Tag Archives: cold

My Face Didn’t Crack

I thought instead of Non-Sequitur Thursday I could do a Pedestrian Post. For one reason, I had not walked my beloved dog Tabby all week because of the frigid temperatures. I know I do a lot of Pedestrian Posts, but I was hoping an update on Herkimer in mid-January would be acceptable.

The weather cooperated. It was warmer and sunny. I find it ironic that I say warmer rather than warm, because it was not warm. It was less cold. So you see, warmer can mean both more warm and less warm. Just a little digression on the vagaries of the English language.

Tabby was very happy to see me when I got home, as usual. I tried not to let her catch me changing my shoes, because she always takes that as a sign that a walk is imminent. Unfortunately, she found me. OK, I wasn’t very well hidden. I wanted to get on with things. I managed to get her into her harness and we set out.

My thermostat in the house said it was 26 degrees outside. That sounded SO much better than teens and single digits. It wasn’t till we had started walking that I remembered that it is still below freezing. No matter. The sun was shining. We could rock this.

Tabby spent the first two blocks or so pulling me along at a rapid pace. I was pleased to see the sidewalk plow had been by. It still leaves some snow on the sidewalk, which is perfectly OK with me. It takes more effort to walk through snow. I can burn more calories. I soon realized why my legs have been feeling quite awful these last couple of days. It is because I need to walk as much as Tabby does. I crunched along as happily as she.

Soon she began stopping to sniff. It takes her longer to sniff in the winter, I think because the snow obstructs her sense of smell. I looked around the neighborhood as she sniffed. It looked a little boring with no Christmas decorations, but the sunshine cheered things up somewhat.

I saw a sign advertising an apartment for rent. $450 a month plus utilities. Only the plus sign was kind of screwy, so I thought at first it said $450 a month divided by utilities. Or perhaps it was a really awkward way of saying you split the utilities. These are the things I think about when I walk.

Despite her early enthusiasm, Tabby only wanted to go for a short walk. That was OK with me. I had neglected to put on a scarf and as I observed earlier, 26 degrees is still below freezing. You know that expression, “If she smiled her face will crack”? I began to feel that way.

Still, I felt elated that we had at last walked. I hope for warmer temperatures soon so that we may take longer excursions. Perhaps if we walk longer, something blogworthy will happen.

Not Whine, WINE

Sorry, kids, it’s Wrist to Forehead Saturday. I know, it’s supposed to be Saturday Running Commentary and Wrist to Forehead Sunday, but I worked this morning instead of going running. Wait a minute, that means Friday was not Friday but yet Saturday becomes Sunday? I make no sense.

The fact is, I feel that I am too cold to write a proper blog post. I have to laugh at myself because of that. I say to myself, Really? with that raised eyebrow look that puts a wealth of skepticism into that one word. Truly, I am too cold? What, I ask myself, what about all those blog posts I wrote all summer when I was too damn hot to write a proper blog post? Should it not follow that I can write MYRIAD blog posts when the mercury drops?

It behooves me now to link back to one of those posts, for newcomers to the blog who do not know how much Mohawk Valley Girl wilts under hot temperatures. Unfortunately, all I can think of is one titled “I’m Me-elting.” It is unfortunate because after complaining about being too hot, I go on to write a kind of a cooking post (regular readers know I am incapable of writing a real cooking post).

So, can I write a kind of a cooking post to save this post? In fact, I have some chicken wings in the oven. I love to cook things in the oven when it is cold out. It warms the house quite nicely. I put butter, honey and Dijon mustard on the wings. We will cook tater tots to go with them. I like to eat my tater tots with cottage cheese. No vegetable is planned. You may shake your finger at me if you are so inclined (or your head or your booty) (I know the song says “Shake your booty,” but I have always thought it should say “Shake your groove thing”).

By the way, I am cooking with wine.

Come to think of it, I am inclined to stop whining about how cold it is. I shall now sit on the couch and crochet, thus covering my legs with an unfinished afghan. Life, as they say, is good.

You’ve Been There, Right?

Sorry, folks, but it’s Tired Tuesday. I do have a post on a cheesy movie mostly written in my notebook. But it is only MOSTLY written, and it’s running long, as these posts tend to do. I just don’t feel like typing in that many words and I am clearly incapable of coming up with any more. On that topic, anyways. Apparently I can come up with some for a Tired Tuesday post.

My heinous cold drags on. I am better but just not better enough. You know how it is, just when you think, “Oh yeah, I got this,” you go off into a huge coughing jag that give you a headache or a sore gut or, worst of all, incontinence (curse you, middle age!). And the lightheaded, macroni-legged, heavy, awful SICK feeling. I list these symptoms not so much in the spirit of whining (although I fully expect to be accused of same) but with an air of “We’ve all been there.” Um, you’ve been there, haven’t you?

Be all that as it may, my writing has once again stagnated. I don’t know if I should blame the cold, the Ann Rule book I still have not finished, or my own lack of oomph. I suppose I had better blame myself. After all, personal responsibility is an empowering thing.

Then again, why assign blame at all? What is it with this finger-pointing, anyways? Didn’t your mother ever tell you it was impolite to point? A better thing to do right now, I believe, is to never mind WHY I haven’t written, but to write right now.

And oh, look, I did. Over 200 words of a fairly silly blog post. We’ll try for that cheesy movie write-up again on Wednesday.

Drive On

I tried, I tried to turn over a new leaf and have fewer posts about Why I Can’t Write a Post Today, and I believe I have had some success. Why, I didn’t even have a Lame Post Friday this week (last week, according to the calendar, but I subscribe to the theory that the week begins on Monday and ends on Sunday). But today, there is no getting away from it, is Wrist to Forehead Sunday.

In my defense, what I thought was fall allergies making an early appearance has turned out to be a full-blown cold. A cold is arguably the worst disease that can befall one: it’s not bad enough that anybody feels sorry for you but it’s bad enough that you feel like you are going to die or at least not live very well for the foreseeable future. Even now, some readers are shaking their heads saying, “Oh, get over yourself! Have a cup of tea and DRIVE ON!”

Tea. Hmmm, that’s a good idea.

We interrupt this blog post while Mohawk Valley Girl brews a cup of green tea and adds lemon and honey.

OK, back with the tea and trying to think of something profound to say about the difficulty of writing with a bad cold (yeah, I know, when was the last time you had a good cold?). It’s the vague in the head feeling that troubles me most at these times (cue unkind remarks about how I suffer from a vague mind most of the time). But, getting back to the advice to get over myself, I have proved to myself on other occasions that I am capable of doing more than I think I am.

Most recently I proved it yesterday, when I ran for 45 minutes including a rather impressive hill at the beginning of my third day of feeling quite dreadful. And right now, I have written over 300 words of what I hope is a perfectly acceptable blog post. Or do I flatter myself?

I think next I’ll take another look at that novel I keep alluding to. Have a nice Sunday, everybody.

And My Feet Are Wet, Too

I dare to make Running Commentary posts two days in a row (I bet you thought I was going to say “two days running”), because today’s run was different. And not in a good way.

The weather report called for falling temperatures as the day wore on. Therefore, I thought an early run would be a good idea. Then too there is the get-it-out-of-the-way-before-I-talk-myself-out-of-it aspect of an early run. My thermostat said the temperature was 36. A perfectly respectable temperature to run in.

I put on a pair of leggings and searched out one of my long-sleeved ARMY t-shirts. It was grey and gloomy out, and these shirts have a reflective emblem on the back. Safety first. I decided to go without hooded sweatshirt and mittens but wore my toque. Tabby sulked on the couch, but I knew all would be forgiven later when I took her with me on my cool-down walk.

I quickly made the discover that four degrees above freezing is really not that many. One effect that became immediately apparent was melt-then-freeze-again. Those sidewalks were icy. I figured my middle-aged shuffle would help me here, and the sidewalks couldn’t all be icy. Could they? They could not. For one thing, stretches that had never been shoveled were still covered with snow. God bless the snow!

Yesterday’s run had gone so well, I turned left down German Street with the intention of running up the hill by Valley Health. Of course my real goal is to run the hill up to Herkimer County Community College again, but one must start somewhere, especially after a long layoff.

It was not much fun searching for non-icy patches to run on. I reflected that it’s always something: during the summer months I seek out patches of shade. Ah summer, it won’t be here any time soon, but it will get here.

Going up the hill on icy sidewalks, I discovered, was even less fun. Progress was slow, but I didn’t slip and fall all the way back to the bottom, so that was all right. How could I have forgotten that the upslope continues around the corner?

Then I thought about the hill back down and got a little worried. That could be even more dangerous than the way up. Luckily, that sidewalk is bordered by grass. God bless grass! I liked the sound of the frozen blades crunching. It was the sound of me not falling on my ass.

I almost took a header running into the Herkimer High School parking lot so got back on some grass for as long as it lasted. By the time I got over the little footbridge, I had decided to just head back home by the nearest route. This wasn’t fun. Don’t shake your finger at me and tell me work-outs are not supposed to be fun! They are too! I go to work forty hours a week if I want to not have fun! (actually, my job is kind of fun, but I don’t blog about work)

Oh, it seemed a long way home. My legs were tense, my body was tense. I ran on snow when I could find it, which was more effortful, but I didn’t feel the least bit pleased with myself for making the effort. I was tired. Would I ever make it home? I told myself I could stop and walk if I wanted to, but that would have taken longer.

I ran for longer than I had expected to when I decided to go straight home, probably because of the stiffness and snow. When I reached the end of my driveway I had gone just over 24 minutes. I like to stop on a full minute, so I thought I would run up and down the driveway for 50 or so seconds. Then I hit a patch of ice, went into a lunge, and stopped running. 24 minutes was good enough for me.

Tabby was indeed happy to walk my cool-down with me. I felt ill-used. I usually enjoy running. Then again, it is Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I guess there is nothing for it but to persevere till Monday.

A Cold Walk

I have been wanting to walk my dog, Tabby (I didn’t name her after a cat) (I told that story, didn’t I?), for some days now, but it has been too cold out for cute little doggies and middle-aged ladies. Today was only marginally better, but I thought I’d give it a try.

One reason I wanted to walk is that my back has been hurting me. I thought maybe I did something to it, but I really think all that I did was live to be fifty. And I haven’t been walking. Walking every day is very good for your back. It is good for your dog, too. How could I stay inside?

My thermostat said it was 18 degrees, which is practically 20. Luckily, my thermostat says nothing about wind chill. I hoped for the best. I put Tabby’s coat on her, bundled myself up, and we were off.

That bright sun ought to help, I thought. If only it hadn’t gone behind the houses. At least there were strips of sunlight. The sidewalks weren’t too bad. In the few places where nobody had shoveled, other pedestrians had worn a path. I don’t mind a little snow. The resistance burns a few more calories.

One patch of sidewalk was completely bare. I wondered if the people living in that house had put a heater under it, like some businesses do. I’d like to do that and not have to shovel. With my luck, I would mis-set the heat, the snow would melt then freeze, somebody would take a header and sue my pants off. Then I wouldn’t be able to afford to pay the heating bill.

When we turned the corner, we had full sun on our backs. Aaahhh. Well, I guess it was mostly placebo effect, because the air was still cold. My nose was running, but at least I had a handkerchief today.

I decided we would only go around one block. Tabby might have preferred to go farther, but I don’t think little dogs necessarily know what is best for them or me. Around another corner, we were in shade again. I thought how much I would appreciate the shade this summer. Then the wind picked up. Yikes!

I think Tabby enjoyed the walk. At least she stopped and sniffed the usual number of times. I enjoyed it too. I certainly needed the exercise. I needed more than what I got, to be honest, but one does one’s best. Tomorrow the temperature is supposed to be in the 20s. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: it sure looks different on the way up than it did on the way down!

Weather Wuss

In my defense, I blogged about Mohawk Valley adventures Monday and Tuesday this week. Can’t I have a Wuss-out Wednesday? Pretty please? Who am I kidding, this is my blog and I can only write what I can write.

In my further defense, I think my brain is frozen. True, it was warmer today than yesterday, with less windchill, but I think the weather is having a cumulative effect. Then, too, there is my age (middle).

Anybody who is inclined to say something snarky like, “You think YOU’VE got it cold!” or even, “It’s January, for heavens’ sake!” just hush your head (pronounced “hush yo’ haid”). In fact, I’ve been comparing notes on Facebook, and the Mohawk Valley has been colder than a lot of people who have been doing even more griping than me (that’s you, residents of southern states!). And YES I AM grateful we haven’t had another blizzard. Yet.

Here’s a bit of half-baked philosophy I may expand upon some Lame Post Friday: It could always be worse. Most of us still like to complain. And many will deny that it could or they do.

I actually don’t mind the cold all that much, except that it has been too cold to take my nice little dog for a walk. Dogs like to go for walks, you know. And I can usually get a blog post out of a stroll.

So, sorry folks, that’s all I got. I’m going to go drink some hot chocolate or tea and ponder what sorts of Mohawk Valley adventures are available to me at sub-zero temperatures. We’ll try for something more interesting tomorrow.

Me and Joan Crawford

The Mohawk Valley experienced some very cold temperatures yesterday. My place of employment became rather uncomfortable.

Regular readers (and WordPress tells me I have a few) know that I rarely blog about my work. It’s not that kind of a blog, and I don’t want to get in trouble with management (go ahead, call me a chicken). Well, this isn’t really about work.

I work in an old building, actually a series of old buildings all kind of hooked together. It is not very well insulated. The temperature varies from building to building and from section to section within each building. Guess which section in which building was the coldest. I suppose I can’t say for sure it was mine, because it’s really too big a place to check the whole thing out, but in my limited perambulations, where I work was cold.

Then I remembered: Joan Crawford. Joan Crawford always insisted that the sets of her movies be kept at cold temperatures, because it made the skin on her face tighter and minimized the appearance of wrinkles. I wash my face in cold water most mornings for that reason. Joan used to stick her face in a sink full of ice cubes, but that would involve a trip down to the kitchen for me and I’m too lazy to be beautiful.

Once I remembered Joan Crawford and her little beauty trick, I felt much better about everything. Of course I had to share my happiness, so I went and found my friend Sally and explained the whole thing to her.

“We’re glamorous!” I assured her. She was suitably impressed. I went back to work refreshed.

A short time later, I heard a voice exclaim, “Hey, isn’t that Joan Crawford?” It was Harry, a mutual friend of mine and Sally’s. “Wow! I thought it was Joan Crawford!”

I burst out laughing. I don’t suppose I’m hideous, but despite my earlier assurances to Sally, it was not one of my more glamorous moments. For one thing, I was wearing my knitted toque against the cold. No lipstick. My blue collar clothes of BDU pants, a t-shirt and steel toed work boots. He kept assuring me he thought it was Joan Crawford and I kept laughing. Afterwards I reflected, Harry is much younger than me. I’m not sure he knows who Joan Crawford is; he may have thought I meant Joan Collins.

The next time I had occasion to talk to Sally, I said, “I have so much in common with Joan Crawford!” She confessed to sharing my remarks with Harry, and told me a few silly things Harry had said about an unrelated topic (subject for another blog post? Watch out, Harry!).

Sometime later, I looked across at Harry and Sally and saw them pointing and laughing. I went over and demanded an explanation. It seems they were in the middle of a conversation when Harry had interrupted himself to say, “Oh my God, it’s Joan Crawford!” and I chose that moment to let out a huge, head-splitting yawn. Like I said, not my most glamorous day.

So today I told both Sally and Harry that I intended to use the episode for a blog post. I said regular readers may remember them as candidates for the role of French maid in a previous post. Harry’s one regret was that he had not picked more imaginative aliases. Perhaps Buttercup and Westley.

In conclusion, I think now we all know why I so rarely blog about my work. Happy Friday, everyone.