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Philosophical Thoughts on a Dead End Run

I am on the penultimate day of my factory shut-down (I don’t like to call it vacation, because it wasn’t my idea to take this week off) (incidentally, I love the word penultimate), and I have had a grand week of running.  Today makes the ninth day in a row I ran.  Both Wednesday and today I made up my mind not to run, sat down had coffee, went about enjoying my morning, then ran anyways.  I feel pretty damn pleased about that too.  I was about to make my usual Wrist to Forehead Sunday post when I thought, why not mix it up a little with a Running Commentary instead.  It’s been a few hours since the actual run, but I think I can remember the highlights.

My first plan had been to run up the hill to Herkimer College (which I still often call H-triple-C).  However, as I approached the end of my street, I saw a pair of runners running in that direction.  Of course I didn’t KNOW they were headed for the college.  Still, I did not want to follow them even for a little ways.  For one reason, they were running in the road and I run on the sidewalk.  I suppose these things shouldn’t bother me, but what did it hurt that I ran in the opposite direction?  Not me.

It was actually a little better.  Yesterday I ran up a longer, almost as steep hill out Steuben Street, and today I wanted to up my run time by the recommended 10 percent, so I thought a fairly flat run might feel good.  As it happened, I went up a few minor hills, so everything was delightful.

I decided to do my Dead End Run.  That is when I run up and down the dead end streets off German Street.  I began by running up Main Street then over and down the nice path over the former hydraulic canal.  Technically, I should have gone up another block to the end of Main Street, which is a dead end up a rather steep hill.  But then I would not have turned around, because pedestrians can continue past the end.  From there I could have continued up, but there is no sidewalk and it was getting later in the morning.  More traffic could be expected.  Anyways, I had decided on a flattish run.

As I ran, I reflected on the philosophical aspects of the Dead End Run (usually half-baked philosophy from me).  One might think it could be depressing:  this is metaphorical; my life is a dead end.  But as I ran, I realized it was not true.  I have had dead end jobs, been in dead end relationships and worked on many dead end writing projects.  However, none of them were a waste of time.  You can always learn something from any experience, even one that does not end well (some would argue “especially from one that does not end well,” but I am disinclined for argument this afternoon).

The first lesson I learned, on the first dead end I ran down, was that a dead end is not always a dead stop.  At the end of my first dead end street (one that was not off German Street, by the way), there is a little space a pedestrian can go through and be on a regular road.  So a dead end is not always as bleak as it seems; you don’t always have to just turn around and go back.  But even turning around and going back is not all bad.  For example, by running up and down dead end streets, I am getting exercise.  I was also entertaining myself by looking around at the houses and by composing my blog post in my head.  I get ideas for my own porch, garden and yard.  I think of ideas for stories by pondering what sort of people live in the places I see.

It is likewise with dead end jobs and relationships.  They can be educational, occasionally entertaining, and give one lots of ideas for stories.

I felt quite pleased with my thoughts this morning.  I think I even remembered the best ones for inclusion here.  At least I have gotten a blog post of respectable length out of it.  As for the run, I completed 45 minutes, as I had set out to do. I plan to run again tomorrow.  Then I’ll do some major fist pumping and say, “Yes! Yes! Ten days!” and if I run up the hill to the college I’ll say, “Yeah, I’m bad!”

 

Spunky Start to Scattered Saturday

How about a Scattered Saturday instead of a Slacker Saturday.  I think I could manage a brief re-cap of today’s activities.  I have quite a headache currently, sorry to complain, and I really just feel like sitting here and chilling.  However, I like to make a blog post every day, and I do not want to put off making today’s any longer.  I know, I know, enough with the excuses, get on with the post.  OK, I will.

Our dog Spunky barked at 5:01 this morning.  I looked at the clock.  For once I let Steven keep sleeping a little longer and got up to take Spunky for his first business meeting of the day.  I got dressed in running clothes, so I could go for my run right after.  I have run eight days in a row.  That may be a record for me.  A little later I wrote some postcards and walked to the post office with Spunky.  Spunky doesn’t seem to like long walks, but he can make it to the post office and back.

By noon I was headed to my sister Cheryl’s house for more adventures.  My sister Vicki was in town, along with her husband and offspring, and Vicki had not yet been to the So Sweet Candy Cafe, which is owned by her great childhood friend, Margaret.  I, of course, am always up for another visit to a candy shop.  I purchased a few treats while I was there.  Vicki and Margaret had a nice if brief visit.

After leaving the So Sweet, we walked down Varick Street to the Mohawk Valley Winery.  We tasted some wine and, yes, I purchased a bottle.  We were disappointed to find out we needed to make an appointment to tour the Adirondack Distilling Company.  I said we must make an appointment for next time.

Next we drove to Clinton and went into a number of wonderful little shops.  My only purchase was at the Adirondack Cheese Company, but I will certainly return to the other stores when I have a little more cash to spend.

Perhaps as the week goes on, I can write longer blog posts about some of my Scattered Saturday activities.  For now, I’m going to nurse my stupid head and hang out with my nice dog.  I hope you’re all having a lovely Saturday.

 

Zen and the Art of Lame Post Friday

Friday just is.

And explanation of that first sentence.   I was about to write a complete sentence then thought, “Oh hell, I’ll just make my blog post later.”  I didn’t realize WordPress had saved it till I logged back in and saw I had an untitled draft.  Naturally I clicked Edit.  At first it looked as if WordPress had saved a blank screen, and I said, “How appropriate.”   Then the above sentence fragment appeared, and I kind of liked it.

The second paragraph was composed on our tablet, you know, one letter at a time with the stylus, till the word I want appears above the keyboard.

Now I’m back on the laptop.  Aaahhhh…  I still don’t have anything to say, but it sure is a lot quicker to ramble on. The first sentence was going to be a reflection that Friday is different when it is the end of a vacation week.  Then I thought, well, duh. I have spent most of today reminding myself that this is still a three day weekend for me.  If I had worked all week and was at the beginning of a three day weekend, I’d be pretty damn happy, wouldn’t I?  Well, then.

So  I am reasonably content with my lot in life tonight.  Three more days till I return to the beastly grind, which, as I may have said, is not particularly beastly nor even grind-like.  I am actually feeling kind of zen about it.  I guess somebody who knows a lot about zen would tell me I am misusing the expression quite disgracefully. I did read a book about zen once:  Zen and the Art of Archery, I think it was, no idea who wrote it.  My cello teacher recommended it to me. She was kind of a weirdo, although I remember being quite impressed with her when I was a high school student.

What I mean by “feeling kind of zen” is, the first sentence sounds oddly appropriate to me.  Then again, perhaps the blank screen would have been better.  Discuss amongst yourselves.  I must get back to enjoying my three day weekend.

 

Me and the Bard

Well, it has been  while since I made a flying post before hurrying off to a rehearsal, hasn’t it?  If I wasn’t such a theatre junky, it would be longer yet.  What the blankety-blank was I thinking, saying I would be in a play?  Oh yeah, I like to be in a play.  And it is so flattering to be asked.  And I really, truly have a difficult time saying no.

Be all that as it may, I am sitting in my living room, typing on the laptop and sipping iced coffee, and debating what best to do.  To update anybody just tuning in, or regular readers who have forgotten, I am to play the Friar in Little Falls Theatre Company’s production of Much Ado About Nothing.  The first rehearsal for my character is tonight.  I have been learning my lines from a Yale Shakespeare copy of the play.  I had been going to use my Complete Works of Shakespeare, but I foolishly misplaced it.  How does one misplace a large yellow book, you may ask.  What can I say, I have unusual talents.

Two friends came to my rescue when I lamented the loss on Facebook.  One sent me a link to the Complete Works online.  The other had a collection of the plays, each play its own little volume, that she no longer wanted.  While we made arrangements for me to get the books, I logged onto the link and got started.  I have been looking at the lines almost every day since.

As I feared, learning Shakespeare is not as easy as learning other lines.  For one reason, a couple of my speeches run a little long.  For another reason, well, you know, Shakespeare.  I love Shakespeare.  When I read a Shakespeare play, my brain (or is it my soul?) gives in a little sigh of contentment.  But memorizing it is just a trifle more difficult than regular old dialogue.  I say this not in a complaining spirit but in a little embarrassment that I do not yet know my lines.  I like to learn my lines right away.

It really is no matter though.  Also, it is no matter than I have been out in the sunshine all day having Mohawk Valley adventures.  Tired?  Ha!  No brain for learning lines?  Ha!  The show must go on!  Rehearsal will be fun!  And I have written a blog post.  I am not entirely satisfied with my title, but then again, this is Non-Sequitur Thursday.  It will have to do.

 

Run… Write… Now, Adventures!

After yesterday’s writing fiasco, I thought I should try writing first thing in the morning.  Then I ran first thing this morning.  I LOVE running in the morning.  I am sorry to report that I did not rush straight to pen or computer as soon a I had stretched and showered (I suppose some of you would have written when you were still sweaty and stinky or even before you ran at all, but I am not in competition with you) (you know who you are).  Nonetheless, it is still prior to 9 a.m., and I don’t need to start today’s Mohawk Valley adventures for yet a little while.

All this by way of introduction to today’s Running Commentary.

Today is the fourth day in a row I went running.  Yay me!  Yesterday afternoon when I took Spunky for a little walk,  I actually thought I would like to go for another run.  I did nothing so reckless but was happy to put on my sports bra and sneakers (yes, I wore other stuff as well, sorry if I gave you an unfortunate mental image) (but not real sorry) this morning and get going.

I carried a bottle of water.  I don’t really like carrying anything when I run, but I feared to become dehydrated.  Additionally, I planned to run in the direction of the spring and knew I could get a refill.  I have another awkward situation these days as well, because my wrist watch has become a waist watch.  That is, the band broke so I fasten it to my waistband with a safety pin.  When I run I tuck it into my bicycle shorts, so it doesn’t bounce.

My legs felt like they wanted a challenge, but I knew they would change their minds as I ran. I really should have written a Running Commentary about a previous run.  I had been going to run up to the college the front way, changed my mind three or four times and ended up running up the kick-butt way.  I had no intention of getting my butt kicked today.  Steven and I have adventures planned.

I noticed how German Street curves upward, especially on the side of it I was on.  I told myself that at least I was doing some uphill work.  It is not a particularly steep incline, though.  I ran up the hill by Valley Health, meaning to go on into what I call the suburbs, where I knew there are several hills of various grades.  I took a street I don’t usually run on and went from there.  Far from another uphill, this street looked as if it dropped off the face of the earth up ahead.  I prefer to run uphill for steep slopes, downhill on gradual slopes.  Luckily there was a left I could take.  This run was going fine.

Oh dear, was that a garbage truck up ahead?  It is garbage day in Herkimer.  The truck was a block or so ahead of me.  Which way was he going?  Was he moving at all?  Shouldn’t he be moving by now?  He was moving very slowly.  I’m not clear here on whether “he” refers to the driver or I was anthropomorphizing the truck (using “he” to mean “he or she,” so don’t ding me for sexism).  Then I realized it was not a garbage truck at all but the street cleaner.

I spent a good part of the rest of the run trying to avoid the street cleaner, an interesting occupation in that area, since none of the streets come out where I expect them to.  At one point I looked through some yards to see I was running parallel to the cleaner and not going a whole lot faster than he was.  How mortifying.  I took a couple of hills, admired several of the houses, especially the screened in porches, and kept sipping my water till it was gone.

After a wrong turn or two, I thought I was headed back toward Lou Ambers Drive and the spring.  Suddenly I found myself back on German Street, beyond where the sidewalk was.  Oh dear, cars go along this stretch very fast.  Luckily it was still early enough that there was no traffic.  I only had to go a block or so left side facing traffic (of course) to get to Valley Health, where there is a sidewalk.  I ran up the hill again.  I had never run up that side of Valley Health, so I felt pretty cool doing it now.

About this time I realized my legs felt warm and supple.  I was so rocking this run!  Soon I was headed towards Lou Ambers Drive, knowing for a change exactly where I was.  I realized that I was in shape for the DARE 5K in August.  That run, you may recall, goes up the hill to Herkimer College.  I love that run.  I thought to myself perhaps I could not rock that run right now, but I could at least run it.  And I  have almost two months more in which I can get in shape to rock it, yes!

I was mighty pleased with my run, and pretty pleased with myself for composing a real blog post thus early in the morning.  What wonderful things will I accomplish with the rest of my day?  I’ll be sure to write blog posts about them.

 

Facial Reflections on a Monday

A couple of day ago, I typed part of a post in on (in on?  Is that right?) our tablet.  I lamented the difficulty of typing one letter at a time with the stylus, although it was kind of a fun game as well.  Today I post with a different difficulty.  I am sitting on my front porch and it seems the ambient light (I simply adore the word “ambient”) is not conducive. Superimposed on my computer screen is the wall of my house, a little bit of window, the mailbox, and my own ugly face.  Oh, I guess some people do not find it ugly.  Actually, my hair looks kind of cool.  But I digress.

I was determined that this shall not be another week of I Got Nuthin’ (ooh, just flashed on the song from Porgy and Bess, “I Got Plenty o’ Nothin'”).  For one reason, I am off work.  What else do I have to do but have Mohawk Valley adventures and write about them? Oh well, I guess a few things.  Laundry, finishing the banana play, learning my lines for Much Ado About Nothing, a few other assorted household chores… Ah, here we come to a truism of the Writing Life.  There are always things to do other than writing.

For example, what have I done today?  I took a lovely run, hung out with my husband till he had to go to stupid work, did several loads of laundry, including folding most of them, talked to my mother and one sister on the phone, started a letter to a friend (ooh! that was writing!), took the dog for two walks (three if you count the cool-down after my run) ,did the dishes… um, I think that was all.  Oh, all right I took a nap.  What’s your point?

The whole time I felt a dreadful resistance to writing.  This may have been pure laziness, and I tried to be firm with myself.  All I could manage was said letter to friend.  And how silly am I being?  If I truly could not progress on the banana play, I could have done a Running Commentary, a Pedestrian Post about either or both of the dog walks, or even a Preview of Coming Attractions about what I intend to do tomorrow and for the rest of the week.

And yet, here I sit, looking at my own face and getting eyestrain trying to see the words around it and just, well, typing.  The good thing is that my husband has now joined me.  I’ll read him what I have so far and see if he thinks it is OK and perhaps can help me think of a title.

 

Another Slack, Another Shout

Last Saturday I made a post called Slacker to Shout-out, and I fear today’s post is more of the same.  I didn’t feel bad all day, but I had zero ambition.  I went running first thing, and it was a pretty good run.  I could have done a Running Commentary, but I plan to run every day in the coming week.  How many Running Commentaries can I do?  Silly me, I should have just done the first one and worried about the rest of the week as it comes.

I know, I know, just write it now.  Too late, I’ve already started a Slacker post.  Stay with me till I get to the shout-out.  Or don’t; it’s still a free country.

After my run I wrote a few post cards.  That was fun.  I was glad I got to it as I had not sent out cards last weekend.  Spunky nicely walked to the post office with me to mail them.  It was getting quite warm out by the time we got back home, and then I kind of fell apart.  I thought of all the house work or writing chores I could do, but all I did was look at Facebook then read a murder mystery.  I don’t read nearly as much fiction as I used to.  I miss it.

The one thing I managed to do was plant flowers in one container for my deck garden.  Then it got too hot for me.  Scorn me if you like, but I am sensitive to heat, especially with bright sunshine.  I’ll try to get out earlier tomorrow and finish the job.  For one reason, we might be having some people over.

Oh look, here I am approaching 300 words and I haven’t got to the shout-out yet.  We sent out to Carney’s Corners for dinner: a chicken salad sub and red potato salad.  Ooh, was it ever good!  I have to step up my own chicken salad recipe.  I also had some chocolate ice cream while I was writing this (between paragraphs three and four, in case you’re interested).  As I said in a post earlier this week, When in Doubt, Eat Ice Cream.

So I see I have given two shout-outs to myself as well as one to a local business.  Carney’s Corners is located at 232 Washington St., Herkimer, NY, phone number 315-866-7191.  My blog is located… oh, I guess you know that.  I guess I really am slacking.

 

Waitin’ on a Friend

That is a really good song by the Rolling Stones, and I have been thinking about it since I got home from work because, well, we are.  Waiting on a friend, that is.  Our friend Tracy is coming to spend the night before going on to further adventures that do not include us (said with just a little bit of miff).  We hope she gets here soon.

So right off the bat I have blown Non-Sequitur Thursday, because my headline and lead paragraph totally agree.  Also, the rest of the post will probably be about waiting for Tracy, because, quite frankly, I got nuthin’ else.  If I was the intellectual powerhouse I like to imagine myself, I could write a real literary masterpiece invoking Waiting for Godot.  Oh, who am I kidding?  I don’t even imagine myself an intellectual powerhouse.  Most of the time.

We were hoping Tracy would make it here a little earlier, so we could go out for dinner.  We had several choices in mind.  In Herkimer we could have gone to PK’s Pub, which Tracy has enjoyed with us before.  She has never been to Jamo’s, another favorite destination of ours.  She went to Crazy Otto’s Empire Diner when it was just the Empire Diner, under different management.  If she felt like taking a ride to Little Falls, we could have gone to the Copper Moose Ale House or the Happen Inn Sports Bar.  If she had been here earlier yet, we could have stopped at Fall Hill Bead and Gems, which I am sure Tracy would love.

Now I see I am over 250 words.  A reference to a Stones song, brief update on me (one of my favorite things to write about),  and a shout-out to a few local businesses.  If Tracy gets here soon and we do something fun, perhaps I can write about it for tomorrow’s post.  If not, I’ll have to have Lame Post Friday.  As always, I hope you’ll stay tuned.

 

Who, Me, Multi-Task?

It is a well-known fact that I do not have my act together.  I don’t even pretend to have my act together.  Anybody who thinks I have now or have ever at any point in my life had my act together is deluded.  Anybody with half a brain who is paying the slightest bit of attention knows: I’m a mess.

This is not to say I have no hopes of ever getting my act together.  On the contrary, I keep thinking I might.  Some days I would settle for having the various parts of my act on the same continent — oh, hell, the same planet!  Where was I going with this?

I suppose it is an introduction to another Wuss-out Wednesday post.

I did some writing earlier today, while on breaks at work.  It was on the banana play.  I got a marvelous inspiration for the plot, but I dare not say a word about it.  If you talk too much about these things you lose all impetus to write them, although sometimes the urge to talk about them is overwhelming.  For one reason, I feel so clever and pleased with myself, I almost admire my ideas as a thing entirely separate from myself and my not inconsiderable ego (when it comes to writing anyways).  I generously desire to give others the opportunity to admire (yes, quite a large ego when it comes to writing).

OK, I’ll admit it, the other reason to refrain from telling people my brilliant ideas is the quite reasonable fear that other people will not find them, or by extension me, as brilliant.

Getting back to my day, I made not one, not two but THREE stops on my way home from work.  I picked up two pairs of shoes that had been repaired at Melfe’s in Ilion, also dropping off another pair for the same repair.  I had waited far too long since Melfe’s called to tell me the repairs were done, but the people at Melfe’s were very nice about it.  I also stopped at a big-box store to purchase some yarn and a couple of other items.  My third stop was by Curves, not to exercise but to drop off an afghan I am donating to a friend who has a team walking in the Sitrin’s Stars and Strips Run/Walk.  She intends to raffle it for fundraising purposes.

As I reached home I felt I did not want to — was not capable of — accomplishing all that I had wanted to.  I was impressed enough with myself that I had made my stops. Surely I could sit down for a while.  Long story short (I know, too late), I didn’t.  I walked our dog, Spunky (I was always going to do THAT, however tired and stupid I felt).  Then I changed into workout clothes and put a load of laundry into the washer.  While the washer ran, I ran in place on the mini-tramp.  Spunky stared at me for a while, apparently waiting to see if there was any point in my gyrations.  When he couldn’t figure it out, he went and laid down on the couch.

After a short run (so boring, even with the television on!), I put the laundry into the dryer, bringing the non-drierables upstairs to hang on the bars.  Then I took my shower, put on comfy clothes and went down to the kitchen to fix dinner.  It took a while to get stuff chopped and into the pot, but soon it was simmering and I could get on the computer to check my email and Facebook notifications.

The point of this long, dull post (I hope not too dull) is, I guess, that even though I did not write a good blog post during the course of the day, I got a few things done.  I thought of that headline earlier, before I got around to composing this post.  I’m not sure it really fits, but it will have to do.  We’ll consider it a little Non-Sequitur Thursday creeping in early.  I’m sure ready to move on to the end of the week.

 

Further Analysis on a Silly Song

I confess that I like my own writing.  I don’t care to look at my face in the mirror or in pictures, I sure as hell don’t want to hear my voice on a tape recorder (does anybody even use tape recorders any more?), video of me? Yikes!  But to go back and read previous blog posts, I find that kind of fun.  One of my all time favorites of my own blog was called “I’ll Say the Lights Went Out.”  It was about one of the all time dumbest popular songs: “The Night the Lights Went out in Georgia.”  As you see, I put a link back to it, in case anyone is interested in reading it.

That post and the song that inspired it were brought back to my mind a few days ago with an “On This Day” post on Facebook.  I had thought of something that explained the whole song.  You’ll need to know the song for the rest of this post to make sense, by the way.  And the more I think about it, the more I think,  THAT’S IT!!!

The narrator was in love with Andy.  Think about it: it’s the only way things make sense.  She killed the wife first, in hopes Andy would turn to her.  That’s why she hid the body and made it seem that the wife had left town.  It is unlikely that Andy was the kinky sort who would fall for his lover’s murderer, although I guess you never know.  We already figured Andy was not the brightest star, even given Georgia’s dark firmament.

Furthermore, Little Sister no doubt blamed her brother for the whole Andy/Cheating Wife hook-up.  After all, if Brother would have been a better husband, Wife would not have strayed and Andy would have been available.  This, of course,  accounts for her willingness to let Brother take the fall for Andy’s clumsier murder.  IN FACT, and I think of this right now as I type this:  Little Sister probably hurried over to Andy’s and said, “You’ve got to get out of here!  My brother is coming to kill you!”  She figured once she saved his life in this fashion, he would fall into her arms, happy ending, yes.

But, no, Andy spurns her.  He still thinks Cheating Wife left town and will someday return to him.  Little Sister shoots him in a vindictive rage.  In the meantime, Brother is “slipping through the backwoods, quiet as a mouse”  with his heirloom gun with the intention not of killing Andy but of confronting him and demanding the full story, complete with dirty details.  He plans to threaten Andy with the gun, perhaps frighten him and make him pee his pants, then demand to know where Cheating Wife is, because she probably sent her lover a post card.  That explains why he loses his head and “fires a shot” to summon the police.

Ah, it is so satisfying to spin a tale.  What an enjoyable time I have had writing this post.  If only I could use my powers for good.  Thank you for tuning in.