatment with regular touch ups that I would undoubtedly pay her to do, if that would really look nice?

Steven got his hair cut too, so we both looked pretty when we left the place. Um, Steven looked handsome. I looked… well, I was finally having a good hair day.

Cuts & Colors is open 11 am to 4 pm Sunday, 9 am to 8 pm Monday through Friday, and 9 am to 6 pm on Saturday. You can call 315-866-8514 for information or an appointment. You can also like them on Facebook.

Friday was my day off, and we planned to go shopping in North Utica. This made it a handy stop to eat at Dave’s Diner, 2251 Route 5, Downtown Schuyler.

Downtown Schuyler is how it is described both on the side of the building and on the address on their take out menu, and it is located at a four corners which Steven told me is a famous four corners. I was reminded that when we lived in Schuyler, our mailing address was actually Franklin. That may give you an idea of how bustling downtown Schuyler is. Never mind, Dave’s Diner is a great place to eat.

We got there after 11, I thought great, after breakfast, before lunch, they won’t be too busy. They were busy, but we easily found a table and had not long to wait before the waitress brought us menus. I’ve enjoyed their Chicken Fingers or their Swiss Garlic Mushroom Burger in the past, but Friday we both went for Chicken Salad on rye with lettuce and tomato and cole slaw on the side. Yummy! The sandwich was fat, and the cole slaw just the right amount of tangy.

Dave’s is open for breakfast and lunch, although they do host a cruise in on Tuesday nights, which I have never attended but one day intend to. I know they close at noon on Saturdays, because one Saturday I went there and realized they were cleaning up the place as I was still eating my chicken fingers. I hate last minute customers myself, so hate to be one. I apologized profusely. The waitresses were very gracious about it: “Take your time, we have to be here anyways.”

So there you have it: good food, great service, check out Dave’s Diner. You can even call ahead for take out: 315-735-4332.