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Tag Archives: party heartily

Monstrous Friday?

“You’re asking ME for a blog post idea?”

It’s that sad moment when I do not even feel up to making a Friday Lame Post.  I just sat here, alternately scrolling down Facebook and staring at a blank WordPress Add New Post page, and I really, truly, got nothin’.  I thought if I opened with a picture of Noseratu (1922), it might spark something.  So far, not much.  However, I am up to 50 or so words, so that’s something.

Quick: which one is me?

I throw in a pic from House on Haunted Hill (1959), just to keep the picture-and-nonsense theme going.  We do love House on Haunted Hill.  William Castle, Vincent Price, what’s not to like?

I’m a little cleaner that this chick, at least.

Carrie (1976) is a bit more graphic than either Nosferatu or House on Haunted Hill, but I include the picture, because I feel just about as stunned as Sissy Spacek looks in this shot.  This is one reason that Lame Post Friday is looking increasingly like Monstrous Monday.  How mortifying.  I can’t even think of a good headline incorporating the word “lame.”  Maybe if I add one more monster picture, something will come to me.

So why am I NOT howling?

Yes, what is it with me? Friday night, and I’m not howling.  I’m not out partying heartily till the wee hours.  Is this what getting older is like?  Damn!  Then again, if I stop trying to type something entertaining (or at least) coherent into my blog post, I can sit here with my knitting, and perhaps my Friday will become a little more enjoyable.  In the meantime, thank you for tuning in, and I hope to see you all for Saturday’s post, whatever it turns out to be.

 

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Two Long Runs, One Short Post

I went for an awesome run yesterday (Saturday).   I ran for an hour and twenty minutes including several hills, some of them quite steep.  I was very impressed with myself.  Then I  went to Liverpool and partied heartily with my sister.  That is an ’80s expression, and I find that appropriate, because we used to party about that heartily in the ’80s.  The result was I woke up this morning feeling as if I was in my 80s.

I went running anyways.  I thought the sweat would do me good.  Then, too, I knew I would be in no mood to run on Monday.  This way I could feel less guilty about it.  I could go for a  short run, twenty or thirty minutes.

It was a good plan, but I  reckoned without my uncanny ability to get lost.  In my defense,  these residential developments are often laid out in a far from straightforward fashion.  I often think they use a plate of spaghetti as their model (and I may have said so in this space; sorry to repeat myself).  I ended up running for 52 minutes.  It would have been 51:27, but I ran by my sister’s house  to make it an even number.  Additionally, I like the number 52, because it means I am playing with a full deck (get it?).

I know, this is not my usual Running Commentary.  In my defense, I’m tired. But I may go running tomorrow.  As the late, great Fats Waller often said, One never knows, do one?