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Another Conversation with a Cop

I think the local cops are cool. I am reminded of this once a month now when I attend Coffee and Conversation with a Cop at the First Baptist Church in Herkimer, NY. I had some good conversation there last Saturday, Sept. 27.

The event runs from 9 to 11 a.m. the last Saturday of the month at the church on the corner of Green and Washington streets. I got there just after nine. Rev. Tenolian Bell, the church’s pastor, greeted me. I got myself a name tag, a cup of coffee and a scone. I sat down and opened my little notebook.

Two officers I had not met before were there. I’ve met different cops each session. They have all been pleasant, friendly and informative. This time I met Officers J. Reska and K.R. Allen. Rev. Bell told us these two had appeared on the original poster advertising the first Coffee and Conversation with a Cop. I thought that was kind of cool.

Traffic was a big topic this time. At one point, a certain right turn only corner came up. Someone wasn’t sure which corner it was. Officer Reska tried to elucidate.

“If I had a piece of paper…”

I immediately pushed my notebook and pen over to him so he could draw a little map of the corner in question. We talked about inconsiderate people not obeying the signs. If the police aren’t right there, the person is probably going to get away with it. Sometimes the police are close by but are en route to a more urgent call.

A call came in during our conversation, and both officers had to leave for a short time. I took the opportunity to ask Rev. Bell about something he had mentioned earlier, that he had been an investigator for a D.A. We talked about his experiences and path to the ministry, which I found very interesting.

When the cops returned, the recent rash of car break-ins came up. Officer Reska said in many cases the car owners had not locked their doors. I always lock my doors, but felt it would sound smug to say so.

We also talked a little about the officers’ backgrounds and experiences, and police work in general. I feel I am getting a real picture of the Herkimer Police Department. I took a flier for next month’s session to hang up at my work. I hope more people start attending Coffee and Conversation with a Cop. I look forward to more conversations myself.

Blame the Red Cross

I was afraid this would happen. You see, there was a blood drive at work today. I gave blood, because I wanted to save a life. And now I feel awful.

Since I was afraid of this happening, I tried to plan ahead. I tried to write something before work, so I would only have to type it in. I was even going to keep it short. It was very short. I only got to the second paragraph and ran out of steam. I couldn’t do a thing with it.

Given how tired and stupid I felt, one might have suggested I refrain from giving away a pint of blood. Given how after every time I’ve given blood in the last three years I’ve felt quite awful, one might have suggested that I refrain from giving any more away. But still, I wanted to save a life.

And now I think I am being unbearably pretentious. I saved a life today. I felt awful after doing it, but I did it anyways. Didn’t that sound smug? Oh dear, how embarrassing. I don’t mean to sound smug. I don’t mean to sound any way at all. I’m just sitting here with my head spinning (although at a slower rate than previously; these things do get better), typing away, trying to get to 200 words so I can go one more day of making a blog post.

Well, as I said parenthetically, these things do get better. Tomorrow I am going to write a good blog post! I hope somebody will still be reading.

Fence Post, Not Blog Post

Every Sunday is Wrist to Forehead Sunday. I don’t think there’s any getting away from that. In fact, today there would be every chance of my being too tired to get my wrist up to my forehead. But I am not the only tired one.

Earlier this week I wrote a post about a part of my fence being down. Today we had some great help from some awesome family members in fixing it. We tore apart the panel that had fallen. We pulled down another part that was about to fall and tore that apart. We pulled out nails and stacked broken fence pieces. We put up a new section of fence. We worked hard.

In fact, the whole thing deserves a better blog post than this. I intend to write one later in the week. For now I feel tired and grateful. Full disclosure: I am also extremely grateful that it is the Bra Off Sweats On Sit On The Couch Crocheting And Watching TV portion of the day.

Further disclosure: I was afraid this would happen. I thought to myself earlier, it would be a good idea to write a blog post early in the day BEFORE people come over to help with manual labor. Well, one does not always act on good ideas, does one?

No matter, I say. It is Sunday. I shall return to my crocheting and TV viewing, whilst I turn over in my head wonderful things I can do for the folks I am grateful to. And the better blog post I intend to write.

Into the Fog Once Again

I guess Saturday Running Commentary isn’t really back, despite its appearance last Saturday (um, I did have a Saturday Running Commentary last week, didn’t I? Too lazy to check). But to expound upon my tribulations running would be tiresome. It would no doubt lead to a big long gripe, a real Wrist to Forehead Saturday. I would run out of Saturday before I ran out of things to complain about. In fact, I’d better change the subject now.

Tabby and I took a nice walk to the post office this morning. I know I just wrote about a walk we took yesterday, but, once again, I don’t want to run out of Saturday. I have to get this puppy posted (um, “this puppy” being my blog post, not dear little Tabby).

It promised to be a warm, sunny day, so I was wearing shorts. I did not wear my crazy old lady hat, because I had just showered and my hair wasn’t dry. I was going to Coffee and Conversation with a Cop later (preview of coming attractions). I didn’t want hat head. At 8:09 a.m. (I looked at my watch as we set out), it was perhaps a little cool for shorts, but one makes do.

At first I thought Tabby did not want to go for a walk. We went about ten feet and she stopped and gave me that look. I turned around, feeling sad and a little concerned. It was neither hot nor rainy. Why would my dog not want to walk? However, she bypassed our driveway and began sniffing in the front yard. I convinced her to try the walk again, this time crossing the street. She graciously consented to continue.

It was foggy, as it has been several mornings this week. I love the fog. So mysterious. I was a little sorry, though, as I looked into the distance and could not see color on trees which I felt certain was there. Oh well, you can’t have everything. I concentrated on enjoying the mystery. I occasionally saw somebody walking up ahead. Even a block away rendered them a sinister figure. Halloween is coming. I look forward to sinister figures and various hauntings.

We made it to the post office, where I mailed some post cards, then continued our walk. We went down a mysterious alley. It wasn’t so foggy there, but the backs of some of these buildings can be a little creepy, especially if you have a vivid imagination, as I do.

However, we did not encounter anything alarming and Tabby was happy to head for home. I had things to do, so was not sorry the walk was not longer. I’m a little sorry the post is not more exciting, but as I often observe, you can’t have everything. I did have a couple of Mohawk Valley adventures today, so perhaps more exciting blog posts will be forthcoming.

Last Summer Walk?

Here’s a random observation for Lame Post Friday: “Lullaby and Good Night” does not seem to me an appropriate song for the ice cream truck (don’t know the real name of that song, sorry). But how was that for a lead sentence? I’m sitting in my living room, my little Acer in my lap, hoping to come up with something, and the silly ice cream truck is driving by.

I’m not up for any half-baked philosophy (the other component of Lame Post Friday), but I did take a nice walk with my schnoodle, Tabby, during which I made a few more observations which I will share. Summer seems to be making a farewell appearance in the Mohawk Valley. It is sunny and warm and supposed to be even better all weekend. I wore shorts, sunglasses (prescription), and my crazy old lady hat.

Tabby pulled me down East German Street for a couple of blocks. I thought it might be nice to go down Prospect, but she pulled me across the street to where the Pugnacious Pug was sitting in front of a house with his peeps. I call him the Pugnacious Pug because it seems he is always barking up a storm at something. Today he was barking at some people getting into a truck, then he turned around and barked at us. Tabby pretty much ignored him, finding several interesting places to sniff in the grass. At last I convinced her to go on.

We saw kids riding their bicycles and people sitting on front porches. We said hello to anybody who looked up. I noted some mums and other flowers still in bloom. My favorite sight was Halloween decorations. I saw one porch with a black and orange garland, small skeletons and one giant furry spider. Steven and I better get going on our decorations.

The walk was not long, but we enjoyed it. When we got home I took the laundry down off the clothesline. Astute readers may remember I wrote my Wednesday post while in the laundromat. Yes, those clothes having been hanging on my line for two days. Let’s hear it for no rain!

So I’ve walked my dog, taken down laundry, and typed in my blog post. Once I hit publish, I’m starting my weekend. Hope your Friday is fun.

Too Tired to be Inspired

I’ve been waiting all day for inspiration to strike and give me an idea of what to write a blog post about. All that has happened is that I feel increasingly tired and dull. I can see some of you shaking your heads now; you saw that coming, you TOLD me not to wait for inspiration, just to write, blah blah blah.

Regular readers know I DON’T always wait for inspiration. I daresay some of them wish I did, maybe I would write less nonsense. I can’t say I wouldn’t write anything at all, because I do feel inspired sometimes. Sometimes I feel inspired to write nonsense (ooh, that might make a good title).

I had thought to write a Pedestrian Post so took my schnoodle, Tabby, for a walk. It’s not that I’m not inspired to write about that. It’s more of a case of I Can’t Write About THAT. Oh dear, I hope that hasn’t got everybody wondering what could have possibly happened that I can’t write about it. Nothing that exciting, I’m afraid.

Some days ago I made two salads, which I thought would be good for a cooking post. When I started writing that one in my head I realized not so much. Note to self: Next time make salads with more ingredients.

I am looking forward to the upcoming weekend. But I don’t want to do a Preview of Coming Attractions without looking up more information about locations and times. I mean, what’s the point in writing about a future event that my local readers can’t take advantage of?

Ah, I just thought of a topic to use in a future blog post: Is it really such a bad thing to end a sentence with a preposition? Or a blog post with a question? Discuss amongst yourselves.

In the meantime, I’m going to publish this as a Non-Sequitur Thursday.

My Interrupted Kiss

So there I was, on a break at work, writing on my novel. I’ve been having the darnedest time lately coming up with scenes to write. At last I just started something. As sometimes happens (and it’s GREAT when it does), I went on from there.

OF COURSE the Get Back to Work buzzer sounded just when it was starting to get good. Two characters were right in the middle of a kiss (no, it’s not a sex book; don’t get your hopes up) (you know who you are). I don’t write books about thinly disguised versions of myself and others, but I felt rather as if it was my lips that had been interrupted.

Naturally I went back to work, however ill-used I felt to be doing so. One must keep one’s job, after all (if anyone says, “Don’t quit your day job,” I’ll scream. I HATE that joke) (EEEEEEEE! I just knew somebody was going to). I suppose it’s just as well. I was not at all sure how I wanted that scene to progress.

On subsequent breaks I managed a few more sentences. Then a few more after work at the laundromat, where I am now, as I write this. As you may have guessed, the scene ceased to progress.

It raises the writerly question: if I had been able to continue instead of being interrupted the first time, would the scene have progressed differently? As I said, I was not sure how I wanted the scene to go, but if I had kept writing, maybe I would have figured it out. I guess we’ll never know.

Does it matter? Perhaps not. But I thought it might be something to write a blog post about on Wuss-out Wednesday.

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