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I Feel Like a Monster

It was going to be another Monstrous Monday.  I found some monster pictures in my Media Library, I wrote some foolish comments about them. I was just finishing up and ready to think up a title and hit publish when I remembered:  It isn’t Monday!  It’s Tuesday!  This is what happens when you don’t go to work on Monday.  It messes up your head.  It doesn’t help that I’m not feeling well (my ostensible reason for taking a Monstrous Monday).  In fact, my stomach is starting to roil as I type.  I’m just going to slap a headline on this, hit publish and stretch out.  Here is what I typed in when I thought it was Monday:

I’m afraid it is going to be another Monstrous Monday.  Both Steven and I seem to be down with some 24-hour (I hope) bugaboo. But I shall not go on about our health woes. For one reason, it would be a HIPAA violation.  For another reason, it is boring and a little disgusting.  Never mind, let’s find a picture of a monster to share.

Raise your hand if you think these Monster Monday posts are silly!

I couldn’t find a new picture so I went to my Media Library and found one of Frankenstein’s monster I haven’t used recently (I hope).

He’s been hanging around for a while now.

Here is a friendlier monster.  My husband Steven got me this nice vampire for Christmas some years ago. He’s been hanging in our living room ever since.  As regular readers know, I like to make Halloween last all year.

This plant required a red thumb, not green one.

Oh, here’s a picture I haven’t used more than once, I don’t think.  It is from Roger Corman’s Little Shop of Horrors (1960).  I confess to not being a fan of the musical, but I LOVE the cheesy black-and-white horror flick.

So say I.

I end with how I feel:  tired and ready to say good night!  Full disclosure:  I probably won’t go to bed for a while yet, because I don’t want to wake up at 2 a.m. unable to get back to sleep.  You know how it is.  I’m afraid this has been a foolish post.  We’ll call it a blogger’s sick day and drive on.

 

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Most of the Time, I’m a Regular Fool

So I guess my stomach problems yesterday were not purely nerves.  At least, I seemed OK during the murder mystery (which was a blast, by the way) and not bad this morning, but as soon as I ate something… well, these things happen, I suppose.  I really hate to make another blog post whining about my petty health complaints. I will try not to whine but merely state the facts.  Then again, it is Wrist to Forehead Sunday.  Perhaps a “woe is me” followed by a swoon is appropriate.

Most of the audience seemed to really enjoy Secrets at Suiter House, our murder mystery, last night.  Now I must rush headlong into the next, Spring into Murder.  I’ll have more blog posts about that, no doubt.  Theatre is my life!  Part of my life, anyways.

I had a very nice Easter dinner with some members of my family.  My stomach allowed me to partake of ham, cheesy potatoes, and Heidelberg rolls, among other treats.  I admit it: I am rarely too ill to eat.  I keep thinking if I eat the right thing, it will make me feel better.  This explains my continued failure to meet my weight-loss goals.

However, as I often say, tomorrow is another day.  I guess a lot of people have said that.  How embarrassing to resort to cliche.  Well, what do you people expect of me when I have a bad stomach on Wrist to Forehead Sunday?  I can’t be profound under these circumstances!  But apparently I can make a blog post, however foolish.  Hey, I just remembered something else:  it’s April Fool’s Day.  That’s it!  I’m just an April fool.  Happy Easter, everybody.

 

 

Here’s Yesterday’s Post

Yesterday I took a bloggers’ sick day.  It is now 4:27 in the morning and I am going to publish something, as has been my habit at these times.  As I lay in bed earlier this morning, I composed in my head a much better post than what I am now typing.  I can see some of you shaking your fingers or your heads at me, saying, “THAT is why you must always keep a notebook and pen by your bed!”

Frankly, I am not too regretful about it.  For one reason, waking up sufficiently to write something down would have woken me up for the day, and I certainly need my beauty sleep.  For another reason, it was probably only better in my head.  Any time I dream a “perfect” idea for a novel, I find on waking that it made much more sense in the dream.  Anything I thought of in the night, rolled over and wrote down, I later thought, “Why did I bother?”

Be all that as it may, here is what I typed in last night (as Truman Capote once said, “That’s not writing, that’s typing), before I found myself quite incapable of typing another word:

I think this post is going to be time-stamped Valentine’s Day, but as I type this, it is Feb. 13. I just returned from Little Falls, NY.  I went to Huckleberry Letterpress Co.  to purchase a Valentine for Steven.  I felt very fortunate when I saw on their Facebook page that they were open at the beginning of the week for Valentine’s shopping.  Now I feel bad that I did not plug them yesterday, so local readers may have had a chance to go there today.  No matter.  You can go there another day to get a different kind of card.  They have an excellent selection.

I wrote about Huckleberry Letterpress for the February issue of Mohawk Valley Living magazine.  They were also featured on the Sunday Mohawk Valley Living TV show.

(Back to present time): I decided to share those paragraphs, because, you know, waste not, want not (ooh, I do remember thinking, “waste not, want not” earlier, that was worth remembering).  Also, I had linked to the shop and the magazine.

After I typed in what I could, I felt really bad for not doing more for Valentine’s Day for my husband (I had declared we would celebrate it on Fat Tuesday, because Steven works later today), so I bestirred myself to go out to the kitchen and bake brownies.  I used a mix and added chocolate chips.  Steven liked them, and he liked the card.

So I guess this is yesterday’s post.  I see it is clocking in over 450 words. Yay me.  Kind of.  Happy Valentine’s Day.

 

I’ll Always Have Snapped

At the risk of stating the obvious.

This will be a brief combination of Monday Mental Meanderings and Blogger’s Sick Day.  I’m still sick with my cold or virus or whatever it is, but I made it through the day at work (I tried to avoid my co-workers and keep my germs to myself).  Now I am sitting here, looking at Snapped and wondering if I ought to attempt some chicken soup.

The Price is right.

Often I insert a monster picture at these times, but I thought a horror icon would do just as well.  My sister Vicki pointed this photo out to me on a page I had not encountered yet, Halloween (All Hallows Eve).  I immediately Liked it.

Full Disclosure:  I am not up to 200 words.  I’ll throw in the Snapped logo for a third picture and hit Publish.  Sorry, folks.

 

Only it’s not Sunday, and it is not no new. Hey, any Snapped in a storm.

 

Please Excuse Mohawk Valley Girl…

I am going to ask you nicely not to judge me for taking an actual Blogger’s Sick Day yesterday.  My cold felt better and by “better” I mean “less horrible.”  I took some over the counter cold remedy that knocked me out.  When I woke up I made chicken soup and had a couple martinis.  I suppose hot toddies would have been more appropriate, but I just couldn’t face the honey.

So the first martini made me feel better, the second made me feel a little too good. I had some chicken soup, and went to bed.  Now I feel quite thoroughly embarrassed, still headachy and a little sick to my stomach. Well, maybe when the hangover goes away, it’ll take the cold with it.  That has happened to me before.  Mostly I am embarrassed because my mother reads this blog.  Good God, I’m 54 years old and still trying to hide my foibles from Mom.  Hi, Mom, by the way.

I also got up this morning determined to make up for all the stuff I did not get done on my week off. Accordingly, I put a load of laundry in the washing machine and opened my laptop to make this post.  Who knows what I might get done after a cup of coffee.  Maybe something worth blogging about.

 

Also Known as a Thelma Todd

There comes a time when I have to say, what the hell, body?  I have a bad blogging and writing week, for various reasons, then when I think I can salvage something on Thursday and Friday, I get completely sick with a terrible head cold.  I am trying to count my blessings — at least I am not nauseous and I did not have to work today — but I feel AWFUL!!!

So I am having a Lame Post Friday after all.  I’m not even going to post any monster movie pictures to liven things up.  Well, maybe one.

Nobody could be un-cheered by Nosferatu.

I spent most of the morning sleeping.  That was sweet.  Some food and a hot shower made me feel a little more human. Then I managed to drive to Utica to get my vehicle.  Oh, never mind why my vehicle was in Utica; it’s a long story and not very interesting.   The drive home was not fun, as the cold symptoms kicked back in, but I made it without being a danger to myself and others.

Back home I had a hot toddy.  I make them the way a doctor told me to many years ago:  hot tea with lemon and honey and a shot.  He recommended brandy or whisky, but I have Mohawk Valley Fire Moonshine from DikinDurt Distillery of Herkimer.  It is fine, yes.  Very cinnamony.  For honey I used some ginger creamed stuff I got at one of the Little Falls festivals,  Cheese Fest or Canal Fest, I think, who can remember these things with a bad cold?  While I sipped, I looked at a Snapped On Demand.  I love Snapped.

I might as well throw in another graphic for good measure.

So everyone has a breaking point, according to the above picture.  Maybe I’ll have another hot toddy to make sure I don’t reach mine.  Happy Friday, everybody.

 

Blogging is for The Birds

“To think that I’ve been feeding these little S.O.B.s!”

My bad blogging but good movie-watching week continues with a fast Non-Sequitur Thursday post.  I am into Alfred Hitchcock today.  I offered Steven a choice of The Birds or Psycho, and he chose The Birds. Murder and mayhem without being too disturbing.  And we get to make fun of Annie the doormat.  It is rather unbecoming of me, come to think about it, because I have sometimes acted the doormat myself, in my sordid, low-self-esteemed past.  I try to avoid such behavior these days, but you just never now what you might do given the right (or wrong) circumstances.

Not the party they were hoping for.

This was the only photo I could find quickly featuring Annie the doormat.  I can’t think of anything witty to say about Rod Taylor or Veronica Cartwright, so I will merely note their presence.

I’d scream, too!

Maybe I can talk Steven into watching Psycho next.  It starts slow then picks up and become quite satisfyingly creepy.  In the meantime, I am missing The Birds while I type in this blog post.  Full disclosure:  I think I am coming down with a stupid cold.  I hope I am feeling better tomorrow.  Perhaps I could forgo Lame Post Friday and write a good post, to make up for my bad blogging week.  No promises.  Happy Thursday, though.