Tag Archives: herkimer ny

Show Us How You Feel, Tabby

The Mohawk Valley adventure I had planned for last night got rained out. I didn’t care, because the rain cooled things off, as it had been predicted to do. I would have liked to go running after work and offered a Running Commentary. However, I had something sad I had to attend to. When I finally got home, I thought I would take my dog Tabby for a walk and attempt a Pedestrian Post.

I thought the cooler temperature would be nice to walk in, and I felt I owed Tabby one after I had arrived home only to leave again earlier. She started jumping and barking excitedly as soon as I started putting on my sneakers. I have to hide when I am putting on sneakers and do not intend to take her for a walk.

I was glad I had remembered my crazy old lady hat, because the sun was bright. We started down Bellinger, enjoying the breeze, then turned onto Church. We soon heard some determined barking. I could tell it was from inside a house, so I wasn’t too concerned. Then I saw this big dog poking his head up underneath the shade on a window. I had to laugh. Tabby reacted with dignity, offering nary a bark in return but squatting to poo on the dog’s lawn. I laughed even more but made sure I picked it up.

We walked by Tabby’s beloved Historic Four Corners and turned down Main Street. I providentially found a trash can to dispose of her poo. I had a spare bag, in case of the rare two-poop walk. Tabby stopped to sniff some bushes in front of a bank. I looked around, but nobody had carelessly dropped any money. Hey, it could happen.

Tabby got some more good sniffs in near Basloe Library, but we did not walk though the little park there as we often do. Instead we walked down to Park Avenue and went by the post office on our way to Meyers Park. Something was going on in the park, so we walked around.

The breeze had died down somewhat and the sun was quite warm. We found a good amount of shade to walk through. Tabby set a brisk pace towards home, going almost a whole two blocks without stopping to sniff. Other than the dog moving the shade to bark at us and Tabby pooping on his lawn, the walk was quite uneventful. However, we enjoyed it.

Full disclosure: I am feeling a bit depressed today and not up to my usual silliness. My sad task was to go to a friend’s calling hours and I have another calling hours to attend tomorrow. It seemed disrespectful to write about my tribulations of looking for my black dress and deciding which earrings to wear. Oh well, all I can do is carry on. Perhaps I could think of a good Non-Sequitur Thursday type headline at least. Hmmm… nothing’s coming.

Probably Not Disco Lights

When I found out Steven had to get up early this morning, I knew it would be a good opportunity to run. For one reason, the temperature was supposed to be over 90 later. I know, it is a good idea to train in all sorts of weather. Sometimes I have to give myself every advantage. As it turned out, conditions were not ideal in the pre-dawn hours, so I don’t have to feel like I’m too spoiled.

I got right from my bed into my running clothes and out the door before I well knew what I was about. I’ve found that is often the best method, especially when you are as good at thinking up excuses as I am. I hit the pavement at 3:36, two minutes earlier than I usually do for these early morning runs.

I congratulated myself on getting out while the temperature was still reasonable and reminded myself to watch for skunks. It was Garbage Day in Herkimer. I didn’t even see any cats and for the longest time only saw one car. The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner (that was the title of a movie I saw once) (I didn’t like it).

Since I had not run any hills recently (don’t judge), I thought I would do the one by Valley Health. As I approached it, I thought it really was not that bad of a hill. I could try something more challenging next time. I was only slightly out of breath at the top of the hill. Must control my breathing. I know from experience that if I have a VCD episode while running I feel just awful for the rest of the day (that’s Vocal Chord Dysfunction, a breathing problem I suffer from). Around Valley Health and down the hill.

Ah, downhill. All you have to do is move your feet a little and let gravity do the rest. Just enjoy the view, I always tell myself. Only there wasn’t much of a view, because it was still dark. I decided I would not run down by the high school as I often do. Too dark. Safety first for Mohawk Valley Girl, I thought, composing my blog post in my head.

I soon realized that although the temperature was reasonable it was quite humid. Once again I had forgotten my head band. If only my glasses wouldn’t fog. They fogged. I may try running in contact lenses.

It occurred to me that I had not seen any lights on in any houses. I started looking for some. It always makes me feel better to see lights on in houses. I feel that way when I’m traveling too, especially all by myself on a Greyhound bus (although I have not been there in a number of years, thank God). Good grief, not even a bathroom nightlight to lighten my load.

As ran down Prospect Street I thought I heard a vehicle driving through a parking lot. I was immediately suspicious. Why would a car be going through a parking lot at this hour? It was coming up behind me. And slowing down! It was my paper deliverers. They have a wide territory. I believe I’ve mentioned how much I love my efficient paper deliverers.

The lady waved to me as she walked up to a house with the paper. I waved back. I was close enough to exchange Good Mornings before she got back in the vehicle. I tried to think of something clever to say, but nothing came to mind. When I caught up to them at the next house I said, “I’m stalking you.”

“I don’t mind,” she said.

Then I turned a corner and went on alone. I saw a few lights on, which made me feel happy. Then I saw some flashing blue lights. Probably television, I thought, but I also thought it might be a secret after-hours club with some unusual disco lights. I speculated on what the password would be if I knocked on the door for admittance. Yes, these are the silly thoughts that amuse me as I run.

As usual, I debated with myself how long I should run. I ended up doing 30 minutes ending on not really a sprint but an accelerated pace, followed by my usual cool-down walk with Tabby. I confess that when I got out of bed and for at least the first third of the run I was NOT in the mood for it. That changed about the time I realized that the complaints were all from my grumpy brain. My legs were just quietly pumping along as if they could run for days. I felt pretty pleased about that, and happy that I could spend the rest of the day telling myself, “At least I ran.”

Faithful Memories

On my first visit to the Herkimer County Historical Society, several years ago, I was particularly struck by a portrait of a formidable-looking lady in masculine clothes. Our guide told us it was Margaret Tugor, a local educator of note. I wondered if anyone had written a biography of her. I had a vague thought of writing one myself but, as I don’t know how one goes about writing a biography, it came to nothing.

Flash forward to 2014 when I saw in the Herkimer Telegram that Bill Rosenfeld had written a book called Reminiscences of Margaret Tugor and would be giving a program on it at the society. I made immediate plans to attend.

Margaret Tugor was principal at South School in Herkimer NY in the early 20th century. In those days, the railroad tracks ran down what is now State Street, distinctly separating north and south Herkimer. Many poor immigrants lived in South Herkimer. South School was later renamed the Tugor School to honor Margaret Tugor.

Miss Tugor was a truly memorable character. Although she was a strict disciplinarian, she was very kind to her children and inspired them to do their best. She showed and demanded respect for all.

Mr. Rosenfeld had one prop to illustrate his program: Old Faithful. This was a wooden plank, a little larger than a ruler. It had been made at the Standard Desk Company by a former student. Old Faithful replaced a switch which had previously been used. Yes, Margaret Tugor ran South School at a time when corporal punishment was the accepted mode of discipline. Rosenfeld looked at Old Faithful speculatively and remarked that in memory it had seemed larger.

Mr. Rosenfeld’s program was very informal. He said he did not want to tell what was in the book, because, well, it was in the book. In fact a lot of the people attending had already purchased a copy. I was not one of them, but I am confidently expecting one on my birthday. Rosenfeld opened the floor to questions and said if anybody had any memories of Miss Tugor they could share them.

One man had been a student at South School during Tugor’s tenure and had felt the sting of Old Faithful. Another attendee had not known Tugor but had grown up hearing about her from his parents. A woman had taught at the school after it had been renamed the Tugor School. Many reminiscences were shared.

Rosenfeld said he hoped to inspire others to also record their memories of Margaret Tugor. He said he would like to see a whole shelf full of books about her. Judging from the memories and stories shared, this seems well within the realm of possibility.

I sat jotting notes about the various reminiscences in my notebook. Perhaps I shall write another blog post recounting some of the stories. Or perhaps I should seek out more people with more reminiscences and add to that shelf of books Mr. Rosenfeld would like to see.

In My Defense, It’s Monday

My existential writing crisis continues (I don’t really know what an existential crisis is, I just thought it sounded cool) (and if anybody tries to enlighten me and uses any form of the word “exist,” I will probably make a sarcastic remark). I began writing a post before work today, but it wasn’t working out. I thought it would be OK, though, because I intended to go running after work. I could do a Running Commentary.

Why do I even think I’m going to run on a Monday? I almost never do, and I did not today. But I had a letter to mail to my sister (yes, I handwrite letters and mail them with stamps, do you have a problem with that? I thought not), so I suggested Steven and I walk to the post office with our schnoodle Tabby. Now I can write a Pedestrian Post.

We went after supper, but the temperature had not cooled down much. It was cloudy, dull and humid. The air was almost completely still. It did not take long to have that overall coating of sweat one’s body often gets this time of year. Tabby did not seem to mind. She pranced along, stopping often to explore interesting smells.

As we went through Meyers Park, I admired a stone bench recently donated by a class from Herkimer High School. I stupidly do not remember the year, but it was somewhere in the 1960s. After the post office, Steven suggested we walk up Main Street and go by the Historic Four Corners.

“Tabby does love the Historic Four Corners,” I said.

We walked up Main Street to German.

“This is where the DARE 5K starts,” I said. I’m looking forward to the DARE 5K. I guess I’d better start running in the evening in addition to walking.

As we continued down German the breeze picked up. That felt good. I’m afraid it was an uneventful walk, but I have great hopes that my crisis will be over by tomorrow and better posts will be forthcoming.

Feeling Un-Cool

I’m just going to put it out there now: I intend to run the Boilermaker next year. And right now, I’m going to write a Wrist to Forehead Sunday post about my intentions.

For the uninitiated, the Boilermaker is an annual 15k race in Utica, NY. It’s huge, in any sense of the word, and it’s the most fun you’ll ever have running 15 kilometers. I’ve run it three times. I had been going to run it this year, but I was having trouble getting my training started and I just let myself feel too intimidated at the thought of me and 13,999 other runners.

Yes, they set the cap at 14,000 runners and it filled up in a matter of hours. That’s how cool this race has become. How un-cool do I feel that I wasn’t one of them? Pretty darn un-cool, let me tell you.

I’ve been doing pretty good with my running just recently. At least, it goes pretty well when I run, but I have not been running enough. My main concern this year is to be ready for the Herkimer DARE 5K August 16. I think I’ve got that pretty well in hand, if I keep doing what I’m doing only a little better.

And isn’t that the essence of running, and in fact life in general (watch out, I’m veering into some half-baked philosophy now)? To do a little better.

Hmmmm… suddenly I’m starting to feel a little better. Anyone can improve themselves. I can improve. Now to get my wrist off my forehead and get going.

Could I Be Getting Fit?

I was so determined to have a Saturday Running Commentary this week that I got out of bed and into my running gear, not even pausing for coffee. Um, I did take the time to wash my face and brush my teeth. Who wants to run with morning breath? Yuck!

Steven has a short day at work, and we have plans for this afternoon, so I did not want to do too strenuous of a run. The sad truth is I had not run since Sunday. Well, these things happen and we must make the best of them. I decided no hills and perhaps a shorter run than my last one, which was 38 minutes.

I thought I would enjoy a dead end run, out German Street and German Street Extension, then back down Germany Street, detouring onto the many short dead end streets off it. I wanted to check out German Street Extension anyways. I heard they had some problems with flooding. Of course I would not run where the road was closed. Safety first for Mohawk Valley Girl.

It was perfect temperature for running, not so cold my hands got icy, not so warm I would sweat too much. That was good, because once again I forgot my headband. I could neither cover cold ears nor protect my eyes from sweat running off my forehead. No matter, it wouldn’t be too long a run, would it?

It seemed to take a long time to get to the end of German. I enjoyed looking at people’s flowers and decorations. One house has a fox lawn ornament, a little the worse for wear, which they decorate seasonally. This morning he sported cool sunglasses and red, white and blue decorations. I need something seasonal on my front porch.

German Street Extension is a nice, quiet residential road, as one might expect a dead end road to be. I plodded along admiring the scenery. Time was passing. How far should I run? I like to run all the way to the end, but how long would that take me? I wasn’t going to run all 38 minutes, remember? Oh well, maybe I would. But I shouldn’t run more than half of 38 before I turned around, right? I didn’t want to run more than 38 minutes, did I? I wonder if it burns more calories if I run and dither at the same time.

I saw two bunnies in a yard, standing perfectly still. I guess many predators’ vision is based on motion. I was just as glad not to see any predators. I know, predators have to eat too, but I don’t want to see it. Really, I ought to be a vegetarian myself, but I was not up to pondering the morality of carnivorousness.

I ended up turning around at just about 19 minutes. I saw where the road was closed up ahead but did not go all the way to the barrier. I was at a very well-maintained looking apartment complex. I thought I might drive out later to see how far I had run distance-wise. I could turn around in the complex lot.

On the way back I could see the river, or is it the canal (how embarrassing that Mohawk Valley Girl doesn’t know these things), over the bank. A tiny bunny was on the bank. How cute! I was really glad not to see a predator get the baby.

As I got back onto German Street proper, I decided I did not have time to run all the dead ends. I took one detour down Willow Street. I wanted to check the name of the street that the path over the hydraulic canal runs to. Suiter. I should be able to remember Suiter, and you see that I did, although now I don’t recall if it is street or avenue. Silly me.

My detour added just a little bit to my run time, and I did 40 minutes. I felt pretty terrific as I took my cool-down walk with Tabby. And I don’t feel too tired out now, a few hours after the fact. Could I be getting fit? Awesome!

OF COURSE We Need More Books!

I don’t know how well I will do with my writing for the foreseeable future. You see, Steven and I just returned from the Book Sale at Basloe Library in Herkimer, NY, and now I have some serious reading to attend to.

To be completely honest, our finances are not in the best shape these days, and our house is getting rather crowded with stuff. In other words, we don’t need to be running out and buying more books. Who am I kidding? Of course we do! Additionally, this is a library book sale. Good prices and a good cause, that’s a win/win to me.

So we took a drive to the library, parking in the Prospect Street parking lot and walking through the little park to the library on Main. The sale was in the little back room, where Guitar Group meets on Saturdays and Herkimer Now meets once a month. There were several tables covered with books. I was in my element.

At first I did not see anything I had to have, although I enjoyed browsing the variety of titles. Then I saw a Dominick Dunne book I haven’t read, People Like Us. I was delighted. Dominick Dunne is one of my all-time favorite writers. I continued to browse, feeling that if I left with only that book I would be happy.

After a while, Steven told me he had seen another Dominick Dunne book.

“I already have An Inconvenient Woman,” I said. He said it wasn’t that one, but he couldn’t remember which it was. “Oh, here, it is,” I said, spotting Dominick Dunne on a spine. “Too Much Money. I don’t have Too Much Money!”

“Neither do I,” Steven said. I had not realized till I said it how it sounded. I laughed loudly for about ten minutes.

I went on to find several more books. Steven found one book and a DVD of Good Night and Good Luck, about Edward R. Murrow and Joseph McCarthy. We were very happy with our purchases. The sale continues till Friday, so we may return. Or we may make our way to Frankfort Free Library, which is also having a book sale. So many books, so little time.

It’s FICTION for Heavens’ Sake!

Full disclosure: I am writing this post for myself. I may not publish it (thus rendering the disclosure unnecessary; the irony is not lost on me). I am pondering my novel and I feel the need to talk about it. Of course, this is dangerous. Sometimes when you talk too much about a thing you no longer need to write it. Well, I’m not going to disclose the story. But I think if I talk about some problems I’m having WITH the story, I can come to some conclusions and/or make decisions. Here goes.

The fact is, my novel has come to something of a standstill. I must work on the plot, obviously. But I have some other questions first.

Ooh, as soon as I wrote that, I could hear a snotty voice chime in with, “Maybe you need to work on your CHARACTERS and let the plot come from THEM!” Yes, there is always someone to tell you how to write. I was about to say, “Thank you for your (quite useless) input,” but, in fact, I am not the least bit grateful (and my characters are actually pretty good, if I do say so).

Enough of this digression. I want to talk about setting. I like a small town setting. A village, in fact, although “village” has such a Middle Age sound (as in the Middle Ages, 1400-1600, not middle-aged like me. Sheesh!). I think of villagers chasing the monster to the old windmill or warning foreigners not to visit the Count that lives in the castle on the hill. But again, I digress.

I am talking about villages like Herkimer, NY, where I live now, or Norwood, NY, where I used to live. Many of your well-loved novels have memorable settings: Savannah in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, St. Mary’s Mead in the Miss Marple tales. I think it is time upstate New York had a memorable setting in a book.

Upstate New York, for the uninitiated, includes any part of New York state that is not New York City. Have you ever looked at a map of New York State? It is not a small state. The true crime shows I so delight in will occasionally cover a case that takes place in “a small town in Upstate New York.” Steven and I yell, “Where? What town?” I wonder if residents of other states feel the same way. Still, I’ve never heard anyone say anything like, “a town in Louisiana other than New Orleans,” as if that were the only point of reference. Oh dear, another digression.

Indignation aside, I thought I would place my novel in a specific spot in the state and fill it with background, atmosphere and, you know, setting. For this novel, I chose the Mohawk Valley.

And I’m running into problems. First I made up a big old house (as in over a hundred years old, not as in “big ol’ house”) with a large yard, a summerhouse and a stream nearby. A murder took place in the summerhouse and I wanted the stream to help the murderer dispose of evidence. I thought I might throw in a thunderstorm with torrential rain for good measure. This is an atmospheric murder mystery, not a police procedural.

So far so good. I saw some other ways to use both the summerhouse and the stream to further the main plot and add a couple of subplots. I started making notes.

And immediately began to second guess myself. Would this novel actually take place in Herkimer? There is a stream in Herkimer and any number of large, historic-looking mansions. I don’t know of any that are in close proximity to each other, but does that matter? Couldn’t I just pick a spot on the stream and pretend the house is there? For that matter, couldn’t I pretend the right spot is there? In short, how much could I get away with?

According to some sources, not much. If you make a street run north/south when it really runs east/west, these sources say, your reader will lose all confidence in you, reject your entire novel and all your hard work will be for naught. I think for some readers this is quite true. If you are not meticulous in your research and correct in every small detail which can be verified as fact, they will point the finger of shame at you and refuse to believe any of your fiction.

I can understand that point of view. I know how it is when watching television or a movie and it’s something I happen to know about, and they completely screw it up. You know, like the school play where they’re still blocking at dress rehearsal? And you really don’t expect that sort of thing in a book. Personally I am completely disgusted with historical novelists who play fast and loose with the facts, unless that’s kind of the point. For example, many time travel stories have our heroes helping history along. Or the “it COULD have been like this” story such as Ken Follett’s excellent Eye of the Needle.

But that is not the sort of thing I’m talking about, and I’m no Ken Follett.

Another school of thought says to go ahead and make everything up: it’s FICTION, for heavens’ sake. If your characters and plot are compelling enough, your reader will go along for the ride, even down a street that could not possibly exist.

I wondered if I should completely make up a town. Then I could decide if a street ran east to west and where the mansion was. I had a couple of choices in this direction. There’s the “thinly disguised” option. I could take the name of a Revolutionary War general who didn’t have a town named after him. Or a Native American tribe. Or a European city. But it would “really” be Herkimer. Or Mohawk. Or Ilion. Only with the creek behaving as needed and the historic mansions where I wanted them.

The other way I thought of was to place a made-up town directly in between, say, Herkimer and Mohawk. Anyone familiar with the area would know there is no such place or even any room for one. It would be like another dimension. A wrinkle in space and time. Yes, one of those suspension of disbelief things.

Well, for heavens’ sake isn’t all fiction an exercise in the suspension of disbelief? Am I not making it all up anyways? I think I’m right back where I started.

What I did was I just started writing, figuring these decisions would work themselves out as I went. That has not happened yet and I feel increasingly unable to go on until I decide these things.

I think my best bet is to just decide. And I’m going to decide on the easiest course for me. I say the novel takes place in Herkimer, and I’m just going to move things around as I see fit. I’ll put a building here, a creek there, and my climactic scene… ah ha! You didn’t think I was actually going to give away a plot point, did you? This is not cheesy movie write-up with a spoiler alert! You’ll just have to read the book.

As soon as I finish writing it.

The View from the Top

Having missed Saturday Running Commentary, I thought I would run today (Sunday). I further decided to quit pussy-footing around and go up my main challenge hill: the road to Herkimer County Community College (HCCC). There are not a whole lot of hills in Herkimer, NY, but this one is a really good one. It is steep, it is long, and one is rewarded with a beautiful view from the top. Additionally, it is very impressive to people when you tell them you run up the hill to HCCC. I have not run that hill in a while. It was time.

Of course I woke up NOT wanting to run. I didn’t even try to argue with myself; I just put on my stuff and went, a technique I have often found effective.

Right away it was not fun. My legs felt awful. I was sure this was because I went three days in a row without running. These things happen. I studiously ignored complaints and kept running. It was a nice cool temperature. In fact, my hands were a little cold. After a while my ears felt cold too, but I had remembered to wear a headband so was able to cover them up.

Was it really such a good idea to run that hill, I wondered. Then I thought, why not? I had nothing much to do for the rest of the day so it wouldn’t matter if I racked myself up. I really can’t keep running that little hill by Valley Health and build up for the DARE 5K in August. Finally I thought, just run up the hill for 15 minutes, then turn around and run back down. However far you get, that’s how far you go.

This, of course, was a psychological trick. I knew that by the time I was 15 minutes up the hill, I was going to keep going to the top. I ran by the spring. I thought about how I usually reward myself with a drink of spring water. My hands were too cold to want to do that. No matter. There was water waiting for me at home.

It seemed to take a long time to get to the actual hill. Why was I running so slowly anyways? But it was all I could do to continue. I saw a mother deer and her fawn in somebody’s front lawn. Then I saw another deer laying down, looking dignified. Then I thought I heard a shotgun. Good God, were there hunters in a residential area? But I suppose sound carries. Or maybe it wasn’t a gun after all. I kept running.

Oh it was not fun. What a lot of work to go uphill. I thought about how if I kept doing this I would get better at it. At the DARE 5K, I would breeze by young kids who felt they had to walk. I remembered with some bitterness one runner who I passed at least four times the last time I ran the DARE 5K. She walked, I passed her, she ran, she passed me. I want to build up to where if I pass someone, they stay passed.

I made it to the top of the hill. You knew I was going to, I hope. The view from the top was not so good, due to haziness. No matter. If I keep running the hill, I am sure to see a beautifully clear view sometimes. I just turned around and ran back down. I stopped at the spring for a drink. My hands did not feel so cold by then. Aah, good water.

I ran longer than I have yet, adding more than the recommended 10 percent to my last longest time. Perhaps that is not ideal, but I had to get all the way home and I was not yet ready to begin my cool-down walk. I save that to walk with Tabby.

I felt so pleased with my accomplishment that I posted a Facebook status about it. A gratifying number of my friends have Liked it. I like it too. I’m looking forward to the next time I run that hill.

Don’t Sweat It

When I saw that the weather report today said 84 degrees instead of 90, it just sounded SO much cooler. Plus, it was prior to 7 a.m., well before it should reach 84. I could run. It would be great. As you may have guessed, it was not great, but I’m going to write about it anyways.

I woke up this morning NOT in the mood to run. Then I tricked myself. I said, “It would be a good idea if I went running.” You see, if I had said, “I should go running” or “I ought to go running,” I would have cleverly come up with any number of very good reasons NOT to run. But I had to acknowledge that, yes, it would be a good idea to run. I ran.

Right away I felt the humidity. I decided that it was good that I was running; I didn’t have to run fast. This would be a nice, steady, fat-burning run. I read a whole big thing once that when you run fast and hard, your body reaches for the high-octane fuel, provided by the protein and carbohydrates you consumed. When you run slow and easy, your body burns the low-octane stuff, the fat. I have since heard that this was not the case. However, I usually run at a slow rate and if I am running on a regular basis, I find that I am less fat. I spent a few blocks reflecting on this, mostly dwelling on the pleasing image of me not fat.

I soon became quite sweaty and realized I forgot my headband. Then my glasses fogged up. I tried to move them a little away from my face. I have some contact lenses I could wear to run in but I wonder if the sweat dripping into my eyes would be a problem. I’ll have to try it.

I ran in the opposite direction I had run on Monday, out German Street and around various residential streets, ending up on the path that used to be a hydraulic canal. I ran that path recently beginning out Main Street. Today I started at the other end and followed it to Main Street, detouring onto sidewalks when I had to.

I ended up doing 33 minutes, one minute longer than I had done Monday. I thought one minute extra was OK. As Tabby walked my cool-down with me I realized I had forgotten my bottle of water. I took a shorter cool-down walk than usual, and I’ve been hydrating ever since.

I’m afraid this hasn’t been a very amusing post about a run. As I was running I was thinking of any number of interesting things to say, but right now they elude me. Guess I’m not re-hydrated yet. On the other hand, it is Wuss-out Wednesday. I’ll try to be more entertaining tomorrow, on Non-Sequitur Thursday.