Tag Archives: writing

Cold, Dark But Not Horrible Run

As I was running this morning, I realized two things: Sunday Running Commentary is becoming my new feature and I was narrating in my head in the past tense.

Narrating in my head is nothing new; I’ve done it all my life. I always read a lot of books and figured my life was one of them. This morning I was narrating my blog post. I only started narrating in the first person since I’ve been writing this blog, but point of view is a whole other discussion. I realized that thinking in the past tense was not a bad idea, because it presupposed I was going to bring the run to an acceptable conclusion. You know, like when you’re reading a suspense novel and you know the narrator is going to live, because he or she is telling the story. If I was going to collapse into a snowbank and perish, who would be making the blog post?

Not that I expected to perish in a snowbank. I didn’t feel that I was rocking it, but it wasn’t horrible. It was, however, cold and dark. And I was running in the road. I almost never run in the road. Give myself every advantage, I say. Keep away from traffic. However, the sidewalks were ice covered. I don’t mind running in snow; the resistance burns calories. Ice is another story. I have a fear of falling. Good thing I’m not taller or I’d never stand up.

I went early so that I wouldn’t have a chance to talk myself out of it, which we all know I am pretty good at doing (what a useless collection of talents I have). The sun was not up, so I wore my reflective vest. Now I could run in the road with no fears. Also, 6:11 on a Sunday morning (yes, I noted the exact time I left), how much traffic could there be?

I turned down German Street, a notoriously busy street and went some way in blissful solitude. Left side facing traffic, of course. You’d be surprised the number of runners who do not follow this simple rule. One car. He didn’t slow down but he got over a little. I turned down a less busy street. Another car way in the distance. Was he headed this way? I turned down a side street just in case. No cars here.

Very few lights in windows to encourage me. I do feel encouraged to think I’m not the only idiot out of bed. Oh, I know, I may be the only idiot, but I’m not the only one out of bed. There was one. A hall or bathroom light left on all night? Hard to say. There was a Christmas star all lit up on a front porch. Nice. I do look forward to walking Tabby after dark and seeing all the holiday lights.

I turned down a long stretch and saw a pedestrian way in the distance. Someone walking their dog? I do love to stop running briefly to pet a dog. Down the middle of the street they went. Seemed a little foolhardy, even at this early hour. Well, if they were up to some nefarious purpose they would hardly be in such an obtrusive place, would they? Anyways, my friends from Coffee and Conversation with a Cop told me the bad element was generally in bed by 4 a.m. (my usual early morning running time).

The cold air was not helpful. Regular readers know my sinuses preclude my following the in-through-your-nose-out-through-your-mouth dictum. In fact my nose was running rather copiously. One of the nice features of my reflective vest is the zipper pocket, so I had a tissue. It’s the little things.

My body as a whole was not particularly enjoying the run, but I realized my legs were OK for the most part. I felt grateful for my legs. Perhaps I should have tried on some of the mini skirts I saw at the Thrift Store yesterday. My legs are actually pretty nice for a woman my age. I used to be quite an aficionado of mini skirts. Pondering the question kept me going for a few more blocks.

I ended up going 24 minutes. Still on the plateau but at least I’m not going downhill. Incidentally I ended up back on German Street near the end of my run for one block. I encountered two cars. I felt a little ill-used over that. No cars, no cars, no cars, then two cars in one damn block! What’s that all about? No matter, they didn’t hit me.

The best part of my walk was my cool-down walk with my schnoodle Tabby. I always love the cool-down walk. I almost always love to walk, especially with my dog, but a walk after a run is a beautiful thing. I hope I find time to run again soon.

Writing, Winter and Wuss-out Wednesday

Here’s a way to make yourself write: have something else you really, really ought to be doing instead. Don’t let yourself write while you do this other thing. Then put the other thing aside when you really ought to still be working on it, and write.

It’s fun.

OK, this is going to be a foolish blog post, but it is about writing, and some people like to read about writing. I know I do.

I mentioned yesterday that I had not written a blog post, because I was working on learning my lines for a play I am in. Of course I have not learned my lines yet (give me a break; it’s only been a couple of days). I brought my script with me to work, so I could work on them before shift and on breaks.

But I also wanted to write a blog post so as not to be composing at the keyboard after I got home from work (as, astute readers will have noticed, I am in fact doing). I had an idea to write about an old movie I watched over the weekend. I had composed a few sentences in my head while I worked (between dithering about other things, see yesterday’s post). I started to write.

I wrote two pages. My shift started. I thought of more things to write. During the first break I wrote them down. I finished a third page in triumph. I LOVE to write! Then I went back to work. I worked on my lines during lunch and the afternoon break. I still haven’t learned them all. These things take time, you know.

While I was working, writing and working, winter returned to the Mohawk Valley in the form of a LOT of snow. I had to brush off my SUV. Why oh why did I not buy a short, small car that is easier to brush off? I went to my husband’s place of employment, because I thought it would be a good idea if we switched cars so the SUV would be last in the driveway tomorrow.

Before going to his car and going home, I shopped. As usual this involved a lot of walking around and dithering (I don’t know why dithering doesn’t burn more calories; it certainly tires me out). I had to brush off Steven’s car, a little Dodge Stratus. I discovered that although it is easier to brush off a car that is not as tall as I am, it is still a pain in my butt.

Oh dear, those last two paragraphs were not about writing, were they? Well, they are to indicate to you why I feel too tired to type in the lovely pages I wrote while at work today. For another reason, they need editing.

All this by way of telling you, I am taking a Wuss-out Wednesday right after yesterday’s Tired Tuesday. More cynical readers are not surprised. Optimistic readers are disappointed. Kind readers will hope I get a good night’s sleep. I hope everyone will tune in again tomorrow, when it will be Thanksgiving, and we will all give thanks if I can write a decent post. As always, thank you for playing.

It’s My Birthday, Dammit!

My sister Diane told me I should use that as the title. I had really thought I would make a “real” post today, but I don’t know why I thought that. I’ve been running around doing things and now I’m sitting here composing at the keyboard and wanting nothing more than to get to the sweats on, bra off, sitting on my couch crocheting portion of the day.

One does the best one can, doesn’t one? I offer a Preview of Coming Attractions, which may sound remarkably like What I Did Instead of Writing a Blog Post for Today.

I started doing things yesterday with a wine tasting at Vintage Spirits, always a fun thing to write a post about. This morning I did not run, which would have led to a dandy running commentary. However, I may run tomorrow, so we have that to look forward to (me the run and writing the post, you reading the post) (if you like that sort of thing). I did, however, finish two letters and write three post cards which I then mailed, walking to the post office with my delightful schnoodle, Tabby. Walks with Tabby are often good for a post.

My day was just getting started. I went to a craft fair at the Saquoit Middle School with my sister Cheryl and my mother. What fun that was! And it involved an enjoyable drive over scenic country roads. The journey and the destination are worth writing about. My trip home, with almost freezing rain, was equally memorable.

Back in Herkimer, I stopped at Valley Wine and Liquors where another wine tasting was going on. Oh stop shaking your heads and calling me a lush (you know who you are), I only tasted a few wines. We didn’t even open the bottle we purchased last night and what I bought today I intend to save for Thanksgiving. There is every chance we will open last night’s bottle and have a glass or two tonight, but for heavens’ sake, did you not read the title of the piece? It’s my birthday, dammit! Sheesh!

Well, this is a respectable 300 words. At least, it’s 300 words. Describe them by the adjective of your choice. I’m going back to my birthday celebrations.

How Do You Spell “Get My Act Together”?

I may institute a new feature: Panic Button Day. That is when I have something to do in the evening, several things to get done before that, and no blog post written. Why, oh why did I not write something on break at work? Well, I tried. All I could manage was a letter to my sister, in which I lamented that I couldn’t think of anything to write a blog post about.

My event of the evening is the monthly dinner meeting of Ilion Little Theatre. That is a bonafide Mohawk Valley adventure, which I could in fact write about after I go there. But I’ll be tired by then. And the dinner is BYOB and, well, I thought I would. Never drink and type. You make a lot of typos that way.

A pause while I look up “bonafide.” I have a big red Random House Webster’s College Dictionary that was given to me by a friend many years ago. It is invaluable at times like these. My computer is highly unreliable. For example, the dictionary says it’s “bona fide” or “bonafide.” My computer underlines both versions. Quite frankly, I don’t think technology is all it’s cracked up to be.

I still have to figure out what to wear to my meeting. This makes it a bonafide wrist-to-forehead occasion (I went to the trouble of looking it up, I thought I’d use it again). As usual, I am dreadfully sorry about not having a real post. But perhaps it will amuse my readers to laugh at my haplessness (not going to look up that one).

A Wednesday Kvetch

It never fails: I avoid a Tired Tuesday only to run smack dab into a Wuss-out Wednesday. What, oh what is my problem?

Did anybody answer that or did everybody accept it as a rhetorical question or perhaps an unanswerable lament. Or perhaps you took it as more kvetching, perhaps with my wrist on my forehead (I can be very self-dramatizing). Whatever, it is clear that I have a problem. I have fatigue, aches, pains, blues, etc. Could this be middle age? Say it ain’t so!

I went running yesterday. In addition to wanting to build up my run time and progress toward my weight-loss goals, I thought it would make a good blog post. And it may have, if only I would have written it. I took my dog Tabby for a walk today, another potential blog topic. One reason I mention these things is to show you that I am so active. So if anybody was gearing up to say, “Well if you got more EXERCISE, you’d have more ENERGY,” they don’t have to bother. There’s always someone.

And speaking of middle age, can I just ask, where’s menopause when you need it? It’s getting cold in the Mohawk Valley these days. I could use one of them there hot flashes.

I guess there is no point to this post, although I am glad I got to sneak in my hot flash line.

My Wrist Has Been Busy

So there I was about to write my Wrist to Forehead Sunday post, when my husband, Steven, told me of his plan to rake the front lawn. He nicely said I did not have to help, despite my natural feelings of guilt. I thought, Ah! I will write a Wrist to Forehead post about feeling guilty while he is doing that, then he can get right on the computer when he is done (he was working earlier in the day while I was… not).

Then a friend of his called on the phone and he was talking to her. Tabby and I went outside and I started raking. I am not a completely useless wife. Steven came out and worked too. I kept saying, “I’ll go in now and do my blog post while you finish this,” then deciding to do just one more thing.

At last I came inside while Steven was still outside. Oh, I would just put away the dishes I washed earlier (I am famous for washing dishes, leaving them to air dry and further leaving them for Steven to put away). Then I started thinking about how I had not yet showered for the day, and I got this tantalizing mental image of taking a hot shower and putting on some cuddly, brand-clean sweats and THEN getting on the computer. Maybe with a glass of wine.

By the time I was clean and cuddly, Steven was inside, but nicely got me a glass of wine and let me get on the computer (did mention that I have a very nice husband? Well I do). BUT first I had to check my Facebook notifications. When I finally logged onto WordPress, blogs I follow popped up. Since I was about to write a Wrist to Forehead post without feeling particularly Wrist to Forehead-y (Hello! Hot shower, cuddly sweats, would you feel like putting your wrist to your forehead?), I stalled by reading Return of the Modern Philosopher, one of my favorites.

And then I just had to comment. My comments tend to get a little long-winded, so then I had to edit.
Then I read Modern Philosopher’s post to Steven. Before I got to read him my comment (which after reading the post again I again had to edit), he said, “I want more wine!” Could he be feeling wrist to foreheady because I am hogging the computer?

And now I have to check if the Modern Philosopher replied while I was typing all this, before I hit publish.

Yes, he did respond, and I responded to his response. I wonder if my poor husband will ever be able to get on the computer.

I Just Write

How many different things can one blogger think of to say about not writing, that is the question. I know, you thought it was “To be or not to be,” but you were mistaken. It is Lame Post Friday and I am feeling even more lame than usual.

Hmm, that was not a bad first paragraph, or do I flatter myself? I would feel more comfortable about my future as a blogger if I had not just sat here staring at it for ten minutes unable to think of another thing to say. OK, I just said that to be dramatic. I’ve been blogging for three years and I intend to continue, lame post or not.

One accepts when one begins at a writer that some days will be better than others. At least, I accept that premise. There are those who claim that “you just write.” But we’ve covered “There is no such thing as Writer’s Block” before. And anyways, it’s Writer’s Blank.

Where was I? Oh yes, not writing and apparently unable to think of anything new to say about it. How embarrassing is that? This has been a pretty long dry spell. I mean, I have had some not terrible blog posts (or do I flatter myself?), but the novel remains at a standstill. I don’t know how good my last couple of magazine articles were. I may have had a couple of good lines in some letters and post cards I have written.

Oh hell, Cindy, just end it and get off stage. This post is lame. Try again tomorrow.

And looking back, I’m not sure how good the first paragraph was either.

Another Fine Blog Post

Oh, I’m a bad blogger. I say it in a Lou Costello voice. At least, I don’t recall Costello ever saying that in any of the movies, but cartoon versions of him always found an opportunity to say, “Oh, I’m a bad boy.” I was never a huge Abbot and Costello fan to begin with. I prefer Laurel and Hardy (This is another fine mess you’ve gotten me into!).

As you may have guessed, this is another Wuss-out Wednesday. I had thought to have a Mid-Week Middle-aged Musing, but it got no further than the first two sentences: Discombobulate is a good word. I declare discombobulate to be the word of the day.

I wrote those two sentences while at work today, thinking I should not wuss out for at least one Wednesday. But I could not think of anything to add. I thought, “That’s OK. Steven and I are doing laundry tonight. I’ll write at the laundromat.” That did not work out as well as I had hoped. I had a dreadful sinus headache. I could not write a blog post. I could not work on my novel. I did manage to finish a poem I had started, about a couple of co-workers. I can’t share that here, though, because it names names.

I’m afraid today is veering beyond Wuss-out Wednesday and into Blogger’s Sick Day. The thing I feel bad about now is the title. I thought of it when I made the parenthetical comment referencing Laurel and Hardy. I thought better words would surely be forthcoming after that. It turns out not so much. I guess that’s what I get for composing at the keyboard.

A Word to the Wuss

I should have seen it coming that if I had a Tired Tuesday, I would only be up to a Wuss-out Wednesday the next day. Well, sorry folks. I’m down. Down, down, down in the dumps.

I spent most of the day down in the dumps. I don’t mean to be tiresome, but I just can’t always be the cheerful Mohawk Valley Girl. Some people can write when they are down. I say power to them. All I could do on breaks at work was to work on puzzles in a puzzle book. That did not improve my mood to any marked degree, because I’ve done all the puzzles I like. All that is left is puzzles that I don’t like or are too hard for me or both.

Now I am being exceptionally tiresome. What a kvetch.

In my defense, after work I did come home and do a few useful things. I worked on dismantling my container garden. Astute readers (do I have any other kind?) may remember that on Monday I felt guilty for running and not working on that or on raking the lawn. My delightful husband Steven raked the lawn on Tuesday. I wanted to contribute.

After a short Facebook break, I typed into the upstairs computer what I have written so far on my articles to submit to Mohawk Valley Living magazine. Um, I did not write them today. I did not add to them either. After exhausting myself literarily (my computer is underlining that word, but my dictionary says it is correct) if not literally, I chopped vegetables and began making a salad for my lunch tomorrow. When it was almost time for Steven to be home, I put Tabby on the leash and walked out to meet him. I could probably have written my blog post on that walk. Oh well, missed a bet.

I perceive that I am over 300 words. Perhaps they are not good words, but they are words nonetheless. Ooh, that raises a question suitable for some half-baked philosophy on Lame Post Friday: Isn’t it the ARRANGEMENT of the words that is not good and the words themselves neutral? Followed by a listing of words that I say are good words. I’ll let the reader fill in the bad words for him or herself. I bet some of you already are.

Writing and Running

In lieu of my usual Wrist to Forehead Sunday or a Blogger’s Day Off, which I was quite inclined to take, I offer a brief meditation on writing.

Two things the reader may or may not know about me by now: (one) I run, but I sometimes have difficulty sticking to it. I’ll go for months running regularly, improving myself, writing about it and in general enjoying it. Then I stop, for one reason or another, and often have difficulty starting up again. (Two) I have started many novels and only ever finished one, despite being, I make bold to say it myself, a pretty good writer.

I started running again yesterday after a pause of more than a month. It was awesome. I will surely run again within the next couple of days. I told my sister, Diane, about it when we talked on the phone. She told me she ran and walked with their recently acquired puppy. It seems the puppy likes to run with her. I told her it was a good way to begin running: walk and run. I have done it. Now, I said, I have been running enough and stopping for a short time enough, that when I start again I run for a short time, say 20 to 25 minutes (it was 25 yesterday), then increase it by 10 percent each week.

Talk turned to writing, because Diane is a very good writer and usually has a novel or two in the works. I said how I am having a hard time with my novel. It has reached the stage where I can’t just write: I have to figure out how the plot as a whole will unfold and then write the specific scenes necessary. I talked about how it seemed I should spend all day on Saturday writing, say while Steven is at work, but I never seem to.

Diane made the suggestion that I treat it as my running: that is, work for a set time, say 20 minutes, then stop. Do that for a week or so, then up the time. I had actually thought of this method but not implemented it with any degree of success. However, when somebody smarter than you suggests something, suddenly it seems like a MUCH better idea than when you thought of it yourself.

In fact, Diane has done it herself. She works on her novel during her lunch hour. She jolly well has to stop at a certain time, because she has to go back to work. Then she returns to her writing all fired up, because she didn’t work till she was completely petered out.

It’s brilliant! I tried it. Sort of. I spent more than 20 minutes typing in scenes I had previously written. Wow, this novel is a mess. I finally settled on who the murderer is, and I’m not clear on who gets killed.

Well, that is neither here nor there. The point is, I shall continue to write. I shall build up my writing muscles. I shall also run. I’ll write blog posts about both. I hope you’ll stay tuned.