Author: gregh121

I am a writer and editor who lives in New Orleans.

I’d Really Love to See You Tonight

I never used to have trouble with my sinuses, or allergies, or any of that; at least that I recall. But I would think I would remember having these horrible headaches, that reach down into my jaw, or the constant dripping and coughing and the fevers and the eyes burning and all that comes with sinus infections or allergies. I think it was sometime after 2001 that it happened the first time; the weather changed and spring sprung and suddenly I was feverish and coughing and my nose was running and a friend told me it was sinus-related; and that the best way to deal with it was taking stinging nettles. I thought it was weird, but on my way home I stopped at Walgreens and bought a bottle of stinging nettles in capsule form. I took two and within half an hour all of my symptoms were gone.

Like the whole thing had been a figment of my imagination.

The nettles worked so well that I started taking them every day even if I didn’t sense symptoms; along with my multi-vitamins and my workout supplements and other vitamins and fish oil and so forth, I took two capsules of nettles. It worked for years, but as time passed and I grew older, the nettles stopped being effective and I switched to Claritin-D, which is the only thing since the nettles that I’ve found that helps. But you can break Claritin-D down into something approximating crystal meth (I don’t know how it works or how you do it; I’ve never watched Breaking Bad) and so now the government keeps track of how much you can buy; you have to present ID and if its too soon after the last time you bought some…they won’t sell it to you. I’ve never quite been able to figure out how the limit works–I suppose I could research it on-line–but the bottom line of it is I treat my Claritin-D like gold. I won’t even let Paul have one, in case I need one and I’m out and it’s too soon to buy more. I used to try to buy some every time I pick up prescriptions to stockpile it so I will always have it when I need it; I’ve slacked off on that and this recent sinus infection has reminded me of the importance of having stock.

So, much as I would simply like to take a Claritin-D every day during the spring, I can’t because one-a-day is above the government monthly allowance. So, when my sinuses start reacting and we have heavy weather like we did over the weekend, because I am worried I might run out of it sometime when I really need it, I don’t take it preemptively and wind up with yet another sinus infection. So, note to self: when I can, I am going to buy more. And I am going to put a bottle of stinging nettles on the list, too. It can’t hurt to take it every day, supplementing with a Claritin-D as needed.

It’s also insane that anything I can get with a prescription doesn’t work as well. In all seriousness, make it a prescription medication again. Wouldn’t usage being easier to track and people using it to make drugs be easier to stop if there has to be a prescription filed in order for it to be obtained for use?

I don’t know, just spitballing here.

In case you couldn’t tell, Constant Reader, I still feel lousy and I am feeling pretty damned crabby over the whole thing. I had to use two days of sick time  and probably two days of being productive in other ways by being sick. Heavy heaving sigh.

I actually feel worse this morning than I did yesterday; my hope is this will all clear up somehow before tomorrow so I can go back to work and stop using sick time. My sinuses feel okay today, so that’s something; but it’s the rest that needs to clear up. My joints ache, I’m still feverish, and I had to get up in the middle of the night to throw up–yeah, that was lovely. I am going to be eating chicken soup today for lunch; I tend to not eat when I am sick, which makes me even weaker.

Again, lovely.

But I did get to read some more of Steph Cha’s Follow Her Home yesterday between bouts of dozing off and feeling sick; I’d read until I couldn’t focus and then put it aside. I might just curl up in my easy chair today with a blanket and watch movies; Bonnie & Clyde, All the President’s Men, and Deliverance are all available to stream from Netflix, and I’ve been wanting to see them all again. I’ve never seen Bonnie & Clyde in the theatrical cut, only seeing the badly butchered edited for television version, and since reading Mark Harris’ brilliant Pictures at a Revolution: Five Movies and the Birth of New Hollywood I’ve been wanting to see all five films nominated for the Best Picture Oscar for 1967–some again, some for the first time (I’ve never seen In the Heat of the Night, which won). Maybe if I can’t focus on reading…

And on that note, back to the spice mines.

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Love Hurts

I detest being ill.

Sunday night I began to feel slightly off–more off than I’d been feeling since Friday, when the wretched bad weather rolled in–and I began to suspect that the weather was wreaking havoc with my sinuses which would lead to the inevitable sinus infection. Yesterday I didn’t feel great, and as soon as I got home from work last night I started taking antibiotics leftover from the last sinus infection, and woke up this morning feeling absolutely horrible.  I called in sick to work, have taken some more antibiotics this morning, and am hoping that when tomorrow dawns, the antibiotics will have done their job and cleared everything up for me.

One can hope, at any rate.

The Claritin also seems to be helping. I intend on spending the rest of the day retired to my bed, with Steph Cha’s Follow Her Home to keep me company. I managed to read another chapter and I am very impressed indeed with Ms. Cha. She writes in a very hard-boiled, noir style that is reminiscent of Chandler and Hammett–and she does pay homage to Chandler quite a bit in these opening chapters. Juniper Song is an interesting, complex character that I like quite a bit, and am looking forward to getting to know her better. This is also the first in a series, which means there’s more Juniper Song out there for me to read, savor, and enjoy, which is absolutely lovely.

Is there anything more satisfying than discovering a new author whose work you love?

I think not.

When I retire to my bedchamber later on this morning–as soon as I take care of some business here at my desk–I will be taking my Macbook Air with me, along with my novel, so that if the mood strikes me I can work on the WIP whilst ensconced in the comfort of my bed. I don’t remember the last time I spent the day lolling about in bed; I usually move to my easy chair with blankets and heating pads when I am unwell, but it sounds absolutely lovely, despite the pressure in my head and the constant draining and hacking up of phlegm from my lungs. I see chicken noodle soup in my future for lunch as well; it may not help cure what ails me, but it always makes me feel better.

Last night we got caught up on the most recent episodes of both Veep and Schitt’s Creek, both of which were terrific, before I retired to sleep. I slept pretty decently, given that I felt terrible when I went to bed, but this morning I am still feeling kind of worn out, which is no doubt due to the sinus issue. Yay?

So, there will be no spice-mining today, most likely. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader.

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Get Up and Boogie

Blerg. I don’t feel good today.

It’s sinus-related, of course, and this horrible weather we’ve been having over the past few days has not been much of a help in either case. I did sleep extremely well last night, so that’s not it, but man oh man,  I feel like utter shit today. Hopefully I can power through the day at work, and reassess tomorrow when the alarm goes off.

I did manage to get some work done on the WIP yesterday so this week is off to a better start than last week was, and I also managed to get some more reconfiguring of the Lost Apartment’s kitchen done this weekend as well. I think it’s kind of ironic that I was starting to feel reconnected to everything in my life only to start to get sick. Fuckin’ A, man, nothing ever works the way it’s supposed to, does it? But hopefully I can get that next chapter revised and keep chugging through this revision, which will also hopefully get me back into the character’s headspace so I can power through and get the first draft finished this month, which would be very lovely.

Very lovely.

I also started reading Steph Cha’s Follow Her Home last night and am enjoying it thus far. I didn’t, alas, get very far into it because when sleep comes for me I’ve learned not to put it off–and I got drowsy fairly early last evening. NOT BECAUSE OF HER BOOK. I was already drowsy when I decided I would read for a bit before going to bed.

Also, Royal Street Reveillon is already up for preorder at Amazon; the link is here. 

Still no sign of it at other sites, and the ebook is not available there for preorder, either, which is odd, but it is what it is. I will share those other links once they become available; the paperback  isn’t even up for preorder on the Bold Strokes site yet!

And now back to the spice mines.

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I Write the Songs

Another good night’s sleep, with gloomy Sunday glaring at me through my kitchen windows. I wound up wasting most of yesterday–although organizing and filing and so forth doesn’t really seem like a hardship to me–and then last night there was some drama involving my phone again not being recognized by my computer, so yeah, there was that. So, I managed to get next to nothing done yesterday but relaxing and some little bit of my organizing, which means today I have to do a lot of it. Which is fine–I usually dread the morning of the day I pushed everything off to arriving; because nine times out of ten I will almost always feel just as lazy on the Sunday as I did on the Saturday.

It happens.

But I am not feeling quite so out of sorts–or lazy–this morning; which means I am going to start tearing through the to-do list once I finish this entry. I am determined to get my inbox emptied once and for all; I am going to get some work done, and I am going to finish the organizing and cleaning I started doing yesterday. I cleaned off and organized most of the stuff on the top of the kitchen cabinets–eighteen foot ceilings give you a lot of storage space on top of your kitchen cabinets, in case you were wondering–and while there is still stuff up there that should probably come down, I may leave that up for a while just yet…until I can figure out what to do with the stuff. I mean, I don’t want to give away my food processor, but the truth is I rarely, if ever, use it–maybe three times once I first got it and was impressed with the novelty of having one. Or my electric wok; again, used maybe once or twice. Again, a nice thing to have…but I never use it. Maybe I should store these things in the attic. I don’t know.

Yesterday afternoon (and early evening) we watched Venom and the remake/reboot/latest sequel in the Friday the 13th series–the 2009 version with Jared Padalecki of Supernatural in the starring role. Believe it or not, I’d never watched the original until a few years ago, when it became available on a streaming service, and while I can see why it was so enormously successful at the time and am willing to recognize it as a landmark film in the resurgence of horror cinema in the late 1970’s/early 1980’s, the production values are only slightly higher than that of a home movie of the time–which led me to think about how The Blair Witch Project, with similar production values and maybe a slightly higher budget, also revolutionized horror cinema and made a fortune. The reboot (or whatever it was, a sequel with no number, whatever) wasn’t a bad film, it just wasn’t a great film; it was perfectly adequate, but added nor removed anything from the canon or iconography and therefore just seemed like an attempt at a cash grab. Likewise, Venom, despite its impressive effects and being about one of my favorite Marvel characters…just didn’t fire on all cylinders for me and was actually kind of dull. And I love me some Tom Hardy; perhaps the problem was that giving Venom an origin story that doesn’t involve Peter Parker was a misfire…and Stan Lee’s cameo at the end of the film just made it sadder, knowing he’s now dead.

So, today I have to make a quick and easy grocery run, deal with my taxes once and for all, and want to finish revising some chapters of the WIP while also putting together the proposal for the suspense thriller I may want to write later in the year. I also want to read the next story in Murder-a-Go-Go’s and get started on Steph Cha’s Follow Her Home. I also have some other things I need to work on as well. And there’s always cleaning that needs to be done, and organizing. Always. I just have to make sure I don’t get into one of those oh I feel lazy and this can wait until another time moods, you know?

Which is, sadly, easier and easier to slip into these days.

But that cannot happen, I cannot keep letting things slide, so today is the day when I need to get it all together and get it all done.

Beginning with the goddamned emails.

And now, back to the spice mines.

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Sara Smile

Well, I slept much later than I usually do; I did wake up at seven but through nah, too early and went back to sleep, not awakening again until nine-thirty-ish. And yes, that is late for me, but I also stayed up later than I usually do because Paul and I got sucked into a marathon binge of season three of Santa Clarita Diet, which dropped this week. We have three episodes left to go–which will probably be watched this evening–and then we have to decide which of the shows we’d already started we want to finish–either Umbrella Academy or You. There are also some other shows we need to finish, others that look like possibilities, and Netflix also added some great classic films I’ve been wanting to watch again; namely Bonnie and Clyde, All the President’s Men, Deliverance, the reboot of Friday the 13th, and the Will Smith version of I Am Legend. I also intend to start reading Steph Cha’s Follow Her Home, kicking the Diversity Project back into gear, and I also want to finish reading Murder-a-Go-Go’s for the Short Story Project.

I also need to start doing some sort of promotion for Survivor’s Guilt and Other Stories, but I’m not exactly sure what and how and…you get the picture; again, I don’t really know how I have a career.

I was thinking about the Diversity Project the other day, and I want to make it abundantly clear that I don’t think it’s right that I have to turn reading diverse authors into a “project” to make diversifying my reading happen. Even saying The Diversity Project makes it sound effortful, as though if I didn’t make a point of it I wouldn’t do it. And that’s clearly wrong on every level. And I’ve been failing miserably at it thus far this year, no matter how many excuses I want to make for it. This of course has me examining my own prejudices. I’ve bought the books, of course, which is an important first step and every sale helps, but I also need to not only read the books but talk about them. Here it is April and the only one I’ve talked about is Walter Mosley; what kind of an ally am I to minority writers, of which I am one?

Apparently, not a very good one.

I had already softened the project’s goal from focusing on only reading minority writers to interspersing them with others; so if I read a book by a non-minority writer the next one I have to read must be by a minority writer. That hasn’t worked overly well, either; part of it has been due to my own, I don’t know, weird ambivalence to this year–something that’s been going on since around the Great Data Disaster of 2018. I’ve also realized, just this past week, that the Great Data Disaster wasn’t really where it all started. My life has been in an almost constant state of upheaval of some sort or another since late October, just before Halloween. My day job moved from the office where we’d been located since I was hired back in 2005 (the office actually opened in 2000) into a new location, which required all sorts of adaptation. For almost the entire first month of the existence in the new office we didn’t do a lot of testing, which is what my job is, which meant I was working a weird (to me) early morning to late afternoon shift–say, 8-430ish. This freed my evenings and I was going to town on writing and revising Scotty in those free evenings, because the Festivals were also kicking into high gear and Paul was coming home late. Then came December with a readjustment to working a new schedule all over again, followed by the Great Data Disaster, the Christmas holidays, and then Carnival. During that time period I was also working on finishing up my job as a book award judge and diving into a new task for this year, also involving award judging but not actually having to read anything (I really can’t say more than that about it; but it’s a big endeavor and I will leave it at that). I don’t think I ever really got a handle on anything, which is why I felt like my life was happening and I was not actively participating in it.

And softening the goal also makes me question myself and my internal, subconscious prejudices and biases. Yes, I had to read three books to moderate my panel at the Tennessee Williams Festival, which wasn’t easy and really involved a lot of cramming at the end. Why do I automatically reach for a book by a straight white writer when it’s time to chose another book to read? Why will I justify taking that book out of the stack rather than reaching for a book by a minority writer? It is these unconscious biases and prejudices that need to be ripped out by the root and plowed under with salt so they won’t take root again; and  not just in reading, but in life. 

I think I do a better job with my life than I do with my reading, quite frankly.

I also had thought, when I started on this, that I would expand the project outside the bounds of crime fiction and include other genres as well. I’ve always believed that reading more widely outside of one’s genre will make one a better author by exposing you to different styles of writing, different stories and different characters. Horror is always my immediate go-to when it comes to reading outside of mystery, but I also need to read more fantasy, science fiction, romance, and literary fiction. I also don’t want to stop reading women crime writers, either.

The exposure to other voices, other thoughts, other mindsets, will not only make me a better writer but a better person. What better key to understanding experiences outside my own is there than actually reading books outside my own experience, and to see the common humanity?

My first thought on rising so late this morning was well, you’ve shot your day to hell. But that isn’t true. I can still get things done today as long as I don’t allow myself to bog down on generalities or give up on the day. It would be ridiculously easy, you know, to simply write the entire day off and do nothing, but I really don’t want to waste the day. I’d like to get another chapter of the WIP finished, for one thing, and I’d like to work on this proposal I’m putting together. The kitchen needs work and there’s always filing that needs to be done, and there’s a lot of mess around. I also need to make a quick run to the grocery store as well.

So, on that note, I am off to the spice mines. Happy Saturday, Constant Reader.

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A Fifth of Beethoven

Friday afternoon on a gloomy, rainy day;  laundry is going and I need to get some things done.

But I don’t wanna.

But I am taking a break from all the mess that must be cleaned and the files that must be filed and the rest…and just want to sit for a spell.  I am in a much better mood than I was in yesterday–it really is astonishing what a difference not being tired can make–even though I was untimely ripp’d from my bed this morning. But that means, I hope, that I’ll sleep better this evening…provided I get all of this stuff on my to-do list done today. There’s no reason other than sheer laziness that I won’t, if I am going to be completely honest about things.

Anyway.

The breaking news on the Timmothy Pitzen story this week was so bizarre, and I have so many questions. In case you missed it, Timmothy Pitzen disappeared when he was seven years old…seven years ago. He and his mentally ill mother vanished–and then her dead body was found in a motel a few days later along with a note that said she’d given Timmothy to some nice people and no one would ever find him. A few days ago, a fourteen year old boy turned up in Kentucky and claimed to be Timmothy–and that he run away from two men who’d been holding him, crossing from Indiana into Kentucky over a bridge. DNA proved this kid isn’t Timmothy; so who is he, and how did he know about Timmothy? (Aside: why did Timmothy’s name have two m’s in it?) It reminded me very much of the plot of a television series I loved called The Family that aired a few years ago and only lasted one season; with a very similar type story–their youngest son is abducted from a park, turns up several years later but it turns out not to be him, after all, but another kid taken by the same kidnapper and held with the other boy–who died, and this kid escapes and takes on his persona. The first season ended with someone calling the family and asking for the returned son…and it turns out to be the real son, saying “You’ve stolen my life and I want it back.” IT WAS CANCELLED.

Best. Cliffhanger. Ever.

Especially since it was never resolved.

I had just moved to California when Steven Staynor returned home and became national news–Steven was abducted in 1972 and came home to his family in 1980. The case always fascinated me; what would it be like to be stolen from your family as a child, sexually abused for years, and then return home in your mid-to-late teens? I started developing a story based on that–I called it And Now, the Prodigal, which is a  great title but wouldn’t work because “prodigal” doesn’t mean a son who returns unexpectedly, but a son who’s profligate; who carouses and gets drunk and parties all the time (most people get that wrong, in my own defense). I’ve already remembered that story (plus Steven’s story was made into a book and a TV movie called I Know My First Name is Steven), and have always wanted to explore that dynamic in fiction…maybe I still will, someday. Steven died in a motorcycle accident when he was only 24; he’d had trouble adjusting to his family and there had been issues, obviously–but he was married, managing a fast food place, and had two small children when he died. In an even weirder twist, his brother was later convicted of murdering four women in 1999.

The reason Steven came forward in the first place was because he’d aged out and his kidnapper had brought another boy home. Steven took that kid and walked into a polive station, but all he remembered of his past life was his name: “I know my first name is Steven.” The young kid he rescued was one of his pallbearers.

Such a sad story.

But someday…

And I guess this spice ain’t going to mine itself.

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Afternoon Delight

Yesterday was one of those times that try the soul. I assume it was probably the shitty weather, but I was feeling snarly and out of sorts for most of the day; fortunately I only had to spend a half-day in the office (as I do today). But by the time I drove in the rain from the office to the grocery store (almost getting in three accidents because New Orleans drivers are morons who can’t drive in the rain) and then got home, I was feeling sulky, surly and ready to break things. I hate when that happens, and I suspect it had something to do with my not getting a particularly good night’s sleep Wednesday evening thru Thursday morning.

But last night, exhausted, I was able to sleep well and get rested. The weather is still heavy this morning; it’s gray and gloomy outside my windows. Hopefully, today I’ll have the energy to deal with things that I didn’t seem to have the energy for yesterday. I’ve got to swing by and return a library book after work (a half-day) and get the mail, then I’m going to come home and figure some things out and get some things done. I’ve somehow managed to not write a word on the WIP this week, and while I did start working on a book proposal (proposals are excellent ways to get your story and your characters together, and also will help you figure out some things) yesterday after work and did some laundry, I kind of spent the rest of yesterday in my surly, unpleasant mood and didn’t get much done.

I intend to get those things done today.

MY goal for this weekend (other than not leaving the house) is to get things cleaned and organized (now that I’m thinking about it, I did in fact go through the food in the cabinets and throw away everything that was expired)–my cabinets need a lot of work, and so do my kitchen drawers. I also managed to clean out my “everything” drawer in the kitchen, and got rid of power cords and things that I never use, or belong to devices that I no longer own. The spring purge, if you will. It did feel remarkably good; and there are all of the other drawers yet to go. Alas, it’s supposed to be raining all weekend so doing the windows (which are revoltingly filthy) isn’t going to be an option, but it’s spring, so there will be plenty of lovely weekends ahead for me to get the windows under control. Heavy heaving sigh.

But as I worked on freeing up RAM on my desktop (which is now ridiculously faster than it was; and I can free up even more this weekend or this afternoon), I was amazed at how I often put off things that I think are going to be both time-consuming and irritating at the same time. I have a gazillion pictures files on this computer that are simply named IMG-2000 or some other number; quite literally thousands of them, so many that I don’t even remember what most of them are. I tried getting all the pictures files off the hard drive and into the Cloud and my back-up hard drive (which also needs to be backed up to the cloud again, as does my flash drive) but even my Cloud account is getting full, which is kind of scary–but again, it’s almost all picture files and videos. But the thought of going through all those files is daunting.

But…if  I can convince myself it’s organizing, my little touch of OCD might kick into gear and I’d find it enormously satisfying. I really do wish I had that much control over my neuroses.

Imagine being able to harness that energy.

The mind reels.

And now, back to the spice mines.

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Fly Robin Fly

I was awakened about seven o’clock by the loudest crash of thunder I’ve heard since–well, since the last major thunderstorm rolled through Orleans Parish. There was a lot of thunder and rain for a while there–we’re supposed to  have severe weather all day, which is not pleasant for me, since I have to go to work and stop at Rouse’s on the way home…but it’s also a half-day for me, so there is that. This week seemed to simply fly past–but it also was only a four day week, and since I had Monday off it kind of felt like I was off by a day.

I kept thinking yesterday was Tuesday, for example.

But today is Thursday and I have things to get done before the end of the week, and as I said, I am feeling a little bit more myself these days. I started working on a proposal yesterday for a book idea I have; I’m probably going to work on another two of them this weekend, just for shits and giggles, while I work on the WIP. I have a lot of random thoughts about all three projects, all of which feel kind of amorphous, and that’s why I want to write the proposals–because it will force me to achieve some clarity about these manuscript ideas.

I’ve also discovered that part of the problem with my desktop computer has to do with a lack of RAM; I think the operating system update just kicked the problem into high gear. I did some on-line research yesterday about the problems I’ve been having, and have found some solutions that I am implementing. They seem to be working–the computer is operating a lot faster than it did, but it’s also probably going to take me most of the weekend to get it all done. But that’s okay; it’s certainly more than worth it to have an operational, functional computer again that isn’t driving me insane with the spinning wheel of death.

We finished watching Shrill finally last night, which was really excellent. It made me think–which is something I always enjoy when I watch or read something–as well as re-examine my own thoughts and attitudes. I’m not always the best person–hell, that’s most of the time, if I am going to be warts-and-all honest–and am always constantly amazed at how I sometimes take terrible things for granted as just the way things are and don’t question those terrible things; where did they come from, where did I learn it, and how quickly can I unlearn it. Shrill is a terrific show, and I encourage people to watch and learn from it.

Now Apocalypse is also a strange show, but oddly absorbing. There’s a lot of simulated sex and real nudity on the show–Paul said it was basically soft-core porn, which is true–and we’ll probably keep watching. I also want to get back to You.

And on that note, ’tis back to the spice mines on this rainy, horrific weather day. Happy Thursday, Constant Reader!

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Love is Alive

And so am I!

It’s Wednesday morning and it’s also pay day; which means I get to spend a goodly portion of my morning paying bills and watching my paycheck disappear. Huzzah! My desktop computer is currently updating its software–which, ever since the Great Data Disaster of 2018, always gives me a little pause. I do always hold out hope that every time this happens since then that perhaps, just perhaps, this update will fix the problems that I’ve been having with the Mohave operating system since it launched; which is enormously frustrating. It does, however, work beautifully in my Macbook Air, which makes me tend to think the issue is some software conflict within my system–which probably means I need to take the thing back into the store and have it looked at/worked on/possibly repaired…none of which things bode well, I have time or patience for, and could prove to be enormously frustrating in the meantime. But I do have the Air and this HP Stream, so I do have back-up computers just in case.  The Stream is good, but neither as fast, intuitive, or user-friendly as the Air; but it’s a good computer and I would recommend it to anyone looking for an inexpensive laptop.

I told a friend yesterday, and this is how I’ve been feeling, that I finally feel like my life is actually my life again; I’ve been feeling unsettled and not quite right ever since the Great Data Disaster–but the off-kilter actually began before that; the Great Data Disaster simply brought everything to the forefront. I am, as I get older, someone who draws comfort from routine; last October our long-time office on Frenchmen Street closed. I’d been working out of that office since 2005, and before that I volunteered there. The room that housed my actual office had been my office since 2010. We moved in October to our new building on Elysian Fields on the lakeside of Claiborne Avenue, which meant a whole new routine of getting to work and getting home from work. That was, I think, the first step out-of-place in my usual routine; I had to change everything and my weekly schedule of when I pick up the mail, etc. I was just getting adjusted to the changes when I left for Kentucky; then I came back to have to start over adjusting, and then the Great Data Disaster happened right around the holidays…and then came Carnival and the Weekend o’Festivals and the death of my old Air and yeah–it’s no wonder that I’ve felt off for months now.

This week is the first week I feel like me again, and it’s actually quite lovely.

But despite feeling like me again–and feeling like I can get everything done that I want to get done; that I can handle anything and yeah motherfuckers bring it the fuck on, I am a little scattered still this week. I think, actually, that paying the bills this morning might actually help in that regard. For one thing, it’s a short work week as I had Monday off to recover from the weekend and to try to put the house back together after TERMITE ARMAGEDDON; and that has me rather confused every day as to what day of the week it actually is. But I am going to persevere. I am going to make a to-do list and start getting through that. I am going to get back to work on the WIP so I can have a clean, strong first draft in hand by the end of April. I am going to get to all those emails in my inbox that have been reproaching me in silent judgment for weeks now. (Okay some of them have been there for months.) Paul’s home at night now (rather than coming in at midnight or later) and so we can get caught up on the shows we’re watching.

Oh, and the books I thought I’d lost? I found them. They were in a different pocket of my backpack. Seriously. I feel like an idiot–but at least the books were found before  I bought new copies–which would have sucked, utterly.

So, I feel like Gregalicious again, and it’s a terrific feeling.

With that in mind, I am heading back into the spice mines. Have a happy Hump Day, Constant Reader!

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Love Hangover

Tuesday morning and I am up before dark. Today I return to the day job after the Weekend o’Festivals and TERMITE ARMAGEDDON. I didn’t get nearly as much done yesterday as I would have liked; but I retrieved Scooter from the spa, made groceries, picked up prescriptions and the mail. I continued putting the house back together–didn’t get nearly as much done as I would have liked, but there is now stuff for me to do this weekend as far as that is concerned.

Digging back into the WIP is my top priority for this month (well, that and getting my taxes filed by the 15th, if possible), and I see no reason why I shouldn’t have a strong first draft finished by the end of the month. I also need to start my return to the gym this month. At my check-up on Friday I’d lost another three-to-four pounds to weigh 208; which is another milestone for me. I’ve broken the 210 barrier–although the last time I weighed myself it was 211, and three pounds is probably a fairly accurate weight fluctuation–but I like the idea that 208 is now the low end of the fluctuation. The lower the low end goes, the better I like it–the more progress it shows. But going back to the gym is a vital part of this struggle–because, you see, the Tennessee Williams Suite we stayed in at the Monteleone has a massive, gorgeous, wonderful bathroom….that is almist entirely mirrored. So, every time I showered or shaved or anything, I could see my entire body reflected back at me in the mirrors, from every side and every angle.

And no, I do not see the appeal of a room full of mirrors.

In other exciting news, the three books I’d thought I’d lost turned up! Yes, I must have been really tired, because they were in the front pocket of my backpack, which is absolutely delightful news. I am also going to try to finish my library book this week–it’s due on Friday–and it’s part of the Diversity Project. Now that my TWFest homework is over, I can get back to the Diversity Project and the Short Story Project. Which is good, because I have my own short story collection dropping officially on April 10th this month. I also have to figure out Paul’s birthday present–his birthday is at the tail end of the month–and hopefully, now that the festivals are over, our lives can get back to what passes for a semblance of normal around here.

And Scooter–who is always a sweet cat–was so loving and affectionate after I got him home yesterday. It took him a few hours to forgive me for taking him to the spa, but once he was over it, he just kept crawling into my lap (no matter where I was sitting), curling up and going to sleep while purring his head off.  And yes, it is completely adorable.

So glad we got lucky and found Scooter eight (!) years ago.

And now, I have to get ready for work. It’s only been four days, but it feels like I haven’t been there in forever. There’s also basic stuff I have to get done as well–paying bills, the checkbook, etc.

Heavy heaving sigh.

Guess it’s time to dive back into the spice mines.

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