Stopped by the Seine

Posted on July 7, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

So there I was, writing away at a post about a cheesy movie, when I began to write a sentence I had clearly written before. I completely remembered writing it. Those words were in my head, and I had put them there. Definitely. There was no way I could continue the sentence I was about to write next without using those very words again.

Why, you may argue, would that stop me? I repeat myself in this blog all the time, especially when I’m having any kind of trouble writing the damn thing. I argue back, in the first place, give me a break. In the second place, this sentence involved a murderer dumping a dead body into the Seine.

How many movies could that possibly have happened in? And how many of them could I possibly have seen recently? I was stopped cold.

Before I go on, a little background (another way to put this: in my defense). Earlier this week I experienced a flood. No, not as bad as other people have experienced (I’m also quite certain I’ve written about how there is always somebody who has worse problems than me), certainly not as bad as it could have been. But, still, a pretty bad experience.

I believe I mentioned briefly yesterday that some have believe I am handling it well. Oh, I am trying to. I really, really am. But at intervals, I suppose it’s bound to happen: not so much. I was having, as they say, a moment earlier today. Rather than write about it and look like I was making a colossal bid for sympathy, I decided to write about the cheesy movie I had viewed. Surely that was a good plan (and I’ll call you Shirley if I want to).

My first move, when I could move at all after coming to a complete standstill, was to go to the computer and search previous blog posts. Hmmmm… nothing that takes place in Paris, no place where I possibly could have mentioned the Seine.

After a couple of more distractions (when I have a moment, I really have a moment), I found the notebook I have been writing blog posts in for the past couple of weeks. On going through the whole thing (it’s not a big notebook), I found very few movie posts, none I did not remember, and no mention of the Seine. I sat and pondered.

At last I picked up the TV Journal. Oh. There it was. In a note I had made about the very movie I was attempting to write a post about. I tell you what, I felt so stupid about that, I almost had another moment.

But not quite, because I thought I could make a decent blog post about that silly writing crisis and then I would have two posts for the price of one. I ought to anyways, because I’ve taken a long enough time about this.

By the way, my moment is over. I’m back to handling things, if not exactly well (I’m not that competent), at least cheerfully and with a sense of humor. No need to make a colossal bid for sympathy. Thank you for bearing with me.

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Lame at the Laundromat

Posted on July 6, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

My real Mohawk Valley adventure on July 4 involved going to the Laundromat. I wrote the following while there, largely because I had neglected to bring a book to read. This being Lame Post Friday, I make bold to use it.

I have not been to the laundromat in years. Steven and I used to make quite an event out of it. We’d wait till we were wearing our bathing suits instead of underwear, load everything into the car (one more reason we drove a station wagon) and head out, usually on a weeknight. This was a good time to go in the North Country, where we used to live.

The most we ever filled was, I think, ten washers. It gives me a little giggle even now, thinking about it. Being me and Steve, we made silly jokes the whole time. I even started to write a song about it: The Dirty Clothes Blues.

With all this in mind, losing our washer and drier in the flood (um, they didn’t float away, they just got flooded) was the least of our worries.

“We’ll just go to the laundromat till we’re more beforehand with the world,” I declared.

“We used to have fun doing that,” Steven remembered.

So I had envisioned a fun if silly couple’s activity. However, what with mud and sweat, our clean clothes ran out faster than anticipated (and I don’t have a bathing suit any more). I put on my last pair of clean shorts and a sports bra and said, “I need to do laundry.”

Steven felt bad about not accompanying (he was working a double shift), but I made light of it.

“It’s the Fourth of July,” I said. “How many people are going to be doing laundry?”

Famous last words.

Steven helped me bring the baskets put to my vehicle. I had decided on a modest three loads. That is, all the dirty clothes that were NOT in the basement. Those are out on the back deck, awaiting a HOT washing or else a decent burial, as we will decide. The only sad thing was that our schnoodle, Tabby, saw us loading stuff into the car and immediately concluded that we were all going on a fun road trip. Imagine her disappointment. And mine.

A quick stop to pick up detergent (another casualty) and I was off to Ilion, NY, to the new laundromat there. At least, I can’t remember how new, but recent at least. I drive by it on my way to work and know it has a large number of machines.

The first thing I noticed was the number of cars in the parking lot. Well, that falls squarely under the heading Should Have Known. Weren’t basements flooded all over the Mohawk Valley? Didn’t many of those basements contain washers and driers? I found a parking space and hoped for the best.

And everything was fine. Like I said, large number of machines. I had a moment of sticker shock when I saw the washer said $5.50 as the price. I felt better when I realized that sucker could hold two of my baskets. Then I saw smaller washers that were only $2.50. Perfect for my small load of whites.

This was cool.

The truly lame moment happened after I was done writing and doing laundry. I got all the way home (a modest distance, but still) and realized I had forgotten my detergent at the laundromat. You know how people handle big problems with aplomb but fall apart at the dumbest things? All week people have been telling me I was reacting very well to this being flooded thing. I have tried to keep my spirits up and not lose my sense of humor.

Well, doing something as stupid as forgetting my brand new detergent at the laundromat made me dang near burst into tears. I made the drive back to Ilion, cursing my (lack of) brain and telling myself it was no big deal. Either the detergent would be there or somebody else would be happy to not have to buy some. Perhaps even another flood victim.

My not so random observation on this Lame Post Friday is that half-baked philosophy will only get you so far. I recovered my detergent. I still felt really, really dumb.

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Patriotic Run

Posted on July 5, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

In honor of Independence Day, I wore my ARMY t-shirt to go for this morning’s run.

I had originally thought I would be running every day this week, but with the flood… not so much. Monday and Wednesday I had to conserve my physical resources for hauling ruined junk out of the basement. Tuesday I had thought to do the same, but the basement had filled with water again. By the time I realized my little sump pump was not going to empty it in a timely fashion, it was too hot to run. I went to Curves instead, arguably a more strenuous workout.

Thursday (today), my husband is working from eight to 4:30, then from five to ten (five to ten sounds like a prison sentence, which is analogous to many jobs). I thought for what I planned on doing in his absence, I could be a little tired.

It was already warm when I started out, over 70 degrees with humidity. Yet I felt sure I could rock it. Then again, there was nothing wrong with taking a shorter run than planned, especially as the week was not turning into the work-out paradise I had envisioned.

I turned left from North Bellinger onto German Street, going toward where some of the flood damage was pretty bad. That section of German had been closed off all week, so I knew I might have to make a turn before too long.

Oh, it did look bad. A lovely stone fence in front of a beautiful historic-looking brick house is no more. The sidewalk got a little dicey at that point, but I was left side facing traffic as I went out into the road.

Then I saw that I could not loop around German onto Church Street as I had planned, because the bridge was closed. I was about to say I never heard about the bridge being closed, but I bet it did and I just don’t know what that bridge is called. It isn’t a very big bridge. Other than turn around the only thing I could do was go through the high school parking lot and see if their little foot bridge was still in use. It didn’t seem likely. I turned around.

I ran past all the side streets till I was beyond the flood zone. I ran down residential streets, enjoying flower beds that were not a muddy mess and curb sides not covered with people’s ruined stuff. I thought of pictures of New Orleans after Katrina and New Jersey after Sandy, and I felt fortunate.

But running was not getting any easier, because it was damn humid. I was not going to run as far as I had run on Sunday, 34 minutes, in case you wanted to know. I got back on my own street. How long would I run? Well, I would go a little way past the house, just to make it a full number. It seems a little silly to say I ran for 28 minutes 44 seconds.

Then I saw some neighbors talking on a porch, right about the time I wanted to be turning around. We exchanged good mornings and I kept running. I couldn’t very well run up to them, say good morning and run back home. Now that I’m writing this, I can’t quite explain my reluctance, but there it was. I ran around the block.

As I ran I reflected on the number of things people do just to keep from looking foolish. Like when I recently raised almost $600 for St. Baldrick’s Day, so I wouldn’t look silly in front of the other bald people (I don’t think any of them were concerned, but still). Then I thought, whatever makes you do the right thing.

So I made my 34 minutes, and my cold shower felt pretty refreshing (it will be a long while before my hot water heater is replaced and we get the gas turned back on). And I deem it patriotic enough on Independence Day to write about something I learned to love in the army.

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Fanfare for Fire Departments!

Posted on July 4, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

I thought I would take today’s post to give a brief shout-out to fire departments everywhere.

Of course, I’ve always been a great admirer of firefighters. They have bravery, dedication and physical abilities that are far beyond anything I can muster.

I first started getting a tear in my eye over firefighters in the aftermath of 9-11. I heard about how firefighters far and wide just got in their cars and went to help. Just like that. To this day I get a lump in my throat thinking about it.

I came to greatly admire our Mohawk Valley fire departments a few years ago, when a fire raged on Main Street and onto Albany Street in Herkimer, NY. Several departments from surrounding communities came together and fought the blaze, saving several local businesses.

And now comes the Flood of 2013. Departments from around the state have come to help. My own basement was pumped out twice by two different departments last Saturday.

The second time my husband, Steven, and I were not even home when they started. We had run out to pick up some food, and when we returned a fire truck was in our driveway. Our neighbor had seen through our basement window that we were filling up again and flagged down the truck.

A fireman had crawled through our basement window (the first guys had taken it out, because it doesn’t open properly), turned off our little sump pump and set up their equipment. Go on,picture it: one of those little basement windows into a basement that was crappy before it flooded, and he crawls right in and gets to work.

In conclusion, I repeat: I LOVE FIRE DEPARTMENTS. From now on, whenever I see a fire department fundraiser, I am there. I’ll probably write a blog post about it.

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Sorry, Cecil and Rays

Posted on July 3, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Subtitle: “More Beastly Cheese.”

I remember mentioning that I had DVR’d two movies with “Beast” in the title. I wrote about one (The Beast from the Haunted Cave). Today I will write about the second: Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953).

Spoiler Alert! I probably won’t give away the end of the movie, but I might tell at least one dramatic development. I personally prefer to watch a movie without knowing any dramatic developments beforehand. This is why I don’t like trailers and I don’t read reviews of movies I intend to see. However, there is no real reason for any of you people to ever watch Beast from 20,000 Fathoms. If you do perceive a reason, at least you’ve been forewarned.

The reason I probably won’t give away the ending of the movie is that I don’t exactly remember it. Of course, I could always consult the TV Journal and see if I made a note about it, but I don’t have
the TV Journal handy right now. If you gather from this that the movie is not very memorable, you may congratulate yourself on your perspicacity (that is one of my favorite words).

The movie opens with yet another demonstration of how movie time has nothing whatever to do with real time. I have no problem with this — heavens, I know movies are not real life. However, when you have these military types actually counting down the seconds till they… do whatever it is they are supposed to do, I feel it is kind of slapping me in the face with it.

“We’re a movie! We don’t have to worry about the laws of time and space!”

At last the countdown is complete and we go to some stock footage of a nuclear blast. This reminded me of a wonderful scene in the marvelous movie Ed Wood where Johnny Depp, as Wood, is being shown some scenes by an old cameraman.

“Why, I could make a whole movie out of this stock footage alone!” he enthuses and goes on to outline his plot.

Of course, that doesn’t really have anything to do with this movie, because I think the blast was the only stock footage they used (unless they were a lot more clever about integrating it, in which case this is a better movie than I thought it was). I just thought I’d mention it.

That was as far as I wrote with the TV Journal unavailable. When I could consult the Journal, I found… not very extensive notes.

The movie was suggested by a story by Ray Bradbury and features effects by Ray Harryhausen. I must say I don’t think the movie took sufficient advantage of these resources, nor of the presence of actor Cecil Kellaway.

The only other note I took was that the beast has a face remarkably like Godzilla. Say what you will about the makers of cheesy movies, they reduce, reuse, recycle.

So I guess the nuclear blast wakes up the beast or creates the beast or whatever. In addition to paying more attention to these movies, it might behoove me to write about them sooner after the viewing, when I might remember those plot points I do manage to pay attention to. Then again, how long of a blog post do people actually want to read? (Seriously, I’m asking. How long do people like blog posts to be?)

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Flooded with Remorse

Posted on July 2, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Welcome back to All Flooding All The Time. I realize some people might not be entertained by a blow-by-blow description of my tribulations. It helps me to write it.

“In that case,” the naysayers sniffs, “you should write it in your journal, that is your PRIVATE JOURNAL. Or get therapy.”

At this point in my soul searching, I realized the naysayer is actually my inner critic, for whom nothing is ever good enough. And then I remembered it is Middle-aged Musings Monday, and the above couple of paragraphs could count for that.

In my notebook (paper spiral-bound, not the computer kind), as I wrote this morning (sitting on my couch sipping coffee) (off work this week), I went on to write another page continuing my flooded basement adventures of Saturday. Then I realized I could not sit there and continue to write while my basement was NOT knee-deep in water. I had to start hauling out ruined crap while the hauling was good.

I got to work. Soon my parents and one sister showed up to help. We worked SO HARD! I CAN’T WAIT to get back to the factory next week! It will be such a relief!

And now I am just too tired to type in the page I had written, plus compose the rest of the story (I did mention in a previous post that Saturday was a long day). And I really, really do have to get back on clean-up duty. The mud from the basement has begun to take over the ground floor as well.

So this is my post for today. A short musing about whether I really ought to be writing All About My Flooded Life, a brief mention of what I did about it today (thus messing up the sequence of my blog-by-blow), and I’m afraid I’m done.

Now if only I could think of a title for this. Ooh, just thought of one. And I make it appropriate by adding: Of course I feel just terrible about writing such a lame post on a Monday.

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All in the Same Ark

Posted on June 30, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

One comfort to me is that we — that is, we in the Mohawk Valley — are all going through this. Everybody is pumping out their basements. Nobody in my neighborhood has flood insurance, I don’t think. Many people who already had sump pumps “just happened to have them and have never needed them.

Astute readers may have guessed by now that this blog is segueing over into All Flood All the Time. It is the topic of the moment in the Mohawk Valley, and quite frankly, it makes me feel better to think with each new woe, “At least I can get a blog post out of this!”

It seems to me that others are showing considerably more competence at this pumping out and cleaning up stuff than me, but I’m not sure if that is really true. When I’ve spoken to my neighbors and said, “I’m just so clueless about all this,” the usual response is, “Us, too!”

I was later than others in starting the pumping thing. Others were pumping by Friday afternoon and into Friday night. My husband Steven and I got started on Saturday. A call to a company specializing in this sort of thing got us an appointment on Wednesday. Wednesday! We headed to Aubuchon in Herkimer, NY, to see what we could do right away.

We usually go to Aubuchon for this sort of thing, because they are always so informative and helpful. They did not disappoint. We purchased a sump pump, two sixty-foot garden hoses (a better buy than one hundred-footer, because of a sale) and a heavy duty extension cord. We do own a heavy duty extension cord, but neither of us could remember if it was in the dining room under the buffet or in the basement under water) (it turned out to be the dining room, but I saved the receipt).

We could not figure out how to get a basement window out so we ran the hose up the stairs and out the door. As we were messing with it, a fireman came over and said they were pumping out the neighbor’s basement next door. We were next! Woohoo!

While they were getting set up, Steven left for work. While they were pumping, the plumber showed up.

I forgot to mention that to add to our woes, the toilet was not flushing. I feared it was due to backed up sewage, but after our guy asked Steven a few questions he said he’d be over later to check it out.

One snaking later, our toilet could flush. Yay! If there was one thing that could make me feel better about everything, that was it.

I almost feel I should end today’s narrative here, because it is such a high note. It was in fact as high as my spirits rose before being — I have to say it — damped down considerable, later in the day.

Looking back, yesterday was rather a long day. I spent it alternately buoyed up by hope (oh no, more water metaphors!) and plunged into despair. We’ll end today on hope: toilet flushing, basement being pumped out. What will happen in the afternoon? Stay tuned!

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Running from the Flood

Posted on June 29, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Oh, I just noticed, I did NOT do a post about Thursday’s run. Therefore I am certain a Saturday Running Commentary will be welcomed by such readers who like to read about a run (you know who you are).

Steven and I were up early, having not slept very well. Steven, because he was obsessing over how we are so clueless about flooded basements and such. Me, because the neighbors were all sump-pumping their basements. Not that it was so loud (and I would NEVER fault my neighbors for making noise for such a reason even if it was), but it got me to obsessing about how I really ought to be doing something about pumping out my own basement.

So we got up early for a Saturday and got some coffee, available to us because I had sensibly boiled some water before our gas got cut off. Oh dear, halfway through the third paragraph and I haven’t gotten to the run yet. Well, I thought I would include some background on my mood and motivations.

In the first place, I thought some endorphins might help. More importantly, we have no hot water since the gas is off. I thought that after a hot, sweaty run, a cold shower would feel pretty good. So off I went.

The sidewalks on North Bellinger are covered with mud. Well, I like to run off-road. I told myself this was just nature’s way of bringing off-road to me. I ran carefully, because mud is slippery. My middle-aged shuffle served me well. No mishaps. Oh, I know, the cold shower would wash off the mud as well as the sweat. I still didn’t want to take a header into a puddle.

Two blocks from my house the sidewalks magically cleared. I had a nice run through residential streets on bare paths. I started to get tired a little over halfway through my intended time, but I persevered.

At last it was time to head in the general direction of Bellinger Street. Oh dear, would it be muddier this way or this way? Having at last attained the bare sidewalks, I was loath to give them up. That actually may have lengthened my run considerably, if I had run around and around looking for bare sidewalks. However, I sternly told myself there was GOING to be mud, just go with it.

A little trickier was the cool-down walk with my schnoodle, Tabby. She is getting to be quite the dirty dog as it is; I didn’t want to make her too much worse. We accomplished it with some back and forth walking, utilizing the apartment building at the corner of our street. It is set up on a little hill and the sidewalks leading to the front doors are bare.

I felt better after my run, and my cold shower was an invigorating blast. As the day progresses, we are slowly dealing with our other flooding woes. At the risk of becoming tiresome, I may write about them in tomorrow’s blog post as well. As always, I hope you’ll stay tuned.

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The Flooded Basement Blues

Posted on June 29, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

Well, I WAS writing a post all about a cheesy movie I saw, but I’ve been a little distracted.

It has been raining in a ridiculous fashion in the Mohawk Valley. Today, we flooded.

It was one thing when my street looked like a river. A little scary, but I could just stay in the house. It was a little more worrisome when the basement flooded. Well, I’ve been meaning to throw away a lot of that junk anyways. Now I’ll jolly well have to.

But it was a completely different animal when I started to hear a buzzing noise down in the basement.

“What’s that noise?” In a loud voice. “What do I do?” Even more agitated.

I did not, nor even consider for a moment, sloshing through the water for a closer listen. For one thing, the water is over knee deep. I can swim, but still. I have since been told that I was absolutely correct for such restraint.

As usual for a woman with my age, experience and sophistication, I called Mom and Dad. I suppose I am both a Mama’s and a Daddy’s Girl, but it cannot be denied that my parents know many things. I don’t think their basement ever flooded, but they probably know somebody who’s had it happen to them. My sister, for example (oh, wait a minute, I know her, too).

Mom said call Niagara Mohawk, they would send somebody.

“Steven! Get me the number to Niagara Mohawk!”

Of course we meant National Grid. For you younger readers (if any), National Grid used to be called Niagara Mohawk, in my opinion a far superior name. I mean, you can say NiMo, but are you likely to say NaGri? I, for one, am not.

So I called. They are sending someone. I later found out that we are also number 251 on the list for the Herkimer Fire Department (Steven called when I wasn’t looking).

So now I am waiting on my front porch for the NationalNiMo person. To relieve my feelings a little, I write a blog post about it. I don’t mean to treat my readers as unpaid therapists, but I must confess, I do feel a little better.

So that is my Friday Lame Post for the week. I hope you have enjoyed.

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Would You Like Kvetch-up With That?

Posted on June 28, 2013 by mohawkvalleygirl

I would like to address the so-called No Whining Zone. As a well-known kvetch, this is obviously a subject near and dear to my heart. After great reflection, I have come to the conclusion that they do not work.

I understand the appeal of a No Whining Zone. It can be tiresome to listen to other people kvetch. And however much you think it will help you to express yourself, maybe it would be better sometimes, well, not to.

One must also acknowledge that many of us do not admit to whining in the first place. I think this is how I put it one other time: I have legitimate concerns, you like to complain, that one is a whiny baby. I personally will cop to being a kvetch. I just like the word.

So, having established that some of us… complain, let us address the purpose of the No Whining Zone. Is it a negative one: that is, NOT to have to listen to other people complain? Or is it a positive one: to concentrate instead on constructive thoughts and solving problems?

I know for some people it is the former; they just don’t want to hear it, and they don’t really care who may be going through what. I prefer the latter. What, in fact, does the No Whining Zone accomplish?

When I express a pain, discomfort, problem or complaint and hear, “NO WHINING ZONE!” my feelings (delicate at the best of times) are hurt. And my rebellious nature kicks in (it is a well-known human propensity to IMMEDIATELY want to do the one thing we are told not to). I might respond with something like, “I’ve got a right to kvetch!” or “The more you complain, the longer God lets you live!” etc.

However, if you present me with a viable alternative, I will take it under advisement. For example, instead of a No Whining Zone, how about a Positive Thoughts Zone? Instead of just shutting down complaints, could we transform them into solutions.

For example (I’m giving a lot of examples today), suppose I say, “I hate hot weather!” Your reply could be, “Since this is a Positive Thoughts Zone, why don’t you try to think of some things you like about summertime?”

Well, I would probably start out with, “I like it when it stays light later.” From there I would think about my container garden, evenings sitting on my deck, comfortable early morning runs. I would soon be feeling better about the whole thing. And, BONUS: You would no longer have to listen to me kvetch!

I think the real problem with a No Whining Zone is that you are trying to fight a negative with a negative. I think a better strategy is to transform the negative with a positive.

There might be some readers out there who think this is a really dumb idea that will never work, or that it is all a huge rationalization from a whiny baby. If that is the case, by all means, comment below. For my part, I will strive to come up with something nice to say back.

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