- The man who shot Liberty Valance was not the bravest of them all.
- No one put the “bop” in “bop shoo bop shoo bop.” It just grew there.
- It does not make your brown eyes blue.
- Phone. Fax. Voicemail. E-mail. Letter or note. In-person. Through an intermediary. Simple disappearance. There are, at most, eight ways to leave your lover.
- Anyone can do the shing-a-ling like you do. Anyone.
- You don’t have to wonder. She ran away because she was sick of all the drama. Where will she stay? She’s at her sister’s, in Hoboken. No big mystery.
- “American Pie” wasn’t about pie. At all.
- Not everybody has heard about the bird. My mother, for instance, had no idea what I was talking about.
- Indiana doesn’t want you.
- The beat actually does go on. Myth confirmed.
This weekend, I spackled, sanded, stained, grouted and painted. I cleaned all the windows on my cars and Rain-x’d them thoroughly for the fall rains. I rode my bike about 65 miles over two days, fairly casual rides with one really annoying flat. I took a couple hundred photographs (oh, for the limiting days of film), and even got around to processing a few of them. I looked at some art with my wife over in the Stockade. I talked to some strangers about bike jerseys and photo lamination. I talked to my mom about pretty much everything. I tried to get ice cream at Mac’s, but they weren’t open for the day yet when I rode by. I got groceries for the week. I made pickles. I watched “Spy Kids” and several episodes of “Angel” with my daughter.
And come Monday morning, I wonder why I’m exhausted.
I’m super proud of how much progress she’s made in the past year or more. Not everyone who’s going through cancer treatments decides it’s time to start running (and for those who do, good for you!). Not only did she get through that first 5K last year, but she ran the Freihofer’s again this year and has slowly been building back her base, able to do things she couldn’t just a year ago. We cycle together too, and she’s making strides there. When this picture was taken, we had just climbed up Flight Lock Road in Waterford, an easy climb for anyone with hundreds of miles in the legs, but a challenge for someone who has lost some of her wind. When we’ve gone out riding I’ve mostly kept her to the flats so she can go a little farther, enjoy the distance and not worry about having enough juice to get back. But this time we were only on a short jaunt, and I underestimated how much of a challenge the hill, which runs alongside a series of canal locks, would be to her. But she just kept cranking away at it until we got to the crest. Then we coasted down one lock, took a rest, coasted the rest of the way into town and stopped to admire the river at the Waterford Visitors Center.
Then, of course, she hurled. (In the rest room, happily.) We’re blaming virus rather than exertion. And after the hurling, she said:
“I want to do that hill again.”
Which is why she’s cool.
It is that time, time for the annual “Holy #@&! Where did July go?!” post. The one where I realize that in the month of July I have posted not once, and then try to explain how it came to be that the only thing on my front page for a month has been a celebration of free wheat germ. It’s a million things, really:
- It’s summer, hot and oppressive until just this week when it became so sweet and perfect. Summer, when one daughter complains that we never run the air conditioning, which has been working non-stop to keep the house at a suitable temperature.
- It’s the outdoor stuff, biking and running and not nearly enough canoeing/kayaking because of this year’s constantly swollen rivers. But still: some.
- It’s the summer activities: summer camp in a semi-distant place, special events, outdoor farmer’s markets, arts nights, and many excuses for ice cream.
- It’s “Much Ado About Nothing,” Joss Whedon’s brilliant take on my very favorite Shakespeare play, which requires repeated watching.
- It’s events and reunions, including my 35th high school reunion, which was really an unexpected delight as we celebrated the bond of a common point of origin and a brief but very important educational experience.
- And of course, it’s the Tour de France, which took on a new twist as I figured out a way to get coverage from Eurosportplayer and watch the English (and sometimes French, and sometimes Danish) feeds. Although Froome won early and with way too much power to not raise questions, the individual stages were all exciting this year. Corsica was beautiful, climbing Alpe d’Huez twice was murderous, and as usual, watching the whole thing took up most of the month of July.
So, two things happened after last week’s rant about how Hannaford was screwing with my breakfast. Well, three, really. First, All Over Albany mentioned my rant in their weekly collection of local blogs, and I learned I was not alone in my appreciation of wheat germ. (I will take validation anywhere I can find it.)
Second, the folks who do PR for Kretschmer noticed my rant, and out of the blue offered to help me out. They just sent me three jars of Kretschmer Original Toasted Wheat Germ, my new holy grail, out of the goodness of their hearts. They asked for no mention or any kind of publicity. (But now I’m beginning to see what all these consumer and food bloggers might be up to.)
Third, and I take no credit for this, a tiny, tiny slot opened up on the cereal shelf at my Hannaford, a slot that wasn’t there for the past few weeks. And a new shelf label popped up, a label that was definitely not there for the past few weeks. And a few, a very few, jars of Kretschmer Wheat Germ re-appeared at Hannaford. I can only hope they’ve been restored (“re-stored”?) permanently, so I don’t have to make good on my horrible threat to go elsewhere.
But we do have another problem, Hannaford: please, please, please, no Hall & Oates on the playlist, okay? ‘Cause the only thing worse than screwing with my breakfast is putting one of their horrific earworms into my brain.
Hannaford, you’re screwing with my breakfast. It’s time to stop.
Since about, oh, say, 1985, I’ve eaten pretty much the same thing for breakfast every day. A bowl of Grape Nuts, mixed with some form of granola, Kretschmer Wheat Germ, and blueberries, raisins or dried cranberries. All these years, nearly the same thing. It’s what I want, it’s what I like.
For the past few years, I’ve used the Hannaford house brand, Nutty Nuggets, in place of Grape Nuts, which for a while were crazy expensive. In time, I’ve come to prefer the house brand. Just fine. For my granola, I came to prefer something called Chappaqua Crunch. In place of the fairly pricey Craisins, I was perfectly happy with the much cheaper Nature’s Place dried cranberries. And most essential to all this was the Kretschmer Toasted Wheat Germ. Tasty, fibery, and just about the last thing in a grocery store that is sold in a vacuum jar – every time you open a new jar, there’s that satisfying “whoosh” sound and a mini-whirlwind of wheat germ. I looked forward to that.
Years and years and years, all this came from the Hannaford. I’m not one of those people who likes driving all over creation, to Super Saver for this or Peddler Bob’s for that. I want one trip to the grocery store, some other stuff from the farmers markets, and that’s it. Then Hannaford started screwing with me.
First, Chappaqua Crunch disappeared. Or stopped being available on the shelves. It was moved to the bulk section. Okay, I’ll pretend no one sneezes into those bins and just go ahead and get a couple of pounds of the stuff every few weeks. That was fine. Then Hannaford put up a sign promising exciting new changes in the bulk section. Exciting! New! Changes! Which meant, as it turned out, shrinking the offerings by about half, and eliminating the brand of granola I favored. Okay, there are other granola options; I just liked that one. I can deal.
About the same time, the dried cranberries disappeared. It was like a miracle when the Natures Place cranberries first showed up on the shelves – they were about half the cost of the Ocean Spray brand, organic, and just perfect. Came in a bigger bag, too. So I can’t help but wonder if they were threatened off the shelves by the Big Cranberry lobby, because they’re gone, and I’m back to paying what the powers that be insist is fair for dried cranberries. I’m back to where I was, but I can deal.
But now, my precious wheat germ is gone. Kretschmer Toasted Wheat Germ, in the convenient and entertaining vacuum jar, has disappeared from the shelf, and more junk cereals have crowded into its space. It left no trace. Yes, there is another form of wheat germ in the store. It is not toasted. It is not jarred. It makes no “whoosh.” I cannot deal.
Hannaford, if I have to go to another store to get my jars of wheat germ, I’m going to another store to buy everything. That’s how it works with me. And know that I’m serious, because I HATE the other store. But if they have Kretschmer wheat germ, that’s where I’m going. Because you’ve committed several offenses against my breakfast, and, worse than all of those offenses, you’ve turned me into a food blogger. With this, I cannot deal.
Well, it’s that time of year again: the time when the days are growing longer and longer, heading toward a luxurious apex of extended sunlight, after which I panic that the days are shortening and the summer waning before I’ve even started to enjoy it. Even in years when I was relatively unencumbered, workwise, I came up on the end of June with a gnawing sense that I hadn’t made the most of the hours of daylight afforded me. Maybe it’s just something internal to me. But every year I pledge that I will find ways to get out and enjoy the longer days before that balancing point of summer solstice comes, that I will appreciate the gift of light that lasts past eight, just sit out and marvel at it.
And every year it doesn’t happen, and somehow I always forget why. It’s the extensive rains – we had five inches ( allow me to scream that: FIVE INCHES!!!) of rain around here last week, one useable day on a holiday weekend, followed by a tornado that decided to visit my sister’s house. It’s the travel – it’s a busy time of year for me, and some of these pre-summer evenings, such as this one, I’m having to appreciate the long, low light over the Hudson from the windows of an Amtrak train. It’s the academic schedule, with school this night and school that night, tests to prepare for and projects to make sure are done.
This weekend, we’ve got the SAT and the Freihofer’s run in the same morning, followed by a dance recital that will take up all of the next day. Still it’s not that we haven’t enjoyed what we’ve had so far. We’ve eaten dinner outside a number of times already, and have found several excuses for consuming Mac’s homemade ice cream in Watervliet. While the rain has made kayaking the rivers less than enticing, we’ve gotten out on bikes as a family a bunch of times and swallowed every kind of bug the bike path has to offer. And after a nearly year-long massive construction project, my front porch is, while not nearly finished, at least a place where we can sit of an evening and stare into the westering sun (without feeling the heat; the former porch was something of a greenhouse).
So to some extent I’m writing this to remind myself: the days are long, and I am noticing them. Summer is not over at the solstice. Calm down and enjoy. There’s still time before you’re on the other side of summer.
So speaking of what’s in my email, today I received this gem. It’s from “Apple:”
Dear Apple Customer, Account has been temporarily disabled.
Then log on to your Apple device carries your account information
For this reason, and limited access to your account
Please make sure your account information so that you can shop from Apple successfully.
Verify Now >
Note: Please confirm your account to verify ownership of your information Apple
We appreciate your understanding for this reason .
Thank you for your cooperation with us
C’mon, spammers, it’s like you’re not even trying.
There was a lot of controversy about eliminating Saturday mail, the elimination of which would not have bothered me at all. Once my younger one is off to the college of her choice, we’ll receive just about no mail every day. The annoyance of junk mail has been replaced almost entirely by the annoyance of junk e-mail and spam. I may go days without opening my personal email inbox, and rarely miss anything. What I learned from my email inbox today:
- Alert! Someone has written about the videogame character that shares my name! A lot. And someone else with my name died. It’s sad.
- There are many discussions on LinkedIn. Not one of them has ever led to anything productive.
- Funds were left yesterday with a diplomat. Funds for me. It may involve a will.
- I could get a bachelor’s degree, or train to be a nurse, in less time than I think.
- Someone wants to date me, sight unseen.
- Many people want photographs from many local cemeteries. This is a thing I do sometimes, but it is really hard to find a particular headstone in a cemetery, so many people’s wants will go unmet.
- I could get an extended vehicle warranty at a significant reduction! I’m sure they’re dying to cover two vehicles with 125,000 miles each.
- I could become a Mystery Shopper!
- General ADAMS PETERSON would like me to kindly reply urgently.
- My email doppelganger, someone local who listed my email address as her own, has been shopping at Kmart again. I get her receipts. They depress me.
Need to actually get ahold of me? Better tweet me.