One Gregalicious was exhausted yesterday when he got off work. (Actually started flagging in the middle of the afternoon, then had to persevere until four thirty, which meant running errands and heading all the way Uptown before coming home and basically locking myself in for a few days. I managed to get the mail, but the line at the pharmacy was so insanely long there was no way I could stand there and wait, so I headed home.
I’ll make groceries on Saturday; no need for me to leave the house today for anything other than taking out trash and so forth. My goal is to finish the kitchen, which I was too tired to fuck with when I got home last night. I was soooo tired; so much more so than the night before, which I thought was pretty damned tired…so of course, stay tuned, tomorrow will be worse! My new meds continue to work beautifully; I can also tell when I didn’t take my meds–yesterday afternoon I realized they were still in the container I put them in to bring them to work, and they sat on my desk all day until about three, when I noticed they were still sitting there and finally took them.
Yay, drugs!
But I came home to a lovely surprise–Paul worked at home and was doing the laundry! I had to teach him how to use our space-age washing machine right before the surgery, and since then he’s been very helpful with that chore. Needless to say, this pleased me enormously; I had already decided to postpone the growing pile of dirty dishes in the sink until today, but knew the laundry had to be done and was dreading in. So I was able to collapse into my easy chair, where I rewatched The Last of Sheila on TCM (such an amazing movie! One of my favorites, and probably more on that later), and then started watching bowl games while my mind wandered. Sparky climbed up in my lap and fell asleep, yet using his magical purr healing powers to completely relax me, and I felt much better by the time I went to bed around ten. I slept super great last night, and slept in a bit this morning, which also felt amazing–I’ve never believed that story that you can never catch up on lost sleep–and I feel great this morning. It’s cold here, the wind chill is theoretically making it feel like twenty degrees outside. A lot of southeastern Louisiana was in a freeze warning last night, but not New Orleans. It’s supposed to stay chilly until Sunday, when it’ll get up to about seventy degrees in the afternoon before dropping again at night. I always forget how bipolar the winter weather is here.
I’ll do chores around my work-at-home duties today–some things that have to be done before the end of the year, so definitely am pushing it–and then I have the long weekend to do whatever I please, which is pretty awesome. I did spend some time last night straightening the kitchen as much as I could without doing the dishes, so all the counters are finally cleared and everything is either in the sink or near it or put away. Clean counters make such a difference…so I guess I am still kind of a neat freak, I just don’t obsess about it anymore. Better living through chemistry indeed.
And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Those at-home duties won’t do themselves, and they need to be done. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again probably later.
Up ungodly early for PT, and yikes, it is waaaay too early for Gregalicious to already be awake and starting my day–if six am is an unspeakably early time to get up, try five; I don’t think I’ll be complaining about six too much next week when I have to get up at five again on Tuesday. It’s only forty-five degrees this morning, which is horrifying; the high for the day is a mere fifty-three. Yikes. It was so cold at the office yesterday, I can’t even begin to tell you how miserable I was all day. The cold makes me sleepier, so I never really felt yesterday like I was present, you know? All day long I felt like I literally could just curl up and fall asleep again. But I made it through the day, which was great, and ran an errand on the way home–I love this week, because school is out and traffic is practically non-existent–and I also have errands to run after work tonight, too. Tomorrow is work-at-home Friday, which means I can sleep in a bit before rising and working, and I am really looking forward to not getting up until after the sun rises. And it’s also a lovely three-day weekend, with bowl games to watch and enjoy as I do things around the house. LSU plays on New Year’s, which will be a preview of next year’s starting quarterback, so we’ll get sort of a taste of what LSU will be like next fall, when they have that brutal schedule–USC, UCLA, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Texas and Oklahoma–as a new era of college football begins.
I also need to start promoting the two books that were released right before my surgery–terrible timing, you know? But it’s never too late, which is the true (and perhaps only) beauty of the modern era of publishing. Once the season your new release has passed, you used to be finished. But with ebooks and e-everything these days, you can keep on doing promotion until people stop following you and start unfriending you everywhere, LOL.
We finished off the first season of War of the Worlds last night, and have two more seasons to get through. It’s that odd week between holidays where most shows go on hiatus, so no new episodes of a lot of things I watch (looking at you, Bravo), so we have to find things to watch. I think War of the Worlds will safely get us to next week, and everything returns next week anyway.
I was tired when I got home last night, and knowing I had to get up early this morning didn’t motivate me a whole lot to get things done. The kitchen is a mess still, and there will always be more laundry to do and dishes to wash and/or put away. Sigh. The life of a housewife, seriously…make that a working housewife, and seriously, I understand why all those suburban wives and mothers were taking pills in the 50s and 60s. The endless drudgery…I used to always get a bit of a thrill when I cleaned and the house was all neat and organized. It was satisfying. It still is, but it’s not a compulsion the way it used to be, where I didn’t feel comfortable or could relax in the house as long as it was messy. I also realized where this obsessive cleaning mentality came from, and yes, I was still trying to please my mother. I could hear her voice, with the shudder, saying “how can anyone live like that?”
Today I am swinging by to get the mail on my way home, and picking up a prescription and some Claritin-D, too. I doubt I’ll be in the mood to do any cleaning tonight, or have the energy to do so, but that’s fine. I can clean up around work-at-home duties tomorrow. I’ll also have to run some other errands–I really need to wash the car, seriously–and dig into Danielle Arsenault’s debut novel.
And maybe do some writing. It certainly can’t hurt.
And now I am heading to the spice mines. Have a good Thursday, Constant Reader.
I’ve been putting my cats into my books now for quite some time.
It’s kind of funny, because I never wanted to be one of those people–posting pictures of my pets, writing them into my books–until, of course, I actually acquired a pet. It never occurred to me to put Skittle into any of my books, until we lost him to a very rapidly advancing cancer when he was only seven.
Skittle was such a beautiful cat.
Skittle came to us when he was about six months old, when we were still living in the carriage house. (We’d gotten a mouse, and were advised by friends, neighbors and landlady to just get a cat…to which were both like “Really? We don’t want a cat and we know nothing about them” but after the third mouse sighting, it was, yeah, we need a cat. We got Skittle on Christmas Eve, 2003, as a bit of a Christmas present to ourselves. (We never saw the mouse again.) And cute and tiny as he was, we had no idea what a cat was like or what was normal behavior for them…and he had us completely charmed and under his thumb by the end of the day–head butts, making biscuits, cuddling and a non-stop purr machine. Skittle was beautiful, but was afraid of the outside for a while. He’d been found at about two weeks old in the middle of the road in a rainstorm, so the sound of cars scared him for a long time, and he was terrified of going outside for the first few years. Then one night I was coming home from a party–Paul was staying in the Quarter for the TW Fest, and I was home taking care of the cat–and the front door didn’t latch. When I got up the next morning the door was wide open, and Skittle was nowhere to be found. I called him a few times, and he came out from under the main house and sat down on the walk, nonchalantly cleaning himself as a very-relieved me ran and grabbed him.
After that, we had to watch and make sure the door closed because he’d dash out if he had the chance. He always let us catch him eventually, but he liked to explore and check for vermin and other live toys to torture. He was a great hunter, and could take a palmetto bug out of mid-air with a massive leap. He loved to play fetch, was very affectionate, and loved people, always winning them over by winding through their legs and rubbing against them, begging to be petted. He was also long-haired and I swear he shed that entire coat at least three or four times a year; his hair was everywhere. He also was smart–he trained me to know what four different noises he made were: food, water, litter box to be cleaned, and I either want to be petted and go to sleep on you in your chair. When I had a laptop as my primary computer (from 2003-2010), I had it sitting on a metal tray at eye level while I used a separate keyboard, and Skittle loved to go to sleep up there. When I got an actual desktop computer again, he lost his place to sleep while I worked, and he did. Not. Like. That. One. Bit.
He got sick first over Memorial Day that weekend, and he was dehydrated. The vet rehydrated him again and he was back to his normal self…but over Labor Day he was sick again. It was cancer, and from the first diagnosis that Tuesday after Labor Day and when we took him back a few weeks later….it had spread to all of his organs, and it became just a matter of time. Keeping him alive would require three months in the hospital, thousands of dollars, and no guarantee he would make it through.
We were both devastated when we brought him home that Wednesday night, and we made an appointment to send him over the Rainbow Bridge for Saturday. We spoiled him that Thursday and Friday–treats and tuna, as much as he wanted. Ironically, those last few days, he seemed like himself again to the point that I had to be the monster on Saturday morning and convince Paul it was better to let him go now, rather than watch him decline because he wasn’t getting any better; it was almost like he knew so he wanted us to remember him the way he always was. Paul spent that entire day after we got back in bed, while I was an empty shell of myself, removing all reminders–toys, food, etc. because every time I found one I’d start crying again, so I rounded them all up.
I wanted to get another cat, but Paul was so heartbroken, he wasn’t sure he could handle another so soon. (I was also heartbroken, but I also knew we had to rescue another one.)
Scooter was such a handsome fellow, too.
Thursday the vet called to let me know Skittle’s ashes were ready for us to pick up, so I went over there on my way to work in the morning and picked them up. They had some cats there for adoption from the SPCA, and there was a beautiful orange boy, named Texas, who was so sweet I wanted to take him home right then. But I didn’t know if Paul would be upset if I brought home a replacement cat, so I didn’t, but I remembered him and thought I’ll talk to Paul about it tonight.
Paul was asleep on the couch when I got home from work that night, and so I turned on the television and thought, “I’ll ask him about Texas when he wakes up.” I read while something was on television–a Real Housewives marathon, I think–and about an hour later, Paul sat up on the couch, completely freaked out that he’d just seen a mouse looking at him from the top of the recycling bin. I hadn’t seen anything. He was just dreaming–and his subconscious was letting him know it was okay to get another cat. Thirteen years later, he still insists there was a mouse. So I told him about Texas, told him to go by and look at home and if he wanted him, to make all the arrangements and I’d pick him up after work. Paul fell in love with Texas, and nothing would do except that I pick HIM up from work and we’d go together to get him.
Scooter jumped out of the crate and hid under the coffee table, which was a bit concerning. But after about an hour of us leaving him alone, he came out, crawled onto the couch and onto Paul, laid down on his chest and started purring and headbutting him, and then he came over to me and did the same. We renamed him Scooter that first night, and for thirteen years, we had this incredibly sweet ginger boy.
Such a sweet boy. Around this time was when I realized that if I started putting MY cats into my work meant they would live forever. So I gave Chanse’s friend Paige (who hadn’t yet appeared in a Scotty book an orange and white cat named Skittle. I gave Scotty a cat named Scooter, and I can’t remember which cat I gave to Valerie in my cozy series; it was either Skittle or Scooter. Jem also has a black cat in Death Drop, but he is fictional–what else but Shade?
We had Scooter for thirteen years. He had a bout with diabetes, but insulin shots cleared that up (thank God; I hated giving him those shots) and he was mostly healthy. One morning last summer before I went to work I noticed Scooter was huffing–and having trouble breathing. I tried to soothe him, but I could tell he was terrified…and thought, Oh no, this is probably it for him, how am I going to break it to Paul? Later that morning he called me at work to tell me we needed to take Scooter in, and we were probably going to lose him. We took him over that morning, and they called us later to let us know it was congestive, and he wasn’t going to make it. They had him comfortable, but whenever they took him out of the oxygen thing he’d start huffing again. It was, alas, fatal, so I walked over there and held him while they put him to sleep and he crossed the rainbow bridge. I sobbed all the way home, and still can’t think about him without tearing up.
The house felt so empty without a cat. But finally we steeled ourselves and headed to the SPCA to pick out a new rescue.
Sparky!
And we brought Sparky home, and I’ve been entertaining you all with tales of the kitten here ever since. He’s a darling, and he’s getting so much bigger than the little kitten with a big voice and adorable energy. He picked us out–just as Skittle did–and I love that he’s got orange coloring, as you can see above.
And I guess I’ll have to start another series so I can immortalize Sparky, too.
It’s cold this morning in the Lost Apartment, and I didn’t want to get out of bed. The new meds are marvelous for sleeping–I can’t remember the last time I went to bed and was so damned comfortable and relaxed that it was a real struggle to force myself up out of the depths of Morpheus and into the world of the living again. I only have to go into the office twice this week–tomorrow I have PT first, which means waking up even earlier–but there’s another three-day weekend on the horizon and I really like the idea of all the rest and relaxation I’ll be able to get this weekend.
I did manage to get the apartment back into some semblance of order yesterday, with Sparky being absolutely zero help in that regard. He’s a bit rambunctious, to say the least, and still has that Big Kitten Energy thing going for him. The neighbors dropped off some toys for him for Christmas, and these were the first toys he’s actually shown any interest in for longer than a few moments. We watched some more War of the Worlds last night, which is a really interesting take on the old H. G. Wells novel; I don’t really remember the book anymore, which I read as a teen. I know the 1950’s version of the story was shown to me in elementary school; it terrified me and gave me nightmares for weeks. In retrospect, with all the fuss about education and all the right-wing bullshit attempts to take down and out public education, why the hell were elementary school children shown War of the Worlds in our classroom?
I couldn’t decide what to read next yesterday as I worked on the apartment, so I still haven’t started my next book. I’d intended to just read cozies for the rest of the year, but I am rethinking that, and thinking I need to mix it up more. I have a first novel by a Lafayette writer, who is a Black woman–I know, right? A Louisiana crime novel by a Black woman? I’ve been waiting for this forever–now if only we could find a gay Black crime writer in New Orleans….the book is Glory Be by Danielle Arsenault, and it comes highly recommended…and I’ve not read an “Own Voices” book in a while, which is entirely on me. Outside of James Lee Burke, there aren’t many crime writers who write about Louisiana but not New Orleans, and the book is highly recommended by a couple of friends, so I am really looking forward to breaking into it tonight or this weekend. I do have to run by the post office on my way home, and there are definitely chores that need doing around the house, so I’m pretty sure that’s how my evening will go. I also have PT at seven tomorrow, so I’ll be getting up early, too. Yay.
I’ve also been thinking about goals for the new year, and what I need to do in order to achieve those goals, and come up with a plan. I’m trying to remember what my favorite reads and watches of the year were–I did read a lot, somehow–and think about a writting schedule for the year. I’d like to do another Scotty book this year, a short story collection, and maybe something with those damned novellas-in-progress that I never seem to be able to finish. I definitely want to be better organized in the new year, and hopefully getting into that position before the new year rolls around, too. Maybe I can get all these “drafts” finished and posted at some point as well; wouldn’t that be nice?
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Not a great Wednesday blog–I’ve really not been doing a great job with these entries, lately, have I? Ah, well, maybe tomorrow’s will be better. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and will check in with you again later.
I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas weekend; I have another paid day off today since Christmas Eve fell on Sunday. I’ve been up already for a while and went to PT this morning, so am alive and on an endorphin high that feels most excellent–which is why I didn’t reschedule this 7 am appointment once I remembered that today was another holiday and therefore didn’t need to have it; I’ve not gotten up before nine this entire weekend and so figured it would be an easier way to ease back into the week by keeping it, and by getting up this early I would be raring to go and should be able to get everything done that I need to get done.
Or not.
It was a nice long weekend of getting rest and slowly starting to put the apartment back together. Everything has slid around here since my surgery, and I was hoping to have the energy and time to get a lot of it done this weekend. I didn’t get a lot done, but I made progress, and I always count progress as positive movement, you know? I have a lot of stuff here that I need to take back to the office, but some of it can wait until next week. Yesterday we watched Saltburn, which I really enjoyed; I know the reviews are mixed, but I enjoyed it a lot. Barry Keoghan is going to become a big star, and I’ve enjoyed him in everything I’ve ever seen him in, starting with Dunkirk. Jacob Elordi is just ridiculously beautiful–we are now thinking about diving into Euphoria–and Rosamund Pike is also terrific. We then started watching the television series War of the Worlds, which is kind of ridiculously well done. I also read the latest volume of Heartstopper, and have some thoughts about that I will most likely share at some point. I made a turkey breast in the crockpot for pulled turkey (which was really good), rolls, and Stovetop stuffing (don’t judge me, it’s just the two of us and homemade is both too much trouble and makes too much), which was nice. I have a mess to clean up in the kitchen this morning, but there are worse things. I got to spend the holiday with Paul and Sparky, who is getting so big! What better way to spend a holiday than with those two?
It’s also a bit cold this morning in New Orleans, and I have to say our new heating system is phenomenal. I can tell it’s cold outside but it’s temperate inside; I’d have a space heater running in the pre-new system days, and would also wrap up in a blanket on the couch. Mardi Gras is right around the corner, and will be here before I know it. Paul already got a copy of this year’s Arthur Hardy’s Mardi Gras Guide, the local Carnival Bible. I also picked out my next read, The Drowning Tree by Carol Goodman, which I hope to get started on today, once I get some things done and run some errands. Of course, tomorrow it’s back to the office, but that’s okay, too. I do need more structure to my days, and my job does a really good job of that–otherwise I lose track of dates and days; the medical leave time I never had the slightest clue what day of the week it was, let alone the date.
I also have spent some time learning how to use the microwave properly, and it’s so nice to know how to heat things the right way! Yes, I am a moron who never learned how to use a microwave properly and so messed things up a lot when I tried to do anything other than simply reheat something on high. One of the reasons I never used my Instant Pot was because I never took the time to learn how, and maybe that’s a goal I should set for the new year: learn how to use appliances properly.
Well, this is a rather tedious entry, isn’t it?
Which means it’s time to head into the spice mines, isn’t it? Enjoy your Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you later.
Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and if you don’t–well, happy Monday off!
Yesterday was not a good day. I woke up feeling like crap, and it never really got much better until later in the day, when I realized it had started raining during the night. It rained all day, actually, and I was so tired and dragged out and felt so terrible that I didn’t put it together until late in the afternoon–oh, this is SINUS related, because of the rain–and took a Claritin-D, which made me feel somewhat better. I also slept super good and slept in, too. I did manage to get some things done yesterday too–I finished reading Buried in a Good Book (more on that later) and started reading another one. We also finished watching both Looking the series, and then watched the wrap-up film (more on that later as well). I am going to pick out my next read, spend some time with it this morning, and at some point today we are probably going to watch Saltburn. I also have to put the turkey breast in the slow cooker (pulled turkey is quite delicious) and put dishes away, but I also have tomorrow off, so am not overly concerned about getting things organized and cleaned up. I worked on the books some more and pruned some more out, and started learning how to use the microwave–which does make a difference.
Christmas is usually when I started looking back on the year, and 2023 was a bit of a rollercoaster for me (they usually are). My personal life really sucked balls this past year, but it was a very good year for me professionally. The year started with me behind on two deadlines, but I managed to getboth books finally finished and turned in, once I was able to turn MWA over to my successor, which was part of the delay on the books. In late January I injured my arm, and got misdiagnosed by my primary care physician. As we rolled into Mardi Gras, Mom had a massive stroke and I drove up to Kentucky to see her one last time in hospice. She didn’t really know me, she was pretty much unresponsive unless she was in pain, and it was rough. I drove home that Sunday, and she died on Valentine’s Day, so I had to drive up to Alabama that last weekend of Mardi Gras for the funeral. Not going to lie, it was tough losing my mother, and it’s been tough all year. I have sublimated most of my grief into worry about Dad, frankly. I went up and met him in Alabama for their anniversary, and we convoyed up to Kentucky, where I stayed for a week. I met Dad at my aunt and uncle’s place in Panama City Beach in October for their birthdays. When my primary care finally recognized what was wrong with my arm (torn biceps), I got referred to a orthopedic surgeon–but I needed a specialist. I had all my teeth removed finally in September, right after Labor Day, but didn’t get my new teeth until the week before the arm surgery, so was on a soft diet for two months which sucked….and then had to go back on it after the surgery because I couldn’t really cut up food. I also got hearing aids, which was great and has helped dramatically.
I also finally realized what the core mental issue was, thanks to a conversation with Dad–when I found out she suffered from generalized anxiety disorder and the light bulb went on over my head: that is exactly what is wrong with me, and all these years what I thought was “normal” because I didn’t know any different and I just always thought I was like Mom…yeah, I am like Mom, and all these years all I’ve been doing is treating symptoms and not the root cause. In consultation with my new primary care doctor, I weaned off the old medication and started treating the anxiety and the insomnia (anxiety related) properly, and it has made such an amazing difference in my life. I think more clearly, and I can analyze myself better. I’ve also started thinking about how most of my life I’ve tried to avoid confrontation (like Mom) and whenever something has happened that hurt me…well, I’ve tried to avoid those kind of situations again. My trust issues come from the anxiety and being hurt before, and I also realized that my socialization as a child was delayed and/or stunted because of being unable to control my brain. I had undiagnosed ADD as a child, and I feel pretty sure that’s carried over to my adulthood, as well. I couldn’t focus or concentrate because I didn’t know how to shut my brain off or keep it until control. The only time I could find peace, really, was reading or writing.
Professionally, I started off the year by getting nominated for a Lefty for Best Humorous for A Streetcar Named Murder, which was a very pleasant surprise. I debated going, but the timing was bad and with all the traveling I was having to do for family stuff, I had to conserve and preserve paid time off. This was followed up by an Agatha nomination for Best Children’s/Young Adult for #shedeservedit, and this time I did go. I lost to Enola Holmes, but I also became friends with Elizabeth Bunce (we’d been nominated together for an Anthony the year before) and Frances Schoonmaker, who was an absolute delight. I was nominated for three Anthonys at Bouchercon this year–Children’s/YA again; anthology for Land of 10000 Thrills, and Best Humorous for Streetcar again. None of those nominations ended with a win, but for me the nominations alone were the real win. I never ever thought I would be shortlisted for mainstream mystery awards, and what a delightful surprise.
I did publish two novels this year–a new series debuting with Death Drop, and the ninth Scotty, Mississippi River Mischief. I also got an (undeserved) editorial credit for School of Hard Knox, along with Donna Andrews and Art Taylor, for publisher Crippen and Landru–which meant working with my dear friend Jeffrey Marks. I have a story in the book, too–“The Ditch”–which was something I’d been working on forever. I also published two more short stories, “Solace in a Dying Hour” in This Fresh Hell, and “The Rosary of Broken Promises” for Dancing in the Shadows. I’m pleased with both stories, but I also need to get more. I have any number of incomplete projects that are nagging at me that I would like to finish in the new year. SO MANY PROJECTS.
But I feel good today, and very rested. I’d intended to take today as a do-nothing day, but I will probably do stuff because I am not really wired to not do anything all day.
And on that note, I will wish you happy holidays for the moment and head into the…well, not the spice mines, but perhaps a spice resort?
Work-at-home Friday. I had early morning PT this morning, but when I checked my phone when I got home from work my surgeon had called to reschedule, so the rest of the morning for me is free. I’d taken sick time for this morning, which I can now cancel and use at another time, I guess for when the appointment is rescheduled. This was a bummer for me, because this was the removal of stitches and hopefully cleared from the brace appointment. I’d planned all of this out so that I can get it all taken care of on my old insurance, since I have new health insurance in January and a deductible to meet. Ironically, I had just been thinking that despite everything, this wasn’t ruinous financially. I was also hoping to be cleared from PT until late February. Here’s hoping I can be rescheduled next week sometime, but it’s the week between Christmas and New Year’s, so what are the odds that he’s either working or has anything available? I am trying really hard not to get anxiety over this, but it’s kind of hard. Sigh. No sense in stressing about something unknown, so when I finish this I’ll go ahead and call his office.
I knew it was all too good to be true.
But I’m glad I got it taken care of, anyway.
I was tired yesterday. The adventure of making a red velvet cheesecake one-handed and assembling it while making frosting with a nosy high energy kitten exhausted me, and once my caffeine wore off I was exhausted. I did get a great Secret Santa gift–a rechargeable battery operated hand-held vacuum I can use in the car, which I’d been wanting for a while–and I cannot wait to use it. If the weather is sunny this weekend, I may even wash the car. Ooooh, crazy talk, right? And I am getting my new microwave this weekend, which I am unnaturally excited about, frankly. This time I am keeping the instruction manual and teaching myself how to use it properly, rather than just reheating stuff.
I do have a lot to get done this weekend, which was partly why I was hoping to lose the brace for good today. But I can work around it and the High Energy Kitten, who slept so adorably in my lap last night while we watched Reacher and started watching Looking, which we are really enjoying. At the time it came out, it got terrible reviews and queer people seemed to hate it, and no one watched much. At the time I only knew Jonathan Groff from Glee, and not one of its highlights, so it didn’t take much for me to decide not to watch. But now having seen him in Hamilton (on Disney) and in Mindhunter, I was more open to it when Paul suggested it last night, and I was very pleasantly surprised with how realistic it was. It’s very well done, and while I personally didn’t identify with any of the characters, it showed a part of gay life and culture that I know exists. (One of my primary disappointments about the Queer as Folk reboot was the writers clearly weren’t from here–maybe they were, I don’t know–but it wasn’t a real New Orleans I saw on that show, and it was such a missed opportunity. Queer life in New Orleans is very rich and very much a part of the city’s culture in and of itself; imagine doing a queer show set in New Orleans and not mentioning the gay krewes, the leather community, and Southern Decadence is just sitting there, waiting for it’s film/television debut! I primarily watched the entire season for friends who worked as extras–my former supervisor Joey’s drag persona, Debbie with a D, was in the show a lot.)
I also want to finish reading the Tamara Berry novel and move on to the next. I am really enjoying the Berry, despite not being able to focus on reading this week in the evenings, so hopefully part of my cleaning plans this weekend can be broken up with an hour or so of reading every day. I really miss reading. I was scrolling through my ebooks on my iPad, lokoking for a cookbook which was one of the earliest ebook purchases tlast night and was stunned to see how many books I’ve gotten electronically over the years since I got my first iPad back in 2010. (I’d purchased the cookbook in 2011.) So, yes, my TBR stack is much larger than assumed because I never think about the ebooks. Sigh.
And on that note, I need to get to work. Have a lovely Friday Christmas Weekend Eve, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back at some point today.
Thursday and my last day in the office before Christmas. Our department potluck is today, and so yes, last night I had to make a red velvet cheesecake–one-handed. I stopped to make groceries on my way home from work after swinging by the post office to mail the last of my Christmas cards. The one thing I thought for sure I had? Sugar, and no, I didn’t have any in the cabinets…so I walked to Walgreens to get some and didn’t realize until I was there that I was wearing my house shoes…and since I used sweats as pajamas, I’ve officially become a New Orleans elderly eccentric, going out in public in pajamas and house shoes. I do have to finish the cake this morning–putting it together and making the frosting–but the lion’s share of the work is already done, thankfully.
But the layers are uneven, so it will be a little trickier than usual to pull together.
Of course, the frosting will hide any defects in the layers, so…but I doubt very seriously I’ll be making it again. The sugar was only the first hassle in the entire experience; the one-handed was something easily handled, but the kitchen is not big enough to do complicated baking when you have a kitten with big energy and a lot of curiosity. “Don’t lick that! No, don’t walk there! No, you don’t need to climb inside the refrigerator! No, you can’t climb me while I am whipping frosting!” To say I had a bit of an anxiety backslide while making this cake, giving into frustration and everything else felt like a setback, and that carried over to this morning. Heavy sigh. But now that the cake is finished and in its carrier, I can relax, do some deep breathing exercises, and rid myself of the anxiety again.
We started watching Percy Jackson and the Olympians on Disney last night, and it’s much better than the movies; it works better as a television series, frankly, and this time out they cast age-appropriate actors, for one thing. I read the Percy Jackson books, and some of Rick Riordan’s other mythology series until I judged a book prize one year and fell behind on my reading. I did keep buying them, hoping I’d get back to them at some point but never did. It’s a great concept, and the books themselves are better written and better plotted than anything the Chatelaine of Castle TERF ever wrote. They didn’t become the phenomenon that the TERF Queen ever put on paper, more’s the pity. Riordan also wrote a great crime series before he switched to mythology; I enjoyed those crime novels and was really happy to see his career gain traction when he switched to Percy Jackson. I am really looking forward to the entire series, and there should also be a new Reacher this weekend. Huzzah!
I also wrote some more on the book, and it’s falling together. I’ll soon be at the middle section, so hopefully I will be able to figure out the middle part that I always have trouble with. So huzzah! I hope to get a lot of good work done this weekend…I’m also getting my new microwave this weekend, which is kind of exciting, too. I need to figure out some things, and hopefully I’ll have the time to reorganize the kitchen over the course of this weekend as well as prune some books. I also want to finish reading the Tamara Berry so I can move on to another cozy; I have quite a few backed up in the TBR pile.
And I sent the last of my Christmas cards out yesterday.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.
It’s the Wednesday before Christmas and all through the apartment…the only creature stirring before I got out of bed was one General Touglas McSparkle. He always stays under the bed all night in his fort (Paul calls it his Batcave), but always starts chasing a bottle cap or something right before my alarm goes off, and then will jump into bed and start rubbing against me and purring; when the alarm goes off the first time he curls up next to my head and stays there. Once the alarm goes off for the third time, he jumps down because he knows that’s when I’ll get up, and bee-lines to his food bowl, waiting for me to refill it. He really is smart.
When I got home last night I made some progress on the book, and I also did a load of laundry, emptied the load out of the dishwasher and did another; there’s still a sinkful of dishes, but if I take care of that tonight, I’ll sail into the weekend with a relatively good jump on cleaning things up. I have a follow-up with my surgeon Friday before PT, and I am really hoping the brace, which is becoming more and more cumbersome and inconvenient by the day–I know I have to keep it on, but it’s frustrating because it doesn’t feel like I need it, and its primary purpose is to limit mobility of the arm. Of course, it’s also a constant reminder to be careful; would I lose that mentality once the brace goes and do something to re-injure it or something without the brace? Only time will tell.
It’s cold again this morning ; forty-eight degrees at the moment. I know this is nothing to people up north; but it’s a damp, humid cold, which cuts right through you. (I’m not sure why people are always mocking me for complaining when it gets cold here; I don’t mock people in the summer by mocking them by mentioning how hot it gets here in the summer, either. You acclimate to your climate. And we had probably the most miserable summer of all time this past summer; based on that, I could also point out that the temperature variance here between this past summer and today is between seventy and eighty degrees, which is about the climate difference elsewhere between summer and winter, isn’t it?)
We finished watching the Escaping Twin Flames documentary on Netflix last night, and sorry, Jeff and Shaleih Divine, you are not prophets and you are not God; you are grifters and cult leaders who brainwash your followers. It’s actually a really sad commentary on how lonely some people are; they so desperately want to find their “true love” (“twin flame” in cult-speak) they are willing to go to such great (and awful) lengths to try to find it, and these grifters are just making bank off them. It’s horrible and predatory and not “god-like” at all. And the damage they are doing to queer people is horrifying and off the charts revolting; their definition of divine masculine and feminine (as well as a decided lack of cis-male members) led them to start telling cisgender women that they were spiritually “divine masculine” and needed to start living as transmen–which is what the hateful Right claims that recognizing the gender identity of anyone outside the binary will lead to, proving their disgusting and invalid point that no one truly exists outside that binary: coercive transitioning.
Jeff and Shaleih can just go fuck themselves right off.
And maybe there’s a book in this.
And on that note, it’s time to head into the spice mines. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I might be back later; one never really knows.
I also am hearing today’s title to the tune of “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B.”
It’s Tuesday morning and I survived Monday’s early morning PT. It went extremely well, so I am hoping that my surgeon will release me from it until February, when I can start strength PT. The wounds have healed, and cleanly, which is super nice. The bicep is also starting to look like a bicep again and not like a flat tire.
I also got back to writing yesterday and it flowed extremely well. I am very excited to be back on that horse again, and now that I know the plot for the book it’ll be a lot easier to get it finished. The middle (or Act II) will be a struggle as it always is, but at least I know how to end it, and I also know what the primary plot is going to be, and I do think it’s going to be really funny. I rewrote with a mind to the new plot, and everything just kind of was clicking into place and easy, which is AWESOME. I’m itching to finish this and get back to what I was working on before this project fell into my lap*. And I am having fun writing again. Maybe the surgery and the new meds served as a hard reset, like I unplugged my brain and then plugged it back in? I also slept well again last night, showing that Sunday’s restless night’s sleep was an aberration.
It’s very cold here this morning–it’s 44 outside–and thus did not want to get out from under my pile of warm blankets this morning as the alarm started its horrendously annoying beeping sound. This of course brought Sparky out from his fort under the bed, and he cuddled with me until it was time for me to stop hitting snooze and get up, which made it even harder for me to get up. (The affection is merely to make sure that he knows the exact moment when I get up, so I can feed him–he doesn’t fool me! He was nowhere to be found last night once I sat in my chair and edited what I wrote yesterday.) But the good news is I feel very rested and have some energy, so here’s hoping this carries me through the day. I have to go shopping for my secret Santa gifts, and I also have to pick up the mail and figure out when to make the red velvet cheesecake for Thursday’s potluck. I may go ahead and make the red velvet layers tonight, and then do the cheesecake tomorrow night, putting it all together on Thursday morning before work. That sounds like a plan.
I also went a little overboard preparing food for the week. There’s way too much of it, and I’ll need to eat dinner every night when I get home to get rid of it all. I also hadn’t calculated on the potluck Thursday (denial that Christmas is this weekend, no doubt), and one of my co-workers wants to get lunch with me tomorrow, so that’s two days I won’t need to bring lunch. Heavy sigh. I also think I will take Christmas day off from everything; no emails, no writing, no social media–I wonder if I can do it? I’d like to finish reading the Tamara Berry to move on to the next cozy in the TBR pile; there are so many ones with diverse voices and characters I am having a very difficult time choosing one. I am trying not to buy new books until I’ve made a significant dent in the TBR pile (with exceptions, of course–my always must-reads like Laura Lippman, Lou Berney, Megan Abbott, etc.) or donated more books to the library sale. We went to Costco over the weekend, and I had some stuff delivered; so another goal for the week is to do something about the box congestion in the living room; one of the reasons I’m not big into box stores as much as I could be is I don’t have enough storage space in the house to accommodate the things I could get; I’d be in real trouble if I did have the space. I am going to clear out the cabinets in the kitchen; there’s a lot of stuff we don’t need that has just been collecting dust for years.
And the cabinets and laundry room are seriously in need of organizing.
And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later.
*Perhaps my goal for 2024 should be to finish everything unfinished in my files…
Queer and Loathing in America 