Last Summer Walk?

Here’s a random observation for Lame Post Friday: “Lullaby and Good Night” does not seem to me an appropriate song for the ice cream truck (don’t know the real name of that song, sorry). But how was that for a lead sentence? I’m sitting in my living room, my little Acer in my lap, hoping to come up with something, and the silly ice cream truck is driving by.

I’m not up for any half-baked philosophy (the other component of Lame Post Friday), but I did take a nice walk with my schnoodle, Tabby, during which I made a few more observations which I will share. Summer seems to be making a farewell appearance in the Mohawk Valley. It is sunny and warm and supposed to be even better all weekend. I wore shorts, sunglasses (prescription), and my crazy old lady hat.

Tabby pulled me down East German Street for a couple of blocks. I thought it might be nice to go down Prospect, but she pulled me across the street to where the Pugnacious Pug was sitting in front of a house with his peeps. I call him the Pugnacious Pug because it seems he is always barking up a storm at something. Today he was barking at some people getting into a truck, then he turned around and barked at us. Tabby pretty much ignored him, finding several interesting places to sniff in the grass. At last I convinced her to go on.

We saw kids riding their bicycles and people sitting on front porches. We said hello to anybody who looked up. I noted some mums and other flowers still in bloom. My favorite sight was Halloween decorations. I saw one porch with a black and orange garland, small skeletons and one giant furry spider. Steven and I better get going on our decorations.

The walk was not long, but we enjoyed it. When we got home I took the laundry down off the clothesline. Astute readers may remember I wrote my Wednesday post while in the laundromat. Yes, those clothes having been hanging on my line for two days. Let’s hear it for no rain!

So I’ve walked my dog, taken down laundry, and typed in my blog post. Once I hit publish, I’m starting my weekend. Hope your Friday is fun.

Too Tired to be Inspired

I’ve been waiting all day for inspiration to strike and give me an idea of what to write a blog post about. All that has happened is that I feel increasingly tired and dull. I can see some of you shaking your heads now; you saw that coming, you TOLD me not to wait for inspiration, just to write, blah blah blah.

Regular readers know I DON’T always wait for inspiration. I daresay some of them wish I did, maybe I would write less nonsense. I can’t say I wouldn’t write anything at all, because I do feel inspired sometimes. Sometimes I feel inspired to write nonsense (ooh, that might make a good title).

I had thought to write a Pedestrian Post so took my schnoodle, Tabby, for a walk. It’s not that I’m not inspired to write about that. It’s more of a case of I Can’t Write About THAT. Oh dear, I hope that hasn’t got everybody wondering what could have possibly happened that I can’t write about it. Nothing that exciting, I’m afraid.

Some days ago I made two salads, which I thought would be good for a cooking post. When I started writing that one in my head I realized not so much. Note to self: Next time make salads with more ingredients.

I am looking forward to the upcoming weekend. But I don’t want to do a Preview of Coming Attractions without looking up more information about locations and times. I mean, what’s the point in writing about a future event that my local readers can’t take advantage of?

Ah, I just thought of a topic to use in a future blog post: Is it really such a bad thing to end a sentence with a preposition? Or a blog post with a question? Discuss amongst yourselves.

In the meantime, I’m going to publish this as a Non-Sequitur Thursday.

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.

Please, Fence Me In

I thought I was off on a Mohawk Valley adventure on Saturday when I left the house bound for New Hartford, NY. I’m afraid it turned out… not so much. But I will attempt to write about it nevertheless, just to avoid Yet Another Post About Why I Can’t Write a Post.

I was delayed by a minor homeowner’s disaster: a section of my fence was down. A brief explanation about the fence: It’s been pretty crappy since we moved in. We didn’t think it was ours, because the smooth side was in. Turns out the previous homeowner put it up backwards. Ah, the things you learn. A few years ago my father, mother and sister came over and helped us replace one post and nail up some boards which had fallen. I’ve spent every winter since living in fear that it would fall on the one of the neighbors’ cars.

So it was not entirely unexpected that a section was down. But it sure wasn’t what I was in the mood to see. It was dangling, still caught on part of the fence left standing. It obtruded into the neighbors’ driveway in a most inconvenient fashion. I thought I had better do something about it. I tugged and pulled and pulled and tugged. Tried pushing with no more success. At last it fell off the still upright portion. With my meager strength I could not move it further into our yard, but at least the neighbors could drive around it to get in and out of their parking lot. I cravenly went to New Hartford.

I did part of what I set out to do in New Hartford, as I said, nothing very adventurous. I thought I should hurry to be back home by 12:30, when Steven was expected for lunch. I hurried, while still following the posted speed limits. When I got home Steven was already home, pulling at the fallen fence section with more effect than I had. I ran to help and we got the damn thing on our own yard. Phew!

Tune in next week for a riveting blog post on What We Did to Fix the Fence (um, we probably won’t use rivets. I was speaking figuratively).

Fool for Thought

Wrist to Forehead Sunday morphs painfully into Middle-aged Musings Monday. Well, I’m still middle-aged, but I don’t have any musings. Instead I have a bad case of “I Can’t Write About THAT!” It is paralyzing.

Ah, but perhaps I could go on for a paragraph or two about the feeling that one “can’t” write about something.

Some writers feel you should be able to write about anything at any time. We won’t deal with those annoying overachievers (and they are mostly “do as I say, not as I do” anyways). However, there is also the school of thought that the things you find scary to write about are the very things you ought to be writing about. That is where your passion and your energies lie.

Perhaps it is so. Perhaps if I wrote about my innermost thoughts and feelings I would come up with something really powerful and moving. Or I might just sound like a fool. Oh wait, I do that anyways (some of you were about to say that, if you didn’t actually beat me to it)(you know who you are).

Another school of thought says you must wait until you are ready to write about some things. Ernest Hemingway deals with this school of thought in A Moveable Feast. Only I can’t remember quite how he puts it and I’ve lost my copy of the book (yes, here’s the part where I sound like a fool). Something to the effect that he can write about this other place when he is in Paris and later on he will be able to write about Paris (yes, I did sound like a fool. Damn).

I’m afraid my reasons for not wanting to write about the things I’m not writing about today are not so writerly (I’m sure that is a word, although my computer says not). I don’t want to write about the things I mentioned earlier because, well, quite frankly, I’m afraid they would be boring. Or tiresome. Or stupid.

Oh dear, I hope what I did write was not boring, tiresome or stupid. It was foolish, you say? Oh well, I guess I can live with that.

What Is This Thing You Call Subtance?

And what’s wrong with Wrist to Forehead Sunday anyways, I’d like to know. Why shouldn’t I spend one day distressing over the fact that I can’t write a post? Oh, I know. In the first place, I know that there are many days when I have a hard time writing a post, not just once a week. And I know that SOME bloggers are able to write posts of substance every time they choose to sit down at the keyboard (and I would be happy to be directed to any of those lucky bums’ websites) (I don’t imagine I would be able to follow their good example, but I would SO admire to see it).

I can’t say it is a really distressful day, actually. I woke up with a headache, which of course is never pleasant. However, I took my dog for a walk, did the dishes and made two salads. How’s that for productive? I’ve been re-reading an Agatha Christie murder mystery. That is pleasant and educational. You can learn a lot about plotting and hiding clues by re-reading the masters.

Have I done any writing this weekend? Um, that is kind of an awkward question. Have I had any Mohawk Valley adventures that I could write posts about in the upcoming week? Mmmmm… still awkward. Can I offer any justification to my continued use of oxygen on this planet? Ah, a half-baked philosophical question worthy of Lame Post Friday!

In fact, it seems I cling to my Wrist to Forehead Sunday even more than my Lame Post Friday. Is the angst of the end of the weekend more powerful than the exuberance of the beginning of same? More half-baked philosophy to consider.

However, I see than I am over 200 words. I shall return to enjoying the end of my weekend (really, I strive to savor every minute) (I get some enjoyment out of the week, too, never fear). I look forward to a delightful upcoming week when PERHAPS I will come up with more posts of this so-called substance.

I hope you are all enjoying your Sunday.

Never Mind Those Petty Complaints!

Saturday Running Commentary is BACK! Yes! I ran this morning! It was awesome!

OK, it wasn’t really awesome, but it didn’t suck. That puts it in the Win column. I got up around 5:30, when I had expected to sleep in till six. I hadn’t put out running clothes but I knew right where they were. I got into them and out the door before I could talk myself out of it.

I wore my reflective vest, because sunrise wasn’t for another hour. I had on shorts and t-shirt, because my thermostat said it was 51 degrees outside. Just a couple of days ago we had frost warnings, but you’ll have that this time of year. Off I went. It didn’t feel too cold. I headed down German Street. It was the direction I most often take, but I reflected that it couldn’t feel too familiar since I had not been running in almost two weeks (HAS it been that long? I am not inclined to look at a calendar and figure it out).

The nice thing about returning to running is that you can do a short, easy run and not feel guilty about it. I know, some of you probably think I should feel guilty about returning to running and not keeping it up to begin with. I maintain that regret is a colossal waste of time. I was not there to worry about the past! I was there to further my weight-loss goals and perhaps get a blog post out of it.

And my legs were not happy with me. They have felt rather awful lately. When I took Tabby for a walk last night all my legs wanted to do was stretch out along the couch or bed and lie still. I kept it up for a decent amount of time anyways. It didn’t kill me.

I got near Valley Health and considered running up the hill. I decided against it. I would keep going for at least 20 minutes but not necessarily try for over 30. I had been running between 33 and 38 minutes the last few times I ran but I was doing the begin again thing this morning. Also, I intended to take at least one good long walk with Tabby later, so I would be getting some exercise.

About ten minutes into the run, my legs started to feel not so bad. They still weren’t happy with me, but at least they were less vocal in their complaints. I told myself I could rock this, but it was more intellectual knowledge than physical confidence. Still, I kept going and that’s the important thing.

I noticed more houses with lights on than I usually see at 3:30 in the morning, so that was nice. Still a lot of dark windows. Lucky bums sleeping in. I turned down Prospect Street rather than going to Main. I’ve mentioned Main Street’s “reputation.” I’ve never encountered anything untoward during daylight hours, though, so I will probably run down it in the dark one day soon, just to feel bad-ass.

I saw a person up ahead of me pushing a grocery cart. What was that all about? Maybe some homeless person collecting bottles and cans? He crossed the street and I thought I saw him head towards somebody’s trash can. I didn’t look too closely. I don’t need to get into a fight with a guy pushing a shopping cart. I turned down the first side street I came to. That worked out, because I entered where a sign said, “Do Not Enter.” You know how I love to be a rebel.

A glance at my watch told me I would not surpass 20 minutes if I went home from here, so I went by my street and on for a couple more blocks. I heard voices before I turned left. Who was that? Three young kids walking down the street. How to feel middle-aged and dumb: run on the sidewalk in a reflective vest while three kids (they might have been teenagers or early 20s) walk down the middle of the road three abreast wearing dark clothes. They ignored me, to which I did not take offense.

I ended up running for 26 minutes. The cool down walk around the block with Tabby felt better than the run, but my legs complained about that, too. Yes, I said they stopped complaining but neglected to mention when they started up again. I guess there’s no point in paying too much attention to petty complaints.

I Missed the Drama!

Last night Steven and I attended the monthly dinner meeting of Ilion Little Theatre Club. It was the first meeting of the 2014-15 season. Through one cause or another we missed all the dinner meetings last season, although we made it to all the plays. It was so nice to be back in the theatre again, reconnecting with our theatre friends.

Rehearsals were going on for the first production, Noises Off. We did not audition for that one but may audition for something later in the season. I’ve missed being onstage. Also, being in a play usually gives me any number of blog posts.

A new season always brings new projects and goals. One of the most exciting things I heard last night was the upcoming Save Our Tower campaign. Ilion Little Theatre, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, is in The Stables on Remington Avenue in Ilion, NY. It used to be the Remington family’s stables. It is a beautiful historic brick building. Like many historic buildings, it is in need of repair.

One of the most pressing problems is a crack in the tower. The Board of Directors has talked to a couple of masons about repair or, better yet, restoration. It’s a complicated process and it don’t come cheap. A number of ideas were mentioned, including forming a Fundraising Committee.

I hope to follow this matter, participate in some of the fundraising (I can’t beg for donations, but I could, for example, wash a car at a car wash), and of course write blog posts about it. In the meantime, I’m just happy to be back at the theatre and with a great group of people.

For more information on Ilion Little Theatre Club, you can visit their website at www.ilionlittletheatre.org and you can Like their Facebook page.

Where Are You, Juan Valdez?

I am a dingbat. Not just a dingbat. A ding. Bat. A dingy bat. The dingiest bat. The dingiest AND the battiest. Not your ordinary, run of the mill, common or garden dingbat.

I wanted to do a good post today, since yesterday’s was pretty bad (still, it got four likes; perhaps I should not disparage the tastes of my readers) (four of them, anyways). I was unable to write one at work. I had time when I got home, but I had a lot of stuff to do. Steven and I were to attend a dinner meeting of the Ilion Little Theatre. I had a dog to walk, chip dip to make, a shower to take and an outfit to figure out. I was swamped.

I got all my stuff done before turning on the computer. I still had time to write the post. And I was JUST TOO TIRED!!! I thought to myself, “I can’t do it. I just can’t do it.” I was pretty sure there would be decaf coffee at the meeting. I couldn’t dare drink the caffeinated stuff after 6 p.m. or I’d be up all night. But decaf still has a little bit of caffeine plus placebo effect. I would come home from the meeting and write a GREAT blog post.

Why do I even think these things MIGHT happen? I’m never good for ANYTHING after 8 o’clock at night! And now it’s after nine. I want to go to bed. Whatever will I do about my blog post? I know, it’s Non-Sequitur Thursday. Just think up a silly title and hit publish.

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.