With Apologies

Yesterday I went to the Dirty Work at the Crossroads cast party feeling drained but happy. Well, that didn’t last.

I don’t believe I mentioned that my husband Steven got sick with a stomach bug last Monday. He thought it was something he ate, but I heard there was Something Going Around. I felt a little ill to my stomach that Monday and figured that was the worst that would happen to me. Ha!

Saturday night it hit two cast members. According to one of the sufferers, one had it coming out one end, one had it coming out the other. A crew member procured some ginger ale for them. The other crew member opened the dressing room door and let them sit outside in the cool air, which also helped. Another cast member had some stomach problems but concluded it was just nerves. My stomach fluttered a little, but I figured it was sympathy. I have a very suggestible body (although for a while now I’ve been suggesting to it that it lose ten pounds, to no avail).

So Sunday, there I was, sipping a little white wine, eating some chips and dip. Steven procured me a cup of coffee, since my body REALLY wanted to sleep. I would just like to insert here: I poured myself a small portion of wine which I did not finish. So any of you who just zeroed in on the wine and was saying, “Well, THERE’S your problem!” can just keep quiet.

And then it started to come over me. I asked Steven to take me home. We only live about ten minutes away from Ilion Little Theatre. I apologized profusely for being such a wimp. I’m convinced that if it had happened to me during one of the performances, I could have persevered. I also feel fortunate that this theory was not put to the test.

I spent the next thirty or so hours between my bed and the bathroom. Not to be disgusting, but it was coming out of both ends (luckily not at the same time). My head hurt so bad I couldn’t stand it. My back hurt so bad I couldn’t stand it. In short, I was a big huge baby but felt I had cause.

And yet, I must do a blog post every day. It is my rule for myself. I kept thinking I would just type in three sentences of an excuse and be done with it. Then I felt some slight relief in my symptoms. Dare I say I feel better? I don’t want to jinx it, because I’ve felt that way a couple of times already, only to be disappointed.

At any rate, I turned on the computer, got to wordpress.com and started typing. This is the result. I had not meant to be so lengthy about it, but, well, these things happen. I hope tomorrow to be feeling better enough that I can do a blog post I will actually edit.

Pre-Party Post

OK, it is not Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I had at least three Mohawk Valley adventures yesterday as well as watching a fairly cheesy movie so I indeed have things I could write about about. And yet. And yet.

Last night was closing night of Dirty Work at the Crossroads, the play I was in at Ilion Little Theatre. I’m tired.

Just as an aside: there was a moment in the play where I actually put my wrist to my forehead. My line was, “Oh shame! Oh degradation!” It was a melodrama. I got a little melodramatic.

Steven (my husband and the play’s director) and I spent this morning running around, trying to get ready for the cast party at one (my gyrations cooking refreshments may form the basis of a blog post later this week) (preview of coming attractions). We have a little over an hour before we have to head out.

I can just hear one of you (oh, all right, it probably isn’t one of you, it’s probably that pesky critic in my head) saying, “Well, there, that’s sixty minutes you have to be writing something brilliant, or at least readable, or at least NOT yet another post about Why I Can’t Write a Post Today.”

In the first place, it isn’t sixty minutes, because I have to keep running downstairs to stir the chicken wings.

The fact is, I’m drained. I feel profound relief that I no longer have to put forth the great effort it takes to be a different person on stage. While the joys of so doing are undeniable, there is also no denying, it takes a toll. The toll today is a boring Sunday post.

However, my spirits are high. I am looking forward in the coming weeks and months to devoting more time to my writing, to walking my dog, to being with my husband, just to Being.

In the meantime, I’m afraid today I am obligated to head to the theatre one more time. I must, I positively must, eat some good food, have a drink or two, hang out with some perfectly wonderful people, have a few laughs, enjoy. It is a moral obligation.

I Was Walking, Not Stalking

My hope is to re-institute Saturday Running Commentary next Saturday. In the meantime, I offer a Pedestrian Post about a very pleasant walk I just took with my beloved schnoodle, Tabby.

I have felt very bad about leaving Tabby alone in the evenings when we had rehearsals and then performances for Dirty Work at the Crossroads at Ilion Little Theatre. Our last performance is tonight, so Tabby’s quality of life will improve starting tomorrow. In the meantime, I made up my mind to let her walk where she wanted to and let her stop and sniff almost as many places as she chose (no, not ALL the places; I’d still be out there!).

It was an absolutely beautiful day. The sun was shining, no humidity to speak of, just a gentle breeze. I had on the nicer of my two crazy old lady hats and my prescription sunglasses (as usual I carried my regular glasses in case it clouded up suddenly; you know Mohawk Valley weather). I had on a sweatshirt, because it was just under 60 degrees. That had the added advantage of a place to put my extra poop bag (I like to carry a spare).

We started out down Bellinger. For once Tabby did not turn and walk towards her favorite Historic Four Corners but continued towards Meyers Park. Then she didn’t seem to want to cross over to the park. Once we got almost past it, I suggested to her we cross the street and walk around the park. Otherwise we would be walking past businesses or along Route 5. We were not early enough to beat Saturday traffic.

All this time I kept thinking I smelled somebody cooking outdoors. It seemed a little early, even for lunch, so I wondered if I was smelling some leftover odors from last night. I LOVE cooking out. I must make myself an opportunity to do so soon.

Once Tabby did her business, I encouraged her to cross over and walk through the park to a trash can. I know, I said I was going to let her walk wherever she wanted to walk, but one must be flexible in these things. I assure you, Tabby did not mind. I made for the closest trash can, which took us by a guy sitting on a bench talking on a cell phone. I hoped he did not think I was purposely walking by him.

I let Tabby lead me from the trash can back toward Bellinger and Route 5. We walked in front of Herb Philipson’s. Must go there for some new sports bras. I saw the Baker’s Dozen bakery across the street and thought I could go for a bagel. I remember one thick-necked sergeant telling me once that I’d NEVER lose weight eating bagels. He was on Atkins, eating all the bacon in the world. Well, I am almost down to my target weight now, and I do eat the occasional bagel. But I didn’t have one today.

When we got to Prospect Street, the mystery of the cook-out odor was solved. The Methodist Church was having a Brooks Barbecue. The huge grill extended over the sidewalk, so I suggested we cross the road. Then I saw cell phone guy from the park just ahead of us. Now he might really think I was stalking him! I let Tabby sniff the corner of a building for an extra long time so he could get way ahead of us. Then we took a different direction.

We walked by Hummel’s Office Plus and Crazy Otto’s Empire Diner, two places I plan on visiting soon, then on up Main Street. Many closed businesses, alas. The Exclusive Barber Shop is still open. Burrito Jones has not opened yet.

I had my sweatshirt tied around my waist by now. The exercise felt really good on my legs. We turned down Park Avenue and went back toward Meyers Park. Past the Brooks Barbecue smell. MMMMmmmmm….

We had walked for almost a half hour. Still plenty of time to do something useful before Steven gets home from work. Then I am hoping to sneak in at least one Mohawk Valley adventure before tonight’s play.

“Dirty Work” for a Good Cause

I would like to use today’s post to give a brief shout-out to Habitat for Humanity

Habitat bills itself as a hand up not a hand out. They build homes for deserving, needy families. The families work on the homes as well.

I first encountered the group up north, many years ago when I was in Kiwanis. A member of a neighboring Kiwanis Club also worked with Habitat and saw first hand what a different it makes in the lives of recipients.

At the request of another friend, I participated in a Raquette Valley Habitat for Humanity fundraiser. All I had to do was go bowling. The money I paid to bowl went to Habitat. I know with these bowl-a-thons (not that we bowled that many games), participants usually go around and get people to sponsor them per pin. With my bowling average (if you can call it an average as seldom as I bowl), that could hardly have raised much. Also, my circle of acquaintance at the time was very limited. Anybody I could have asked had probably already been asked or was bowling themselves.

The other knowledge I have of Habitat is that there is a Habitat home near a relative I see one or two times a year. The home has been there for a number of years now and looks just as beautiful as when it was brand new. I see real pride of ownership in such a well kept property.

I write about Habitat for Humanity, because last night they held a fundraiser in conjunction with Ilion Little Theatre (ILT). We put on our play Dirty Work at the Crossroads. They paid our group a set amount to cover our royalties and expenses, then sold tickets to their supporters.

It is a definite win/win situation. Win for ILT because those Habitat people are the BEST audience! They are ready to be pleased. They laughed at all the jokes. They applauded long and loud at the end. They all told us how much they enjoyed the show.

I may try to get more involved with Habitat for Humanity. I think that would be a very good project for Mohawk Valley Girl.

You Would Cry Too

It’s my Friday and I’ll cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to.

OK, that’s all I got. I started to write a post about… I don’t remember what I was writing about but it was going to be too long. I have to get to the theatre tonight. The show must go on! (with gesture)

Actually, I just now took the time to go downstairs and look at what I started to write. It was about Habitat for Humanity. Tonight’s show is a benefit for that fine organization. I will try to write about them tomorrow. I have tomorrow off, so I will have more time for a lengthy post.

Thus explaining my first sentence, and you know what Friday means: Lame Post Friday! Random observations and half-baked philosophy! Here goes…

My first observation is that it would probably have been less trouble to write a short post while on a break at work and then have merely to type it in right now, instead of trying to think of something clever to say. Which leads me into some half-baked philosophy on why do I always have to do things the hard way?

Seriously, why do I? Certain members of my family say it is a family motto: Why do things the easy way when there’s a hard way? Now my question is: why do we so often ask why? Can’t we just accept what is and go from there? Do you suppose this is enough questions for one blog post?

I’m thinking it is enough nonsense. I am over 200 words. My only excuse for a stupid post is that at least it’s short. Hope to see you on Friday, when I will attempt to NOT be lame.

That’s a Classic?

Imagine my chagrin when I tuned into Tarantula (1955), which I had DVR’d in expectation of a nice slice of cinematic cheese, to find out that TCM considers it a classic!

TCM was in the midst of their Classic Film Festival. I’ve never been to a real film festival, where you go somewhere, stay a few days, decide which screening or panel discussion you will attend. I am envious of those who have. However, one can’t have everything. I have cable television and a DVR. It’ll do.

So there I was, about to watch a classic film. Then again, the 1933 King Kong is considered a classic. Plenty to laugh at there. What makes something a classic anyways? That people keep watching it. Apparently people have been watching Tarantula since 1955. Who am I to argue?

I wrote the preceding the week before last. I did not continue because I was quite pressed for time. My movie posts (can’t quite call them reviews) tend to run up to 1,000 words. I did not think I would have time to type it in. Today I will have time, but will I have the inclination?

As it turns out, I don’t think that matters much, because after two weeks, I don’t seem to remember much about the movie. I remember the science was spurious, even for a horror movie. For example, why did the animals injected with the stuff just get big while the people got big and deformed? There could be a philosophical discussion in the answer to that, but as usual we’ll save the half-baked philosophy for Lame Post Friday.

I seem to remember something about the beginning that made me want to watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers again (the 1956 original, not the 1978 remake). I’m not sure I can describe what it was, but Tarantula didn’t do it as well. Something to do with the atmosphere of normalcy before things got horrible (and of course I mean horrible as in belonging to a horror movie, not horrible in a bad movie sense).

Ah, I just checked in the TV Journal and the note I made was that Invasion moves fast and Tarantula moves slow. I think what I mean is that Tarantula gets bogged down in the “normal” part while Invasion does not. I seem to remember watching Invasion thinking, “Ooh, I wish I was there, having cocktails and a cook-out — no I don’t!”

I just re-read what I wrote so far and noted the words “Who am I to argue?” Apparently I think I’m someone, because I didn’t think this flick was such a classic. When looking up the year, I noticed that Leonard Maltin thinks highly of it. Then again, Maltin and I often disagree. Perhaps I can come up with a little half-baked philosophy on why for Lame Post Friday.

Not Left Hanging

My mother had a birthday recently. I previously had an idea to send her flowers for no reason but had not acted on it. Now I decided to send her flowers for a reason.

I thought I would call Olney’s Flowers in Rome, NY, which is where my mom and dad live. Olney’s did the wedding flowers for me and all my sisters, so I knew they did nice work. Serendipitously, I saw an ad for them on the television. I had Steven make a note of the phone number but in fact it is a very easy number to remember: 339-6000 (perhaps not as memorable as eight-six-seven-five-three-oh-ni-ee-ine, but very good for a business, I think).

The advertisement had particularly mentioned their hanging baskets. My other thought had been something Mom could subsequently plant in her yard. However, while talking to the nice lady at Olney’s, I realized planting flowers is work. A hanging basket Mom has only to hang and enjoy. I went with the hanging basket. I set delivery for Mom’s birthday and felt pleased with myself.

Imagine my chagrin when on the morning of Mom’s birthday I read a Facebook post from a sister hoping Mom was having fun in Pennsylvania. PENNSYLVANIA??? I didn’t know she would be in Pennsylvania on her birthday! What a dumb place to go on a birthday when you are supposed to be home receiving a hanging basket from Olney’s!

OK, it’s not a completely dumb place for my parents to be. They have a daughter in Pennsylvania who has a daughter of her own who happened to be graduating that weekend. I’m sure it is quite logical for my mom and dad to be in Pennsylvania. However, I am also sure she neglected to mention to me her plan to be there on her birthday. Nobody ever tells me anything!

Luckily I had looked at Facebook early in the morning. I got on the phone to Olney’s almost as soon as they opened (I tried to wait till at least 8:01 just to be on the safe side, but I was a little agitated). The woman I spoke with said her family never tells her anything either and she nicely put the delivery on hold till I could find out when Mom will be back in Rome.

I later learned that Mom and Dad planned to return on Monday. I called Olney’s on Monday and re-set delivery for Tuesday, since I couldn’t be sure what time on Monday would be good. My only hope now is that Mom gets her flowers before she reads this blog post (she is one of my subscribers, after all).

Olney’s Flowers is located at 2002 N. James St., Rome, NY. Phone number 315-339-6000. They are open Monday through Saturday from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., Sunday from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. You can like them on Facebook or visit their website at www.olneysflowers.com.