Tag Archives: writing

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.

Less Wine, More Time

Yes, I mean wine not whine, although it is true that one can waste an inordinate amount of time whining (don’t point your finger at me; you do it too) (you know who you are).

It is Halloween afternoon and I am on my lunch break at work pondering the rest of the day. I have just written a lengthy post about a Mohawk Valley adventure Steven and I had yesterday. However, I will be in a time crunch from the moment I leave work till our earlyish bedtime (we rise at 3:30 tomorrow morning). It may be too many words to type in. Plus, I must look up a couple of things and edit, oh, and I might include some links. These “real” posts take time.

What I often end up doing in these situations is to snatch a few minutes to compose something really fast at the keyboard. It works for Lame Post Friday (which, of course, is today). However, I think it would save even more time if I only had to type something in and not have to think of it first.

I will also save time (here we come to the headline) if I forgo the wine tasting at Valley Wine and Liquor, which I could stop at on my way home after carefully running an errand to take up the time till four, when the wine tasting starts.

Hmmm, I just realized if I continue to dither about this now, as I feel inclined to do, there will be even more words to type in later. What’s a blogger to do? I could use a drink.

Tired of Not Writing

I just looked back at my posts for the past week and see that last week I had a Tired Tuesday. I am mortified to admit to being tired again today. I am further mortified to notice that last Tuesday I at least had the excuse that I had just done laundry. Today all I did was come home and take my dog Tabby for a walk. I had thought to write a Pedestrian Post, but my brain seems uncooperative.

In fact, all my brain seems to want to write is Wrist to Forehead Tuesday. After all, I did not have Wrist to Forehead Sunday, I wrote about something! Then yesterday I didn’t have Middle-aged Musings Monday, I wrote about something! Couldn’t I have gone three days in a row writing about something? Apparently not. That is why my wrist is inclined to go to my forehead in the usual dramatic gesture.

I’ve been having a bad writing day all day. When I got to work this morning (arriving early to have writing time, as usual), I opened my notebook and looked at it. Then I reached for my puzzle book. Many years ago, i would always do a puzzle before working on my novel (whichever novel I was working on at the time). It would clear my brain, since I was always reading somebody else’s fiction at the time. Today, however, reaching for my puzzle book was not a good idea. I have done all the puzzles I like. I am reduced to looking at the “Hard” crossword puzzles, which are, I admit it, too hard for me. Alas.

On break and at lunch I couldn’t write either. My brain rebelled. I had been thinking about my novel a lot while I was working. This usually helps. Today not so much. So here I am, writing this ridiculous blow-by-blow of me not writing. How embarrassing is that!

But what can one do? Hit “Publish” and try again tomorrow, as usual. I hope my readers are all having a pleasant Tuesday.

Here’s Another Pedestrian Post

Once again I was not up to running this morning, so no Saturday Running Commentary. I shall begin again again again again soon. I hope before snow flies. In the meantime, I shall offer another Pedestrian Post and hope to not alienate any readers.

Yes, yes, I did have copious Mohawk Valley adventures yesterday about which I hope to write. But you know how I get. I want to write good blog posts about them. I think sometime I will wax philosophical (half-bakedly, of course) on how this is a terrible strategy, because the longer you wait the more the pressure to be good builds. Eventually one can never live up to one’s own expectations. If one ever could.

All this by way of putting down more words, because our walk really wasn’t such a much. I missed the really beautiful part of the day, when it got all sunny this afternoon. That hardly mattered. It was still warm, and I like a cloudy, gloomy day. It suits me.

We had just had an enjoyable outing to the Ilion Farmer’s Market at Clapsaddle Farm on Otsego Street in Ilion, NY. It was folk artist Jim Parker’s 80th birthday, so we went to wish him well. I brought him a scarf I had made. He said it would make him the hit of the coffee shop. Tabby just loves that farmer’s market. When we got home I dropped off my purchases (hot garlic pickles and a dog bone) and we set out.

I admired many Halloween decorations. Little ghosts decorated a bush and porch railing. Miniature skeletons hung from a porch roof. My favorites lately are the skeleton parts that look as if they are coming up out of the ground. I saw one that looked as if it lit up. We’ll have to walk by there after dark and see.

We did not see any other dogs and very few people. I said hello to one lady we walked right by. I’ve said hello to her before. She ignored me then and she ignored me today. I suppose people have a right to be unfriendly if they want, but I couldn’t help thinking to myself, “What did I ever do to you, lady?” I always call females “lady” in my head when I feel offended.

Oh, I know, I mustn’t judge. Perhaps she had a dreadful problem that had nothing to do with me but renders her unable to offer even the barest human courtesies. Perhaps, unbeknownst to me, she is in hideous pain and it is all she can do to remain upright and moving. I should admire her instead of calling her “lady” in my head in that disparaging fashion.

In any case, it was an enjoyable walk. Now Tabby and I await Steven’s return from work. The nicest thing that has happened to me all day was when I remembered he comes home at six and not six-thirty.

It’s Pouring Rain and I’m Cooking Sausage

When I said I would try not to have a Wuss-out Wednesday this week, I did not say anything about not having a Non-Sequitur Thursday. For one thing, today is my Friday. What could be more non-sequitur than that? Oh, I suppose a few things. Enlighten me, if you feel you must.

It actually feels more like a Tired Thursday, but that doesn’t have the same alliterative ring that Tired Tuesday does. I did try to write something during the day at work. I opened my notebook, took out a pen and turned to a blank page. In between breaks (you know, while I was working), I thought about what I could write. The result was a few more paragraphs on my novel. Not good paragraphs. That novel is at kind of a standstill, but I’m still plugging away. I am determined to bring it to some sort of a conclusion.

After work I went to the grocery store. I bought plenty of ingredients for a few good cooking posts by the end of the weekend. And when I say “good,” I mean I expect the food to taste good. I make no guarantees about the writing (although I flatter myself that I am not contemptible in that department).

It was raining when I left work, so I thought I was off the hook for walking Tabby. The rain stopped by the time I got home but looked ready to start up again at any excuse. Tabby doesn’t like to walk in the rain. I was afraid if we started our walk and the rain started back up that Tabby would stand still and look at me, expecting to be magically and instantly transported back home.

Still, she was so excited to see me and did seem to expect an adventure. I thought, oh hell, it’ll be something to write a blog post about. We set out. It almost immediately began to rain again but very lightly. For once Tabby didn’t seem to notice. I had put on a warm jacket and had the hood up, so I was fairly comfortable, except for my back.

Like many people who are overweight and over 40, I suffer from back pain. Today I blame work. I spent the morning standing and the afternoon sitting. My back likes it better when I am up and down. I thought, this is OK. A walk always helps. Today, not so much. So we only walked for a block. At least Tabby seemed to enjoy it.

And that has been my Thursday/Friday. I see this bit of blathering on has gotten my word count over 400. I’ll just slap a kicky headline on and call it a day. Hope to see you on Lame Post Friday.

Just one quick note: Do you find this is more Stream of Consciousness than Non Sequitur? I’m afraid it might be.

I Want to Watch World’s Dumbest!

It is a sad thing to be Tired on Tuesday when you are pretty sure you are going to Wuss-out on Wednesday. And yet, here I am.

As usual, I knew this would happen. I knew I should write a blog post while at work today. But there were cryptogram puzzles to solve and husbands to call (OK, just one husband; I thought it would be more symmetrical to make it plural) (I did solve more than one cryptogram puzzle). That’s OK, I thought. We planned to go to the laundromat after work. I can always write at the laundromat.

At the laundromat, after putting our clothes in the washer and bringing the detergent and bleach back out to the SUV, I sat down with my notebook. I opened it to the next blank page. I wrote the date. And I sat there. Oh yeah, I can’t always write at the laundromat.

Steven discovered some People magazine. No, no, I had to write. I looked at the notebook. I read the magazine. Actually, I mostly paged through it and looked at some of the pictures. I don’t know most of the current celebrities. I am so not mainstream.

I tried again after we got the clothes into the drier. Still no luck. This time I read The New Yorker. I felt pretty classy till I realized I wasn’t finishing any of the articles I started. I gave up and paged through looking at the cartoons. And I thought I was an intellectual.

Eventually we finished the burdensome chore and came home. I had sensibly put some stuff in the crock pot, so dinner was forthcoming. I can usually write better after a good meal.

As you can see, not so much. So here is today’s post, about not being able to write a post. I don’t promise a better post for tomorrow, but we can hope. I’m going to watch television and knit till bedtime.

Do You Like Me?

I purposely kept my wrist off my forehead yesterday so I could indulge in Wrist to Forehead Sunday today. Of course it might not have been necessary. I had planned a couple of Mohawk Valley adventures I could have written about. Unfortunately, they fell through. Blame the weather, blame my sinus headache (which was perhaps caused by the weather), or blame me. Whatever. The fact is, my husband is due home from work in about ten minutes and I want to have my blog post done and published so I can enjoy some time with him.

I’ll just mention as an aside here, we are celebrating our Anniversary Eve today. It’ll be 24 years tomorrow. In your face, divorce rate! As I think about this wonderful man with whom I share my life, my house, my dog, and my wine, I feel increasingly less wrist-to-foreheady. However, I felt marginally distressed earlier, so I’ll just rattle off a paragraph or two about that.

I was reading some other blogs. I don’t always have the time to do this, but I have a few I Follow, and I try to check out bloggers who have Liked my posts. I always feel so flattered to get Likes. Almost like I’m doing something right, which regular readers know is something that rarely happens. WELL, there I was reading a post when I discovered that SOME bloggers Like posts without actually reading them. Can you imagine such a thing?

This does explain a couple of times when I have gotten a Like almost immediately after hitting Publish. While it affords a certain satisfaction to have something explained, I can’t help feeling a certain dissatisfaction with the explanation. Luckily I don’t feel too awful about it. With my low self-esteem, I could easily flash back to the elementary school playground when, as too often happens in the schoolyard, someone I thought was a friend would suddenly do something mean to me.

“But I thought you LIIIIKED me!” I don’t remember if I actually wailed that line, with or without the extra syllables in “like,” but there’s a good chance I did. And you thought I was such a tough broad (nobody needs to tell me that they never thought that for one day ever in their lives).

I think miffed is a better term for the way I feel about it, now that I have reached middle age. I won’t say I’ve gained maturity exactly, but I admit to a certain level of contentment with my immaturity. We’ll call it perspective.

What was my point? Ah yes, merely to hit Publish before my husband got home. I didn’t make it. But I’ll hit Publish now, and we’ll talk more about this later.

Don’t Quit My WHAT?

Yesterday I made an almost superhuman effort to make a post that was not a Wrist to Forehead Sunday. Oh dear, I can hear the critics sniffing that if that was the result of superhuman effort, I shouldn’t quit my day job. I hate that joke about don’t quit your day job. It is so overused and almost never appropriate.

Ooh, I see myself going off on a tangent that just might pass as a Monday Middle-aged Musing. Don’t quit your day job. I HAAAATE that joke! (Yes, I just said that in the preceding paragraph; it bears repeating.) If you sing a little snatch of song, somebody is bound to say it. Did I say I was auditioning for American Idol? NO! Did I even imply I thought my voice was any good? NO! You just want to be mean by pointing out the obvious fact that I am not Gloria Gaynor.

The last time a fellow at work said it to me, I said, “Don’t quit yours to become a stand-up comedian!”
It was not the devastating comeback it had seemed in my head.

Another time the line was said to me was in an employment office. I was desperate to leave my retail job for one with more human hours. The big jerk supposedly trying to help me kept saying, “Don’t quit your day job.” It wasn’t a day job, for heavens sake! I wanted to find a day job! That’s what I was hoping this yahoo would help me with!

Just listen to me, shouting at a memory. For heavens’ sake, I have a day job now. Get over yourself, Cindy!

OK, I’m better now.

And as I get over my little tantrum, I admit that currently nobody is actually advising me not to quit my day job (Shut up! You don’t need to!) (You know who you are). That was a hypothetical critic who, truth be know, lives primarily in my head. Which, incidentally, has a headache again today. That is why I am typing in this nonsense instead of writing a good blog post.

Hope to see you all on Tuesday, which I hope will NOT be Tired Tuesday.