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Tag Archives: dithering

At Least I Didn’t Mention My Underwear. Oops.

I thought to myself, “This will be the day I catch up on my blog.”  Regular readers may remember (or not; I do not flatter myself that my little blog holds such an important part in anybody’s consciousness) that I am still one post behind, after missing two days, um, two weeks ago?  More? Less?  I’m too lazy and flustered to go back and check.  The point is, I realized earlier in the week that Sunday would be the perfect day to make two posts and thus be caught up, according to my rules for me.  I have a matinee of Morning’s at Seven at Ilion Little Theatre at two.  I can make a post before and a post afterward.  IT!  COULD!  WORK!  (That is a reference to Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein, a movie I highly recommend).

I attempted to implement the plan earlier in the day, but I sat here on WordPress and just kind of made b-b-b-b noises.  Later, having exerted myself in other directions (nothing big: made a salad for my week’s lunches, made some cream-cheese-stuffed celery sticks for same, got the laundry out of the drier,did  a couple other minor chores), I thought to try again.  So here I am.  Let the b-b-b-b noises begin!

The fact is, I am as usual these days, feeling quite flustered.  Will I remember my lines? Will I remember all the other stuff: contact lenses, pantyhose, to breathe?  I already forgot one thing:  when I was at the grocery store earlier I meant to get grapes and pretzels for backstage snacks.  They are my favorite backstage snacks:  the grapes help you hydrate and the salt in the pretzels helps absorb the acids in your stomach.  I suppose I have time to run back to the store, but by this hour of a Sunday it may be crowded.  Oh, look, now I have another thing to dither over!

And I have a blog post of over 300 words.   Maybe they are not good words.  Perhaps I amused no one at all.  Nah, at least somebody reading it had to be at least mildly entertained.  I mean, “b-b-b-b noises” may not be comedy gold, but I find it worth a chuckle.  Perhaps I flatter myself.  No matter.  We’ll call this Wrist to Forehead Sunday and drive on.

I wonder if I will really make another post after the play, thus becoming caught up till the next time I miss a post.  A little suspense will add interest to my afternoon.

 

 

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Break a Lame Leg, Me

I just posted on Facebook that I am brain dead.  This is no way to be on opening night for Morning’s at Seven at Ilion Little Theatre.

Oh for heavens’ sake, can’t I even manage a Friday Lame Post?

It is a dramatic moment.

When in doubt, throw in a picture.  Usually I use a picture of a monster, but here is a shot from last night’s dress rehearsal, used without permission.  I don’t think the lady that took it will mind, but I will ask her when I see her tonight.  This is the whole cast.  We are only all on stage a few times in the play, which is just as well, because Ilion Little Theatre’s stage is small.  The whole theatre is small, although I prefer to call it cozy and intimate.

The fatty upper arm in the foreground on the left is mine.

Here is a backstage shot from last night, showing us getting ready and frantically studying our scripts.  I have not frantically studied my script today, but I have time.  Perhaps I have allowed myself a little too much time.  I took a half a vacation day at work so I would have time for a nap.  I had a nice long one which I enjoyed very much.  Then I had a cup of coffee, which I also enjoyed very much.  I have been dithering ever since.

However, at least I made my blog post, such as it is.  Local readers may like to come see the show.  It is April 26, 27, and 28, and May 3, 4 and 5, 7:30 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2 p.m. Sundays, doors open a half hour before curtain.  Tickets are available at the door (till sold out, dare I hope?) or through the website, www.ilionlittletheatre.org.

Well, That Didn’t Work Out

I had such a good plan for after work today.  I was going to come home and put in a load of laundry, so I would be certain to have a good pair of socks to wear to work tomorrow.  While the laundry ran, I would make guacamole for tomorrow’s lunch (I love a guacamole sammich).  Since I did not intend to use a recipe, I could then make a Tasty Tuesday blog post.  I had plenty of time before my 6:30 rehearsal (for Morning’s at Seven at Ilion Little Theatre).  IT!  COULD! WORK!

That last bit was a quote from Young Frankenstein, by the way, a very excellent and quotable movie.  But I digress.  I also wasted about ten minutes looking for a picture of Young Frankenstein I thought I had in my Media Library.  I am losing it,

As you may have guessed from the above paragraph, IT! DID! NOT! WORK!  Well, I got the laundry in the washer. I got the guacamole made (I don’t know that it was really guacamole, but it involved avocados, so I’ll call it that).  Then the dithering began.  I checked my email.  I messaged a couple of people on Facebook.  I made myself a sandwich for supper (it wasn’t good enough to rate the term “sammich”).  I looked at the newspaper while I ate it.  I was still hungry.

Regular readers know I am trying to lose weight, and I am experiencing some minor success.  It has not even been all that painful.  Therefore, I am completely flabbergasted that I found myself sitting on my couch, mowing down ginger snaps dipped in whipped topping. Oh, was I shoveling those suckers into the old pie-hole.  Once again, I have to say, What the Hell, me?

I put the laundry in the drier and went upstairs to take my shower, utterly disgusted with myself.  To add insult to injury, when I was getting dressed for rehearsal, I found a pair of socks perfectly suitable to wear to work tomorrow.  I could have skipped the damn laundry!

So here’s my stupid blog post.  As I read what I typed, it does not seem the afternoon was as disastrous as it felt (full disclosure:  still feels).  Never mind. I am going to call this a Bad Attituesday, hit Publish, and drive on, because I have to get ready for rehearsal.  Is it really only Tuesday?

 

To Boil or Not to Boil?

It is time for my annual post in which I dither about whether or not to run the Boilermaker 15K in Utica, NY in July.  At least, I do not remember if I write a post like this EVERY year (regular readers will not be surprised I am too lazy to go back and check).  I certainly do not run the Boilermaker every year (those who do are welcome to feel smug about it; indeed, I admire their dedication).

Being me, I cannot just go ahead and make a decision of this magnitude.  It is a decision of magnitude, by the way.  For the next four and a half months (I just now counted on my fingers), I cannot slack off of running for a week here and there.  I’ll have to keep better track of how long I run and how quickly I build myself up.  Ten percent each week does add up, but I feel I must keep good track of how soon I’ll be running for how long.  I am constantly looking at calendars and doing the math.

One might argue (oh, who am I kidding?   There’s always one who WILL argue!) (you know who you are) that none of this matters a great deal.  People who do not run at all have been known to run the Boilermaker 15K successfully.  I can probably get by on sheer stubbornness.   Additionally, many people walk during the Boilermaker; I’ve seen them.  I would not bear that shame alone (and I daresay some of them do not even feel ashamed) (and who am I to judge?).

I will just explain to the ones who argue thusly, “Shut up!”  (That is a S. J. Perelman joke I often use).  I train for the Boilermaker because (1) It is fun for me.  I like to run, and I feel good about myself as I am building up and (2) I do not WANT to get by on stubbornness nor by walking part of the course.  Additionally, I do not want to feel all ate up after the run.  I want to drink a beer!  And hang out with some friends!

Hmmm… It begins to sound as if I have already made up my mind to run the Boilermaker.  Well, why not?  I’m in my mid-50’s.  How many chances do I have to be bad-ass?  It will be good for me to train for a 15K.  If I stop eating like a pig, I may even meet a few of my weight-loss goals.

Of course, the final decision will not be made today.  I will still have to register, and there is always a chance I will get shut out.  It is a very popular race.  But I thank my readers for allowing me to dither in this space.  If anybody has any input on the matter, please feel free to comment.

 

Second Guessing my First Run of 2019

It is important to me that Saturday Running Commentary be a thing again, even if I neglect to make my post shortly after my run, which I feel is the best way to do it (that’s not a run-on sentence) (although I suppose a run-on sentence may be appropriate for a Running Commentary  post).  Anyways, I ran this morning and I am going to try to comment about it even hours after the fact.

It is my first run of 2019. I felt too tired after my New Year’s Eve celebrations (although they were tame by many standards) (then again, why should I worry about anybody else’s standards?) on Jan. 1.  Jan. 2, 3 and 4 I was working ten-hour days and TIRED, and I believe my blog posts reflect that.  I almost did not run today.  I considered going to the Mohawk YMCA and doing 30 minutes on the elliptical, I thought about taking a long walk and saying, “good enough.”  Then I said what the hell, got into running clothes and went.

It was in the low 30’s.  Weather on the One’s on Spectrum News said some freezing was still going on, so I was a bit nervous, but I thought it was not precipitating.  True, the roads looked wet… sometimes it is best not to think too long about these things but just to get out and start running.  So I did.

I did not head toward German Street, as is my usual practice, because it was close to eight and I saw a number of cars going by and I intended to the run in the road.  A mere glance at the sidewalk confirmed me in my intention.  As I ran down Bellinger Street, I saw a runner coming towards me running on the sidewalk and felt silly.  Then I thought I was ridiculous.  Normally I run on the sidewalk and feel self-conscious seeing other runners on the road.  Do I really think these other runners are judging me?  And why should I care if they do?  I choose to run on the sidewalk.  Or, like today, on the road. Similarly, other runners can make their choices.  Oh well, at least these thoughts keep me occupied while running.

The roads were not awful, but I did not completely trust them.  I felt there could be ice, and sometimes I knew there was ice.  A couple of times I dared to go up on the sidewalk, but I did not stay there, because I definitely encountered ice eventually.  But I kept running.  I was happy to see some people’s Christmas decorations still up.  Traditionally, decorations are supposed to stay up till Jan. 6, Twelfth Night.  I always have a hard time letting go of the holiday.

My intention was not to run too long, since I had taken four days off and only gone for a long walk the day before that (go ahead and judge me, remember I am not supposed to care who does).  As I ran back towards my house, keeping an eye on my watch and wondering how long over 20 minutes I could or should do, my legs were saying, “We cool. We got this.”  I was surprised.  Are these the same legs, I asked myself, that for three days at week were whining, “We’re tired!  We’re stiff!  We ache! Sit down!”  What the hell, legs?  But there is no point in trying to figure these things out; I am not clever enough to understand them.

I reasoned that if I ran 20 minutes, with my 10 minute cool-down walk it would be 30 minutes, the length of time I would have spent on the elliptical at the Y.  I ended up running for 23 minutes, so  I thought that was pretty good.  I was delighted with myself for running at all.  Would 2019 be the year I did not stop running in the winter but kept up running full time till next spring and summer?  Would I never again have to write “Begin again” in my running journal?  Then I thought, it is Jan. 5 and this is my first run of 2019, is that bad?  And here I am second-guessing myself again.  What the hell, me?

Next I am going to start second-guessing this blog post.  Is it really a Running Commentary?  Is it any good as a blog post?  As I have observed before, if dithering burned calories, I would have no problem meeting my weight-loss goals.

 

Couldn’t It Just Be About Egg Nog?

Oh dear, am I going to have a Wrist to Forehead Saturday on Christmas Eve Eve? It would seem that way, since I am currently, clench-teethedly fighting the type-it-in-then-backspace-it-out disease.  I have not done enough for a Scattered Saturday.  I did not go running.  I left the house once, and the most notable thing about that was how much further around the parking lot I walked to avoid stepping in deep puddles.  All I could think of was how I used to LOVE slushing through the slush when I was a kid.  And how dumb I was not to wear my flood boots.  Well, one cannot always think of everything.

I have been doing some Christmas making but not baking.  White Trash and Chex Party Mix (full disclosure: I use store brand cereal).  I thought I might forgo the cookies but now am second-guessing myself.  I could spend the evening or tomorrow morning baking cookies.  How can I have Christmas without cookies?  What kind of a lazy, Scroogey, Grinchy kind of scumbag am I?  And I already bought the chocolate chips.  How selfish would it be of me to keep them from their ultimate destiny of brightening somebody’s Christmas in a delicious cookie.

This is how I beat myself up at the holidays.  If dithering burned calories, I could eat all the cookies I wanted and still be a size five (yes, I was a size five once, as an adult; it didn’t last long).  I know, Christmas is not supposed to be about material things like presents and good food (or presents of good food), but presence and good friends (the presence of good friends) and family.  My problem is I am not such a great shakes as a human being that people should be happy just to see ME.  And it is certainly a lot easier to bake cookies and wrap a present than to try to improve my humanity.

Oh well, maybe my small heart will grow three sizes one day.  In the meantime, I am over 300 words and I just thought of a fairly catchy title for this foolishness.  It makes it a kind of a Non-Sequitur Saturday, but I like it.  Merry Christmas Eve Eve, everyone.

 

To Boil or Not to Boil?

I thought I would take this week’s Wrist to Forehead Sunday post to spend a little time dithering on the computer screen about the latest decision I am angsting over (I know, angsting is not a word, but I just can’t think of the word I want): Should I or should I not run the Boilermaker 15K?

I have looked at the calendar and I have enough time to build up my run time to where I like it to be.  In fact, I even have some wiggle room if I utilize my maxim of, “If you can run for one hour, you can run for two; just don’t stop.”  I want to start running again. It is a good idea to have a goal to work towards.  I can get a lot of good blog posts out of it.  It is a great Mohawk Valley thing to do. The Boilermaker falls right in the middle of my employer’s two week shut-down in July.

Those are the pros.

There are a hell of a lot of people running the Boilermaker.  I hate crowds.  Getting my runner’s packet is another fairly intimidating crowd scene for me.  I cannot be as lazy and irresponsible about taking car of myself on my vacation. (Oh, I know, that last one is probably a good thing, especially at my age.  As if YOU always do the right thing for your body!)  Transportation to and from the race is often a problem.

Those are a few of the cons.  I could probably think of more, but do I want to talk myself into this or out of it?

I asked the Magic 8 Ball I gave my husband Steven for his birthday, and it said I should. Of course that is not a quote. I asked multiple times, and although a couple of times it told me to ask later or said the answer was unclear, it never directly said not to.  No, I am not relying on a novelty toy for my answer.  I wasn’t even doing the thing of, “It’ll tell you what you really think, because you will be elated or disappointed by the answer.”  I just thought it would be fun.  You know how I like to get silly.

So now I shall open the floor to my lovely readers.  What do you think?

One other question:  When you saw the headline, did you think I was talking about hot dogs?  Hmmm… I could go for a hot dog.  Fried or grilled, though, not boiled.  Happy Sunday, folks.