Tag Archives: wrist to forehead

It’s a Blog Post, Not a Miracle

It is Saturday morning, and I am flustered.  Today is the date of my (wait for it) Halloweddinganniversaweenary Party.  I have to shop!  I have to cook!  I have to finish cleaning!  I have to figure out my costume!  I HAVE TO MAKE MY BLOG POST!!!

Today is going to be an all-day event, with out of town friends arriving and much fun planned.  I really wanted to make my blog post later, since the aforementioned shopping may take me to various Mohawk Valley spots.  However, later I might be visiting with friends. I remember trying to type in a blog post on the deck with two friends and Steve present.  I felt I was missing all the jokes then.  What will it be like later today?

So I guess this is kind of a pre-Scattered Saturday post.  Perhaps in typing out my plans I can consolidate exactly what I intend to do and I will end up by feeling less flustered.  But I’m not counting on it. For heavens’ sake, Cindy, it’s a blog, not a miracle!

I need a few more veggies for my veggie tray, so I intend to stop by T & J’s Fruits and Vegetables in Herkimer, NY.  Just as a side note, I was greviously disappointed when I learned that crudites were nothing more than chopped up raw vegetables.  To this day, I refuse to say I am serving my guests crudites.  I have a veggie tray.

A fall favorite I felt I must have is apple cider.  I intend to go to Parker’s Cider Mill in Ilion for that.  I may check out the Farmer’s Market while I’m there.  I have not been to the Ilion Farmer’s Market at Clapsaddle Farm on Otsego Street (just to sneak in the address in case anybody needed it) all summer.  I used to go with Tabby, my late beloved schnoodle.  She loved it there.  I felt a little too sad to go without her but always knew I would go sooner or later.

OK, I guess those were the only two real local places I had thought to visit.  I also might go to the dollar store for paper plates and the grocery store for stuff not available at T & J’s or the Farmer’s Market, but those places don’t have the Mohawk Valley cachet I crave.

On the brighter side, I’m over 350 words.  That’s pretty respectable for a flustered kind of post.  And I don’t think I did a whole lot of  whining.  Not an excessive amount. If you think this was an excessive amount, well, I just might whine about that too.  I’ll save it for Wrist to Forehead Sunday.

 

Can’t Give You Anything But Wuss

Oh dear, it is SO Wuss-out Wednesday!  I am so tired now I don’t know how I’m going to get through rehearsal, which I have to leave for soon so I am REALLY rushing this post.  Steady, Cindy, steady.  You’re only the stage manager.  All you have to do is sit there with the book in your lap and feed the actors their lines as needed.  It is one thing to wuss out.  Let us keep our wrist off our forehead.

Where was I?  Ah yes, making a blog post.  I did start to write a “real” post while at work today, about another stop on the Saturday of adventures I had recently.  I need to look up a few more things about the place (preview of coming attractions).  I had planned to go running after work, so I thought I would make a Running Commentary instead.   Why do I even bother planning anything?

Oh, I did run.  If you could call it that.  It might even be good to write about my plod/shuffle/whatever-it-was.  For one reason, other runners may read it and feel a whole lot better about their own endeavors.  For another reason, it might be more humorous than my current whining.

It’s no use.  Right now I’ve got nothing but whine.  And I don’t dare have any wine or I will fall asleep for sure (no, I’m not an alcoholic, I was making a play on words with whine/wine.  Sheesh!).  All I can do is try again tomorrow. Thank you for bearing with me and Happy Wednesday to you all.

 

Post then Popcorn

In my defense, it has been a week since I published a foolish post about not writing a post.  Perhaps some of you are surprised it took me this long.  I am having quite an enjoyable Sunday, as I often do, but feel not the least bit inclined to compose anything of substance.  I shall therefore type in a couple of paragraphs off the cuff and pass it off as a Wrist to Forehead Sunday.

Steven and I spent the morning cleaning our house for our — wait for it — Halloweddinganniversaweenary Party.  I paused in the midst of cleaning to go running.  As I ran, I realized that when I have mentioned the party in this blog, I always preface it with  “wait for it.” I like that.

I had thought I could do a Running Commentary.  I still have a couple of adventures from last Saturday I have not detailed. We just watched a cheesy movie that may or may not make a good blog post.  I mention these things to give you a preview of coming attractions, although some readers may be sitting there saying in that snarky tone of voice, “Well, why don’t your write them then?”  You know who you are.

In the meantime, we are watching Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds.  Yes, Halloween movie viewing is in full force at my house.  I believe a bowl of popcorn is in order, but I wanted to make my blog post so I wouldn’t have it hanging over my head.  You know, my head that has a forehead with a wrist on it.  Happy Sunday, everyone.

 

Mature Woman Undergarments?

It is a well-known fact that if you spend too much time talking about your troubles they only get worse.  For one reason, people get tired of listening to you.  Then instead of sympathy you get eye rolls and, worse yet, advice.  And the longer you have been complaining, the less sympathetic the advice becomes, especially from the people that were not all that sympathetic to begin with.

The preceding paragraph was me trying to talk myself out of having Wrist to Forehead Saturday.  It is just about reaching the point (if it hasn’t already) when somebody tells me to put on my big girl panties, which is quite the confusing mental image, if you ask me.

In the first place, my panties as well as most of my clothes, have gotten smaller ever since I went on the South Beach Diet (not as small as I would like them to be, but let’s not open that can of worms). Oh, I know, by “big girl” they mean “grown woman,” and they don’t mean a growing waistline.  I wish they would say what they mean.

Additionally, at whatever size, “panties” does not conjure up images of toughness and the ability to handle things. I almost never call them “panties” anyways; I call them underwear.  In fact, they come in all shapes and sizes.  You’ve got your briefs, your hip-huggers, your bikinis and your thongs.  I suppose any of them could be “panties,” although the word brings to my mind the cute, lacy ones.  You try leaving the house wearing nothing but lacy underwear and see how far it gets you!

And another thing, what is with “girl”?  Shouldn’t that be “woman”?  It has been a sore point with feminists everywhere that in our language at least,  females remain “girls” throughout adulthood while males cease being “boys” and become “men” at least at some point.  At least when you’re talking about them; how some of them act is another can of worms we will leave for another day.

So, did we all enjoy that?  I started out to whine and instead dissected a commonly (over)used phrase.  I can’t help feeling I could make this a better post with a little more time, thought and effort, but, well, we’ve talked about the daily posting thing before.  We’ll just have to live with this one as is.

As a final note, and because I often over-share:  I’m trying to put off doing laundry for a little longer, so today I’m going commando.

 

Loves of a Theatre Junky

It’s another Wrist to Forehead Sunday, but I have a different source for my angst today.  I am waiting to go to auditions at Ilion Little Theatre  for Lunch Hour, a romantic comedy to be presented in November.  My angst is not from audition butterflies, because I have agreed to be stage manager.  My job is set.  My angst is is due to the onset of as huge case of  WHAT THE HELL AM I THINKING???

Of course the answer to that question is, I’m not.  I almost never am.  I am, it must be admitted, a theatre junky (my computer wants me to spell it “junkie,” but my dictionary says “junky” is also correct).  When somebody asks me to do any theatre thing, I jump at the chance.  They don’t even have to ask me, I often volunteer.  And by “volunteer,” I mean beg.  “Oh please, please, PLEASE let me be in your play!  I can work backstage!  I can make costumes!  I can work on the set!  I can do lights and sound!”  Full disclosure:  I may be a complete klutz and borderline useless at any of these jobs; it never stops me.

Actually, I have not had to beg since I got involved with Ilion Little Theatre.  They are a very welcoming group, not at all clique-y.  I feel very fortunate to be involved with such a fun group of such nice people.   However, it cannot be denied that doing plays takes a lot of time and energy.  Sometimes there is more drama  backstage than onstage, even with a fun group of nice people.

The other source of my hesitation to become involved in Lunch Hour is that I am still so filled with concern over RoxyRoxy, as regular readers know, is the play being presented by Herkimer County Historical Society at Ilion Little Theatre.  It is less than two weeks until opening night!  Yikes!  Will we pull it together in time? Will it be good?  Will I be good?  Oh well, probably, but one can’t help but have butterflies.

You know, I don’t know why I’m sitting here with my wrist to my forehead.  I LOVE the theatre!  It is wonderful to audition for a play and get a part.  It is fun to learn lines, go to rehearsal, develop a character and all that.  And when the audience applauds at the end, well, that’s pretty good too.  As an added bonus, I often get quite a number of blog posts out of it, as you may have noticed.  So Happy Sunday, everyone,  I’m off to auditions.

 

Making Time on Monday

Sorry, folks, it’s Wrist to Forehead Monday.  Maybe Tired Monday, although that doesn’t really have a ring to it.  I’m too tired for either Mental Meanderings or Middle-aged Musings.  I have no reason to feel so tired, but there it is.

I think one thing that is making me tired is that I am not writing, and I am damn tired of not being able to write.  All I have written today is less than a page on a letter to a friend.  And I was not particularly witty or interesting on that.  I had some great ideas on how to progress on my novel on Friday but have had no chance so far to implement them.  Oh, I know, real writers make time.

OK, hold it right there. Nobody can MAKE time.  We all have 24 hours in a day.  All the time management in the world will not make it 25 or even 24 hours and 6 minutes.

However, one can TAKE time.  The time you were using to do X can instead be used to do Y.  No, I’m not going to list all the crap I’ve been doing instead of writing, but, yes, it does involve cable television.  I’m fond of saying “don’t judge,” but in this case I’ll say go ahead and judge me, because I have not taken the time to write.

The nice thing about Monday, though, is that is the beginning of the week. I have the whole rest of the week to change my evil ways and write more.  Will I succeed?  You’ll read about it here if I do.  Happy Monday, everyone.

 

Family, Fun and Forehead

Sometimes Mohawk Valley adventures render you too tired to write about them.  For me this is especially true when I spend any amount of time in direct, hot sunlight.  I have some sort of sun sensitivity.  And I’m a big, fat baby.  Don’t judge.

Speaking of big, fat babies, Steven and I saw our delightful great-nephew, Shepherd today.   Well,  he’s not exactly big and fat, and he is more toddler than baby, but he is nine months old and he has sweet, chubby feet.  Everybody loves him, with good reason.

We met him and his family at church, then met up with some other family members and drove to Fly Creek Cider Mill.  I have written numerous times about Fly Creek Cider Mill, but it is always worth another visit and shout-out.  My father and I made sure we tried every sample offered, although he eschewed the fudge and the alcoholic beverages (wine, hard cider and today there was gin and vodka).  In case anyone is shaking his or her head at my lushiness, I did not try ALL the alcoholic beverages offered.  Two wines, one cider and some gin, and it was eetsy-beetsy tastes of each.  Why am I justifying myself to you?  That’s a bad sign too, isn’t it?  Oh dear.

The highlight of the visit was showing Shepherd the ducks, geese and chickens.  He loved them.  He couldn’t get the hang of throwing them corn, but he enjoyed watching them gobble down the corn we threw them.  This was the part I spent out in direct sunlight. I even took off my crazy old lady hat for part of it, because I put it on Shepherd’s head.  Must protect the bambino, after all.

After our fun visit, we went for some food at Jerry’s Place, which I have also written about before.  I got one of the chocolate shakes in a mason jar this time.  Yum!  Perhaps tomorrow I can finally begin to do something about my big fat butt.

Before, after and during our adventures, we enjoyed beautiful drives through some of the best scenery I’ve ever seen.  Up hills where you can see for miles over farmland, forests and mountains.  Down into valleys near lovely lakes and rivers. I positively must get some kind of camera or device whereby I can post pictures.  In the meantime, I’m afraid you’ll just have to use your imagination.

In conclusion, this really is a Wrist to Forehead Sunday, because I feel some distress over the fact that I cannot do justice to today’s adventures.  Tomorrow I plunge back into the whirlpool of overtime, play rehearsals and my new diet and exercise program.  And a few other projects I have in mind.  Will I have the wherewithal to take my wrist off my forehead and write about them?  We’ll see.  Once again, a little suspense adds interest to the blog.

For more information about Fly Creek Cider Mill, visit their website at http://www.flycreekcidermill.com/.   For more information about Jerry’s Place visit http://www.jerrysplaceny.com/.

 

Wrist to Boilermaker

I knew I should have written this post yesterday.  Well, I was trying to hydrate for the Boilermaker 15K, the premier  15K in Utica, NY.   I ran today.  Then I went to my sister’s house, where I daresay I could have gotten on one of her devices and posted something. Instead I drank some wine, ate some food, swam in the pool twice — once with my delightful great nephew — and generally had a wonderful post-race time.

Now I am at home and I do not feel inclined to make a post, “real”  or otherwise.  Of course I must make a post.  I make a post every day. Luckily for me it is Wrist to Forehead Sunday.  How many good posts do I make on a Sunday?  Not many,I’m thinking (naturally I am not inclined to look).

I’ll write a few words on the Boilermaker 15K.  I enjoyed it.  For the first mile or so I felt I was running faster than I wanted to, in spite of the fact that I thought 13,999 runners were passing me (the cap was supposedly 14,000 runners).  After that  I felt I was not capable of running as fast as I thought I should.  Then I thought to myself, Just run your race, run your pace, don’t worry about it.

I am so glad I ran it.  I can’t say how soon I shall run it again.  However, I hope to write another blog post about it soon. In the meantime, I hope you are all having a delightful Sunday.

 

Lame Minute Before the Race

The Boilermaker excitement continues.  And could somebody please explain to me why  I feel so blankety-blank NERVOUS about it?  I will run 15 Ks.  It will be fun. My problems of getting there and getting home afterward will be solved one way or another.  There is no reason for butterflies.

One theory about why I would be nervous is that I am on my employer’s Corporate Cup Team.  My time will count in a competition that could win money for a charity.  I will not run fast.  I never run very fast. But the others on my team already know that.  They let me on the team anyways.  It is no cause for distress.

Today Steven and I went to the Boilermaker Expo at Mohawk Valley Community College to pick up my race packet.  This was another source of stress.  Drive to Utica, find a parking space, make my way through a crowd — regular readers know I have trouble with all these things.  The little trip went off without a hitch.  One would expect me to feel relief.

And here I sit with my wrist to my forehead (figuratively speaking, that is), knowing that I am being completely stupid and self-dramatizing.  These are not insurmountable problems, I tell myself.  Quit being such a big baby!

Perhaps my problem is not the Boilermaker 15K at all.  Perhaps my problem is that this is the last Friday of my two week break.  I will run the Boilermaker Sunday and go back to work on Monday.  I believe this is something that could cause any rational person at least some amount of distress.

On the brighter side, I can look forward to next Friday, when Friday will MEAN something again.  It won’t be the end of my days off, it will be the beginning of my days off.  Yes, it will be two days rather than two weeks, must you bring up the negative aspects of everything?

In the meantime, don’t mind me.  I’m just being foolish.  I really am looking forward to the Boilermaker.  I’m even looking forward to the short, easy run I intend to take tomorrow morning. I like to run.

 

And I’m Missing the Cheesiest Movie!

Yeah, it’s Wrist to Forehead Sunday.  I was afraid it would be.  You see, I started early and had really the best day.  We went to a winery for an art show with music.  It was awesome.  I hope to write a real blog post about it in the coming days, but I just can’t seem to do it right now.

Still, I must write something.  I like to post every day, whether it’s any good or not.  I guess I go through spurts where it’s not very good for several days in a row.  The problem is, it seems one can either be a writer or have a life.  But what a Catch 22 that is!  If you have  life, you don’t have any time to write. If you don’t have a life, you don’t have anything to write about.

Oh, well, I guess that last sentence is not really true.  Apart from this blog, I write fiction.  You can write fiction without having a life, unless it is thinly disguised autobiographical fiction.  I do not write thinly disguised autobiographical stuff; I make things up.  So I could indeed sit home with no friends and no life and write that sort of fiction.

Perhaps I’ll try that one day. Only not tomorrow, because I am meeting a friend to do some fundraising stuff for Team Uncle Leo for the Sitrin Run/Walk to benefit veteran programs.  And I must get ready for the Boilermaker 15K in two weeks.  Oh, and I’m in a play at Ilion Little Theatre.

Stay tuned, when this blog will begin to offer tips on how one can have a life and find time to write.  As soon as I figure it out.