Tag Archives: blogging

Sweats On, Bra Off

Sorry folks, but I’m taking my Wrist to Forehead day today instead of Sunday. Look at the time! It’s after 6 o’clock! I should be in my sweats on, bra off, wine drinking, movie watching portion of the day. This is what I look forward to on a Saturday night. Oh, sometimes something more exciting beckons. But this is what I like.

The sad thing is I had a wonderful Mohawk Valley adventure earlier and I wrote over 800 words about it. I could post them as a blog post, but I feel strangely disinclined to do so. Must let the words simmer. They may appear here at a later date.

What I find truly sad here is that my usual finding has been disproved. Usually if I write something, anything, I can just keep writing. I’ve done it here. My first paragraph laments that I have nothing to say, then I go at some length in fact saying something (of varying degrees of interest, I admit, but let’s not begin that argument). Instead, I feel written out. I can find no words to recount any of my recent adventures. I can find no words to poke fun at this malaise. I call that a wrist to forehead situation.

On the brighter side, dinner is in the oven, my husband is home, World’s Dumbest is on the television, and I’ve typed in at least 200 words of this nonsense. I’m going to go put my sweats on.

What’s Wrong with Foolishness, Anyways?

I said I was not going to make any promises about Lame Post Friday and how right I was! At one point I actually thought there was a SLIGHT chance that I MIGHT come up with something not too contemptible to write about, but, well, it didn’t happen. I spent my breaks at work trying to write a letter to my sister and working on crossword and cryptogram puzzles (I’m getting really good at cryptograms) (although perhaps I flatter myself).

In my defense (yes, here I go with the excuses again) (go ahead, shake your head, your finger or your booty; you know the drill), I have suffered from headaches all week. What’s that all about? The changing weather, I suppose. I will add that I feel fortunate that I went a long time with very few headaches and that so far none of them have reached what I think of as nightmare proportions. So much for complaining (my older sister — not the one I was writing the letter to — says the more you complain, the longer God lets you live).

So here I am rattling on, feeling a bit sheepish that I shall post yet more foolishness. Then again, I always say go with your strengths. And once again, a virtue of my silly posts: I try to keep them short.

Not Blankety-Blank Much

Some bloggers only post weekly or three times a week or whenever the spirit hits them. Sometimes I wish I was some bloggers. Other times I feel kind of proud of myself for posting something every day (except for the day the big tree got hit by lightning and the electricity went out till morning; then I was late). I must confess: today is one of the former kind of days.

At least it started that way. I must further confess: as soon as my fingers started typing, the fascination with the blog kicked in again and now I’m thinking, “What can I come up with today?” I’m a little afraid the answer will be, “Not blankety-blank much.” But one must carry on.

In my defense, it is Wuss-out Wednesday (ooh, here’s a Freudian typo: Wuss-pout. I fixed it, though). I know I do a lot of blog posts about not writing a better blog post. I feel guilty about it, but, you know, not guilty enough to stop.

The funny thing is, I worked hard on my blog post yesterday. I tried to write it at work but did not succeed. I typed in the paragraph I had written, then tried to compose a little more, got bogged down, persevered. Several times I thought, “Oh, I can’t do this properly today. I’ll save the draft and write a foolish post for today, then fix it tomorrow.” But I had a rehearsal to get to and not much confidence in my ability to be amusing in a foolish post.

I can hear the nay-sayers now, saying (in addition to “nay”), “About that… you’re not being particularly amusing today, now, are you?”

I reply that I do not think that is a very nice thing to say. Stick to a simple “Nay” if you must. Or practice the art of silence.

The nay-sayer pounces on this: “That’s it! The Art of Silence! That is what you should do! Get on that now!”

I think we all know that is not going to happen. However, in the interests of readers who prefer a more substantive blog post, I will endeavor NOT to have Non-Sequitur Thursday this week.

About Lame Post Friday, I make no promises.

Middle-aged Musings on Age

How fortunate that I have back pain today. Yesterday (and the day before) I blamed my difficulty writing on my sinus headache. It led me to wonder if other kinds of pain were better or worse to write under. Who knew I would get a chance to find out so soon?

Well, I guess I knew I’d get a chance. Middle-age has been hitting me with both barrels lately. You know that expression, “Live fast, die young and make a good-looking corpse.” I apparently did not live fast enough to die young, yet not slow enough to age gracefully. Then again, when have I ever done anything gracefully? (For those of you not well-acquainted with me, the answer is almost never.)

Before you all conclude that I am an unmitigated kvetch, I’d like to just say I am laughing at myself. I don’t mind being 50. I think it’s kind of fun. I like my grey hair. I’m hoping to experience some of them there hot flashes this winter when my place of employment gets really cold. I can’t say I’m nuts about the extreme difficulty in losing weight, but you can’t have everything.

Earlier today I said to a co-worker, “Getting old ain’t for sissies. I like saying that. It makes me feel bad-ass for having back pain.”

So here is my Monday Middle-aged Musing for the week: yes, I can write a blog post with back pain.

Brain, Where Are Your Now?

Here we are, on another Wrist to Forehead Sunday, and I have a bad case of type it in, backspace it out. It’s worse than Writer’s Block, not as bad as Writer’s Blank. One must count one’s blessings after all.

I feel my brain has been deserting me lately. Part of the problem is the changing weather. Sinus pain is kind of hard to think around. It’s too close to the brain. Hmmm, now I’m asking myself: can I really write better with back pain, stomach pain, foot pain, pains in the ass? Must do a study. First bit of information: not easy to write with sinus pain. I’ll make a note of that. Maybe start a new Pain Notebook and get all scientific about it.

Be that as it may, I need to type in something I can publish today. Incidentally, I’m not in sinus pain right now. However, I conquered the pain with a decongestant, which dopes me out. It’s kind of fascinating, this spacey, light-headed feeling. But not easy to write.

I did write a little bit today: I finished a letter and wrote two postcards. As you may guess, that did not involve a lot of words. And I’m not convinced they were particularly memorable words. Still, with personal mail, you can get away with that. You know the recipient will be happy just to get real mail. If it’s any good to read, that’s just gravy.

And now I see I am over 200 words. Phew! I can get back to my Sunday, which will involve the viewing of Halloween movies. Happy October, everyone!

A Day in the Life of Me

Alas, it is another Saturday without Saturday Running Commentary. I did not even take a walk with Tabby or write post cards to walk to the post office with. It was pouring rain and I had a sinus headache. I must say I felt rather ill-used about it, because I have had one every day this week (headache, not rain. I don’t mind the rain). At least, I don’t know if it’s sinuses. It could be a migraine or tension or cluster or just a common or garden headache. IT DOESN’T MATTER!

In light of my aches and pains, I will offer a brief summary of my day’s activities. I had some coffee and took a hot shower in hopes of alleviating the headache. I know there are also drugs for these things, but I have indifferent success with those so only use them as a last resort.

I spoke on the phone with my mother, one sister and my friend Phyllis. I almost always talk to Mom on a Saturday. I talked to my sister to get some feedback on whether or not I should have a Halloween party this year (probably not). I hoped Phyllis would accompany me to an exhibit opening at Mohawk Valley Center for the Arts in Little Falls (she was busy).

I felt I should try to do something blogworthy in spite of my headache, so I went to a rummage sale going on at Christ Episcopal Church in Herkimer. This is where I go to church, when I go to church, so I knew some of the ladies there. They told me I should return at 11 for the Blessing of the Animals (I didn’t, which is too bad, because I could have written a blog post about it).

I looked all around the sale. I was hoping to find some clothes suitable for ragging up to be my Third Witch costume for the scene from MacBeth I am in later this month. I purchased a purple graduation gown for a person 5′ 8″ to 6′. I don’t imagine I will use it as a witch, but if I do have a Halloween party, can’t you just picture Steven as the One-Eyed One-Horned Flying Purple People Eater?

Returning home, my headache was no better. I thought, black and white movie, cup of hot tea, sit on the couch and crochet the day away. I chose Dementia 13, part of a collection of Horror Classics. I’ve seen it before, but there were many parts I did not remember. I paused it when Steven came home for lunch.

After Steven returned to work and I watched the rest of the movie, I changed my shoes and once again ventured out. For one thing, I had to pick up a prescription. I also got a decongestant. I don’t remember what kind, but I had to bring a card to the pharmacist for it. I haven’t taken any yet.

Then I thought, oh what the hell, and went to Little Falls. It was a nice drive down Route 5S, although with less rain I could have appreciated the colored leaves more. I had a lovely time at the exhibit opening. I intend to write a blog post about it (preview of coming attractions).

Before returning home, I stopped at the grocery store. I had neglected to bring the list with me with the result that I remembered everything except dog treats. Tabby was nevertheless happy to see me when I returned home (she isn’t completely out of treats anyways). My headache had subsided but not left completely. I determined to write my blog post while debating the comparative merits of coffee, tea and wine.

And that bring us to the present time. I think now I will compile a list of all my activities in the last week or so that I intend to write a better blog post about. Or I will watch another horror movie and crochet some more. I hope you’re all enjoying your Saturday.

Blame the Red Cross

I was afraid this would happen. You see, there was a blood drive at work today. I gave blood, because I wanted to save a life. And now I feel awful.

Since I was afraid of this happening, I tried to plan ahead. I tried to write something before work, so I would only have to type it in. I was even going to keep it short. It was very short. I only got to the second paragraph and ran out of steam. I couldn’t do a thing with it.

Given how tired and stupid I felt, one might have suggested I refrain from giving away a pint of blood. Given how after every time I’ve given blood in the last three years I’ve felt quite awful, one might have suggested that I refrain from giving any more away. But still, I wanted to save a life.

And now I think I am being unbearably pretentious. I saved a life today. I felt awful after doing it, but I did it anyways. Didn’t that sound smug? Oh dear, how embarrassing. I don’t mean to sound smug. I don’t mean to sound any way at all. I’m just sitting here with my head spinning (although at a slower rate than previously; these things do get better), typing away, trying to get to 200 words so I can go one more day of making a blog post.

Well, as I said parenthetically, these things do get better. Tomorrow I am going to write a good blog post! I hope somebody will still be reading.

Fool for Thought

Wrist to Forehead Sunday morphs painfully into Middle-aged Musings Monday. Well, I’m still middle-aged, but I don’t have any musings. Instead I have a bad case of “I Can’t Write About THAT!” It is paralyzing.

Ah, but perhaps I could go on for a paragraph or two about the feeling that one “can’t” write about something.

Some writers feel you should be able to write about anything at any time. We won’t deal with those annoying overachievers (and they are mostly “do as I say, not as I do” anyways). However, there is also the school of thought that the things you find scary to write about are the very things you ought to be writing about. That is where your passion and your energies lie.

Perhaps it is so. Perhaps if I wrote about my innermost thoughts and feelings I would come up with something really powerful and moving. Or I might just sound like a fool. Oh wait, I do that anyways (some of you were about to say that, if you didn’t actually beat me to it)(you know who you are).

Another school of thought says you must wait until you are ready to write about some things. Ernest Hemingway deals with this school of thought in A Moveable Feast. Only I can’t remember quite how he puts it and I’ve lost my copy of the book (yes, here’s the part where I sound like a fool). Something to the effect that he can write about this other place when he is in Paris and later on he will be able to write about Paris (yes, I did sound like a fool. Damn).

I’m afraid my reasons for not wanting to write about the things I’m not writing about today are not so writerly (I’m sure that is a word, although my computer says not). I don’t want to write about the things I mentioned earlier because, well, quite frankly, I’m afraid they would be boring. Or tiresome. Or stupid.

Oh dear, I hope what I did write was not boring, tiresome or stupid. It was foolish, you say? Oh well, I guess I can live with that.

What Is This Thing You Call Subtance?

And what’s wrong with Wrist to Forehead Sunday anyways, I’d like to know. Why shouldn’t I spend one day distressing over the fact that I can’t write a post? Oh, I know. In the first place, I know that there are many days when I have a hard time writing a post, not just once a week. And I know that SOME bloggers are able to write posts of substance every time they choose to sit down at the keyboard (and I would be happy to be directed to any of those lucky bums’ websites) (I don’t imagine I would be able to follow their good example, but I would SO admire to see it).

I can’t say it is a really distressful day, actually. I woke up with a headache, which of course is never pleasant. However, I took my dog for a walk, did the dishes and made two salads. How’s that for productive? I’ve been re-reading an Agatha Christie murder mystery. That is pleasant and educational. You can learn a lot about plotting and hiding clues by re-reading the masters.

Have I done any writing this weekend? Um, that is kind of an awkward question. Have I had any Mohawk Valley adventures that I could write posts about in the upcoming week? Mmmmm… still awkward. Can I offer any justification to my continued use of oxygen on this planet? Ah, a half-baked philosophical question worthy of Lame Post Friday!

In fact, it seems I cling to my Wrist to Forehead Sunday even more than my Lame Post Friday. Is the angst of the end of the weekend more powerful than the exuberance of the beginning of same? More half-baked philosophy to consider.

However, I see than I am over 200 words. I shall return to enjoying the end of my weekend (really, I strive to savor every minute) (I get some enjoyment out of the week, too, never fear). I look forward to a delightful upcoming week when PERHAPS I will come up with more posts of this so-called substance.

I hope you are all enjoying your Sunday.

Never Mind Those Petty Complaints!

Saturday Running Commentary is BACK! Yes! I ran this morning! It was awesome!

OK, it wasn’t really awesome, but it didn’t suck. That puts it in the Win column. I got up around 5:30, when I had expected to sleep in till six. I hadn’t put out running clothes but I knew right where they were. I got into them and out the door before I could talk myself out of it.

I wore my reflective vest, because sunrise wasn’t for another hour. I had on shorts and t-shirt, because my thermostat said it was 51 degrees outside. Just a couple of days ago we had frost warnings, but you’ll have that this time of year. Off I went. It didn’t feel too cold. I headed down German Street. It was the direction I most often take, but I reflected that it couldn’t feel too familiar since I had not been running in almost two weeks (HAS it been that long? I am not inclined to look at a calendar and figure it out).

The nice thing about returning to running is that you can do a short, easy run and not feel guilty about it. I know, some of you probably think I should feel guilty about returning to running and not keeping it up to begin with. I maintain that regret is a colossal waste of time. I was not there to worry about the past! I was there to further my weight-loss goals and perhaps get a blog post out of it.

And my legs were not happy with me. They have felt rather awful lately. When I took Tabby for a walk last night all my legs wanted to do was stretch out along the couch or bed and lie still. I kept it up for a decent amount of time anyways. It didn’t kill me.

I got near Valley Health and considered running up the hill. I decided against it. I would keep going for at least 20 minutes but not necessarily try for over 30. I had been running between 33 and 38 minutes the last few times I ran but I was doing the begin again thing this morning. Also, I intended to take at least one good long walk with Tabby later, so I would be getting some exercise.

About ten minutes into the run, my legs started to feel not so bad. They still weren’t happy with me, but at least they were less vocal in their complaints. I told myself I could rock this, but it was more intellectual knowledge than physical confidence. Still, I kept going and that’s the important thing.

I noticed more houses with lights on than I usually see at 3:30 in the morning, so that was nice. Still a lot of dark windows. Lucky bums sleeping in. I turned down Prospect Street rather than going to Main. I’ve mentioned Main Street’s “reputation.” I’ve never encountered anything untoward during daylight hours, though, so I will probably run down it in the dark one day soon, just to feel bad-ass.

I saw a person up ahead of me pushing a grocery cart. What was that all about? Maybe some homeless person collecting bottles and cans? He crossed the street and I thought I saw him head towards somebody’s trash can. I didn’t look too closely. I don’t need to get into a fight with a guy pushing a shopping cart. I turned down the first side street I came to. That worked out, because I entered where a sign said, “Do Not Enter.” You know how I love to be a rebel.

A glance at my watch told me I would not surpass 20 minutes if I went home from here, so I went by my street and on for a couple more blocks. I heard voices before I turned left. Who was that? Three young kids walking down the street. How to feel middle-aged and dumb: run on the sidewalk in a reflective vest while three kids (they might have been teenagers or early 20s) walk down the middle of the road three abreast wearing dark clothes. They ignored me, to which I did not take offense.

I ended up running for 26 minutes. The cool down walk around the block with Tabby felt better than the run, but my legs complained about that, too. Yes, I said they stopped complaining but neglected to mention when they started up again. I guess there’s no point in paying too much attention to petty complaints.