Tag Archives: dogs

The Dog Ate my Blog Post

Subtitle: Lame Excuses (which I may have used as a title previously) (too lazy to check, sorry). Did anybody seriously think I was going to forgo Lame Post Friday? Say it ain’t so!

My question of half-baked philosophy for today is: why do I get more Likes on these ridiculous posts than I do on my so-called (by me) real posts? Oh dear, have I just asked for nobody to Like this post? Oh well, I guess people will Like or not what they please. I have no control over other people.

So much for half-baked philosophy. What about random observations (on the off chance that there are readers just tuning in: Lame Post Friday is the day for random observations and half-baked philosophy). Steven and I both observed an adorably happy retriever-looking dog sticking his or her head out of a car. Steven at first was not sure if it was a dog, since it pulled its head back in for a moment (he was driving so was not observing as attentively as was I). Then he or she stuck his or her head back out again. Very cute.

Should I mention we were on our way to Happy Hour at the Belly Up Pub at the time? Or will people think I am a lush? Or judge me for drinking and typing? Well, I didn’t have that much to drink. We were only there an hour. We ate some munchies and enjoyed the mellow sounds of Phillip Arcuri. I intend to write a blog post about it.

For now, well, I’m afraid that’s it. I’m going to enjoy the rest of my Friday night. I hope you will do the same.

Sometimes Ya Gotta Clean

Sometimes that little writing voice in your head says, “I don’t want to write this now.” Then you have a choice to make. You listen or you don’t. Today I decided to listen.

Actually I decided to listen the third or fourth time the voice said it. That is why there are two more paragraphs on an unpublished draft I started to write earlier this week. Are they any good? I can’t tell that till later. So anybody who was about to start huffing about how you just have to Not Give In to Writer’s Block, just go huff at somebody else. This is my story and I’m sticking to it.

I truly did not want to have a Wrist to Forehead Saturday. I didn’t even want to do a post about Why I Can’t Write a Post (as usual, the irony is not lost on me). I considered doing a post about cleaning my house, which is mostly what I did today. I was going to include the line, “Step one: Invite people over.” I got a little bogged down in subsequent steps, and that was when I was still writing in my head.

This morning I took a walk to the post office with my schnoodle, Tabby. I tried to pay close attention to things, so I could write about that. Running commentary was out of the question, because I needed my energy to clean. Well, unless these walks are really noteworthy, I need to write about them right away for the post to be any good. I was certainly willing to do that, but… dirty living room called.

I’m sensing a pattern here. As with my diet, so with my writing: there is always an excuse not to do the right thing. Oh, with my running, too. Damn. So today I call myself out on my excuses. But I don’t feel too bad about myself. Because you know what, I didn’t run, but I walked. I haven’t eaten anything too fattening yet, because I was too busy cleaning. And earlier, when I needed a break from cleaning, I did a little work on my novel.

So what I’m saying is, I don’t suck.

And who’s to say that cleaning my house was not the right thing to do?

Not Wrist, Walk

I feel it would be wrong to have Wrist to Forehead Sunday on Easter. And in any case it is unnecessary. My wrists are in their accustomed place, just beyond the edge of my keyboard, as I type. I shall offer instead a Pedestrian Post, utilizing a very nice walk I took with my schnoodle Tabby this morning.

I had to take my husband Steven to work at nine, in order to pick him up at one and go to Rome to my parents’ house for dinner. I have a list of things to accomplish in the meantime (I was taking my chances in doing this as such lists often send my wrist right to my forehead — “I’ll NEVER get these things done!”). I did the worst thing first, a sensible action I rarely take. I did the dishes. Then I did what promised to be one of the most pleasant: taking my dog for a walk.

It is as fine as an Easter morning ought to be: bright and sunny. Not awfully warm yet, but it’s early. At least I didn’t feel I needed my toque and insulated sweatshirt. Regular sweatshirt and crazy old lady hat. Prescription sunglasses and a couple of poop bags. I was ready.

Tabby was very happy to go. And stop. Of course dogs like to stop and sniff a lot, that is what they do. Today she seemed to find even more interesting spots than usual. I tried to indulge her as much as possible, although I do try to keep her from sticking her face into other dogs’ poo (WHY do these dog owners not pick it up like the rest of us do?).

We went by our favorite Historic Four Corners and down Main Street. We met a lady walking a very cute little white dog. The dog was quite interested in meeting Tabby. The lady and I petted each others’ dogs and chatted a little. It’s nice to meet another dog owner.

Heading up another street, we walked by a young man on a cell phone. He was too intent on his conversation to notice us. Tabby gave him an interested look but let him by. I saw a young lady further down the street on a cell phone, alternately talking into it and hollering at her kids not to come outside. I thought it would be funny if she was talking to the young man.

It was funny. I heard her say, “NOW do you know where you’re going?” and head back into the house. Then he headed towards that house. What did we do without cell phones? Got better directions and read house numbers, I suppose.

When we were almost home I saw a lady and little girl walking towards us. Tabby definitely wanted to meet them, because she walked right by our house towards them.

“My dog loves to meet people,” I told them.

The lady said her little girl was sometimes afraid of dogs, but I assured her Tabby was a good dog. They both petted her. The little girl seemed pretty OK with it. Really, Tabby is a most unthreatening pooch.

We enjoyed our Easter walk. Now I must see about crossing a few more things off that list before it’s time to pick up Steve (I guess I can at least cross off “Make blog post.”)

Maybe the Sun will Thaw Out my Brain

In my defense, it’s a a holiday weekend. How productive am I expected to be? The sad thing is, I have a whole list of potential blog topics involving recent Mohawk Valley adventures. I even know where the list is.

And yet. And yet.

I took two walks with my schnoodle Tabby today. The first was less than a thrill for me, because of the chilly breeze. I felt so ill-used that this is the latter half of April and I still had on my toque and insulated sweatshirt and only wished I had also worn a scarf.

Before the second walk, I had been to Hannaford, to pick up a few last minute supper things (I MAY manage a cooking post for Wrist to Forehead Sunday). It had been cold walking from my vehicle to the store. And I wasn’t wearing my toque (I should have been; I’m having a bad hair day).

The reason we even went on the second walk was that I couldn’t come up with a damn other useful thing to do. I had done dishes, worked on my novel, put away laundry (NEVER MIND how long ago I actually did said laundry), and still felt as if all I had been doing had been to sit around thinking of silly statuses to post on Facebook (I came up with one).

Tabby was, of course, into it, so I put on my insulated sweatshirt and toque and we set out.

To find that the sun was AT LAST having an effect! I took off the insulated sweatshirt and tied it around my waist. This was awesome! I could have even worn my crazy old lady hat, but I did not repine. I enjoyed the warmth. I felt blessed and happy.

But still not the least bit inclined to write a real blog post. Still, I like to post every day. So I hope this silliness will do.

And I will TRY not to have a Wrist to Forehead Sunday on Easter.

I Keep Walking

I don’t want to say this too loudly, but I think spring has come to the Mohawk Valley. Shhh! Don’t talk too much about it; we don’t want to scare it away.

OK, that was a little silly (what a surprise). It is by way of an introduction to a pedestrian post on a walk taken today. Tomorrow is supposed to be the heat wave of 60 degrees. Today was supposed to be in the 40s, with a cold front bringing rain, so I thought. I must have misheard the weather report this morning, because it was sunny. I even considered wearing my crazy old lady hat. However, the wind dissuaded me. I made do with sunglasses, only one (not insulated) sweatshirt and no toque. Tabby just about managed to stand still so I could get the harness on her, and we were off.

I had poop bags in both cargo pockets of my BDU pants (I hadn’t changed out of them after work) as well as a bag for any cans or bottles I might find. My regular glasses were also in one pocket, in case it suddenly got cloudy. After half a block of listening to them rattle, I took them out and carried them. Then decided I had been silly to bring them at all, because there was not a cloud in the sky.

The wind, however, was quite fierce. Maybe I could have used my toque. Instead I put up the hood of my sweatshirt and tied it. Wind like that always worries me, though. I think somebody might come along and drop a house on me.

We walked down German Street and through the path over what used to be a hydraulic canal. We met a nice lady with a toddler. Tabby was more interested in sniffing the empty stroller, which surprised me a little. In general, Tabby is anxious to meet the people. The lady tried to get the toddler to pet Tabby. As we walked away, he became more interested in her. I could hear him making a noise that I think was supposed to be “woof! woof!” We met a few other people as we walked. Some said hello or remarked on my cute little dog, but nobody petted Tabby (don’t worry; I petted her later).

We went down Main Street, across Albany Street and up Prospect. It was not until Prospect that I spotted a plastic bottle. Score! Then the bag blew out of my hand. I gave chase, dragging Tabby along with me. Got it! When I turned back around, the wind took the bottle and sent it rolling across the street. I was not about to drag my dog twice in one day (oh stop shaking your finger at me, I didn’t really DRAG her, I pulled the leash and she came along, you don’t have to call PETA). So I didn’t make a nickel out of our walk, but I did have a laugh at myself.

I didn’t think it was such a long walk, but my legs started to get tired several blocks from home. This is swell, I thought. I was going to start running again and train for a 5K in May. That might be a problem.

As I turned my tired legs toward home, the wind got even more fierce. It didn’t seem to bother Tabby. I guess she’s smaller and offers less wind resistance. So there’s another good reason for me to lose weight. Keep walking, Cindy!

Unwelcoming Weather

I did mention this would be Wrist to Forehead Sunday. In fact, I don’t feel particularly wrist-to-foreheady (yes, computer, I know that’s not a word, but it should be). I feel happy to be home.

I traveled from the Mohawk Valley into Liverpool, NY and thence to the Finger Lakes (have you ever used the word “thence” in a sentence? I have not) (till now). It was a lovely if tiring weekend. I drove by myself, to and from Liverpool. This was a big deal. I rarely go anywhere by myself. But once in a while I try to be an independent, take charge kind of woman.

When I got home and Steven had returned home from work, we took our schnoodle, Tabby for a walk. She was so happy to have both her peeps home. It was a beautifully sunny day. Who could resist going for a walk on a Sunday in springtime?

Well, the Mohawk Valley weather was not exactly welcoming me or springtime back, it seems. That wind was mean! It was cold! I was happy I had the foresight to wear a windbreaker and my toque. Still, I felt a little ill-used. What a ridiculous difference between the way the day looked and the way the day felt.

Still, it was a nice walk and I was happy to be with Steven and Tabby. And I guess we’re all getting tired of hearing complaints about the weather (although few of us are going so far as to actually shut up about it) (that’s a whole other blog post: we’re rarely tired of complaining, just of hearing others do so). Well, I’ll stop complaining now, and go back to enjoying my Sunday. I hope you all are doing the same.

The Tabby Dog Blues

Saturday Running Commentary is right out the window. However, I have taken a few lovely walks with my schnoodle, Tabby. I think I can manage a paragraph or two about that.

Full disclosure: I’m typing this into the computer Thursday evening, having made Thursday’s and Friday’s posts, both of which I wrote while I was at work today (yes, boss, while on break). Saturday I will be wine tasting with the family (I have written a few blog posts about my stress getting ready for that).

Mohawk Valley weather was finally good to us this week, with 50 degree weather. Oh what a joy to walk when it’s not so damn cold! The puddles are mostly evaporated. Mud is not too bad. I can avoid it. Tabby chooses not to. I say she is the famous blues singer Muddy Paws. I’ve written a few lyrics for her.

Well I’m a dirty dog
And they call me Muddy Paws.
What do you want from me?
Do I look like Santa Claus?

My name is really Tabby
I got the Tabby dog blues.

I like to take a walk
with Cindy and with Steve.
When they get the leash out
I just can’t wait to leave.

My name is really Tabby
I got the Tabby dog blues.

I suppose she will have some Tabby dog blues when I am not home Friday and Saturday. We can look forward to a joyous reunion on Sunday. When I will make my usual Wrist to Forehead Sunday post.

One Nickel at a Time

It is Lame Post Friday. Actually it is not a real Friday for me, because I have to work tomorrow. But I must make a ridiculous post, because I didn’t write a thing all day and I want to get this posted quickly so I can relax myself before going to bed early. At least I will try to avoid the topic of Why I Can’t Write a Post.

I took a walk earlier with my beloved schnoodle, Tabby. As well as two poop bags (I like to carry a spare), I carried a grocery sack in case I found any deposit bottles or cans. Earlier this week, I mentioned to a co-worker that I was going to the laundromat. Regular readers may recall that our washer and drier perished in last summer’s flood (I think I mentioned it in a post; too lazy to go back and check).

“I wouldn’t go to the laundromat,” she declared. “I’d be saving my pennies and picking up bottles and cans from the side of the road!”

“These things take time,” I told her. As I walked, I reflected on how much time it would take, if I financed a washer and drier entirely with deposits. Or even if I wanted to buy a candy bar. I’m afraid my little dog would wear out long before I gathered enough bottles and cans. Not to mention my patience.

Ooh, look, I’m over 200 words. I say that’s good. Tomorrow I only work six hours, so I will have plenty of time to come up with something a little more blogworthy. But I hope you are all having a lovely Friday.

Twisted Challenge

Alternate title: Not Wiped Out Yet

The other day on Facebook my sister issued the Wipe Out Challenge. You play the song “Wipe Out” and dance the twist. During the drum solos you go side to side or twerk. I forget how many days you are supposed to keep this up.

I will say right up front that I have never twerked in my life and I do not intend to start (although I did just flash on that Disney song about “Hi ho! Hi ho! It’s off twerk we go!”) (I always suspected that was the kind of ho they meant) (but I digress). However, I am a past master of twisting. I won a contest at it once. And I used to twist on the pads between machines at Curves.

“Wipe Out” is not one of the songs we own in our rather large CD collection (oh don’t start on me about I-pods or whatever they are, I am doing just fine with my CDs, thank you). Steven found it on YouTube. It was only two minutes and forty seconds. No matter, I was declining the challenge.

I changed my mind later on. I was waiting for my popcorn to pop (on the stove with oil, as God intended). I started singing the “Wipe Out” song and dancing. “Di da-da DAH di-da-da di da-da DAH di-da-da…” I kept an eye on the clock and continued for about three minutes. Tabby came out and danced with me for part of the time.

The next day after work I sought out a particular Roomful of Blues CD which contained a song I often dance the twist to. Ah, two minutes and forty seconds. Perfect. I got to twisting. I had previously taken Tabby for a twenty minute walk (perhaps you read my blog post about it). I know that thirty minutes of exercise are recommended, so I thought to twist for ten minutes. It took me three songs to do it. I’ve known for a long time that many songs are good to twist to.

Tuesday (today) I knew I would be challenged to find a time to twist. Steven was picking me up at work and we were driving to Rome. It was a cold morning. Steven let the car warm up before taking me to work. While it warmed, I started singing and twisting. Once again Tabby danced with me. I made up words to the “Wipe Out” tune: “Well it’s a cutie little schnoodle, it’s a cutie little schnoodle…” Three minutes is not too long to dance and sing about your dog.

So that makes three days. Will I continue to meet the challenge? Hard to say. I am thinking of it more as the Twister Challenge than the Wipe Out Challenge. In any case, I needed a blog post and this was better than my usual Tired Tuesday. If only I’m not too tired to type it in.

And, as you see, I was not. Rock on!

Come On, Spring!

I begin my week with a Pedestrian Post (we all know the week begins Monday not Sunday, right?) rather than a Middle-aged Musings Monday. I did write something earlier, but it’s not ready yet. I want it to marinade in my brain before I edit further.

And can I just say, dammit, it’s the last week of March. Is 50 degrees too much to ask? Apparently so. Still, the sun was out, sporadically at least. I thought, hat, gloves, a scarf in case the wind picks up. I’d be fine.

Of course I forgot to put on the gloves and scarf. What can I say, it’s been a long day and I had an anxious schnoodle barking at me to hurry up. I pulled my sleeves down over my hands (my coats are all too big on me) and hoped for the best.

It wasn’t too bad on my hands. When the wind picked up, however, my face got to feeling quite uncomfortable. Oh well, these things happen. Dogs must be walked, after all, and I needed the exercise myself. At least there weren’t as many puddles or treacherous patches of ice. Enough to keep me on my toes but not enough to land me on my ass. Luckily.

We walked down Bellinger Street, sometimes on bare sidewalk, sometimes on muddy grass. We saw some workers from National NiMo working on something in a hole in the street. Tabby looked interested, but I didn’t let her go investigate. She probably thought the workers wanted to pet her.

Continuing down one street I saw three houses posted as uninhabitable. Oh dear. I suppose these things happen in every town. I looked around for something more cheerful to observe. I saw a free-standing porch swing in somebody’s yard. That made me think fondly of sitting outside, which I’m sure will be possible around here one day soon. March is too early for that even at more seasonable temperatures, I reminded myself.

I saw a beer can in the street and realized I had forgotten to bring a bag to put it in. No matter, I had two poop bags. One could just as easily be a can bag. I found two more cans as the walk continued. I laughed at myself for being pleased over fifteen cents. Then again, it didn’t cost me anything but a little effort to pick them up. I was taking the walk anyways. It will cost a little more effort and some gas to take the cans to the redemption center, but I can wait till I’ve collected a few more before I do that.

Soon I hope to be seeing crocuses when we take these walks. Then I can admire other people’s gardens, comparing them favorably or otherwise with mine. Ooh, and I can write blog posts about my gardening adventures. Come on, spring!