Walking into the Weekend

After two days of 80+ degree weather, things cooled off here in the Mohawk Valley. Therefore, after supper, I suggested Steven, Tabby and I take a walk, so I could write my blog post about that, rather than my usual Lame Post Friday schtick.

Full disclosure: Earlier in the day, I had told myself that if it did not rain, I would go running and write my post about that. Imagine my chagrin when, on leaving work, I discovered that it was NOT raining. In my defense, I had spent a good portion of the day with a rather debilitating headache, such as I am unfortunately subject to. I try not to complain about my headaches overly much, but I do just mention them, especially when they prevent me from doing something I intended to do.

This being Lame Post Friday, I could now go into some half-baked philosophy about how what to me is “merely mentioning” is to somebody else “pissing, moaning and whining like a baby.” Somebody unpleasant, no doubt. Never mind, I’m writing about our walk.

Steven and I put on sweatshirts over our t-shirts. Tabby, of course, had her natural fur coat. Steven and I felt a little chilly right off the bat, especially when the wind blew. Tabby seemed fine. Then again, Tabby ran up and down the backyard barking excitedly while Steven smoked a cigarette. I’ll have to try that sometime. Maybe not the barking. We’ll see.

We decided to walk the Tabby way. She pulled us down Bellinger Street toward Myers Park. We like to go through the park. I admired some flowers still blooming on a neighbor’s porch. We discussed garden plans for next year, and Steven shared some gardening memories from his childhood.

It felt very good to walk, and I enjoyed the fall-like temperature. Our walk lasted about a half hour. It was not very eventful, but we enjoyed it. Now we will continue to enjoy our Friday night and the rest of the weekend. I’m hoping more blogworthy adventures will ensue.

At Least I Mentioned the Benefit

Oh, this is terrible. I’m sitting here looking at the blank screen with my fingers on the keyboard and NOTHING IS HAPPENING.

Apparently something is happening, because I just typed in two sentences. Anyways, the screen isn’t blank. It says “Add New Post” at the top, and there is a box that says “Enter Title Here,” and a bunch of little symbols that I can click to access other posts or italicize words on this post etc etc etc.

Welcome to Non-Sequitur Thursday.

I had not meant to write yet another nothing post. I had meant to dash out a blurb for a benefit spaghetti dinner to be held this Saturday, Sept. 14 for Father Paul and Patricia Bailey. Fr. Paul used to be the pastor of the church Steven and I attend (when we attend church). They both have health problems, and it is just too bad, because they are the nicest people imaginable. I know, you would expect a pastor and his wife to be nice, but still. Really, really nice.

I donated an afghan for the Chinese auction to be held with the dinner. I had been going to write about my tribulations finding the lady’s apartment to drop it off (you know my terrible sense of direction). But, quite frankly, nothing is coming.

By the way, East Herkimer Fire Department, 193 E. Main Rd., East Herkimer. 4 to 7 p.m. Saturday, Sept. 14. $7 ages 12 and over, $4 ages 5 to 12, younger than 5 free.

Ooh, look, over 200 words. That works, doesn’t it?

Toot! Toot!

I don’t usually write about work in my blog, but I told Joanie I was going to tell this story.

Some of us are on overtime. We walk into the factory at quarter to five, which some people feel is the middle of the night. I walk up the stairs, but several people were getting on the elevator.

Joanie said, “Toot, toot! All Aboard!”

She later told me another co-worker said, “Glad you’re so happy to be here,” adding that she would not be when she had worked there as long as he had.

Joanie disputed this. I guess we’ll have to wait thirty years to see who is right, although I’m betting on Joan. In the meantime, Joanie agreed with something I like to say: “You can laugh or you can cry. You might as well laugh.”

I’d like to call this a Mid-week Middle-aged Musing, but I already had a Monday Middle-aged Musing this week. How much musing can one middle-aged lady do in a week? OK, I do a lot. How many blogs about mental meanderings can one blogger get away with? I’m hoping a lot.

On To The Produce

I thought, being as I am Mohawk Valley Girl, it would behoove me to mention that I stopped by the Herkimer, NY, Farmer’s Market on Monday.

The stop was part of some wild gyrations that enhanced (or made hideous) my Monday. I was going to write about that, but thinking about it made me tired all over again. I think a short shout-out to the Farmer’s Market and I’m out of here.

The Herkimer Farmer’s Market has had various homes over the years, but I think I like their current one best. It is in the parking lot of the large building owned by HARC at 420 E. German St. This provides lots of space and lots of parking. I had no problem pulling in and finding a space.

Full disclosure: Steven and I actually stopped by the Farmer’s Market last Monday, Labor Day. I did not feel we got the full effect, however, since some vendors were not there due to the holiday. We had purchased a Halloween dish towel with one of those crochet things you can attach to a drawer handle. I love those dish towels with the crochet thing. We also got some grape tomatoes. Yum.

This past Monday I was in the market for tomatoes again, one big one this time. The produce stand was at the opposite end from where I started. So first I sampled some Three Village Cheeses. I believe I’ve given Three Village Cheese a shout out before. An excellent product. I purchased some Havarti, mentally revising my dinner plans to include cheese.

I also impulse bought two breakfast granola cookies. I foolishly neglected to get a business card or make note of that vendor’s name. Perhaps I shall return to the market next Monday and repair that omission.

On to the produce. I wavered for a moment: $1 for one big tomato or $4 for five? But I couldn’t bear to buy more tomato than needed and let them go bad before I ate them. I went for the one.

I was pleased with my purchases and pleased to have a Mohawk Valley attraction to mention in my blog. The Herkimer Farmer’s Market is on Mondays from 1 to 7 p.m.

Not Even an Excuse

Well, here it is Middle-aged Musings Monday and I have nothing, not even an excuse.

Other days when I have not written my blog post while at work, it has usually been because I was working on my novel. Truth be known, this is not an airtight alibi, because other days I have been able to do both, utilizing different breaks for each purpose. Still, working on a novel. There could be no possible objection.

I did work on the novel. I wrote a little more than a page.

And it wasn’t very good.

I realize I may not be the best judge of this. However, since I am the only one allowed to read the dumb thing at this point, I am the only judge. And I judge: gotta do better than this.

That’s really all I want to say about the novel, though. For one thing, if you talk too much about a novel, you no longer need to write it. And anybody out there who says, “I told you that years ago,” just shut up, you did not. Oh, but that’s the other thing: everybody is SO READY to offer advice, whether or not they have actually written a novel themselves. Even a bad novel. Even a stupid novel that never got published.

Oh wait, I wrote a stupid novel that never got published. I guess that means I can give myself advice. My advice to myself is: don’t publish this blog post, it’s stupid. Write something good.

How many of you out there take advice? Let me see your hands.

Shouldn’t the Mice Have Eaten Cheese?

As I checked out the listings for TCM one Saturday, in my ongoing quest for cinematic cheese, I came across a kind of a blast from my past, Gay Purr-ee (1962).

I remember that I watched Gay Purr-ee with my sisters one Saturday afternoon roughly a hundred years ago. I remember that I watched it more than I remember watching it, if you see what I mean. I was pretty young, although I couldn’t tell you my exact age.

I know I was rather unsavvy about cinema (that was expertise I was to acquire in later years) (and anybody who said, “Still waiting, huh?” I bet you’re pretty pleased with yourself). I thought it was The Aristocats. In my defense, beautiful fluffy white cat with a rough and ready tom for a boyfriend. Which was pretty much all I knew about The Aristocats, either.

One thing I remembered well: the tom cat has this thing he does when he goes after a mouse. It’s as if he’s possessed and becomes a mouse-catching machine. Or maniac. His eyes bug out, his fur sticks out, his claws come out… it’s pretty cool. And if figures hugely into the plot, so I don’t like to say too much about it.

Anyways, I DVR’d the movie for nostalgia’s sake. Eventually I got around to watching it.

Who knew there were movie star voices! It seems I should have at least known Judy Garland plays the beautiful white cat. I knew who Judy Garland was; we watched The Wizard of Oz every year when it came on television (this was the olden days, even before VCRs).

As I watched it this time, I also recognized at least one voice from the Rankin/Bass Christmas specials, but I did not track down the name that went with it. Of course I would not have known the name as a kid, but I might have been expected to say, “Hey, that’s Burgermeister Meisterburger!”

Speaking of Christmas, at times the animation reminded me of Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol or How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I believe I saw the name Chuck Jones at the beginning, and I think he had something to do with those.

It’s sometimes fun to watch a movie you saw years and years ago and say, “I remember that part!” and “I don’t remember that AT ALL!” Sometimes you say, “Wow, I had lousy taste as a kid.” Sometimes you say, “That was worth a watch.” Gay Purr-ee was fortunately in the latter category. It’s not a great movie. I won’t be searching out the DVD for my younger relatives, but I didn’t mind watching it once. And so my search for cheese continues. As always, I hope you’ll stay tuned.

Thanks, Nicky!

I have missed running. I have been trying to make it to Curves three times a week, so I get exercise, but it is not the same. I committed to a year at Curves, which is almost up. I told them I would be taking a break and going back to running. I still have this month and next to go to Curves, after which I will seriously apply myself. In the meantime, I thought a Saturday morning run would be a good idea.

I debated whether to run before or after Steven left for work, but decided to go while the going was good. I confess to feeling a little excited to run after all this time (did not check my running journal to see how long it has actually been. Too long is all I know). I put on bicycle shorts and a large t-shirt, because it was 50something out. I grabbed a headband, in case my ears got cold.

Right away I felt terrific. It was a little after 6:30. I waved and called good morning to our paper deliverers. They are awesome. I always get my paper in a timely fashion. They have quite a large delivery area, it seems.

Right away I could cross German Street, so I did. I might run the hill by Valley Health! I usually don’t get that ambitious on a run when I’ve had a long layoff, but like I said, I felt terrific! Then I remembered the closed road up ahead and was afraid I would have to run in the road on the right side with traffic. I can’t do that! Left side facing traffic, always!

I crossed back at the next corner. Anybody watching me might assume I was crossing back and forth to make my run longer. Or they could think I was a crazy old lady. What do I care what anybody thinks?

The terrific feeling, of course, did not last. It didn’t matter. Being a first run after a layoff, expectations are not high. I could run slow. I didn’t have to run very far or very long. I could even stop and walk if I had to, although I did not expect to have to. One thing I know how to do is keep up at least a slow shuffling run for just about as long as I decide to.

I ran all the way down German street, then around that corner. Hmmm…. down Church to Main? I might be walking on Main with Tabby later. Down Graham, then Park Avenue to Myers Park. My hands got cold, but I ignored them. My ears got cold, but I pulled the headband over them and was comfortable. Through the park and to Prospect Street. I would run for 20 minutes. I had thought 15 would be acceptable in a pinch, but I knew I could make it for 20.

Heading up Prospect, the owner of Curves drove by on her way to work.

“First you run, then you go to Curves!” she called.

“I will run to Curves!” I told her. I meant that figuratively, of course.

Up Prospect to Church. I saw a cute little dog on Church Street (I guess I describe all dogs as cute; this one appeared to be part poodle). I would have liked to pet it, but the person turned away to walk up Prospect away from me. I could have continued towards it, but since the person might have been trying to avoid me, I kind of didn’t like to.

Turning down Church, which goes to my street, I figured I could run past the house and maybe through the parking lot of the apartment building at the end of the street to make my 20 minute goal. Or I could go another block, up Henry and around. That might make it a 22 or 23-minute run. That was doable.

Then I saw a little white dog up ahead. Was that my friend Nicky? I wanted to pet Nicky! This necessitated my running past Henry and crossing the street.

“Hi, Nicky! Good dog, good to see you!” He graciously allowed me to pet him. “Nice to see you too,” I said to his person.

“You too. Have a good run. You’ve got nice weather for it!”

“I do!” No time for more as I ran up Margaret and made for home. That made it a 25-minute run. Woohoo! I’ll be back in shape in no time!

In My Defense, I’m Fighting a Cold

Well, I wrote some more on the post about the non-cheesy movie, but I’m just not up to it right now. Anyways, it’s Lame Post Friday. I don’t care how many times I wimp out during the week with a silly post, I treasure my Lame Post Friday.

Even when the post itself is no treasure.

I did have a random observation today. I observed a kid wearing a t-shirt from a nightclub that closed long ago.

“The shirt lasted longer than the club did,” I remarked. My co-worker agreed.

I didn’t observe much else today, other than the speed limit (well, I thought it was a funny thing to say). But I do have one bit of half-baked philosophy: I thought to myself today, “I could have BEEN somebody!” My next thought was, “Who else could I have possibly been?” In fact, I could have turned out into somebody worse. So I started thinking about who other people might have been.

For example, maybe Mother Theresa could have been the CEO of a multi-national corporation that made bazillions of dollars exploiting the masses and wreaking havoc on the environment (I’m not saying all multi-national corporations do those things; I’m just saying Mother Theresa could have headed up one that did). The CEO of some big corporation could have been a stay-at-home mom or dad (I know, probably dad), raising kids who could have been…

Did you say Mother Theresa?

Enough of this foolishness. I see I am over 200 words. Woohoo! If I can only think of a headline, it’s wine o’clock for me.

Just Saying

I started to write another post about a movie (alas, not cheesy), but did not finish it, so I will attempt something off the cuff for Non-Sequitur Thursday. Full disclosure: if hearing about going to the bathroom may cause you to shout, “TMI!” stop reading now (and none of you wiseasses need to comment, “TMI,” either)(you know who you are)(and why is my computer telling me “wiseasses” is misspelled?).

We went to the laundromat today. One good thing about the Colonial Laundromat in Ilion, NY is that there is a clean restroom available. This is a thing I look for just about everywhere I go. Just saying.

The door was closed. And remained closed. I really could not wait much longer. I walked over and asked two ladies folding their clothes if anybody was in there. No, they said. I tried the door. Locked. They felt bad for having misinformed me. I went back over to where Steven was and watched the door.

Oh dear, it was taking a while. Not to be indelicate, but nobody really wants to use a bathroom where somebody else has just been in there for a long time. Just saying.

Our clothes still had nine minutes in the drier (actually, they ended up having a lot longer than that, but this isn’t really a post about laundry).

“I’m walking to Citgo,” I announced.

What a lot of traffic Ilion gets. I guess it’s the hip, happening place to be on a Thursday night. I had to cross the street twice at the intersection. Tricky, but I managed it. After crossing one way I considered staying on that side of the street and going to Stewart’s, but I couldn’t remember if they have a restroom. I was able to make the second cross while I was still thinking about it.

After walking to first one then another corner of the store, I saw the sign for “Restroom” in the third corner. Of course it was locked. I stood there, having to pee. I considered knocking on the door to see if someone was in there. I wondered if you were supposed to get a key from the cashier. There was no sign to say so. Some of your better convenience stores have that little thing on the lock that says “Vacant” or “Occupied,” depending. No offense, Citgo.

I got tired of waiting. Cross the street to Stewarts? Wait, there’s McDonalds! Before there were convenience stores everywhere, McDonald’s was the operative place to go to the bathroom when on a road trip. Then you bought french fries or a coffee or something. What you might call a win/win. I would use their bathroom and buy Steven a coffee.

“I haven’t been in here since you remodeled,” I said to the cashier as I purchased the coffee. “It’s fancy.”

“You think so?” she sounded skeptical. Nice customer service, trying to make me feel foolish (oh, I know, it’s not that hard to do)!

I made it back to the laundromat before our drier buzzed. Steven appreciated the coffee. I felt better about everything.

Cemetery Walk

At the last program I attended at the Herkimer County Historical Society, I made a note of a cemetery walk in Oak View Cemetery in Frankfort, NY.

The walk had been postponed from Monday to Thursday last week. This was good news for Steven and me, because we could not make it on Monday. We drove to the cemetery and after some slight confusion as to where to pull in and park, we joined the crowd that was gathering for the walk.

I’m always pleased to see the people that gather for these historical society things, both the number and the variety. I like to see that people are interested and that they get away from their televisions and computers to participate. I know it is good for me to do so.

I was a little sorry I had forgotten to use bug spray, but this was a minor point. Sue Perkins, head of the historical society gave the presentation, assisted by Caryl Hopson. Caryl carried the speaker for Sue’s cordless microphone. It worked pretty well except for the occasional feedback. I think everybody was able to hear.

Sue and Caryl had visited the cemetery, picked the graves they liked, then researched the stories of the people buried there. They also had a binder with pictures of some of the people and places talked about. A little girl walked around showing us the pictures. after a while she must have gotten tired or bored, because her mother took over the task.

We heard a wide variety of stories. The one that particularly struck me was about a black baseball pioneer, John W. Jackson, also known as Bud Fowler, who was buried in the Potters Field. A Potters Field is where they used to bury indigent people, whose families could not afford a proper burial. A marker has since been placed for Jackson.

The final grave — they saved the best for last, Sue said — was Dieffenbacher. In face, there were Dieffenbachers in the crowd, one of whom was wearing a Dieffenbacher’s Potato Chip t-shirt. I think everybody though that was pretty cool.

I really enjoyed the walk-around aspect of the talk. My only problem was that i could not take proper notes for my blog post. I did pull a small pad out of my purse and jot down John Jackson, Dieffenbacher, and Whipple-Winkel Co. I took no further notes, so I don’t know what kind of company Whipple-Winkel was. Perhaps I could look it up at the Historical Society and make it the subject of a future blog post.

For more information on the Herkimer County Historical Society, you can visit their website at http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~nyhchs. You can also like them on Facebook, where they have been known to post some really cool pictures.