Category Archives: Wuss Out Wednesday

Vegetables or Blog?

To chop vegetables or make my blog post, that is the question. Perhaps a little less profound than “to be or not to be,” but I find it entirely appropriate for Wuss-out Wednesday.

It would really be a good idea if I chopped vegetables for my lunch tomorrow. I have some celery, which does not last as long as one would like. I have carrots and radishes, which last longer but are not nonperishable. More to the point, I am NOT meeting my weight-loss goals and including raw vegetables in my lunch will help. If I needed another reason, there is the therapeutic benefit of chopping up vegetables.

Of course, one reaches the full benefit by also sipping a glass of wine (only one since there is a knife involved; safety first). I mean, it’s still a soothing thing to do even without the wine. But I say give yourself every advantage. Unfortunately I cannot benefit from wine till later. I have rehearsal in about an hour.

For those of you just tuning in, rehearsal is for the play Busybody at Ilion Little Theatre. It will be presented at the last weekend of January and first weekend of February. I have rather a large part. In fact, rehearsal is less than an hour away. Less than an hour? Yikes! No wonder I’m so flustered. I don’t think chopping vegetables would calm me down at this point with or without wine. Is typing in my blog post having a similar therapeutic effect? Not noticeably.

So I have determined that neither chopping vegetables nor posting my blog is going to make me feel any better right now. However, consider this: I can eat a lunch without vegetables. I have done it before. But in three years I have not gone a day without making a blog post. I am not going to start today!

Therefore I make bold to hit Publish for this collection of nonsense and continue getting ready for rehearsal. Will the vegetables ever get chopped? I don’t know, so I must leave you in suspense. See you on Non-Sequitur Thursday.

Writing, Winter and Wuss-out Wednesday

Here’s a way to make yourself write: have something else you really, really ought to be doing instead. Don’t let yourself write while you do this other thing. Then put the other thing aside when you really ought to still be working on it, and write.

It’s fun.

OK, this is going to be a foolish blog post, but it is about writing, and some people like to read about writing. I know I do.

I mentioned yesterday that I had not written a blog post, because I was working on learning my lines for a play I am in. Of course I have not learned my lines yet (give me a break; it’s only been a couple of days). I brought my script with me to work, so I could work on them before shift and on breaks.

But I also wanted to write a blog post so as not to be composing at the keyboard after I got home from work (as, astute readers will have noticed, I am in fact doing). I had an idea to write about an old movie I watched over the weekend. I had composed a few sentences in my head while I worked (between dithering about other things, see yesterday’s post). I started to write.

I wrote two pages. My shift started. I thought of more things to write. During the first break I wrote them down. I finished a third page in triumph. I LOVE to write! Then I went back to work. I worked on my lines during lunch and the afternoon break. I still haven’t learned them all. These things take time, you know.

While I was working, writing and working, winter returned to the Mohawk Valley in the form of a LOT of snow. I had to brush off my SUV. Why oh why did I not buy a short, small car that is easier to brush off? I went to my husband’s place of employment, because I thought it would be a good idea if we switched cars so the SUV would be last in the driveway tomorrow.

Before going to his car and going home, I shopped. As usual this involved a lot of walking around and dithering (I don’t know why dithering doesn’t burn more calories; it certainly tires me out). I had to brush off Steven’s car, a little Dodge Stratus. I discovered that although it is easier to brush off a car that is not as tall as I am, it is still a pain in my butt.

Oh dear, those last two paragraphs were not about writing, were they? Well, they are to indicate to you why I feel too tired to type in the lovely pages I wrote while at work today. For another reason, they need editing.

All this by way of telling you, I am taking a Wuss-out Wednesday right after yesterday’s Tired Tuesday. More cynical readers are not surprised. Optimistic readers are disappointed. Kind readers will hope I get a good night’s sleep. I hope everyone will tune in again tomorrow, when it will be Thanksgiving, and we will all give thanks if I can write a decent post. As always, thank you for playing.

A Wednesday Kvetch

It never fails: I avoid a Tired Tuesday only to run smack dab into a Wuss-out Wednesday. What, oh what is my problem?

Did anybody answer that or did everybody accept it as a rhetorical question or perhaps an unanswerable lament. Or perhaps you took it as more kvetching, perhaps with my wrist on my forehead (I can be very self-dramatizing). Whatever, it is clear that I have a problem. I have fatigue, aches, pains, blues, etc. Could this be middle age? Say it ain’t so!

I went running yesterday. In addition to wanting to build up my run time and progress toward my weight-loss goals, I thought it would make a good blog post. And it may have, if only I would have written it. I took my dog Tabby for a walk today, another potential blog topic. One reason I mention these things is to show you that I am so active. So if anybody was gearing up to say, “Well if you got more EXERCISE, you’d have more ENERGY,” they don’t have to bother. There’s always someone.

And speaking of middle age, can I just ask, where’s menopause when you need it? It’s getting cold in the Mohawk Valley these days. I could use one of them there hot flashes.

I guess there is no point to this post, although I am glad I got to sneak in my hot flash line.

Another Fine Blog Post

Oh, I’m a bad blogger. I say it in a Lou Costello voice. At least, I don’t recall Costello ever saying that in any of the movies, but cartoon versions of him always found an opportunity to say, “Oh, I’m a bad boy.” I was never a huge Abbot and Costello fan to begin with. I prefer Laurel and Hardy (This is another fine mess you’ve gotten me into!).

As you may have guessed, this is another Wuss-out Wednesday. I had thought to have a Mid-Week Middle-aged Musing, but it got no further than the first two sentences: Discombobulate is a good word. I declare discombobulate to be the word of the day.

I wrote those two sentences while at work today, thinking I should not wuss out for at least one Wednesday. But I could not think of anything to add. I thought, “That’s OK. Steven and I are doing laundry tonight. I’ll write at the laundromat.” That did not work out as well as I had hoped. I had a dreadful sinus headache. I could not write a blog post. I could not work on my novel. I did manage to finish a poem I had started, about a couple of co-workers. I can’t share that here, though, because it names names.

I’m afraid today is veering beyond Wuss-out Wednesday and into Blogger’s Sick Day. The thing I feel bad about now is the title. I thought of it when I made the parenthetical comment referencing Laurel and Hardy. I thought better words would surely be forthcoming after that. It turns out not so much. I guess that’s what I get for composing at the keyboard.

A Word to the Wuss

I should have seen it coming that if I had a Tired Tuesday, I would only be up to a Wuss-out Wednesday the next day. Well, sorry folks. I’m down. Down, down, down in the dumps.

I spent most of the day down in the dumps. I don’t mean to be tiresome, but I just can’t always be the cheerful Mohawk Valley Girl. Some people can write when they are down. I say power to them. All I could do on breaks at work was to work on puzzles in a puzzle book. That did not improve my mood to any marked degree, because I’ve done all the puzzles I like. All that is left is puzzles that I don’t like or are too hard for me or both.

Now I am being exceptionally tiresome. What a kvetch.

In my defense, after work I did come home and do a few useful things. I worked on dismantling my container garden. Astute readers (do I have any other kind?) may remember that on Monday I felt guilty for running and not working on that or on raking the lawn. My delightful husband Steven raked the lawn on Tuesday. I wanted to contribute.

After a short Facebook break, I typed into the upstairs computer what I have written so far on my articles to submit to Mohawk Valley Living magazine. Um, I did not write them today. I did not add to them either. After exhausting myself literarily (my computer is underlining that word, but my dictionary says it is correct) if not literally, I chopped vegetables and began making a salad for my lunch tomorrow. When it was almost time for Steven to be home, I put Tabby on the leash and walked out to meet him. I could probably have written my blog post on that walk. Oh well, missed a bet.

I perceive that I am over 300 words. Perhaps they are not good words, but they are words nonetheless. Ooh, that raises a question suitable for some half-baked philosophy on Lame Post Friday: Isn’t it the ARRANGEMENT of the words that is not good and the words themselves neutral? Followed by a listing of words that I say are good words. I’ll let the reader fill in the bad words for him or herself. I bet some of you already are.

I’ll Tell You Witch Scene

Yesterday I talked about how I will appear in a Shakespeare scene Oct. 16 as part of Third Thursday in Little Falls, NY. I haven’t really talked much about the scene itself (but I just realized that yesterday’s title, “Witch Scene?” would have been perfect for today; missed a bet). I thought I would use Wuss-out Wednesday to give a brief overview.

The scene is from the first Act I of Macbeth. I am the third witch.

The witches enter first and say, “Yeah, we’re bad-ass.” Macbeth and Banquo come in and say, “Whoa.” We tell Macbeth he’s going to be king and Banquo that his kids will be kings. Macbeth says, “Tell me more,” but we vanish (alas, no special effects; we just do a kind of a cape flourish). Then two rank and file soldiers show up and tell Macbeth that the king just gave him a promotion. Macbeth says to Banquo, “We’ll talk more later,” and it’s the end of the scene.

Only, you know, in Shakespearean language. We witches spend all our time onstage capering around and cackling, which is a lot of fun. I don’t have any big speeches, which is a little disappointing for me, being as I am a colossal ham, but I like the lines I have.

I am quite looking forward to our little performance. I’ll probably write a blog post about it.

Not Blankety-Blank Much

Some bloggers only post weekly or three times a week or whenever the spirit hits them. Sometimes I wish I was some bloggers. Other times I feel kind of proud of myself for posting something every day (except for the day the big tree got hit by lightning and the electricity went out till morning; then I was late). I must confess: today is one of the former kind of days.

At least it started that way. I must further confess: as soon as my fingers started typing, the fascination with the blog kicked in again and now I’m thinking, “What can I come up with today?” I’m a little afraid the answer will be, “Not blankety-blank much.” But one must carry on.

In my defense, it is Wuss-out Wednesday (ooh, here’s a Freudian typo: Wuss-pout. I fixed it, though). I know I do a lot of blog posts about not writing a better blog post. I feel guilty about it, but, you know, not guilty enough to stop.

The funny thing is, I worked hard on my blog post yesterday. I tried to write it at work but did not succeed. I typed in the paragraph I had written, then tried to compose a little more, got bogged down, persevered. Several times I thought, “Oh, I can’t do this properly today. I’ll save the draft and write a foolish post for today, then fix it tomorrow.” But I had a rehearsal to get to and not much confidence in my ability to be amusing in a foolish post.

I can hear the nay-sayers now, saying (in addition to “nay”), “About that… you’re not being particularly amusing today, now, are you?”

I reply that I do not think that is a very nice thing to say. Stick to a simple “Nay” if you must. Or practice the art of silence.

The nay-sayer pounces on this: “That’s it! The Art of Silence! That is what you should do! Get on that now!”

I think we all know that is not going to happen. However, in the interests of readers who prefer a more substantive blog post, I will endeavor NOT to have Non-Sequitur Thursday this week.

About Lame Post Friday, I make no promises.

Not Much of a Recipe

Today I offer a cooking post. Sort of. Well, regular readers know this is not a cooking blog and I’m nobody’s chef. Still, this is Wuss-out Wednesday and I didn’t quite wuss out on dinner. I’m writing a post about it.

The post really started last week when Steven made rice for dinner. It was brown rice. He put a can of mushrooms in it. There was some left over.

The next step came on Sunday. I wanted to offer food to the lovely people who helped us with our fence, so I put some chicken legs in the crock pot. I put butter, honey and mustard in it. This is from a recipe I got out of a book put out by a church group. The recipe is actually for chicken wings baked in the oven, but I thought it would be fine for legs in the crock pot. I was right. Again, we had leftovers.

It was Steven’s idea to combine the chicken with the rice. I luckily remembered it and decided to implement it before he got home today. The first thing I did was to put the leftover chicken in the microwave to melt the butter, which had solidified. I guess I should have seen that coming.

I put the rice and mushrooms in my cast iron frying pan after spraying the pan with no-stick stuff. When the chicken was once again in liquid, I pulled some of the meat off the bones and added that. I poured in some of the liquid as well. I still have chicken leftover. I probably won’t write another blog post when we eat that.

Before I started heating it up, I added frozen spinach. I love spinach. Steven likes it when it is part of a dish, not just by itself. So I add it whenever it seems appropriate.

It did not take long for everything to heat through. Steven declared it tasty. I hope my readers will declare the blog post OK.

My Interrupted Kiss

So there I was, on a break at work, writing on my novel. I’ve been having the darnedest time lately coming up with scenes to write. At last I just started something. As sometimes happens (and it’s GREAT when it does), I went on from there.

OF COURSE the Get Back to Work buzzer sounded just when it was starting to get good. Two characters were right in the middle of a kiss (no, it’s not a sex book; don’t get your hopes up) (you know who you are). I don’t write books about thinly disguised versions of myself and others, but I felt rather as if it was my lips that had been interrupted.

Naturally I went back to work, however ill-used I felt to be doing so. One must keep one’s job, after all (if anyone says, “Don’t quit your day job,” I’ll scream. I HATE that joke) (EEEEEEEE! I just knew somebody was going to). I suppose it’s just as well. I was not at all sure how I wanted that scene to progress.

On subsequent breaks I managed a few more sentences. Then a few more after work at the laundromat, where I am now, as I write this. As you may have guessed, the scene ceased to progress.

It raises the writerly question: if I had been able to continue instead of being interrupted the first time, would the scene have progressed differently? As I said, I was not sure how I wanted the scene to go, but if I had kept writing, maybe I would have figured it out. I guess we’ll never know.

Does it matter? Perhaps not. But I thought it might be something to write a blog post about on Wuss-out Wednesday.

Foggy Wednesday

I apologize for having a Wuss-out Wednesday after my rather silly post on Monday. Um, and Sunday. Oh, I’m not going back and looking at how many lame posts I’ve had recently; the fact is today I haven’t written anything yet and I don’t have much to write about.

I drove through a lovely thick fog on my way to work today and thought I would write about that. We’ve had a lot of fog recently. I like fog. It is usually thicker in Ilion (where I work) than it is in Herkimer (where I live). This morning as I went out to my vehicle, I saw that the fog was pretty thick in Herkimer. I thought, “Awesome! It’ll be really thick in Ilion.”

Steven and I got lost in the fog on Higby Road once, but that is a big hill out in the country. I felt it was doubtful that I would get lost on my eight-minute commute to work. I drove at a careful speed (slower, but not too slow), looking around. The irony was not lost on me that I was enjoying looking at what I was not able to see. I took extra care as I went out German Street by the cemetery. I’ve often seen deer in that area. I would not care to hit a deer.

It was not too hard to see even once I got to Ilion. Walking from my vehicle to my place of employment, I continued to enjoy looking around, where I usually see buildings but this morning could only see streetlights.

Then I was at work, the sun came up, and the fog was over. I thought, “Huh. That wasn’t such a much.” So I didn’t write a blog post about it. And now I just did.

Sufficiently wussy, I trust.