Category: cats

Manhattan Spiritual

Wednesday Pay-the-Bills blog, and woo=hoo! Isn’t it nice and exciting to be halfway through the work week? I feel rested and relaxed this morning as I sit here swilling coffee and reminding Sparky he doesn’t need more treats. (He really loves treats.) The sky is blue and the sun is already up, which is great. I really hate getting up in the dark, you know? Getting up when it’s already daylight–even if it’s not quite as light as it is later on–is so much better; I don’t feel like the night is being interrupted.

I ran some errands last night after work, mostly picking up the mail (got my copy of the new Ann Hood, yay!) and some other stuff. Tonight I have to make groceries on my way home, and I need to order some more things on-line, too. I also reflected some on the way I’ve been feeling about writing lately, and realized I’m just going through yet another prolonged malaise, which always makes me doubt myself and wonder if I should even bother continuing with it, while also contemplating taking some time off from it…and then remembering I have taken some time off from writing. Maybe I am just in a better mood this morning, or maybe I am finally rested enough to move forward from hereon out? Who knows? Writing hasn’t been easy for quite a while now, but I need to stop dogging myself about first drafts not being perfect because they never are. I think I am starting to get focused on what I want to write next…but I do need to get these short stories out of the way first and foremost, and I do need to get some of these other projects finished and out of the way. I also need to remember that music is the best thing for writing; I need background noise and music has always worked to put me into the zone. So…maybe put on my headphones and play some music the next time I am trying to write something?

I started listening to the new Taylor Swift album, The Tortured Poets Department, in the car yesterday and I am enjoying it. She really is quite the recording artist, and she also collaborates a lot with other amazing artists, too.

It’s so weird how I feel better rested and relaxed the deeper I get into the week, isn’t it? It used to be the other way around; I always started the week off great and then descended into exhaustion until by the time I got home on Thursdays I was so bleary-eyed that all I could do was collapse into the couch. But…there are certainly worse things, an I shouldn’t question it other than leaning into it and enjoying the ride. Maybe after I make groceries tonight I’ll be able to get some writing done. Maybe even some reading. I did do chores last night; I’ll need to empty the dishwasher tonight and finish the laundry, but it’s nice to try to spend some time at least catching up on mess or clutter or life debris; whatever you want to call that. I also spent some time yesterday catching up on the Noah Presgrove murder; again, the darkness in rural small towns is really something. I found a Reddit where someone had put together a time-line of the weekend, which helped clear some things up for me, but the conflicting stories is perhaps the most interesting thing to me. I don’t know if he was actually murdered or not, but I don’t see how it could have been anything else given his injuries. I also am curious about why the autopsy report took so long? Although I would imagine that area of Oklahoma would probably have to send the remains to a bigger city for a forensic autopsy? And he was buried not long after he died…so why did the autopsy take so long? (I don’t know how long it takes for an actual autopsy to be done, but nine months seems a bit extreme, especially in the case of a mysterious death.)

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I may be back later; one never knows. Have a great Wednesday!

Goodbye Jimmy Goodbye

Here it is Tuesday, and I am feeling okay this morning–awake and rested, if a little creaky (which is every morning these days)–and my coffee is really tasty this morning, which is lovely. I slept pretty well, other than the occasional sniffing/clawing/biting from Sparky, and I could have easily stayed in bed for another hour or so, but that’s okay. Functionality is perfectly fine.

We watched more Euphoria last night, and I have to say, we are really enjoying it. Nate is a monster, played beautifully (see what I did there?) by Jacob Elordi; but as wild and over-the-top as the show is, it’s also marvelously queer–and also shows the difference between a miserable existence that is completely a lie (Nate’s dad) to Rue’s unabashed, unquestioned bisexuality, and of course there’s a marvelous trans character as well, who is just as developed and three-dimensional and has an interior life as much as the others, which is terrific. Represent, HBO! I’m also a bit surprised that this show hasn’t been targeted by the right–drugs and sex and drinking and teenagers, oh my! But they never came after Gossip Girl either; selective outrage is never consistent, after all.

I did write some last night; it was all garbage, but at least it was something, right? Even as I was typing the words as they came to me, I knew it wasn’t any good. I had the voice completely wrong, and the words, which I’d intended to create a dream-like kind of mood (the way Megan Abbott does, so effortlessly), weren’t good either. It’s just a prologue, and it’s not the actual book I want to write quite yet, but at least it was something–and it was in my mind so much I couldn’t really do much of anything else until I got it out of my system. It’s only about 1500 words or so, and needs to be redone, but I can work on that while I work on these other stories I need to get taken care of. There’s a lot that has to go into this book, which is probably going to wind up being shorter than I had really ever thought about–it kind of needs to be, kind of quick and nasty and dreamy.

Now that I’ve finished Where They Wait (more on that later), I am going to go back to something I’d started before my trip, and then I have some others I’d like to get through relatively quickly; but I do have a three day weekend to look forward to; so hopefully I can get some other reading done, too. I know we are going to Costco this weekend–I need to make a list–and I also need to make groceries, but I’ll probably swing by the grocery store on my way home from work tomorrow since it’s Pay-the-Bills Day. I also want to get a lot of the apartment taken care of, so I can take books to the library on Saturday and I can also drop off the dry cleaning, which will be a lovely start towards making the living room look like a living room and not a fraternity dorm room.

I do continue to keep tabs on the Noah Presgrove case in Oklahoma; his autopsy report was finally released last week (why did it take eight months is another good question), and it’s brutal. I knew it was bad, but Jesus. He literally was beaten to death, and the injuries are horrific. I also became aware of another case yesterday–Tom Brown in Canadian, Texas–which is also weird, is also small town stuff, and Canadian isn’t very far from Comanche, Oklahoma…although I doubt the cases are connected, despite the proximity; poor Tom disappeared on Thanksgiving, and his remains weren’t found for almost two years. Skin Hollandsworth had done an eight-part series on Tom for Texas Monthly, which I will probably read over the course of the weekend. It also occurred to me last night that I have become obsessed with the murders of teenaged boys in rural America lately. But how many cases like this are there, where a teenaged boy (granted, Noah was nineteen, but that still counts) is murdered in a small town where everyone knows everyone, but no one knows who the killer/killers is/are? Come on, now. I’m not buying that for a second.

There’s no corruption quite like small town corruption, is there? That’s also uniquely American, I think, and tells quite a different story than all the “real America/Joe Sixpack” right wing bullshit they try to sell us, where every small town is Mayberry and good American values are still appreciated. Well, in my experience every small town is either Twin Peaks or Peyton Place, and if that defines America….well, we need to rethink that.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back later.

Endlessly

Monday morning and it’s back to work for one Gregalicious. Memorial Day is this coming weekend, which means a lovely three day weekend for me, which will be lovely, and is even more lovely to contemplate. I didn’t get a lot done this weekend, which is NOT a good thing, but I can live with it. I feel rested and ready to go this morning, which is the most important thing to come out of a weekend in my humble opinion. It’s nice not to beat myself up over taking down time, you know?

I finished reading Where They Wait by Scott Carson, and loved it (more on that later), so I don’t consider the weekend a complete wash. We also started watching Euphoria yesterday. I’m not sure why we never watched in the first place, but damn–I thought Gossip Girl was over the top, but Euphoria is a whole other ball of wax, isn’t it? But I also love the way they tell the story, with Zendaya’s character narrating the story and filling in gaps about the other characters in the story, to give the viewers a better understanding of who they are. But whew–all the drugs and sex and drinking and porn watching and so forth–things are a lot different now than when I was in high school–although I do think this show might just take things to extremes.

It does kind of give me pause, though–my books about teenagers are nothing like this. I’m not even sure I could even write something like this, to be honest. But then again I always tend to come down on the side of innocence when it comes to teenagers…even if I do depict high school as an endless hell for the students. As I am not a high school student, my grandnieces and nephews are very religious so this wouldn’t be them, and I don’t know any high school students to ask, I will simply have to continue wondering. But I am sure that kids with access to money and so forth probably party a lot harder than we did when I was in high school (for the record, I had only had alcohol once before graduation–yeah I was one of those kids; incredibly innocent and even more naive; Dad still regrets letting me skip a grade to this day), and I sort of touched on that with #shedeservedit, but I think my next book with teens will go into more detail.

I didn’t write at all this weekend; the motivation was simply not there, which is actually shameful. It is AMAZING the excuses I can some up with to not write; I’m also beginning to think talking about plans to write instead of talking about having written is perhaps not the ideal way to go. I do feel good this morning; I don’t feel like I slept all that well last night, in all honesty, but somehow I am alert and have energy–that will undoubtedly flag a bit this afternoon before I go home. But I do hold out hope for a good week, as always.

We also tried Manhunt, the Apple series about the hunt for John Wilkes Booth and his accomplices after the Lincoln assassination; the first episode was a bit slow, but I do love Tobias Menzies and we’ll probably go back to it once we’ve finished Euphoria. I’m still not sure what the deal is with the rest of the episodes of After the Flood, but for whatever annoying reason, we only have access to the first two episodes, despite a Britbox subscription. (Note to self: see what all we are subscribed to, and cut the cord on the ones we never watch; in some cases it might be easier and cheaper to simply buy or rent the shows we want to watch.)

As you can tell, this weekend wasn’t much. Not much done, not much accomplished, and I pretty much just laid around the whole weekend, other than running to the grocery store (twice) and picking up the mail twice. I also don’t feel in the least bit sorry about it, either. I know I need to get back to writing and making some breakthroughs on things, which might engage the writing muscles again and get me back to writing, but I am really not feeling all that motivated anymore. I think a lot of it has to do with the overall inability to ever get caught up on the house. Sparky of course is no help whatsoever; he always seems to be wanting attention when I am doing anything, and he’s just too cute to ignore–even when he is attacking me with fangs and claws unsheathed. Especially then, really? But I really need to get back to writing every day, even if it’s nothing more than a couple of hundred words here and there. Every word written brings things closer to being finished, and if I have to work on multiple things at the same time, so be it; I’ve done it before and it worked, so it would work again–at least in theory.

And so on that note I am heading into the spices mines, trying to get everything onto a to-do list, which may help in some ways. I may be back later, you never know; there’s lots of blog drafts that need finishing.

Heartaches by the Number

Sunday fun-day, and I am up much earlier than I was yesterday. It wasn’t a bad day, but I clearly needed to sleep in. I slept later than expected this morning, too, but here I am, up at just past eight and feeling pretty good. I really didn’t do much of anything yesterday. I did leave the house and get the mail (I got two shirts I’d ordered from Macy’s) and then swung iby the grocery store to get treats for Sparky and for us (they had the Snicker brownie cookies again, which are fucking amazing), and then I came home. I curled up in my chair with Scott Carson’s Where They Wait, which I am enjoying the hell out of, before Paul got up and we finished the first half of Bridgerton, watched The Iron Claw, and then after we watched the gymnastics meet last night, won by Simone Biles (of course), moved on to Hollywood Con Queen, which in interesting, if odd. I plan on spending some more time with the book today, hopefully finishing reading it this morning before getting some writing done today. I’d like to get this second draft of “When I Die” out of my hair, and I also need to reread and possibly revise “The Last To See Him Alive” before I submit it to an anthology. I have been very lackadaisical about my writing now for almost a year, and I need to start taking it seriously again. I think that’s been part of my feeling off for so long–I am not writing much, either and that always has an affect on my over-all well-being.

I also think the overwhelming pile of things I am working on has a lot to do with my feeling at sea and uninspired, to be honest. I do love to write, but as always, I have to make myself do something I love. I also am much easier to distract these days, too–which I do not like–but when I am home working it’s Sparky who distracts me (he’s adorable and sweet, so it’s hard not to give him attention when he wants some), or Paul getting up and wanting to watch something–I will always drop everything to hang out with him, whether I can afford the loss of time or no, sorry/not sorry–but I do need to get some focus. Maybe I should listen to music on my headphones? Music always works, usually; but who knows if the old tricks will continue to work now?

I also need to get caught up on blog entries, too. I still have to finish my posts about Dead Boy Detectives and Mary and George, I’ll have to do one when I finish reading this book, and of course there are any number of others that are dangling in my drafts folder. I also came up with a really good title for another story yesterday, sigh, which I scribbled down in my journal. My creativity is still there, of course, but it needs to be harnessed again so I can take it out for a ride. I also spent alot of time yesterday thinking about something I definitely want to blog about, which was triggered by Marjorie Taylor Greene, the cro magnon congresswoman from Georgia being the white trash piece of shit she was by attacking Jasmine Crockett’s appearance the other day–don’t come for Jasmine unless she calls you, bleached blonde bad built butch body bitch–and the whole “going high” thing. Much as I love Michelle Obama, I have been saying since the of Rush and Fox News that going high doesn’t work when they are going low; they see going high as being weak and they go lower. The only way to defeat them and shut them up is to give their own back to them with a vengeance–I bet the inbred trash will think twice about coming for someone’s looks again. And as someone who has had people going low at him for most of his life, I will not go high. You open that door and I will fucking shred you–and I also will not be shamed by “allies” (always straight white cisgender women, for the record) for giving it back to them. We are literally in a war for the soul and future of this country; going high with these kind of stakes on the line simply does not work, and I am tired of the right saying racist, homophobic, and misogynist bullshit while being told to “go high.” Sorry, Michelle, I love you–and I love you even more for your class and dignity, but I would love to listen to you read Melania for the racist gold-digging filth she is sometime.

The sad truth is you never win while seated on your high horse, and we as a nation simply cannot afford to lose. And they cannot stand on ANY moral high ground while pedophiles like Matt Gaetz and inbreds like Marjorie Greene are serving in the People’s House, period–as well as any traitors, and there are a LOT of those on the Republican side of the aisle right now.

(I’m also enjoying watching all the trash who hated the Chiefs because of Travis and Taylor now worshipping them because of Hairy Butt. Pick a fucking lane.)

And on that note, I am having some breakfast and then reading for a while. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will probably show up again a little later.

Petite Fleur

Saturday and the weekend blooms this morning, huzzah huzzah! Well, I slept super-late for me this morning, not arising until a bit before ten, and I do have to run to the store to pick-up something I forgot yesterday (Sparky’s treats, and he is NOT happy to have had a treat-less 24 hours, believe you me), but other than that, I’ve pretty much decided to spend the day reading and not stressing about anything. I feel like I need a low-energy day, and since today is feeling that way, may as well make it today. I did spend some time yesterday reading my book, which I am really enjoying, and when Paul got home last night we watched the finale of Mary and George, which was kind of a letdown in some ways, and then the next two episodes of Bridgerton, which we are enjoying precisely because it’s just meant to be frothy fun–and that’s not a bad thing, and it’s not easy to do while making it all look easy. I don’t have much desire to read the books, to be honest, and the Regency period has never really interested me much; which is kind of interesting and perhaps something I should explore; but the wretched sons of George III and Queen Charlotte are sublimely uninteresting.

A wonderful thunderstorm woke me around six this morning–that, and a treat-less cat–which was marvelous, and I went right back to sleep. I also didn’t stay up super-late last night (eleven rather than ten), so that doesn’t explain it.

I also read some research for another book I am considering writing (separate from the Noah Presgrove death in Oklahoma one I’ve been talking about) and I think I am beginning to understand how I need to write that book, and how to write myself into it. I’ve also been thinking a lot about some other projects that I would like to get done, and now I need to make a plan and figure out how I am going to get everything done that needs to be done. I’ve already come up with a financial plan for the rest of the year (very little travel, very little spending, and trying to clear some debts), and now I need to just get it together for writing.

I think we will probably finish Bridgerton this weekend, and we also want to watch The Iron Claw. There are some other shows we are thinking about watching, and some that we need to catch up on…I’m still trying to figure out why only the first two episodes of After the Flood are available. We watched the first, but are holding off on the second until the rest are available to watch–and will probably have to go back and watch the first again.

Very exciting, aren’t I?

Louisiana’s “bathroom bill” is currently making its way through our demonic legislature, which is beginning to resist our Christofascist governor. They passed a law this week to display the Ten Commandments in every public school in the state (there will be lawsuits), and are working on legitimizing a voucher system so Louisiana taxpayers can pay to send rich kids to private school while defunding public education here, already deplorably underfunded…which makes me wonder; Louisiana Lottery proceeds were supposedly earmarked for public education–but we never hear that anymore, so where is that money going? For the record, this piece of shit makes Bobby Jindal look like a moderate, and look at the damage Jindal did in eight years….this guy is on track to drive Louisiana right into a drainage sewer canal much faster than Piyush ever dared to dream. Environmental protections stripped to benefit oil and petrochemical corporations? Done. Tax breaks for the wealthy? Done. Attempts to turn Louisiana into a theocracy? Well on its way! Thanks again, Louisiana bigots, for foisting this piece of shit and this sewage legislature on us all.

Jindal went out of office with his career and ambitions basically gone. Here’s hoping Landry’s fall from grace is swifter and even more brutal.

The Tijuana Jail

Ah, Tijuana. I went there several times when I lived in California, and it was always…well, a sloppy messy good time. It’s also where I got my soft wool blankets, the most comfortable bed linens I’ve ever owned. The first one finally fell apart about six years ago, and the second one is starting to fray and unravel. The first was purchased in 1987 and lasted over thirty years; the second was bought in 1997 and is going on twenty-seven. I’ve looked for something similar on-line but so far it’s been to no avail. Sigh. I dread the day when the newer one finally starts to completely unravel.

But I never spent any time in the Tijuana jail, thank the Lord. That’s probably one of my biggest anxieties about foreign travel–winding up in jail through some unintentional mistake. Probably PTSD from watching Midnight Express in the theater at twenty and going in blind with no clue as to what it was about other than I thought the lead actor was kind of attractive. There were a lot of those “out of their element Americans in danger somewhere” movies in the 1970s, when I think back, like how disaster movies also proliferated in that decade.

Last night we had some major weather–bad thunderstorms with eighty mile-per-hour winds. It was in the middle of the downpour and thunder that I went to bed, and as always when it’s storming, I went into a very deep and restful sleep almost immediately. I do feel very good this morning, which is very nice. I feel very rested this morning, too, and am looking forward to getting to work today. I also have errands to run later on today, hopefully around the storms forecast for today. It’s supposed to be worse in the evening that the first blast this afternoon, so we shall see. It’s also nice to wake up on Friday morning and have most of the chores finished already. I don’t have to clean the kitchen, for example, or do any dishes or catch up on laundry or anything like that, which is great. I’d like to do some writing later, definitely some filing, and some reading, too. I’d love to finish the Scott Carson and move on to my next read this weekend…which of course would mean having to pick one out of the pile and there’s too many good choices, frankly–a delightful problem to have. Something newly released, or something that’s been waiting to be chosen for some time now?

We also started watching the new season of Bridgerton last night, and it’s really quite a nice show. Nothing terribly serious, some terrific acting and chemistry, light and frothy entertainment done with incredible style and costuming and set design; it’s absolutely lovely to look at, and appealing enough it its tales of love and romance in the British upper class during the Regency. (It’s interesting that the only royal we ever see is Queen Charlotte, but the Prince Regent was a disgusting pig of a man and that wouldn’t work in this tale of pretty rich people at the top of the food chain.) Jonathan Bailey is such a convincing straight man, too–so much for the ‘gays can only play gays’ tropes–and I do hope he has a lovely career befitting his talents.

I was also delighted to wake up to the news that the City Council booted the Klan of Nyx (the racist homophobic suburban hags who’ve been polluting the parade route and giving, for one example, Confederate flag beads to Black children; the people cancelled Nyx several years ago for their horrific behavior and “All Lives Matter” bullshit in a majority Black city?) from parading the final two weeks of Mardi Gras–and the likelihood of getting permission to ride before the last two weeks is highly unlikely. I am going to do another Mardi Gras book, and it’s going to be “ripped” from these headlines.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely and safe Friday, Constant Reader, wherever you may be. And you never know; I may be back later.

Tall Paul

Thursday and my last day in the office for the week, which is quite lovely to contemplate this fine morning as I swill down my first cup of coffee and blearily look ahead to the rest of my day. Tomorrow I get to work at home, and I do have some tedious duties to do that should fill out the majority of the workday. I only have to work about six hours or so, which really isn’t that bad, and since I am at home, there won’t be much in the way of distraction…outside of Demon Kitty Sparky, of course.

I slept really well last night–the kind of dead-to-the-world sleep that I love, so I feel rested and relaxed this morning for the first time this week, so naturally it’s Thursday, right? This was happening before I left on the trip, if I am remembering correctly; the later in the week the more rested I was feeling, which again is odd. It doesn’t make sense, really, when you think about it, does it? You should feel more tired towards the end of the week? But you know what, I’ll take it. It’s nice to feel more like myself the way I do this morning. I am still struggling a bit with things–motivation is hard to feel these days for some reason–but things are getting better for me emotionally and so forth.

I’ve been following the Kansas City Chiefs kicker controversy, which just makes me shake my head. You’re beliefs are fine. Believe what you want to, and be happy however you need to get there as long as you aren’t harming anyone has always been my approach to other people’s values and way of life. If you need to believe you have an authoritarian sky daddy and the threat of eternal damnation to be a good person, well, that’s not really saying much about who you are at the core of your being, does it? I personally am not sure what I believe, to be honest, and I had some great conversations with my dad about faith and religion, and I appreciate his honesty and candor. He was raised by a mother who was a borderline religious fanatic (but never seemed to get any joy from her rather simplistic faith), and while religion took with his older siblings, it never really did with him. I grew up evangelical-adjacent; Dad never cared if we went to church or not, and when we did, he didn’t go with us. Mom was the one who started taking us to church, and she’d go without Dad a lot after they moved to Kentucky. I never understand the focus on the do’s and don’ts and dogma and ritual by the faithful…the rituals and dogma are the least of it. It doesn’t make sense to me, but whatever makes life easier for people, you know? Harrison Butken (and you know he was called Harry Butt all through his public education career, which would ordinarily make me a bit more sympathetic to him) didn’t need to get up on that stage and demean women as lesser figures in the eyes of the Lord. He didn’t need to get up there and slander the queer community with baseless, judgmental slurs and insults. ANd of course, the asswipes are out in force screaming “free speech!”

And once again, I will repeat for those in the back: the government isn’t punishing him for his views and speech; and the minute anyone starts screaming about their free speech rights, it usually means they can’t defend what was said in the first place so they fall back on the Constitution–something they’ve never read, do not understand, and cannot comprehend in any meaningful way. But these are the same people who’d argue that the Second Amendment gives you the right to a personal nuclear arsenal, so they aren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed.

But Harry Butt was also homophobic as well as misogynist; the misogyny is getting most of the press and commentary, but he basically called the queer community freaks and perverts and weirdos…as I always say, you only rarely go wrong suspecting someone with a dead Confederate general beard of being a jackass (there are exceptions; Eli Cranor, for example, who’s not only a gifted author but a super-nice guy, too); those kinds of beards always put my hackles up whenever I spy one, and yes I know it’s a stereotype, just like all the shit Harry Butt said about queers, but live by the stereotype, die by a stereotype. And misogyny and homophobia inevitably go hand-in-hand with racism, which leads me to believe the Chiefs will probably get a lot of roughing the kicker penalties in the upcoming season…

I did manage to get some things done when I got home from work yesterday. I cleaned the kitchen and worked on the laundry some more–but I’ll have to finish the laundry tonight when I get home from work. I was going to do errands tonight, too, but think I’ll push that off until tomorrow or the weekend. But it was nice to come down to a clean kitchen this morning, and that puts me ahead on chores for the weekend. Huzzah!

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; you never know.

Along Came Jones

Our power went out last night, around 5:45 a.m. per the email from Entergy (if our power is out, how do they expect me to read an email? I guess my cell phone, but still), but for whatever reason, somehow Paul got up to wake me up at the time I usually rise (my Cat Alarm, aka Sparky, also failed this morning but once Paul got up, he started), but I slept so well last night that it took me awhile this morning to get up and going. Not sure what that’s about (thunderstorm, no doubt), but my coffee tastes good and it looks like the kitchen roof didn’t leak last night, so that’s a good thing. We’re supposed to have heavy weather this morning with off and on showers all day (at least that was the forecast yesterday). A quick glance at my phone, however, has let me know that later this morning it will get sunny and it will stay that way the rest of the day. That’s nice. In fact, the sun is out already so I think that forecast may be off. I know there were tornado warnings west and north of the city last night, and most of the truly bad weather missed us.

I’m not going to lie, I felt very off-balance at work yesterday. It started raining in the early afternoon, which certainly didn’t help (damp air and rain always makes me sleepy), and there were some other things that went on in the early morning after I arrived at the office that had me wondering why the hell didn’t you call in sick this morning, dumb ass? But it all worked out in the end, and the rest of the day went swimmingly. I ran my errands once I was out of the office, and then came home. I was a little tired by then, so didn’t get much of anything done last night other than bonding with Sparky (i.e. being a cat bed). We started watching a new British show called After the Flood, which looked really interesting, but I also noted that only the first two episodes (of six) were up on Britbox, which is…odd. We really liked the show, so I am going to have to figure out how to watch the other four episodes. But that’s peculiar, isn’t it? I think I may have let my subscription go, which is probably why we can only access the first two episodes. Heavy sigh. I really need to get a handle on the streaming services I pay for, don’t I?

I am trying to get a handle on easing back into my normality again–a week off is so disorienting, but nice at the same time–so I figured this wasn’t going to wind up being highly productive, either. I need to at least stay on top of things, though, so I am not buried this weekend trying to get caught up. I need to get the dishes done tonight when I get home, and there’s some laundry and other straightening up to do, and I need to get back to reading my book, too. I managed to get all the book posts done yesterday, but still need to get the one for Dead Boy Detectives, which I loved, finished as well. If you’ve not watched, you really should get cracking on it; it’s definitely one of my favorite new shows of the year. It’s been so long since I finished watching that it may be difficult to write about it now (I finished before I left on the trip), but it pleased me enormously, and I loved all the queerness, especially the Cat King (Lukas Gage, who is fantastic in the part). Of course, you can never go wrong with Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman, or anything that comes out of it.

I didn’t read last night when I got home, either, being tired. But I am looking forward to spending some more time with Where They Wait, which I was really enjoying reading last week in Kentucky. I also kind of feel a bit off with the writing stuff, too–it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything other than the blog, so the muscles, already rusted, have kind of tightened up on me again, but I also need to deal with things I’ve been putting off because I didn’t want to deal with them and that’s really not a good way to deal with anything. I need to make a to-do list, too.

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I hope to be back here at some point later on.

Three Stars

Here we are on Monday morning and I am awake much earlier than I have been in well over a week; part of the problem of finishing a vacation, alas. I feel a bit sleepy still this morning, which is probably very much a result of the alarm going off this morning and waking me up (along with Sparky’s need to be fed), but that’s okay. I am going back to the office in a little while and I am feeling a bit more trepidation than I usually do on Monday mornings. Yesterday was okay; I got some things done around here and the kitchen doesn’t look like an utter disaster this morning, which is always a nice way to start the week. I have to pick up prescriptions on my way home from work tonight, but other than that can come straight home and collapse into my chair.

But a normal routine again might be nice to slip back into, you know? I am thinking I might take a week off later this summer (around my birthday, most likely) just to have some down time at home when I can relax and work on things around here that inevitably get pushed back from week to week due to lack of time and exhaustion. I know I want to read some more of my book tonight, and of course as always there’s some filing work that needs to be done at some point. I did manage to get two entries managed yesterday about the books I read over the last week, and I have two more (Salvation on Sand Mountain, The Bones of the Story) to get done, and I had started one about Dead Boy Detectives before I left on the trip that I absolutely should get finished at some point. I don’t know what’s waiting for me at the office this week, but I am not terribly worried about it, either. Worrying, as Mom used to say, is just borrowing trouble–which is an interesting quote from someone who suffered from generalized anxiety disorder.

But Mother’s Day without Mom is becoming easier. Last year’s was horribly sad, when the loss was still incredibly fresh. This year wasn’t so bad. (I can’t speak for Dad, though.) Everything becomes easier with the passage of time, which is another one of those incredibly sad realities. This year? I felt sad only a couple of times throughout the day. The Mother’s Day newsletters and sales didn’t feel like a gut punch every time I saw one. I already knew the only way to get past the grief was to let time pass, a lesson I’ve learned far too many times in my life already, but because I’d been through a lot before I knew how this would run its course. It feels a bit cold not to get emotional about it anymore, but the sadness is slowly giving way to fondness, where the memories make me smile rather than make me seize up with grief–which is a dramatic improvement, quite frankly, even if there’s a slight element of guilt involved, too.

Well, I thought this would probably be brief this morning, and I was correct. I’ll probably be back later at some point, Constant Reader, so go ahead and have a great Monday, and I’ll chat at you after spending my day in the spice mines. Bonjour!

Just a Little Too Much

I got home last night around seven, after eleven hours on the road from Kentucky on what was actually a rather beautiful day for a drive. I finished listening to The Drowning Tree by Carol Goodman, and timed it perfectly so I could queue up her most recent, The Bones of the Story, to listen to for the rest of the way. I was tired, and as always, when I got hungry I was on a lengthy stretch in northwest Alabama where there is hardly anywhere to stop. By the time I got into an area with places, I wasn’t hungry and debated in my mind at every exit whether or not to stop. Again, though, it was a beautiful drive and a beautiful day. There wasn’t even traffic when I got to New Orleans other than the usual backup before the bridge across the river. It was nice to get home, relax in my chair, be stalked by Sparky, and just be home. I did keep thinking all day that it was Sunday, and had to remind myself regularly that it was, in actuality, Friday. I slept well last night after getting home–I missed my bed, my cat, and my partner, as always–and of course, Demon Kitty got me up at six this morning for his feeding. But…he also got back into bed with me for mostly cuddling and purring with the occasional apex predator cat attacks. It’s good to be home. I spent the evening last night watching our shows and getting caught up (Mary and George, Hacks, Abbott Elementary) and I can now stream The Iron Claw on Max, so we’ll probably watch that later. I have to definitely run errands this morning–mail, groceries, prescriptions, library sale–and am kind of looking forward to a nice weekend of re-entry into my regular life and settling in.

I also have lost track of the world because I really wasn’t doing much on-line other than the occasional deletion of unnecessary emails and the very rare moments when I would look at social media on my phone while I was waiting for something. But on the other hand, I am not so sure that’s a bad thing. It was nice to be away from the world and social media and everything else and just relax, you know? I also managed to read two books on the trip (Salvation on Sand Mountain and The Killer Inside Me; more on those later) and started a third (Where They Wait by Scott Carson), which was fun, and also thought about writing and my future, in a more macro and overarching way. But whereas before the trip that would have overwhelmed me and I would have to walk away from the computer, this morning I feel more inspired and clear-headed about everything than I was before I left…which points out how important it is for us writers who work full-time jobs to actually take a break from ALL work, not just the day job.

The trip itself was nice. I got to spend time with my dad, and another baby picture of me appeared, and one that actually showed my face! It’s kind of a family joke, but we have boxes of pictures of my sister in the first two years of her life–and two in total of me (and she’s in one of them). It doesn’t mean anything–there aren’t many pictures of either of us taken between 1963 and 1967 or so, for example (when Dad bought his first camera). They were living with my grandfather after my sister was born and they were still in high school; so everyone around them was taking pictures of the baby (and my sister was a beautiful baby); I was born right before they moved to Auburn for my dad to go to college and we were very poor for a long time; they had no camera and they didn’t know a lot of people there, either, but it’s always been a family joke about having no baby pictures of me as opposed to the intensely documented first two years of my sister’s life. I did scan said picture with my phone, so I may share it someday. I also got to learn some more family history–Dad reminisced about the early years with Mom and the two kids; and it really is staggering how hard they worked and sacrificed for us both. Dad of course thinks he never made things easy enough for her, but he also never takes into consideration how much Mom loved him. He’s doing better, but he’ll never be the way he was before, either.

And on my drive back yesterday when I stopped for gas in Toomsuba (I always stop there on the way home, it’s only about another three or so hours from there and the anticipation of being home starts there) when I noticed I had a text message from a friend that was rather cryptic, and I was puzzled, but it mentioned “Donna Andrews” and Bouchercon so when I got back in the car I texted back, and then checked my emails. So yes, once again I am nominated for an Anthony–that’s three years in a row, which is very cool–for the anthology School of Hard Knox, which I “co-edited” (I really didn’t do much) with Donna Andrews and Art Taylor. It IS an excellent anthology, and if you like crime short stories, you really can’t go wrong with it. But it was nice to be nominated again; I didn’t think I really had any chance this year for a nod, so that was a very pleasant surprise…and you know, I’ve never really basked in the glow of sharing credit with two people whose work I respect and who I also respect and love as people.

And on that note, I think I am going to head into the spice mines. I feel a bit hungry this morning, so I need to eat something and start my day. It’s so good to be home, and I’ve missed you, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be in and out all weekend here, trying to get caught up on talking about books I’ve read and other things. So have a lovely Saturday, and I’ll chat with you again later.