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On Timing and Topping

I keep noticing that WordPress is 12 hours ahead of me.   I log on and hit My Site, then my statistics show up and it seems that I have had no activity yet that day.  This is usually about four in the afternoon, when I get home from work.  First I think nobody likes me, then I notice that it is already tomorrow and say, “Huh.”

 

Leaving my problems of low self-esteem aside (I know some people like me, don’t tell me nobody does or you will hurt my delicate feelings), let us consider the time warp.  While I am in the midst of my Wrist to Forehead Sunday, other bloggers are on to Monday, which may or may not be a Funday (or a Runday or a Punday, etc.)  (I can keep that up all day).

 

People who hate Monday (and there are many of them), probably scorn these whining Sunday posts (oh how I HATE to admit I am whining!).  “You think YOU have problems,” they sneer.  “I’m at work!  At the beginning of the week!”

 

If there is one thing I hate worse than admitting I am whining, it is a topper.  You know the sort.  If you have a headache, they have a migraine.  If you are broke, they are bankrupt, homeless and the sole support of their aged, ailing mother.  Conversely, if you just got a new car, they have traded in their Corvette for a Lambourgini (is that how you spell it? My computer doesn’t seem to think so).

 

Hey, I just realized something.  If my readers are toppers, I can’t win no matter what.   Even if I peel my wrist off my forehead and get positive, they will have something better going on.  In fact, I bet they write better blog posts than me.  What are they even reading my silliness for?  Possibly for the feelings of superiority.  If that is the case, you’re welcome.

 

As for the rest of you, thank you for reading.  Happy Sunday, even if for you it is already Monday.

 

One Must Persevere

Twice this week I ran, thinking to do a Running Commentary.  Twice I found I could not.  Then I ran today (Saturday), thinking Saturday Running Commentary, why would I not make a Saturday Running Commentary?  At first I thought I would run my commentaries together (so to speak) and just make a post about This Week in Running.  As I started to write (yes, I’ve gone back to re-write the intro after writing most of the blog) (just to insert a note about The Writing Process), I found myself saying quite a bit about Tuesday’s run.  Not wishing to tax my readers’ patience, I shall just comment about one run today.

 

Tuesday I wanted to run into the Unknown Park.  A friend told me it is Brookfield Park.  I have called it the Unknown Park in this blog, because it is not clearly labelled.   That is how I still think of it.  These during the week runs are tricky, because it is not so easy to cross German Street at that time of the day (fourish).  All the hills I know of in Herkimer are on the other side of German Street from my street.

 

This time I managed to cross it with very little problem.  So I felt I was not off the hook for hills.  After all, if I have managed to get across the busy street, why waste it?  I sure did not feel like running, but I persevered.  The park would be interesting.  I had not run it since sometime last fall.  I might even see some buds on some trees.

 

Imagine my chagrin on discovering that the entrance to the park was blocked by a chain with an orange triangle attached.  There is a space where a pedestrian could sneak in, but I have to think of safety first.  Suppose I ran into some kind of trouble (and you know I have a vivid imagination that can come up with all sorts of trouble)?  Who would be likely to come along and help me in a blocked off park?  I ran on.

 

Running up the hill to the college was clearly ineligible, so I went up the hill by Valley Health and ran around in the suburbs (I know they aren’t really suburbs, it’s just a handy term I use).  As I went slowly up, I realized I am in no shape for the Boilermaker 15K.  I’d better step up the pace of my training.  And by step up the pace, of course I mean to continue my shuffling, overweight middle-aged lady pace (not that gender makes a difference), but more often and for longer periods of time.  No more two days off between runs, maybe not even one day off.   And I definitely have to at least walk on the days I do not run.

 

As I ran on, at one point I had a choice:  turn left and continue on a level road or go up a steep-looking hill.  I decided I would turn left.  I was tired.  Then I thought, “Step up the pace.”  I  would go up that hill!  I felt bad ass.  As usual the hill looked less steep when I got right up to it.  It was steep enough.  I made it up.  Then I took a left turn to run by a sign that said, “Do Not Enter.”  I felt bad ass doing that too.  Oh, you don’t have to tell me: they mean cars not middle-aged ladies jogging.  Don’t spoil my fun.

 

I felt quite pleased with myself for running and especially for tackling that second hill.   I was dreadfully tired as the evening progressed, but that is the difference between running after a long day of work and running first thing after sleeping in on the weekend.  As I often observe, one must persevere.

 

 

T.G.I.L.P.F.

You know that means Thank God It’s Lame Post Friday, right?  Otherwise, all my work has been for naught (said with my wrist on my forehead).  Not really, of course.  I just felt like being dramatic.

 

It is not just Lame Post Friday, though.  It is the first day of Finish That Novel May.  I am putting it out there in order to put myself on the spot.    I have declared to the world that I am going to finish my novel.  I have 31 days to make good on that boast.

 

Yikes.

 

I did write a few notes on the novel, and I wrote a letter to my sister in which I talked about my plans for tackling the project.  Now I must get on to the real work.  However, right now it is Lame Post Friday, my day for random observations and half-baked philosophy.

 

I did observe a nice-looking dog outside a house when I looked out the window at work today (of course, I like to think all dogs are nice).  He was a biggish brown mutt, lying comfortably on a front walk, just chilling.  Yesterday on my way home I observed a springer spaniel puppy, jumping happily on the fence to greet a passerby.  At least, I think it was a spaniel.  You know I don’t know from breeds.

 

My own dog continues to improve from last week’s malady.  We keep giving her the medicine prescribed.

 

I must plan some Mohawk Valley adventures for tomorrow.  For this reason, I shall skip the half-baked philosophy portion of Lame Post Friday, hit publish and carry on with my Friday.  Hope you’re all having a lovely beginning of the weekend.

 

Show All Your Work

Twice now this week I’ve gone running.  Twice I have narrated in my head, coming up with some rather witty commentary if I do say so.  Twice I have sat down at the computer and NOT been able to write the post.

 

Well, I can’t wuss out, because this is not Wuss-out Wednesday.  It is Non-Sequitur Thursday.  I shall come up with something non sequential but fun.  Or I’ll write a short, foolish post and slap on a goofy headline that doesn’t really fit.

 

But first I have to start dinner.

 

OK, I cooked the last of the bacon (we don’t often have bacon, but Steven had a craving).  While it cooked I sliced some red onion and opened a can of mushroom pieces and stems.  Then I cooked a couple of cube steaks, seasoning them with Worcestershire sauce, garlic powder and lemon pepper (I used the last of the Worcestershire, but I know Steven put it on the shopping list).

 

When the steaks were almost done, I put on the onions, mushrooms and bacon on them, then covered them with cheese.  Full disclosure: not real good cheese.  We got it to hide Tabby’s medicine in, but it turns out peanut butter works better.

 

Oh yes, I cooked with wine.  I did not put any in the food this time, because I don’t have a whole lot.  Next time I might put it on the food.  I think cube steaks need all the help they can get.

 

In the meantime, I hope this counts as a post, even without a catchy title.

 

Tabby Goes to the Doctor

I mentioned that Tabby, our adorable schnoodle, was feeling under the weather but appears to be on the mend.  I thought I would give a brief shout-out to Mohawk Valley Veterinary Service.

 

Tabby had started ailing Friday evening.  We immediately cancelled our plans so we could stay home with her.  We hoped it was just something she ate or a 24-hour bugaboo (dogs get that too, don’t they?).  When we woke up Saturday morning, we saw that this was not the case.

 

Being an early riser can be a curse.  It took forever for it to be 8 a.m. when we thought the vet opened (we had a rather old piece of paper with their number and hours).  No answer at first.  Oh no!  I was on the computer trying to look up emergency veterinary care when Steven tried again and got an answer. Phew!

 

The doctor would be in at nine.  I even had time to make my blog post before I left.  Steven had already gone to work, although he would have liked to call in (employers are less generous  than blog readers about doggy sick days).  Tabby perked up a little when she saw the leash, but she was obviously having trouble moving.  I had to help her into the vehicle.

 

As we walked into the vet, a very cute cockapoo greeted us (I asked his person what breed).  He would have liked to be all over Tabby, but his person restrained him.  I petted him and said how cute and sweet he was.

 

When I told the receptionist about Tabby’s symptoms, she said it sounded like Lyme Disease.  I was surprised, because Tabby had not been in the woods (we do sometimes take her to the Nature Trail at Herkimer College) (previously referred to here as HCCC) or near deep grass (I don’t think there is any yet this year).  Apparently ticks are extremely prevalent this year and are turning up everywhere.  No dog is immune, and the tick medicine (which we do give Tabby) can only do so much.

 

Once we got in to see the doctor, a blood test quickly confirmed that it was Lyme Disease.  The doctor gave Tabby two shots —  which of course she did NOT like — and some medicine.

 

I was very grateful to the clinic, for getting Tabby right in and helping her so quickly.   Despite the worry, it was a fun experience, seeing a few dogs and a cat, and chatting with their people.  I heard but did not see the duck.  Yes, they have a resident duck, as two “duck crossing” signs warn.

 

Mohawk Veterinary Service is located at 5624 State Rt. 5, Herkimer, NY 13350.  For more information call 315-866-3417.

 

How to De-Funkify?

Yeah, I know defunkify is not a word (hyphenated or otherwise).  Is that a problem?

 

Full disclosure: this is my third attempt at writing this post.  I am a little embarrassed.  Usually when I can’t write at least I can write about not being able to write (the irony is not lost on me).  But this funk seems to be reaching sizable proportions.  However, I continue to attempt to deal with it, one way or another.  These are my thoughts on how one might deal with such a thing.

 

In general, one has two options when dealing with a funk:  surrender to it or fight it.  One’s first impulse is often to fight it.  As the poet said, Do not go gently into that good night!  (Was it Dylan Thomas?  Probably ought to look that up before I publish this.)  Sometimes what you need to do is power on out of that funk.  Just sit your butt down and write (or  get off your butt and run, clean the house, whatever it is your funk is preventing you from doing)!

 

Surrendering sounds like a terrible option. One of my favorite movies Galaxy Quest taught me, “Never give up! Never surrender!” Well, let’s not call it surrender (a’ 70s song about “Sweet Surrender” just started playing in my head).  Call it Relax Into It.  Just sink down into the funk and give your brain a break.  Take a deep breath and enjoy the view.  Relax.

 

Sometimes when you do this, you emerge on the other side of the funk.  Sometimes the funk is your brain and body’s way of telling you that you need a rest.  And sometimes not.  Sometimes the above mentioned power through it is the way to go.

 

As I wrote the preceding, it occurred to me that perhaps there is a third option of gently trying different things to ease your way out of the funk.  I alluded to this method in yesterday’s post, when I felt marginally better after a nice walk with my husband and dog.  A blogger I often read, Return of the Modern Philosopher wrote about a trip to the library which helped his funk considerably.  He took a hard run the next day which also seemed to help.

 

Hmmm…. This may land me in the middle of some half-baked philosophy more suitable for Lame Post Friday.  It seems to me a walk and a trip to the library are gentle ways to ease out of a funk while a hard run is more on the power your way out method.  Then again, running is not writing, so really it would only be powering your way out if your funk was preventing you from running (my funks do that sometimes, too).

 

Now I have three things to look up before I publish this: the poet quoted earlier and the links to Return of the Modern Philosopher.  The question is: is it easier to save this post AGAIN and do that, or to save this post (AGAIN) and write about the run I took this afternoon.  Less writing to pause and look things up, but I hate to waste a good run.  Hmmmm…..

 

OK, it was Dylan Thomas, and I put in the appropriate links.  Now I wonder if the title is right… Oh hell, I’m hitting publish.

 

 

 

Bogged Down in the Blog

Still can’t do it.  Yesterday I started writing a post about getting out of the funk I was in.  I got all bogged down and ended up writing some silliness suitable for Wrist to Forehead Sunday.  Today I tried to edit what I had written, feeling it would make a dandy Middle-aged Musings Monday.  Got bogged down a again.

 

What, I ask you, is a blogger to do?  (This may or may not be a rhetorical question; reader’s choice.)

 

I did take a lovely walk with my nice husband, Steven, and our beloved schnoodle, Tabby.  I could write a Pedestrian Post and have done with it.  It was an enjoyable walk.  The temperatures have warmed up.  I was fine in a regular sweatshirt, although I did put the hood up when my ears got cold.  We saw some daffodils, a few crocuses and some little purple flowers which I could not identify (must ask my Mom; she knows all that stuff).

 

Tabby, by the way, seems to be recovering nicely from her Lyme Disease.  She ran around barking when she knew a walk was imminent.  She is not completely herself yet.  When I got her a treat after the walk, she did not jump up on her hind legs to get it but waited for me to bring it down to her level.   However, she is definitely on the mend, for which Steven and I are quite grateful.

 

As for me, the walk did not exactly cure my funk, but I think it helped.  Fresh air, good company, exercise, what’s not to like?  Could it be that my funk, like Tabby’s Lyme Disease, is not something  I can just snap out of?  Perhaps I could gradually emerge from it, feeling a little better each day, till I am busily writing, completing tasks as I hope to.

 

In any case, this is my Middle-aged Musings Monday post.   Ooh, I just remembered something.  A few weeks ago I changed it to Monday Mental Meanderings.  Did I mention I am in a funk?

 

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