First on the To-Do List: Run

I had made up my mind not to do an especially strenuous run. For one thing, I ended up taking four days off (don’t judge). For another, I have many things to do today and I don’t want to peter out before I get to the fun stuff.

We had to get up at 3:30 this morning. Since I don’t have to go to work, I had originally thought to run at my preferred time of six or so but decided to get it out of the way earlier. With sunrise so early in June, I thought I might not be running in the dark the whole time anyways. For another reason, I could run before I ate, not eat and have to wait an hour to run. I had a cup of coffee first. Coffee is a beautiful thing.

It was 4:23 when I started out (I usually note the exact time, in case my stopwatch button malfunctions, I’ll still know how long I ran). The birds were singing, the temperature was perfect, and I congratulated myself on my perspicacity for getting out of the house early. I could see a little lightness in the sky and felt happy about that.

I crossed German Street, thinking to run out Main as far as Weber, then down the path over what used to be a hydraulic canal. That would be pleasant and not involve any hills. Really, in Herkimer, it is more usual to go for a run and not encounter any hills. But I had it on my mind today. I wanted to recruit my energies while still pursuing my weight loss and fitness goals.

The streetlights offered plenty of light till I started down Weber. The end of Weber was shrouded in darkness. Did I want to run down a deep, dark path at four in the morning? Then I thought it probably wouldn’t be so bad when I got up to it. If it was so bad, I reasoned, I could always turn around in a sensible if ignoble fashion.

No, it was fine. Only a big old tree made it seem dark from the end of the street. Beyond the shadow of the tree there was plenty of light. I continued my plan of running on the path. The increasing light in the distance was comforting. It certainly felt beyond psycho time if not beyond skunk time. As usual, I kept an eye out for both.

As I continued my run, I realized my folly in waiting till 4:23 to begin. I was hungry. I used that to my advantage, picturing a tasty egg sammich as my reward for a run well done (YES, it’s called a sammich! Sheesh!). How long would I run was the next question. 29 minutes was my last longest time. Match it? Beat it? Take really seriously my caveat to recruit my energies and do less? I decided with no hills and no sprints that matching it would meet all my goals.

The sun was almost completely up when Tabby and I walked my cool-down. I don’t often time it right so that I run in the dark and cool down in the light, so I enjoyed that. And I felt that frisson of virtue, accomplishing the first thing on my long list. Now I can cross out another item: making my blog post. I hope everybody is enjoying their Saturday.

What if None of my Guesses are Right?

It does not matter how bad I have been all week, I cannot, I simply cannot be good on Lame Post Friday.

That statement just cries out for some half-baked philosophy on what is “good” and “bad.” In this context, apparently “good” is “good writing,” a manifestly subjective term. Although, I guess by “good” I must mean a blog post about something OTHER THAN the fact that I have nothing to write a blog post about. Something I wrote earlier today and, dare I say, edited. Maybe thought about. Maybe made a little bit “better” than something I just type off the cuff at the computer.

Well, here is my problem. Every time I write something foolish (like this, I hope), I get Likes from other bloggers. Apparently my writing off the cuff is extremely entertaining to some people. On the other hand, perhaps they merely hit “Like” because I have made them feel so much better about their own blogs because mine is so bad (note the absence of quotations this time). In any case, I have been encouraged in my folly.

My other problem is, it’s kind of fun to just sit here rattling on. Editing can be hard work. For one thing, unless it is really obvious which is the better way to say something, it leads to some very uncomfortable second guessing. I hate second guessing! For one thing, it very often turns out that none of my guesses are right.

I’m hoping for some running commentary tomorrow. In the meantime, happy Friday, everyone.

It’s a C Not a K, by the Way

So there I was, writing about a minor Mohawk Valley adventure I had and I thought, “This is kind of dull.” It had been hard enough to start, because I am getting a little tired of beginning blog posts with “This day we went here and did this…” I could not think of anything better, so I told myself, “Just start with that and you can change it later.”

I started. I wrote. I was quite unsatisfied. I wrote the preceding paragraph. I spent the rest of my breaks at work NOT writing. I came home and, um, still did not write. Finally, I thought, “It’s Non-Sequitur Thursday. I’ll type in the paragraph about not liking what I wrote, type in what I wrote, and let my readers judge (even though I often say, ‘Don’t judge’)”.

The other night, Steven, Tabby and I took a drive out to the KOA Kampground by the Herkimer Diamond Mines to visit some relatives who happened to be staying there. What a nice setting for a pleasant summer evening. I’m sure the Herkimer Diamond Mines would make a fine blog post. In fact, we visited there once in my pre-blogging days. But Tuesday all we did was hang out at the Kampground.

The Kampground is located across the highway from the Diamond Mines, right on the river. As we sat visiting we could watch some kids cruise by on inner tubes. Then we would see them walk by on the other side of the camp site, headed back for another run. It looked like a fun way to spend an evening to me.

After a while Tabby wanted to walk so I took her around a little bit. The inground pool looked inviting. Tabby seemed interested in going into the laundromat, but it had a sign saying no pets in the building. We saw some cabins that looked nice but did not get very close to them. That is the way I like to camp, by the way: with all the comforts. Point and laugh if you must.

Well, I guess that isn’t terrible, but it isn’t terribly interesting either, is it? However, it is short and to the point. If only I could think of a punchy headline, I think it would fly for a Non-Sequitur Thursday. Hope to see you on Lame Post Friday.

The Garlic Pickles

Anyone who knows me knows that garlic is one of the guiding forces of my life. Regular readers of the blog may have noticed that garlic plays a part in nearly all my recipes (after I let it “breathe” for fifteen minutes, of course). Imagine my delight when I found garlic pickles at the Ilion Farmer’s Market last Saturday.

Parker’s Historic Cider Mill and Farmer’s Market on Otsego Street in Ilion, NY is one of Steve’s, Tabby’s and my favorite places to go. Naturally we like any place we can bring our sweet little schnoodle Tabby, and Tabby’s favorite places are those where there are many interesting smells and nice people to pet her.

I know I’ve given many shout-outs to the Ilion Farmer’s Market. It runs year round on Fridays and Saturdays in a barn built in the 1800s. I just never get tired of going there.

On this visit, we particularly noticed works by folk artist Jim Parker, prints, t-shirts, mugs and note cards. I have a t-shirt of a print of Ilion but I’ve had it for a while and I recently noticed some discoloration along the collar. I informed Steven I will be needing a new shirt, perhaps with a different print. Do you suppose he’ll make my wait for my birthday?

Allowing Tabby time to sniff and be petted, we made our way to the shelves at the end of the barn where I always check the canned (jarred?) goods for garlic pickles. A long time ago, I found some garlic pickles there and loved them. I have not seen them since.

Until last Saturday. Eureka! Hot and Sweet Garlic Pickles! I chose hot, telling Steven I would probably return the following week to purchase sweet.

The pickles are crisp, tasty and hot. I think they would be very good in a sandwich or salad. So far I’ve eaten them plain and in a bologna-cheese roll-up. Yum!

My only fear now is that local readers will all dash to the Farmer’s Market and buy up all the garlic pickles, leaving none for me. Oh well, if such a thing happens, at least I will have spread joy and happiness.

And What Have We Learned?

I had a Wrist to Forehead Sunday but refrained from having a Middle-aged Musings Monday. If I promise faithfully NOT to have a Wuss-out Wednesday, do you suppose it would be OK to have a Tired Tuesday? Hmm, it’s no good. I can’t make that promise.

I really, truly did not intend to write Yet Another Post About How I Can’t Write a Post (once again, it is not WHY I Can’t Write a Post, because I don’t know why). I made up my mind to write at work before my shift started and on breaks. While I was working, I pondered things I could write about. I pondered long and hard, with the result that I never saw the guy show up with the cooler of Gator Ade. Another co-worker dubbed me unobservant and thinks I should not drive.

The result of all my mental meanderings was a scene for my novel which I may or may not be able to use. I do not regret writing it, of course. No writing is wasted. If you can’t use the writing itself, at least you learned something from writing it.

Ooh, do you suppose I’m learning anything from these paragraphs? Well, I am disciplining myself NOT to quickly erase everything I just wrote. I know, some may feel my prose is not worth saving, but how can I tell that if I don’t re-read it? It is difficult to judge a thing as soon as you have written it. Usually you either love it or hate it. The best thing to do is to read it later with a cooler head.

And that is where I run into a problem with this sort of a post. I am sitting at my computer, typing off the cuff; I want to hit “Publish” and go. Save the draft and read it later? Oh well, there’s an idea, but I don’t know that I will get the opportunity to do so. Stop this obsession with making a post every single day? That’s crazy talk!

I comfort myself with the thought that standards are different for an informal blog such as this one. And even a rough draft may amuse someone. As always, tomorrow I will strive to do better. And Happy Tuesday, everyone.

A Pretty Good Hill for a Monday

I did not run on Wrist to Forehead Sunday (don’t judge). Then I failed to write a blog post as Monday (today) progressed. Finally I determined to go home, run, then write about the run.

My plan for Sunday had been to run up the hill to Herkimer County Community College (HCCC), a ferocious hill, for those of you who are not familiar with it. I did not see how I could do such a thing today. Then I thought about how triumphant I would feel, posting on Facebook that I had done it. I thought about being at the top of the hill saying, “Yeah, I’m bad!” Still, I argued with myself, it is not easy to cross German Street at 4 p.m. on a weekday. Herkimer traffic can be heavy at that time. At last I decided that if I COULD cross the street, I would take that as a sign and run the damn hill.

The thing I mostly don’t like about running in the afternoon is that my dog, Tabby, is so happy to see me come home. She doesn’t want me to leave right away. She wants me to stay and pet her or take her for a walk. I reminded her that she does not like to run with me; she likes to stop and sniff and frequent intervals. She lay down underneath the coffee table. Ah, she understands, I thought. Then she jumped up with a hopeful look on her face as I opened the door. No, Tabby. I was in kind of a down mood to start with. A sad dog did not help.

Nonetheless, I set out. And right away the warm temperature and humidity did not feel good. No matter, I thought. A good sweat never hurt anybody. And I managed to cross German Street. Ah, my bold plan was working.

Only it wasn’t working very well, because as German Street sloped slightly upward as it does, I realized I was in no shape to run up a hill like the one to HCCC. The hill by Valley Health, perhaps I could manage. Then I got to the gate to the unknown park. I think it is called Brookfield Park, but as it is not clearly labeled, I persist in referring to it as the unknown park (not capitalized). The ground sloped up as I ran in. It was an effort. A good enough hill for a Monday

I have not run through this park in over a year. I wondered what effects of flooding remained. It is not a very extensive park. A road runs up into it and by a couple of large sports fields. I’ve seen soccer games going on as I’ve run by, and once I heard a bagpiper practicing up in some trees. Further down the road, across a footbridge there is a picnic pavilion and some grills. Beyond that is a path that leads to the back road to the college. In August the DARE 5K goes from the college down that path, in the opposite direction to what I was running today.

I had it in mind to run on that path, if it was still intact. Of course, I would not do anything stupid. If it was half collapsed, I would not run that way. Then I saw that the footbridge was blocked on both ends with some chain link fencing, a stern-looking CLOSED sign on the end near me. So much for that plan.

There are probably a lot of bugs near all those trees anyways, I thought. I ran to the end of the road I was on and turned around. My legs were not happy with me, but they did not collapse under me, which I found encouraging.

Back onto the village streets, a sprint across German as soon as I had a chance. How long was I going to run for? 29 minutes, the same as I had done Saturday? 32, to increase by 10 percent as I had planned to do Sunday? Neither seemed within the realm of possibility. I thought, it’s hot, it’s humid, I worked all day. I am out here running AT ALL. This is good.

It seemed to take a very long time to get back to my street. When I was almost there, I passed a neighbor sitting on her porch. Her dogs greeted me with barks.

“It’s too hot to jog!” she said.

“I know!” I answered. “But I gotta do it!”

My run ended up being 28 minutes, which I thought was pretty OK. Tabby walked around the block with me for my cool-down. A breeze finally started blowing as we were almost home. Nice. A shower felt even nicer. And it will also feel nice to hit “Publish,” and know I’ve made another post.

Hit Publish and Go Back to Enjoying my Sunday

It is Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I haven’t worked on my novel, I haven’t even written in the TV Journal. My brain is on strike or vacation or maybe it was never that good to begin with (say is ain’t so!).

This is the part where I usually surprise myself and come up with another 200 words or so that are not that unreadable. I hit publish and go back to enjoying my Sunday. But today, it seems, it is not going to be that easy.

The weather is delightful. It has been a beautiful weekend, sunny and warm. I had a very enjoyable Saturday afternoon and evening with my husband, Steven, including two or three Mohawk Valley adventures. Really, I have no reason to feel I have nothing to write about.

I suppose these things happen to a writer sometimes. I keep thinking I will write an extra post and keep it in my Drafts section for just such an emergency. Sometimes I get a post or so ahead, but I always use them right away. Well, I wouldn’t want them to get stale or outdated.

Today I haven’t had any Mohawk Valley adventures, unless you count a trip to Hannaford for groceries. Ooh, wait, I did write a post about that once, a long time ago. I mostly spent the day re-reading an Agatha Christie novel. It is very instructive to re-read a mystery novel. You see where the writer put in all the clues and say, “How the blankety-blank did I miss THAT?”

So it looks as if I have once again written over 200 words. Perhaps I’ll go work on my novel now.

Summer Solstice Run

When I went to bed last night I realized I don’t like running prior to four in the morning. Still, Steven had to be up early for work. I wanted to do laundry at six. I went.

First I was delayed by hitting the wrong button on my watch. That took more hitting of more buttons, which I could not see very well in the dark. I tell you, sometimes it is not easy being me. It was 3:40 instead of the usual 3:38 when I actually began running.

I know some people have big, elaborate (I guess not physically big) devices that tell them exactly how far they run and what speed and how many calories they burn and how their heart behaves… I use the stopwatch on my Timex and only worry about how long I move my feet. Point and laugh if you must.

I had decided to run the hill by Valley Health. I had in mind the bold plan of running up the hill to Herkimer County Community College (HCCC) on Sunday. I’ve always considered that my Sunday Run, although I do run it other days as well. When I run it, which I have not in many months (must check my running journal to see when the last time was).

As I crossed German Street, I waved to our paper deliverers. They waved back. A pick-up truck made a loud bang as it went over a pothole. That is a sound I have been hearing a lot lately. I know there are a lot of potholes around here but I had no idea there were so many pick-up trucks with empty trailers. Perhaps there are other things that make similar noises.

German Street has a small upgrade as one approaches Valley Health. I was soon thinking that I will NOT be ready for the hill to HCCC this week. Well, I don’t have to make that decision till tomorrow.

I ran slowly up the hill I was ready for, taking long strides so I felt a little stretch in the back of my legs. Some lights were on at Valley Health. I thought about the people working the night shift. They would be approaching the end of their shifts. I hated the night shift. I don’t get good sleep during the day. Of course a nap on one’s day off can be a beautiful thing, but it is not the same.

I did not run down by the high school as I often do after the hill by Valley Health. There did not seem to be any nefarious characters hanging about, but there was no point in taking chances. I started down Church Street. I saw one of the pretty cats I had run by Tuesday morning (oh yeah, never wrote a blog post about that run). The cat crouched down and watched me suspiciously. I wondered if it was a stray or belonged with anybody.

I realized I was headed towards Main Street. Main Street has kind of a bad reputation these days. I often walk there with Tabby and have never had a problem, but I decided not to try it at 4 a.m. I would turn at Prospect Street. It seemed long enough to get to Prospect.

I saw a house with solar lights in a front yard flower bed. Our solar lights do not all light up. Then I saw one of these people’s lights was out and felt better. Nobody is perfect, I thought. Then I saw a house with eight solar lights lining the front walk, all lit, and felt inferior again. Just kidding; even my fragile self-esteem can stand up to somebody else’s solar lights being on. But it wasn’t giving me any ego boosts.

I headed towards Meyers Park. Signs say the park is closed from dusk to dawn, so I ran around it. I don’t imagine anyone would mind if I ran through it, but I think around is slightly longer to go around. I wanted to run 29 minutes, which is how long I ran last Sunday. I plan to up my time by 10 percent tomorrow. Earlier in the run I had my doubts about making it to 29 but now I wondered if I wouldn’t actually go over.

I did not go over but I made my 29 minutes. The sky was lightening when Tabby and I took our cool-down walk. Today is the summer solstice. I guess I celebrated summer with my early morning run. And let’s hear it for getting the run done and on to the rest of Saturday!

Serenity Now

I just realized I never gave a shout-out to any of the Finger Lakes wineries I visited in April. What an omission! I shall start with my favorite: Serenity Vineyards.

Serenity is located at 930 Davy Rd. in Penn Yann, NY. Right nearby is Seneca Shore Wineries. When we found out Serenity offers dry wines, most of our group opted to skip ahead to that one. My sister Diane and I stayed, one of our designated drivers also remaining (insert smart remark of your choice about our not being sweet and/or having dry senses of humor).

The tasting room is part of a large warehouse. We could see large steel vats and huge wooden barrels, so I knew they would have plenty of wine for us to taste. Music by Billie Holiday was playing, so there were all kinds of things for me to like about the place.

A gentleman named Mike poured for us. He was familiar with all the wines and told us what he liked to eat with them. I liked that, because I don’t know much about pairings (although I do know the truism of “white with chicken, red with beef” is NOT always true) (um, I guess that’s why it’s a trueISM and not a truth).

We started with a 2011 Dry Riesling. It was very tart, fruity but dry. Mike said it went well with creamy stuff, like Alfredo.

Then we went to an ’06 Pinot Noir. Mike said it was cool in ’06, making the wine light, soft and chillable. I agreed that it was very light, what I would call a good summer wine. The ’07 Pinot Noir, in contrast, was vinted in a hotter, drier season. That one was Mike’s favorite. I found it tasty but not something I would crave.

The 2011 Cab Franc Mike called a “quintessential steak wine.” I could taste the light, peppery finish, which is unusual for me because in general my palate is not that sophisticated (you see, I admit it). This was my favorite so far.

The 2011 Mirth, one of their most popular wines, is a 50/50 blend of Cabernet Franc and Merlot. Regular readers may remember that I like blends, and I certainly liked this one. Alas, I did not make a note if I liked it better than the Cab Franc. I suppose I’d better make my way back to the Finger Lakes for another taste.

I told Mike I tend not to pair wine with food; I like to sip a wine all on its own. He said he preferred to pair it and let the tastes influence each other. I’ll have to try that. It may be good for more blog posts.

Diane told Mike I wrote a blog and would probably write about Serenity Vineyards. He invited us to Like their Facebook page and to share a link to the blog when I wrote about them. I Liked their page right away. I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to write the post.

John Jacob Jingleheimer-Schmitt?

For this week’s Non-Sequitur Thursday, I offer a few unrelated bits of foolishness that occurred to me this week.

I ran Tuesday morning. A little later, as I walked from my vehicle into my place of employment, my legs said, “Yeah, we’re bad. We got this.” Then I walked up the stairs.

“Are you bad?” I asked my legs.

They grumbled, “Why do you have to carry that heavy bag? And what’s wrong with taking the elevator once in a while?”

Before I put on my steel-toed work-shoes, I noticed some words on the lining: “Anti-fatigue technology.” All I could think of is how army pants used to be called “fatigues.” I had a pair of air force fatigues I wore for years. The army pants I wear now are called BDUs, so I’m good.

A song keeps playing in my head that I used to hear in kindergarten. It concerns a grandfather who owned a grandfather clock.

And it stopped.
Short.
Never to run again
when the old man died.

I remember thinking it was the saddest thing, because I was sad when my own grandfather died. I also found it a little scary, in an enjoyably shivery way, because there was obviously some form of magic at work. Now I think Grandpa was the only one who bothered to wind the clock. Still, I’m sick of hearing those few lines in my head over and over. They are the only words I ever remember hearing.

And that’s what I got for today. I hope it amused. I’m afraid tomorrow I will be kicking myself for not saving these little gems for Lame Post Friday.