Tag Archives: herkimer ny

But About Me…

Thursday night I went to a meeting of Herkimer Now, a group whose goal is to revitalize the Village of Herkimer, NY. I intend to write a fuller post about Herkimer Now, but today I’m going to talk about me.

When I walked into the meeting at Basloe Library (one of my all time favorite places), the guys that were there introduced themselves, so I told them my name.

“With?” one of them inquired. Oh dear. Of course, these were all local business owners or community leaders of some sort.

“Um, nowhere in particular.” Then, feeling some explanation of my presence was called for: “I write a blog about the Mohawk Valley. I thought I might write a post about you guys.”

So naturally they wrote down the name of my blog. One fellow asked was “girl” spelled with a “u.” Apparently that’s how all the cool gurls do it.

“I’m not cool,” I admitted. Hmmm. Mohawk Valley Gurl. Never thought of that. But now that I think about it, sometimes you see it spelled “Grrrl,” especially when it’s plural. I feel so conventional. It’s embarrassing.

Now, I write this blog every day. I get some pretty positive feedback. I know some of my posts are pretty good (if I do say so). But I’m still not entirely comfortable presenting myself as Someone Who Writes a Blog. Or even as a Blogger, which sounds younger, hipper and, it must be said, a trifle less literary. I worry that people will Expect things from me.

“That’s a good thing,” I can just hear somebody arguing, with or without an admonitory finger shake. “You should expect things of yourself.”

For one thing, there’s that dirty word “should” again. For another thing, setting up Expectations (Great or otherwise) has a distinct chilling effect on creative endeavors. Sometimes you have to back into these things.

My other concern is, as blogs go, this one is kind of, well, rinky dink. I was all excited to be over 150 followers. I’ve seen other bloggers get twice that many “likes” on one post. I am not exactly big time.

Then again, 150 followers is nothing to sneeze at. And every “like” or positive comment is appreciated. The Herkimer Now people may find my blog perfectly enjoyable.

Later on at the meeting, a man was talking about the newsletter and how he wanted to add articles, especially about local businesses.

“If only there was someone,” he said, “Maybe someone who just happened to walk into a meeting. Someone who likes to write about local things. Maybe who has a blog.”

I’m probably misquoting, but it was along those lines. I felt extremely flattered. Of course I would be happy to write for them. With writing and with theatre, if somebody asks me, my answer tends to be yes. Unfortunately, I left the meeting without giving them my email. It was the day my computer died, so I did not feel it was the best way to get ahold of me. I’m still computerless. In fact, I’m typing this on a computer at Basloe Library (did I mention it’s one of my favorite places?).

So perhaps we have a new feature: It’s All About Me Saturday. I like it. But stay tuned, I’ll have more to say about Herkimer Now. Um, later.

No Spring in My Step

So there I was, having Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I had managed to grocery shop, do dishes, put in a load of laundry. Where, I asked myself, was the Mohawk Valley adventure in that? Then my husband Steven came home from work and graciously agreed to go with me and our schnoodle Tabby on a walk. I decree that it is perfectly acceptable to write a blog post about a walk.

It wasn’t bitter cold out; in fact, it was above freezing. This was evidenced by the fact that the snow was melting and making some major puddles. Still, I wished I had remembered my mittens. I compensated by pulling my hands into my sleeves. Unfortunately, I was wearing the coat that fits, not the insulated sweatshirt where the sleeves are way long, so this was not as helpful or as comfortable as one could have wished. Did I mention it was Wrist to Forehead Sunday?

As we walked down the sidewalk (can’t trust the cars around here to be careful of a cute little doggie after all), we saw a major lake of a puddle up ahead.

“Let’s not plow through that,” I said. “Let’s cross the street.”

The other side of the street had been neglected by the sidewalk plow, but there was a beaten path. Mushy snow offered less moisture to penetrate our sneakers. Tabby didn’t care either way: wade through water, plow through snow, she was happy.

We spent the rest of the walk skirting large puddles, crossing the street to avoid larger puddles, and walking through small puddles. It felt good to walk, and I did feel grateful that, after all, melting snow means spring is on the way. As happened on my run, though, I was not able to enjoy the scenery as well while watching where I could put my feet for the least soaking possible.

Then Steven got the bright idea to leap over a puddle. He got a running start. He leaped! He made it!

“I am not going to try that,” I said. And me the athlete of the family. I hang my head in shame as I type.

As we walked down Main Street, we came to a long expanse of bare sidewalk. Awesome! We sadly observed closed businesses. Less awesome. There are some signs of life. Pete’s Tavern still does a business. Collis Hardware is still around. Crazy Otto’s Empire Diner is a going concern. The lady in Hummel’s Office Plus waved at us as we went by. Tabby likes to go in and say hello sometimes, but I thought her muddy paws were best kept outside. Belly Up Pub was open too.

We went through Meyers Park and started up Bellinger Street. I saw a puddle up ahead.

“Are you going to jump that one?” I asked. Then as we got closer, “Oh, no, that one’s bigger now that I look at it.” Steven attempted it anyways. He got a running start! He leaped! He didn’t make it! I should perhaps mention that he had not changed out of his work pants before we started out. “Oh, no, and I already did laundry,” I lamented.

“Water dries,” Steven pointed out.

“Mud doesn’t,” I said. “At least, it does and then it’s dirt.”

I did enjoy our walk, even though I am SO looking forward to warmer temperatures and no snow. For one thing, it gave me a 500 word blog post. Unless I read the draft to Steven and he insists I take out the part about him jumping the puddles. Some of you are probably still thinking I should have attempted it, too (you know who you are).

PK’s Saves the Evening

Sometimes things just work out.

Yesterday after work I went to Curves for the first time in a week (as regular readers know, I gave blood on Friday then got sick) (in case anybody is worried, I called the 800 number and warned Red Cross my blood might be bad). Oh, I was glad I went. I’m still not feeling 100 percent, but it felt good to sweat. I went home stinky but happy.

Steven met me at the door (Tabby had run out the door, met me at my vehicle and was running up and down the backyard, sharing her joy with the neighborhood).

“We have no power,” Steven said. Oh dear.

It was not dark yet, but it was a gloomy, rainy day, so it was not easy to see things in the house. Steven had not called National Grid (still want to call them NiMo), because the phone was not working without electricity (which is odd, because I remember, many years ago, the lights being out but still being able to make phone calls). Luckily I had my cell.

We groped around with the aid of our one flashlight till we found the number on our bill (which we DID pay, so that is NOT the solution to why the lights were out, anybody who was thinking that) (you know who you are). While Steven made his frustrating way though the automated line I wondered what to do. Too dark to read the paper. Bad idea to stand in front of the open fridge and look for something to snack on. Couldn’t even heat some coffee on our gas stove, because it has electric ignition.

At last Steven reported that crews were on the job, estimated time of restoration: seven o’clock.

“It’s not even five!” I said, wondering if they had estimated conservatively to be on the safe side or optimistically to soothe irate customers (which obviously would not work in the long run, but I would not necessarily expect a big company to think about that).

Luckily the hot water was working (I mentioned I was stinky, didn’t I?). I suggested I shower and we go out and get something to eat. We had to eat in any case, and this would pass the time while the power got fixed. I regretted that we couldn’t take Tabby, but I figured she could just nap in the dark while we were gone. Dogs are more easily entertained than I am.

I had actually been thinking about PK’s Pub earlier in the day and wondering when I would have the opportunity to dine there again. It really seemed too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Steven pointed out all the lucky houses that still had power as we drove to King Street. I was relieved, because if PK’s was out of power too the whole thing came to a grinding halt.

We were able to get my favorite tall table near the bar. I do love to sit at a tall table. We told the bartender our sad tale that had brought us there.

“Sounds like it worked out for you,” she observed.

I had to admit that was true. It was a lovely dinner. I tried the Chipotle Ravioli. Quite unusual and very tasty. Steven had the grilled chicken platter. The vegetables were done to perfection, he said. He got an Almond Joy pie for dessert. I virtuously refrained from ordering a dessert, then ruined it by having another glass of wine when the bartender asked me did I want one. Then the waitress brought two spoons (I MIGHT have suggested that she do so), so I was really not very virtuous at all. In my defense, the desserts at PK’s Pub are out of this world. They are all homemade and often highly unusual.

We left shortly before seven. The bartender said, “If the power’s still not on, come on back. We have plenty of wine!”

The lights were on, however, so such drastic action was not necessary. I almost feel I ought to thank National Grid. It was a most serendipitous outage.

PK’s Pub is located at 221 King St., Herkimer, NY. Phone number 315-866-3494. You can also Like them on Facebook.

Curvy Me

I believe I’ve mentioned in passing that I work out at Curves in Herkimer, NY. I thought it was time I wrote a post about it.

My friends Kelly and Phyllis had been going to Curves for some time. I had noticed they both looked pretty terrific (actually they looked pretty terrific to start with, but you know what I mean). When Phyllis started telling me how many inches she had lost, my interest was caught.

I’ve lost weight through running and the South Beach Diet, but my figure is still not where I’d like it to be (I know, looks aren’t everything, yeah, yeah, yeah). Also, I felt I needed to work other muscles that those used in running. Doing push-ups and sit-ups on my own was not cutting it, especially since I was not exactly maintaining consistency with that program.

So now I go to Curves Monday, Wednesday and Friday after work. It’s an intense workout that lasts about a half hour and seems to utilize every possible muscle (although my knowledge of anatomy is imperfect).

You badge in with a little card that looks like those membership cards all the stores give you these days. Then as you go around the circuit, you put the card in each machine so it can track your progress. There is a little light that shows green for good and orange for not so good. Oh, I hate to see that orange! In between each machine is a pallet that you jog or march or dance on till the lady interrupts the music to tell you to change stations.

Oh yes, the music. They play quite a mixture of music, all of it set to the same beat. I make myself obnoxious by singing along to the songs I know. At least, I don’t know if anybody finds it really obnoxious. I think some folks are amused. Hey, anything to keep myself motivated.

The best thing about Curves is the people that go there. Everybody is supportive and encouraging. We yell remarks or jokes across the room and definitely let others know when they are looking good.

Curves also offers coaching, diet tips and more. Phyllis, Kelly and I may check out the Zumba class one day (that will surely rate a post). I purchased some excellent Curves socks to wear when I work out, and I will probably get a new sports bra or two as well. Perhaps a pedometer, to see how many steps I get in at work every day.

Curves in Herkimer is located at 300 Prospect St., phone 315-866-3100. They are open Monday through Thursday 5:30 a.m. to 7:30 p.m., Friday 5:30 a.m. to 6:30 p.m., and Saturday 7 a.m. to noon. For more information, visit their website at www.herkimercurves.com or you can like their Facebook page. See you on the circuit!

Breakfast is Back

I was delighted when I saw that the Lady Elks were again offering Sunday Breakfasts in January. Last year I went all four Sundays and wrote a blog post about each one. This year Steven had to work the first Sunday, but he had the second Sunday off, so we made a definite plan to attend.

They begin serving at eight. We arrived shortly after nine and were fortunate enough to find a parking space right in front of the Elks Lodge. I paid for breakfast ($8 for adults), bought ten 50/50 tickets for $5 and put $4 in the tip basket, knowing we were assured of excellent service.

Steven ordered eggs sunny side up, wheat toast, pancakes, bacon and home fries. When he hesitated over with or without onions, I said, “You might as well get with, because I’m getting onions and you’re going to kiss me regardless.” I got scrambled eggs, wheat toast, bacon, beans and, as I said, home fries with onions. I think I mentioned last year how I had never had or heard of beans for breakfast before the Elks. I find they are a yummy addition to the meal.

We got our numbers and found a seat. They were doing a booming business, but a small table was free. Steven borrowed a pen from me to write our name and number on the 50/50 tickets. Two gentlemen brought us coffee and orange juice (we could also have chosen tomato or cranberry, I believe).

Ladies were bringing out breakfasts and calling numbers. I had a moment of panic when I thought I heard 5. We were 52 and 53! It was actually 45. Phew! We did not have long to wait.

A wide variety of people were also enjoying breakfast. I saw at least two family groups with three generations represented. A couple of people were taking pictures with their phones. Note to self: Try not to do anything embarrassing in public. Somebody might take a picture.

It was a very enjoyable breakfast. As we left several people said, “Thank you.” No, no, thank you, Elks Club. The breakfasts continue Sundays, January 20 and 27 at the Elks Lodge, 24 Mary St., Herkimer, NY. I may be there next week.

And Here’s Another Walk

Once again I substitute a pedestrian post for Saturday Running Commentary. I offer no apologies for this. If I choose not to risk slipping on the ice and falling on my fat butt or foolish face, it is not for others to judge.

Did that sound a little defensive? Well, I suppose I do harbor a little guilt. But there is no point in worrying about it, because for some people (notably my inner critic), nothing is ever good enough.

So much for self analysis (or was that self indulgence? Oh well, we’re all allowed sometimes), on with the walk.

The Wait Five Minute Mohawk Valley Weather (you know, “if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes”) did us all a favor and warmed up, relatively speaking. I could do a whole post on how 30 degrees feels a whole lot nicer when the temperature rises to it in January than it felt when the temperature first fell to it in October (weight does the same thing, only in the other direction, if you see what I mean). But no Middle-aged Musings on a Saturday, please.

I still put on toque, gloves and insulated sweatshirt. Steven contented himself with his coat, and Tabby, as usual, went au naturel. Our plan was to walk to Smoker Friendly so Steven could indulge in his worst habit (unhealthy and expensive; what’s to like? But it’s not for me to judge). This necessitated walking by Tabby’s favorite Historic Four Corners. She particularly likes to sniff the wrought iron fence at Herkimer Reformed Church.

We were able to cross Main Street with no problem. I said that it might be nice to see a little more traffic in downtown Herkimer on a Saturday afternoon. Still, I do like crossing the street with no dangers.

We continued down Main Street after Steven transacted his business at Smokers Friendly (he also bought me a scratch off lottery ticket). Past many closed businesses (some permanently, some just on Saturday afternoon). It looks as if somebody might be doing something in the space that formerly housed Brownie’s. We also observed a new barbershop, but it was on the other side of the street, so I can’t offer any details.

We crossed back over at the bottom of the street and walked by Crazy Otto’s, Hummel’s Office Plus and the Belly Up Pub. There is another store next to Hummel’s whose name escapes me. I think it is a second hand store and they also sell stuff on ebay. Another local business for me to get more details on for a future blog post.

We walked one block up Prospect then over to Meyers Park. The wind picked up a little and felt cold on our faces, but the sun was still bright. We walked for about a half hour.

If anyone found this post depressingly similar to a hundred other posts I’ve written about walking in Herkimer, I’m sorry. My legs certainly appreciated it. And I have to say I enjoyed writing about it. Furthermore, Steven and Tabby were entertained and exercised. And I have a whole year ahead of me in which to write more interesting posts (but probably not in which I will break myself of the habit of beginning sentences with “And”).

Overheard at the Diner

“New Hampshire is a made up state.”

I overheard that statement in Crazy Otto’s Empire Diner, Herkimer, NY, on Monday, when Steven and I went out for breakfast. I think the guy was teasing the young boy he was talking to. He went on to say that he had never met anybody from New Hampshire and was sure the young boy hadn’t either.

The conversation may have stemmed from one of the many license plates that decorate the diner. Our own Georgia plate resides on the ceiling at the opposite end from where we sat Monday.

I did not hear the rest of the conversation, so I don’t know what, if anything, was proved or disproved. I lead with it because it was the most unusual thing that happened during our breakfast out. I know I’ve devoted a few posts to Crazy Otto’s. I have to shake things up when I can.

It’s not so easy for Steven and me to go out for breakfast together as it used to be. Our work hours work against us. New Year’s Eve, however, I didn’t work and Steven went in at 1:30. We had errands to run. A bite of breakfast at Otto’s was the way to go.

I love looking around at the decor. In addition to the license plates, there are movie posters, retro ads and more. I was especially taken with an old ad for chocolate covered Twinkies. Why would they stop making such a thing? Oh, I know, Hostess is bankrupt, Twinkies are dead. But I don’t remember seeing chocolate covered Twinkies in the decadent ’80s or ’90s either. Good chance I would have bought them, especially in the ’80s when I was young and skinny (I bet you thought I was going to say “young and foolish.” Well, I was that, too). I later heard a young voice behind me saying, “Two for ten cents,” in an impressed tone, so I was not the only one noticing the Twinkies.

Our breakfast, to get back to the real food, was very tasty. I ordered a sandwich with egg, cheese and bacon on an English muffin. It came with homemade chips and a little carrot and raisin salad. Steven had French toast, fried eggs and a very large sausage patty. And, of course, plenty of hot coffee.

The next day, we found out our friends Phyllis and Jim had eaten at Crazy Otto’s. It seems Crazy Otto’s has a gluten free menu featuring a variety of choices. Phyllis was especially delighted with the gluten free pancakes. I said, “I’m going to mention that in my blog post!” Hi, Phyllis!

Crazy Otto’s is located on Albany Street in Herkimer. For more information call 314-866-8801. You can also “Like” them on Facebook.

A Walk in the Dark

My plan for today is to get my blog post out of the way early, then spend the rest of the day having Mohawk Valley adventures or watching cheesy horror movies so that I can write more scintillating blog posts (I like to pronounce it “skintillating’). To that end, I took my dog Tabby for a walk this morning.

I’m sure some long time readers (if any) miss my Saturday Running Commentary, and I mean to get back into running. Eventually. Today I enjoyed my walk.

We left shortly after Steven left for work, which was before 6:30. All I could think of was, “It was quarter past dawn, all the Whos still abed…” But I could not think of a good way to transplant that poem to Herkimer. I did write a take-off on The Grinch once, by the way. It was “How the Lynch Stole Christmas,” written for a Sergeant Lynch I used to work with (he’s a Sergeant First Class now, I think). But I digress (wait a minute: Stream of Consciousness Saturday? Something to think about).

It was still dark, but I think the sun was up somewhere, somewhat. Too cloudy to tell. Too bad; I had hoped to catch last night’s full moon. The sidewalks were semi plowed. That is, they had been plowed and were navigable, but still had stuff on them to contend with.

I love walking in the winter. Years ago, when I was young and carless (yes, carless not careless, although I was that, too), I used to hate walking in the winter. At that time I was walking to get somewhere and that slight delay when your foot slides back a little in the snow used to weigh on me disproportionately. Now I walk for health and entertainment, and the extra effort needed clearly burns more calories.

So on we walked, enjoying the cold, fresh air and the feeling of not being on any kind of a time schedule. Lots of houses had their Christmas lights on. I like to see that. I even saw a couple of blow up displays, although some were not at full inflation. Santa was leaning out of the outhouse as if he had been partying a little too heartily. Oh well, his job is over for the year. He’s allowed.

One house with lots of decorations was not lit. I admired the hard plastic Santa and snowman they had. They looked old. I purchased my plastic Santa because he looked old-fashioned, but you can somehow tell he was purchased in recent years. This one looked as if he had been in the family for a while.

Tabby wanted to stop and sniff even more often than usual. I suppose it must be more difficult to pick up an odor in the snow (I always scoop up a little snow when I pick up her poops, another reason to love walking in the winter). I tried to keep a look out for poops left behind by other dogs. I don’t need her sticking her nose into poo.

When walking in the dark, I like to see houses with lights on inside. In the morning I like to think of people having coffee and getting ready for the day, you know, in a contented sort of way, not in an “oh crap I have to go to work” sort of way. I was feeling pretty contented myself, and my legs felt as if they had done some work. We’ll see how they feel once I start running again. Stay tuned!

Christmas Ciabatta and Croissants

As has become usual, my contribution to the family Christmas dinner is Heidelberg Bread. Accordingly, I made my way to the Heidelberg Bakery, 3056 State Rt. 28, Herkimer, NY, this morning.

I got an early start, because I know they open at seven and I wanted to beat the crowds. I didn’t bother calling to see if they had special hours for Christmas Eve. I figured if they weren’t open, I could swing down Rt. 28 to Hannaford, who also sells Heidelberg bread. I was in luck, however; the open sign was lit.

One other early bird customer was leaving, so I had the undivided attention of the clerk.

“I wanted to get here early and beat the crowd,” I announced. “Do you have rolls?” I was so early, they didn’t even have everything out yet.

“What kind?”

“Something suitable for sausage and peppers.” Which, by the way, I have been craving ever since I heard they were to be served in addition to ham at Christmas dinner.

She suggested French baguette or Ciabatta rolls. I went for the Ciabatta. While she got them I found a loaf of sourdough bread for toast for Christmas morning.

“Did you want any pastries as well?” Did I!

I got two chocolate croissants, for Steven and me for today. Sorry to any family members who might happen to be reading this: I did not get any sweets for Christmas breakfast or dinner. I had my doubts of anything I might get lasting that long. It took great effort of Christmas goodwill and will power not to open the sourdough as soon as I got home.

I love Heidelberg bread, and I love going right to the source to get some. For more information, visit their website: http://www.heidelbergbakingco.com/ or you can “Like” them on Facebook.

Skip the Futzing

I thought that by instituting Middle-aged Musings Monday, I could take it easy on Monday. Kind of like I take it easy on Friday with Lame Post Friday.

Then I started thinking: Wrist to Forehead Sunday, Middle-aged Musings Monday, Mid-Week Musings, Lame Post Friday, Running Commentary Saturday and the newly discovered Non Sequitur Thursday (I know that puts them out of order, but I wanted to mention Thursday last). Am I writing a Mohawk Valley blog or am I just futzing around?

I guess today I’m futzing. I did not write a post on break at work. I wrote about a page on my novel that will probably end up being quite unusable, if I even finish the novel, which at this point looks doubtful.

Now it sounds like Wrist to Forehead Monday. OK, everybody, just put away your miniature violins, I’ll stop.

As a matter of fact, I dragged Steven and Tabby on a walk just now, thinking I could write about that. It was cold but not too bad. I had attempted a walk with Tabby on Sunday while Steven was at work and it was quite uncomfortable. We made it around one block and that was enough. Tonight’s walk was further and quite enjoyable.

I pointed out to Steven every Christmas decoration I noticed. Then I noticed myself doing that and apologized for being annoying. Steven didn’t mind. He really is a very good husband. Tabby, of course, wanted to stop and sniff almost every post, tree and patch of grass possible. We try to strike a balance between letting her enjoy herself and not taking all damn night about it.

At one point we could hear footsteps behind us so tried to pick up the pace a little. That is a noise that can sometimes make you nervous, especially after dark, but Herkimer is usually a pretty safe place, and for heavens’ sake it was prior to six p.m., not the witching hour (that may be a run-on sentence but I think it’s OK). Then I heard a car next to us click like somebody had used a key fob, so I figured that was footsteps’ car.

As we approached our house I heard wheels behind us, so looked back once or twice. If if was somebody on a bicycle I wanted to get out of the way. It was a lady with a stroller.

“Snowy! Snowy!” the kid in the stroller yelled.

“Every white animal isn’t Snowy,” the lady told him.

I turned around. “No, this is Tabby,” I said. Usually Tabby would want to meet the kid at this point, but we were in front of our house and she was into being home. The lady explained that her mother has a white cat named Snowy, so her boy thinks every white animal must be Snowy. We wished each other a good evening and she continued on her way while the little boy kept yelling for Snowy.

I asked Tabby if she wanted to change her name to Snowy, but she did not seem interested. Steven was pleased that we had walked for almost a half hour. As for me, I have written some 500 words and that almost always makes me feel better. Let that be a lesson to me: next time, skip the futzing.