The Boxy Purse

One of my stops on Saturday was a rummage sale at Christ Episcopal Church in Herkimer, NY. This is where I go to when I attend church, so I knew the ladies working. It’s always a pleasure to do business with friends.

I was ostensibly looking for one or two more items needed for the play we’re doing, but I got kind of absorbed in looking at the books. I found a few I wouldn’t mind reading.

My other purchase was an extremely silly one: a purse shaped like a box. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with buying an unusual purse, especially as I have a minor collection. But I laughed at my reason.

You see, many years ago, when the Seaway Valley Footlighters, our community theatre group up north, did Harvey, one actress was searching high and low for a “boxy” purse, such as the one carried by Grace Kelly in Rear Window. It was not really a big deal, and the character made do with the purse we found. Still, all involved agreed that a boxy purse would have been ideal.

“So what?” you might say. “Maybe you’ll do Harvey again sometime. Now you have the boxy purse.”

In fact, Ilion Little Theatre did do Harvey last year (I believe I may have written a blog post or two about it). Now that I think about it, I don’t believe the term “boxy purse” ever arose. The character in question certainly did not carry one.

Well, I suppose one never knows when an unusual purse might come in handy. Besides, it was dollar a bag day. I helped the rummage sale ladies get rid of some stuff.

Fun at the Bazaar

I had a number of things I was “supposed” to get done on Saturday. Nevertheless, I took the time to check out the Mohawk Valley Spring Bazaar at the Herkimer County Fairgrounds in Frankfort, NY.

Frankfort is one of those handily located villages right near Herkimer, and the fairgrounds are right on the edge of Frankfort, so getting there was no problem. Parking was clearly labeled and plentiful. Parking and admission to the event were free.

I could hear music playing as I got out of my vehicle and made my way to the main building. Some people just inside the door offered me a free ticket to put in for a door prize. I wrote my name and number on it and dropped it into the can next to a box of flavored olive oil. I love olive oil. I proceeded to the vendor tables.

What a lot of tables there were! Not so overwhelming you couldn’t get to them all, but I could have spent a lot longer than I did.

I admired some beautiful jewelry at several tables, had a nice chat with the maple syrup lady, and discovered Evil Sisters clothing (cue speculation on whether I have evil sisters or am one). I also found the flavored oils and purchased some roasted garlic olive oil. Yum! I picked up a lot of business cards, so I intend to check out a few websites and write at greater length about a few of these businesses. However, this is my Week of Lame, so I merely give a brief overview for now.

On my way out I talked to the people who had given me the door prize ticket. The event was organized by Team Janice for Relay for Life. I was so impressed for one team to do such an area-encompassing event. I congratulated them on it and thanked them. I feel it is a real service to the community to put on an event like this, especially with free admission. It not only gives people something different to do, it introduces them to local businesses of which they may not have been aware.

I certainly mean to patronize some of the businesses I talked to. It was also a good introduction to a Relay for Life team. I don’t know much about Relay for Life, but I am always noticing where this team or that team is having a fundraiser. I intend to check more of them out. An excellent resource for blog posts for Mohawk Valley Girl.

Egg Update

I’m not exactly going to talk about that play I’m in (which I believe I’ve mentioned before). However, I thought I would talk some more about emptying egg shells which are needed as props.

Having successfully blown one egg with the egg blower my friend Rachel so generously sent me, I felt I was all set to prepare the poultry related props. Since Steven had gotten some deli ham (I think it was even turkey ham — lower in fat and calories!), I thought a ham and cheese omelet would make a nice Saturday supper. That way I would get a few more eggs blown.

My plan was to do the egg blowing earlier in the day, while Steven was at work, rather than when it was time to cook and we were both quite hungry. I would blow the eggs into a bowl with a lid and nicely store them in the refrigerator till needed. I could get at least four eggs ahead! This was going to be great! I got to work.

Good God, did this process really work for me before? I’m sure it must have; I wrote a blog post about it. Well, yesterday I even had a hard time putting the two little holes in the egg. Twist, don’t push; it’s a drill. Twist, twist, twist. Maybe push a little. Finally I accomplished it. Then I poked the doodah in (I believe doodah is the technical term used by native Ukranians), tried to add a little water, shook.

And spent about three hours blowing with the rubber bulb. OK, it was more like five or ten minutes, but when you’re puffing and puffing (luckily not with my lungs), watching this little blob of egg white kind of sort of poking out of this tiny hole, and it doesn’t appear to be getting any bigger… How do people do this with dozens of eggs to make those gorgeous baskets full of the decorative ones?

Eventually I had a blow-out. As Rachel told me, it was not a dramatic explosion, just the sort of crack you sometimes get when you boil an egg. I got the rest of the egg out through the crack. The crack didn’t go all the way around the shell, so I think it is still usable. Perhaps for a rehearsal prop.

The second egg took a while too but remained intact. I looked at the two eggs in the bowl, thought of a few more congenial chores I wanted to get done, and decided that when it was time to cook dinner I would crack the remaining eggs needed the regular way.

So I’ll be blowing a couple more eggs as the week progresses. Will it rate a blog post? Hard to say. I foresee a busy week. I’m afraid this blog may experience a Week of Lame. But I hope you’ll stay tuned.

Not Exactly a Running Start

I intend to go back to running after this play (which shall here remain nameless) is over. Then we’ll have some Running Commentary on a Saturday, I hope. In the meantime, here’s a post about my morning thus far.

One advantage of overtime in my job is I have to get up at 3:30 a.m. While this in and of itself may not be seen as an advantage, I feel the benefits on my day off, when I get up at 5 a.m. feeling rested and refreshed and still have plenty of day ahead of me. And, boy, do I need it today!

I won’t list all the crap I am hoping to fit in today (we’ll save that for Wrist to Forehead Sunday), but I’m feeling the pressure time-wise. Nevertheless, as I skipped Curves a couple of times this week to feel less pressure, a phrase remembered from a time management book keeps running through my head: If you are too busy to exercise, you are too busy. Period. (And here’s a topic for a future post: We like to add “Period” after a sentence for emphasis, but then we go on talking about the subject for another six or eight sentences.)

So I went to Curves at seven, when they opened. I confess, if they would have opened at nine, I would have considered myself off the hook and not felt bad about it. As it happened, I did my work out, made a couple of silly remarks along the way, and left feeling that after-workout buzz that I don’t always get.

Oh dear, I just realized I’m almost three hundred words into the post and I haven’t even gotten to the walk that I had originally intended to write about. What’s that all about? I can just hear one of you saying in that condescending voice I hate, “This is why we edit, Cindy.” Oh be quiet, I don’t have time to edit! At least I exercised! Exercise is much more important than editing (yet another statement that some will find open to debate, but I don’t have time for that either).

Full disclosure: I edited a little. I originally included in the first paragraph the statement that this would be a Pedestrian Post. I changed it. Now the previous paragraph is less germane. Would this be a good reason NOT to edit? Discuss.

Could Be the Lamest Post Yet

So I started writing at least three Friday Lame Posts at work today (while on a break OF COURSE). I don’t like any of them. And I have a very short time in which to come up with something else. OH NO!

No, it isn’t Wrist to Forehead Friday. For one thing, I don’t have time to make dramatic poses.

To be honest: as soon as I typed that sentence, I sat here staring at the screen, trying to think of something else to say. I had plenty of time to put my wrist onto my forehead. I was just too lazy.

Ah, that leads us into some half-baked philosophy suitable for Lame Post Friday (my meager brain hasn’t failed me yet!): A truism states that we all have time for the things that are truly important to us. Is this a true truism? Discuss.

I think that actually we don’t any of us have the time we’d like to have for all the things we’d like to do. However, most of us have more time than we will admit; we just take it up doing other things. This is hardly an earth shattering observation (and since the earth has never, in fact, shattered, I would submit that nobody has yet made an observation that can truly be described as such) (so now I feel better about that).

Where was I?

Ah yes, babbling on in hopes my word count will go high enough that I can call it a post. Hmmm… Over 200. That’s respectable.

Before I sign off, I will leave my readers with one thought. I thought all day about how it is sometimes difficult to write a post when Mohawk Valley Girl strives to adhere to the rule: If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.

We’ll see who gets worried about that one.

Postscript: As personal acquaintances know, in real life I don’t always follow that rule. I’m more akin to Dorothy Parker when she purportedly said, “If you can’t say anything nice, sit right here next to me.”

Would That Be A Sequitur?

Did I mention that I cannot plan anything? Oh, yes, I did, on Monday (you can arrow back to it if you’re interested; I’m too lazy to do one of those ping things). My plan this time was to write my Non-Sequitur Thursday and Lame Post Friday posts both on Thursday, to make my day easier on Friday. I began writing them on a break at work.

Can I FIND the notebook I was writing them in? NO! Am I a little STRESSED about it? YES! Do I NEED all these capital letters? APPARENTLY!

The funny thing is, what I had written for Thursday began with a lament about my current stress. And here I go adding to it by misplacing my notebook it was written in. That gives me a bit of a chuckle against myself, and laughter is a known stress reliever. You see how I go around in a circle. That must be why my friends say I’m dizzy (you know who you are) (oh yeah, like all my friends read every post).

So I’m feeling a bit better about the stress, but I realize it is scarcely a non sequitur. Really more of a logical progression. What’s that all about? I’m not a logical, organized, orderly person. I’m sitting here, typing off the cuff (as Truman Capote said, it’s not writing, it’s typing) (although in my case, I like to think it’s both). You would think I would be a little more non-sequitur-y about it.

I am going to feel a little bad about posting this, because I think it sounds kind of dumb. I don’t suppose I’ll feel bad enough to not post it, though. It can stand as a bad example and an encouragement to others: “Look at the tripe she publishes! I am obviously a MUCH better blogger than that!” (I see you use a lot of capital letters, too).

Break an Egg

An egg shows up as a prop in that play we’re working on (I forget what it’s called — you must know it by now). I said, “Oh, we can just blow the egg out of an eggshell and use that!” Famous last words.

I had done the egg blowing thing once, in the distant past. I think it was the ’70s, a more artsy-craftsy time. I had seen pictures in magazines of these gorgeous eggs made by gluing about a million itty bitty beads onto a blown out egg shell. Fired with ambition, I blew out an egg, the shell of which sat on my dresser for about six years, till the damn thing finally broke, beadless and bare. I retain no memory of the actual blowing of the egg, only the knowledge that I did it once.

So I tried it and experienced absolutely no success. When I finally got sick of huffing and puffing, I finally cracked the egg the regular way and fixed my breakfast.

Well, it’s not the ’70s any more; it’s the 21st century. I did what any self-respecting denizen of the 21st century does: I got on the Internet. I have never had good luck with searches, so I took a more personal approach: I went on Facebook and asked my friends if any of them had ever successfully blown an egg and did they have any tips for me?

I learned that you have to poke around in the egg first to break things up, sometimes adding a little water helps, shake well, and some eggs are just going to be stubborn about it. My friend Rachel, who makes those gorgeous Ukranian eggs, offered to send me a tool specifically made for the purpose. That was tempting but seemed like a lot of trouble for my friend to go to for one (extremely) silly play. I tried the old-fashioned way one more time.

Poke the pin in, woosh it around, add a little water (is any water getting in that pinhole?), shake it, shake it, shake it. Blow. Repeat above process several times. At least I didn’t get sick of huffing and puffing this time. My finger went through the shell mid-puff. At least my hands were clean. I cooked that egg, ate it, then went upstairs and contacted Rachel via Facebook.

The proper tool arrived Monday. I couldn’t wait to use it. I could blow a half dozen eggs! Maybe start with one. Rachel included instructions.

The tool consists of a pointy piece on a rubber bulb and a separate narrow metal stick. The pointy piece is a drill, not a punch; you rotate it to make the holes. You use the stick to stir things up inside the shell. Then you put the pointy part back into the hole and squeeze the bulb to blow the egg stuff out. Don’t squeeze too hard or too fast, Rachel warned, or you might blow out the egg. Apparently this is not a dramatic explosion with shell and egg everywhere. Still, I was glad it did not happen to me (this time).

A little surprised, too. I got really tired of pumping patiently. I’d stir it again, shake it some more, try the water thing. Eventually a blob of white made itself seen.

Well, I won’t sit here and describe every pump, stir and shake, but I will say it took longer than expected. I might also mention that the egg was to form part of my supper and I was HUNGRY! Still, it worked. It really, really worked. I did a little dance while the egg cooked.

I was very happy with my egg blowing tool, and very grateful to Rachel for sending it. Perhaps after the show I will look into doing some artsy-craftsy things with egg shells, so I can continue to put it to good use.

Shout Out to Symeon’s

I mentioned briefly having lunch at Symeon’s on Saturday. I thought I’d write a little more about them today, in the interests of plugging a local business that is well worth the praise.

Symeon’s, located at 4941 Commercial Dr., Yorkville, NY, is a family run Greek restaurant that has been in business for a number of years. When I worked in New Hartford (which is like, right next to Yorkville, for people unfamiliar with the area), I would treat myself to lunch there when the opportunity arose. Now that I work in Ilion, the opportunities are fewer, so I was delighted when Phyllis fell in with my suggestion to have lunch there.

Actually, “fell in with” is kind of a… what’s the opposite of exaggeration? It turns out Phyllis is just as big a fan of Symeon’s as I am. It didn’t really surprise me: lots of people love Symeon’s I was a little worried we’d have to wait for a table (worth the wait, but I was hungry). However, we were seated with no problem in one of the three dining rooms. The three dining rooms make for a cozy atmosphere and a quieter one than what you find in places with one big dining room.

We both ordered the Souvlaki Platter, which comes with a basket of warm flat bread. I asked for extra yoghurt sauce, to dip the bread in. Love that Greek yoghurt sauce. When my sister eats at Symeon’s, she almost always orders the Calimarakia (known as kalamari at other places), which is some of the best I’ve ever eaten. The Thracian chicken is good, too, and their soup is yummy, although Souvlaki is what I order most often. We did not order dessert, but I’ve had their chocolate mousse, which is excellent.

The service was very good, too. When our waitress was moved to another section, she brought her replacement over to the table and introduced her. I thought that was classy.

I had not eaten at Symeon’s in a long time, because, as I mentioned, I don’t get to the area as often. I’ll have to make more of an effort in the future, because, yum.

For more information on Symeon’s call 315-736-4074, visit their website at www.symeons.com, or Like them on Facebook.

This Is Why I Don’t Plan Anything!

Plans don’t work. You decide you’re going to do something, it’s a really good idea, it’s going to make your life easier, you are so smart to think of it, yes, YOU HAVE A PLAN!

And then it doesn’t work.

For example, today. You see, I have a bear of a week ahead of me, because our play, Dirty Work at the Crossroads at Ilion Little Theatre is bearing down on me like, well, like a locomotive with me tied to the tracks. No, I don’t get tied to the railroad tracks in this play, don’t get your hopes up for me being pulverized by the 6:15! But I have a lot to do, and a lot I would like to get done. I’m a little stressed.

Today I do not have to be at rehearsal. Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday I do. Rehearsals are earlier this week. I still have to exercise, after, you know, working all day (still on ten hour days). And I like to post in my blog every day. I almost put “have to,” but my honesty asserts itself: I don’t have to. I choose to. And since I have chosen to every day for almost two years now, I want to continue to make that choice. So.

I thought, I can write two posts today, then only have to hit “Publish” on Tuesday. I could even get fancy and set it to publish on Tuesday without my further input. All I had to do was write two posts! I even had a topic for one: a shout-out to Symeon’s restaurant. As for the other: it’s Monday! I can do a Middle-aged Musings and have done with! So I dashed off the Symeon’s write up, making myself hungry in the process (love that Greek food).

And stared at a blank page in my notebook during all subsequent break time at work.

I got home, did a few things, ate supper, typed in the Tuesday post, all the while searching my brain for something, anything to muse about for a blog post’s worth. Nothing came to mind. I read a couple other blogs, looked at Facebook, and pondered my fate. Should I just publish the other post and worry about Tuesday on Tuesday? Bad idea. I won’t have time to type in squat if I exercise. Skip exercise, since I worked out today? Bad idea, because I may have to also skip Wednesday. Wrist to Forehead Monday? Well, I guess it is, but, you know, I just had a Wrist to Forehead Sunday.

So now I have written over 400 words about how I am completely unable to write a post for today. The irony is not lost on me. In fact, I feel strangely proud of myself. On to prepare myself for the rest of the week!

Bald Update

I believe I mentioned in a previous post that I have signed up for a St. Baldrick’s Day event in Richfield Springs, NY, on June 2. I’m going to let them shave my head, and I’m supposed to ask people to donate money to help fight children’s cancer.

And there, as they say, is the rub (actually,I think only Hamlet ever said that; the rest of us would probably say “there’s the problem” or “here’s the thing”) (but I digress). I HATE asking people for money! I am a terrible salesperson. I never won a prize for selling the most Girl Scout cookies (this was back in the day when people were not so nutsy-kookoo about Girl Scout cookies) (and when did Girl Scout cookies become such a big thing? That might rate another blog post) (again, I digress).

Wow, lots of digressions in only two paragraphs. It’s because I’m gearing up to post the link to my St. Baldrick’s Day donor website, to see if any of my lovely blog readers might like to make a contribution. Why in the world do I feel so self-conscious about this? I knew I was going to do it. People read my blog. People would like to cure cancer. Posting a way for people to donate is not that big a stretch. In fact, this is a great way to ask people to donate, because it is not face to face. If somebody doesn’t want to donate, they don’t even have to think of an excuse. What a great situation!

Which I will not encounter at work. I’ve been talking about how I am going to be bald and ask folks to donate, and many people have told me they would be glad to give me something. But I just hate the thought of going around with my little envelope and actually asking. I mentioned this to one co-worker. He had just bummed a ponytail holder from me, so it had come up in a conversation.

“I don’t mind getting my head shaved,” I said. “I just hate asking people for money.”

“Oh, I don’t mind asking people for money,” he replied. “I just don’t want to get my head shaved.”

I did not start out writing this post about my dithering over asking for donations. I was going to tell how I went to the website, because I knew there was a place where I could put something personal. I soon found “Message.” They had already put a generic one in: “I have answered the call to be a hero,” it started.

Good God, who would really say a thing like that? “I’m going to be a hero”? For heavens’ sake, it’s just a haircut! Well, you know computer un-savvy me. I had to click around for a while till I figured out how I could change that. Then I had to think of what to put. What I finally came up with at least sounded like something I would say. I may change it later (and probably write another blog post about it).

Be all that as it may, here is the website: http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/mypage/642777/2013. 642777 is my donor number.

And, you know, now that I think about it, it’s Wrist to Forehead Sunday. Why should I not devote a post to dithering about something? I think once again, I may have backed into something appropriate.