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Tag Archives: Tabby

Me and the Purple Potatoes

That should be more alliterative, like Patty and the Purple Potatoes.  That sounds like it would make a good children’s book.  I’m also thinking that Purple Potatoes (I like to capitalize it) doesn’t even sound like a real thing, but it is.  I just ate some.

Since today is Non-Sequitur Thursday, I will just interject that the poor dog across the street is barking mournfully.  I don’t think he likes to be left outside by himself.  If I still had a dog, I would have her here in the living room with me, even if she did keep bothering me for a treat or to pet her or take her for a walk.  Sorry, just a little pang of sadness, because Tabby used to eventually lie down on the floor or love seat and patiently wait till I was ready to pay attention to her.  I’m sure other dog owners understand.

Where was I? Ah yes, purple potatoes.  I purchased them at T & J’s Fruits and Vegetables in Herkimer, NY.  I had gone in primarily for some celery for my lunch.  While there I realized I also needed some tossed salad fixings, cheddar cheese, red bell peppers, and oh yeah, some potatoes.  We don’t buy potatoes all the time these days and lately I’ve been craving some.

Potatoes sometimes get a bad nutritional rap, but that’s only because carbohydrates has become such a dirty word that nobody can even say all the syllables any more (and don’t get me started on that!).  Well, really, you don’t have to deep fry them or eat them by the heaping mound.  I’m sure they are perfectly good for you in moderation.  So I started to grab some salt potatoes (oh, just be quiet, whichever of you was going to get onto me about salt; I don’t use the whole packet!).

“We have purple potatoes now,” a lady said.  I think she was one of the owners, but I foolishly did not ask.

She explained that purple potatoes are better for you than the regular kind.  They don’t raise your cholesterol.  That shows how much I pay attention.  I didn’t know potatoes were bad for cholesterol.  I thought that was bacon.

“You cook them the same as the regular kind?” I asked.   Yes, I was told.  They are just like the regular kind only purple all the way through.  So I bought them.  I baked them in a kind of a casserole with the red pepper, some onion, cheese, sour cream… oh a bunch of stuff.  It was YUMMY!

I ate some of the leftovers before making this post.  As you can see, it gave me enough energy to make a post that is NOT me whining about how I’m too tired and busy to write a blog post.  Tune in again on Lame Post Friday when Mohawk Valley Girl says,  “EEEE!  It’s Opening Night for Lunch Hour at Ilion Little Theatre!!!”

PS.  The dog stopped barking.  Maybe his people let him in the house.

 

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Saturday Stroll in the Sun

I have been saying and saying I must begin running again, but today was not the day.  However, under the heading Have to Start Somewhere, I took a half-hour walk so make bold to offer a Pedestrian Post on the beautiful Saturday morning.

I am trying to be very faithful with my post-card sending, because I hear from various sources that people like them.  Today I also had a letter to a friend.  Just as a side note: yesterday Steven was on the phone with a friend and mentioned how I had sent a letter to another friend.  She was quite fascinated by the idea that I wrote it on paper, stamped it and mailed it.  I must write her and her husband a letter soon.

But getting back to the walk, I had gotten a later start than normal.  In my defense, we were in a play last night (you had to know I would sneak in a reference to Roxy somewhere along the line).  Also, Steven did not work till 10, and some days I feel I must maximize my husband time.  However, I managed to set out soon after he left.

The sun was high in the sky, but I had taken the precaution of putting on sunscreen. I also put on my crazy old lady hat, which has a wide brim, and my prescription sunglasses.  Love my Rx sunglasses.  They are polarized.  I made sure the postcards and letters were properly addressed and stamped, locked my door, and off  I went.

It was warm in the direct sunlight, but I did not despair of finding some shade along the way.  I sure was missing my little dog, Tabby, but one must carry on. Rocky, a dog across the street, was on a rope in the backyard, barking at all and sundry.  I wanted to go over and pet him, but I am not that close with those neighbors so thought I better not.

I saw a little black and white dog frisking around another neighbor’s lawn.  When I got closer I saw a man and boy on the porch.  I asked if I could pet the dog.  The dog, however, was having none of it.  He ran up to me barking, but when I bent down and offered my hand to sniff he backed off.  The man on the porch said the dog was nice, which I believe, but I also know that some dogs don’t like to be petted by just anybody.

Further down the sidewalk I saw a beautiful retriever-looking dog on a leash.  His guy was talking to another guy while the dog sat by, looking like the best-behaved beast ever.  As I got closer the dog jumped up, apparently interested in checking me out.  I asked if I could pet him, and the owner said I could.

“He’s just a puppy, so he gets pretty excited,” he warned.  The dog was certainly eager to be petted.

“Oh, he’s nice,” I said. “He’s a friendly one!”

“Too friendly,” the owner agreed with a laugh.

“He’s a cutie!”

“Thanks.”

We parted friends.  After I mailed my stuff at the post office, I continued to walk, going past Main Street to Green and eventually to the nice path over what used to be a hydraulic canal, one of my favorite walks.  The sun continued to beat down on me, making what shade I could find quite welcome.  Still, it was a beautiful day, very summery.  I sure many people were embracing it, especially as fall is not far away.

I saw one more dog in front of a house, his person right at the door.  Alas, he was not into being petted either.  However, the friendly dog was so friendly, I felt he made up for the dogs that snubbed me.

My walk felt pretty good, even if I was quite sweaty by the end (after all, I’m washable).  I shall continue my quest for more exercise in the coming days.  You’ll read about it here (at least, I hope you’ll keep reading).  Happy Saturday, everyone!

 

This One’s Not About The Boilermaker

One trick that can help when you’re having trouble writing is to change your surroundings.  I tried that trick today with a trip to the Utica Public Library.  Full disclosure:  I also thought I could write about it for Mohawk Valley Living, my favorite magazine. They’ve liked pieces I’ve written about other libraries.  For another reason, a friend had told me the library was worth a visit because of its architecture.

So with lots of reasons, I set out.  I had one errand first, a stop at First Source Federal Credit Union to make a deposit in my Mad Money account.  This stop was a little bit sad for me, because I used to walk there with my dog, Tabby.  They did not mind if Tabby went inside; they usually gave her a treat. Well, Tabby is over the rainbow bridge now, and I mustn’t neglect my Mad Money account.  That task didn’t take long, and I was soon headed down the highway.

And decided to detour into Frankfort, to get a cup of coffee at my new favorite store, The Locavore.  Yes, I am trying to hydrate for the Boilermaker 15K so ought not to drink too much caffeine.  On the other hand, I was feeling down and dull and wanted a pick-me-up. I had previously had a Locamocha there which was delicious but wondered if I shouldn’t try something new.  The lady there recommended a Bulletproof, which included, I think, butter and coconut oil.

“It’ll fill you up,” she promised. “You can skip lunch.”

As a matter of fact, I had already eaten lunch, but I thought maybe I could forgo an afternoon snack. I really liked the Bulletproof.  It was indeed substantial.  I happily sipped it as I drove down 5S to Utica.  Soon I was on Genesee Street, looking around nervously.

I love riding on Genesee Street when somebody else is driving, so I can look around and admire the different buildings.  Driving is a little nerve-wracking when one is not used to it, which of course I am not.  Additionally, although I had noted that the library is at 303 Genesee St., I did not know how far down that was or even on which side of the street. Predictably, I could not see any numbers till I was practically there, and when I did see them of course I was in the wrong lane.

Just to give you yet another excuse to laugh at me (as if there is any shortage of that), I drove around the block at least three times looking for a parking space.  First I couldn’t figure out how to get into the parking lot.  When I found the entrance, the parking lot was full.  At least, there may have been a space in the last row, but the painted arrows told me not to go that way.  At last I found a space by the curb out front.

Do you hate posts that take you to the doorway then sign off?  Well, just in case you do, I’ll leave off at the curb, sipping the last of my Bulletproof before heading in to see if the change of locale will help my pen.  Spoiler alert: It didn’t, but it was worth the drive. And I thought the drive would be worthy of a Non-Sequitur Thursday post.

 

A Walk Without a Dog

This evening Steven and I took our first walk together since we lost our beloved schnoodle, Tabby.  I love to take walks.  I took many walks before I ever got a dog and knew I would take walks after I lost her.  In fact I have taken cool-down walks after runs and walked to the Historic Four Corners for historical adventure purposes on Saturday (I’ll write a blog post about that later).  This was the first walk Steven and I have taken together.

I had two letters to mail, so we walked to the post office.  It was a lovely evening for a walk. The temperature was a little warm for me, but it was comfortable in the shade and an occasional breeze cooled us off.  It felt good to my legs to walk.

One does make better time without a cute little dog stopping to sniff every few feet (yes, I know, a big, handsome dog would have the same effect) (did you think I was going to say “big ugly dog”?).  We were soon at the post office.  Mission accomplished. We crossed the street to the shady side and headed up Main Street.

A fence blocked off where Glory Days used to stand. The building had started to collapse over the winter, and the village finally took it all the way down last week.  It was the former Waverly Hotel, a site of some historical interest in the village.  For example, the jurors in the Roxalana Druse trial stayed there.  That trial, along with the murder it concerned, is the subject of a play to be presented by the Herkimer County Historical Society at Ilion Little Theatre (just thought I’d throw that in there).

We continued  on up Main Street, admiring houses and  the flowers in front of them.  I pointed out to Steven where the Historical Society is doing another archeological dig (more about that later, too).  We saw an old building that looked historical for sale. I told Steven to be sure to buy a lottery ticket.  If we won several million dollars we could buy it.

It was a pleasant if uneventful walk.  I was happy to exercise my legs, since I did not run today.  It would be a good idea to go running tomorrow.  After all, it is almost time for this blog to go All Boilermaker All The Time.

 

It Was Fun, Eventually

I seem to remember my Mom telling me that my Aunt Mary said she admired me, because I would work a ten-hour day, go home and run, then write a blog post about it. I worked a ten-hour day today, so I thought I would try the run and write part as well. The run went pretty well.

I decided I was going to run up the hill to Herkimer College (previously HCCC) the front way. This, for non-local readers, is a formidable hill. I try to run it at least once a week, once I get in enough shape to run it at all.

I was a little worried about my run, because I knew it was supposed to be quite warm today. However, it didn’t feel too bad as I left the house, so I started out with high hopes.

Then I put my hopes on hold, because to begin with my body was none too pleased with me. Well, I can’t help it if I haven’t been running for two days; I’ve had things to do. There are only 24 hours in a day, after all, and I insist on sleeping for as close to eight of them as I can manage. No matter. I knew if I kept running there was a good chance my body would relax into it and be fine.

First, however, it was very slow. It was taking me forever to get down German Street! Then I thought, why should that bother me? I run for a certain length of time, not a certain distance. I can run as slow as I want. As George Thorogood once said, it don’t confront me.

Soon I was running up the hill. Yes, I still call it running, even as slow and shuffly as I was going. Don’t judge. It wasn’t much fun, but I was building up my running muscles. Or perhaps merely my ability to keep going till it gets fun.

It did get fun. All along I had the certainty that I could and would keep going. You know, as opposed to my body screaming at me, “Let’s stop! Let’s walk! I want ice cream!” Then I felt reasonably content to be moving. Then I was at the “I can rock this” stage. Yes!

A woman at work was talking about all the stuff she had to do at home. I said that work was probably more rewarding than work at, you know, work. She saw my point but said running on a treadmill was not particularly rewarding. I did not tell her I never run on a treadmill, but I thought about it as I ran down Reservoir Road, admiring the scenery.

I wondered what she might say if I had told her that. Probably that she had bad knees and couldn’t run on pavement. I thought, sure, it’s bad for my knees, my feet, my back, and I don’t care! I’m going to run till something gives out! Fortunately, nothing has so far.

Then I thought, that woman was probably speaking figuratively. Her work at home is never done, so it is like running on a treadmill. What a discouraging thought, although I suppose some people like to run on a treadmill. To each his own, as the old lady said when she kissed the cow.

I ended up running for 55 minutes. I’m thinking the Boilermaker 15K might take me an hour and fifty minutes to run, assuming I take a few minutes more than the last time I ran it (after all, I was under 50 then). So I ran about half what I will run in less than a month.

I walked a full ten minutes for my cool-down. My cool-down walk has been taking less time since I lost my beloved dog. After all, I don’t need to stop and sniff anything. I’m afraid I’ll always miss my Tabby during those ten minutes. However, it does feel good for my legs to walk after running, and I can think of Tabby up in Heaven, doing cool-down walks with the angels. Do you suppose any angels run?

 

Lame Wrist to Forehead Saturday?

I am having yet another very bad Saturday, as I am plagued with yet another headache.  Yes, I am keeping track of my headaches in a little notebook.  When I feel I have gathered enough data, I will return to my doctor (it is actually a nurse practitioner or physician assistant or some such) and say, “Help!”  However, my purpose in making a blog post is not to complain (I know, could have fooled you), but to entertain.

 

I only said “entertain” to rhyme.  My purpose in writing a blog is the purely selfish one of wanting to write every day.  The fact that some people kind of sort of like reading it is a delightful by-product that feeds my petty ego.

 

You may have guessed that I am being a little silly today.  I feel that after my stressful week, a day of blah-blahing at the keyboard, trying to be funny might be nice.  For me anyways.  For my readers, of course you are the judge.  Since I did not do a Lame Post Friday (although some may have found yesterday’s post, as well as many others, fairly lame, but let’s not go there), I thought Lame Post Saturday would be OK.  Then I thought my bad headache and lack of productivity made a Wrist to Forehead post also eligible.  Of course now I must strive NOT to have a Wrist to Forehead post tomorrow, but we’ll see how that goes, won’t we?

 

I tried to get a few things done today.  I went for a long run including a pretty good hill this morning.  That was nice.  At least, parts of it were nice.  You know how that goes.  My run made me determined to make it to the Sneaker Store in New Hartford, NY, for new running shoes, a mission which I also accomplished (and I might write a blog post about) (preview of coming attractions).  After that, my headache felt even worse and I could do no more than come home.

 

Last week I tried to get things done despite my headache, because I had people coming over in the evening.  My headache blessedly left me by the time my guests arrived, and a good time was had by all (perhaps I should have written about that).  This week I decided to give myself a break and nurse the damn headache.  Migraine Relief, decongestant and two naps later,  I feel a little better.  A cup of coffee seems to be having a beneficial effect which this morning’s cups lacked.

 

So life is getting better.  It shall improve more when my wonderful husband Steven returns from work.  We are still getting used to the large hole left in our hearts and lives by the sad departure of our beloved dog, but we help each other.  Sorry to bring up my poor Tabby again, but I’m sure other pet owners understand.

 

Ah, now I’ve done it. I ended on a down note instead of being entertaining.  That puts the wrist back onto the forehead, doesn’t it?  Tune in tomorrow, when  Mohawk Valley Girl says, “Where the hell should I put my wrist NOW?  Don’t answer that!”

 

Too Many Tins?

After I left Coffee and Conversation with a Cop Saturday morning I headed out 5S toward the Herkimer County Humane Society for their garage sale.  Full disclosure:  with my headache, long to-do list and limited finances, I was not as excited about going as I might have been.  Still, it was a worthy cause, I might find something fun, and I could probably get a blog post out of it.

 

All kinds of items were spread out across the lawn:  Christmas decorations, books, games, household goods and more.  A man with a loud voice walked around exhorting people to look at this or that and to purchase 50/50 raffle tickets.

 

The first thing that caught my eye was a box of tins.  Steven especially loves tins.  He likes to put Christmas presents in them.  “Put a present in a present,” he says.  I wanted to take them all but on second thought went through and picked the ones I liked best.  Perhaps it would be more accurate to say I eliminated a few I liked least, because I still wound up with quite a pile.  It took me three trips to get them all to the table where the workers were taking money.

 

A nice lady went to get a bag (or bags) for them while I went back through the yard, looking for other treasurers.  I hoped to find a couple of good books, and by good books of course I mean trashy romances or murder mysteries.  Nothing caught my eye right away, and I decided I should just leave with my pile of tins and have done with.

 

Paying presented a challenge.  Nothing was priced; the lady said to think about the animals and make a donation.  Oh dear.  When I think about the animals I feel I should give them all the money in my purse.  On the other hand, I have expenses of my own.  I finally named a price and asked her to throw in a 50/50 ticket.  She readily agreed (I did not win).

 

As I left, I complimented the loud-voiced man on his skills as a barker.  He said he had a big mouth (he may have said “loud voice,”  I don’t remember) so he used it for good.

 

“I always say go with your strengths,” I said.  I do always say that.

 

I guess it is appropriate that my first post-Tabby post is about helping the dogs (and cats) at the Humane Society.  They are having their annual Mutt Strut on Sunday, June 7.  When I said to a co-worker that I no longer have a mutt to strut, she pointed out that the Humane Society would be happy to loan me one.  I had forgotten they allow people to come over and walk their dogs sometimes.  I must look into that.  It is good to walk a dog.

 

For more information on the Herkimer County Humane Society, visit their website at www.herkhumane.org.  You can also Like them on Facebook.