Category: cats

Used to Be

Up earlier than I’ve been since the surgery to go to physical therapy at nine this morning. I don’t mind getting up earlier, to be honest; I’ve been sleeping so much since coming home from the hospital I was actually getting worried that I may not ever want to get up early again. Six next week for work is definitely going to be an adjustment, but in some ways I am really looking forward to going back to the office and getting back into that routine. I slept well last night–Sparky of course was looking to be fed around five, but I went right back to bed. I think Sparky will work as my first alarm, before the actual alarm starts blaring at six. It feels a bit chilly this morning in the apartment, and I do need to shower before I head uptown for my appointment.

They finished the ceiling yesterday, thank heavens. All that is left to be done is rehanging the ceiling fan and painting, and I think that’s not going to happen until I am back to work. The roofing guys (I think they are construction of all types, actually) are super nice and helpful–you never know what you’re going to get with blue collar workers, but they didn’t seem to have any issue with Obviously Homosexual Greg; they even rigged a temporary fix for the soft spot in the living room floor–and shared with me that eventually they will be getting around to reinforcing the floor with steel so we never have to be worried about falling through the floor (one of the great and many joys of old homes in New Orleans), which is kind of a relief…although we had gotten used to that soft spot in the floor, I sure as fuck won’t miss it if and when it’s gone.

While they were working, there was naught for me to do except sit in my chair and read, so I finished Donna Andrews’ Let It Crow! Let It Crow! Let It Crow! yesterday, and greatly enjoyed it. (It really doesn’t feel like Christmas until I’ve read Donna’s annual Christmas murder mystery.) Paul also worked from home yesterday, so we got all caught up on Fellow Travelers last night, which is really quite excellent, if horrifically sad and tragic–but as I said to a friend in an email yesterday, these stories still need to be told–if for no other reason than to remind people that what conservatives and right-wingers call “the good old days” weren’t so good for anyone who wasn’t white or straight. The story is built around the Lavender Scare of the 1950s–we all know about the Red Scare, but not about the full throttle purging of queer people from government employ–and it was, indeed, a horrible time of lives being ruined and people committing suicide. A lot of the things that happen in the show (and probably in the book) really happened; I think they fictionalized some people so they could easily maneuver around their story without having to stick to facts or create a potentially false narrative.

And as someone who spent longer in the closet than he needed to, and spent so much time completely terrified that someone would find out and my life would be ruined–I can understand and relate to these characters completely. The closet punished everyone–and it certainly punished the wives and children of these closeted, terrified men. I actually wrote a story set in that time period called “The Weight of a Feather”–my first ever historical fiction–about a State department employee targeted by someone working for McCarthy for blackmail, and how he handles the situation. John Copenhaver also writes marvelous novels set in the DC of the fifties with queer characters, Constant Reader, so if you haven’t checked out his work you really should, especially if you are interested in the period and even if you aren’t; these stories are important and need to be known. He’s also a marvelous writer; I do envy and admire the way he bends and twists language to create images and story.

After PT today I have errands to run–prescriptions to pick up, groceries to make, the mail–but it’s all going to depend on timing. The postal service doesn’t open until ten, but I suppose I could swing over to Midcity and get my prescriptions and groceries and swing by the mail on the way back home; after all, other than the PT appointment I don’t have to be anywhere by a certain time. And since there’s not going to be anyone doing construction work in my workspace today, I should be able to get some writing done, too. I’m behind, as always, but I feel like a strong push over the course of the next few days before I return to work can get me right back on schedule. And I haven’t yet picked out my next read–turns out my Christmas reading isn’t going to work because I don’t have a lot of Christmas books in the TBR pile; Donna’s was the only other one I had on hand. I’m thinking I should read cozies, to keep my mind in that world since that’s what I am writing–but my word, I have so many great books to get to! A delightful problem to have indeed, right?

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines. I need to make a grocery list, and I need to list everything I am going to do today, too, so I don’t forget anything. I paid the bills yesterday, so everything is caught up at least that I am aware of, and so that was quite a relief. Enjoy your Thursday, Constant Reader–I’ll be back later to write up my thoughts about Donna’s latest two mysteries at some point.

Baby, Come to Me

Today’s hunk is probably going to get flagged for “sensitive content” on the various prudish social media sites, but so be it.

The roofers came in yesterday and worked on the kitchen ceiling, and of course day one, I was able to close Sparky up in the bathroom until they left. Yesterday, he figured out how to open the bathroom door, which meant I had to crate him and he did NOT like that at all. But apparently, our cat is an evil genius and super smart–not a bad thing, it just means our only option when the apartment is being worked on is to crate him, and I really don’t like doing that…but he’s so curious about everything I fear if he got out we’d never catch him and he’d be so excited by all the new things to explore and investigate…sigh. Hopefully they won’t be here long; they just have to do some caulking and rehang the fixture. We will see.

I survived my first physical therapy session–which wasn’t bad at all. They gave me some exercises to do, which don’t take long, and I go back again tomorrow morning for round two. I will be able to schedule it around my work schedule, so that’s also a plus, and I really like my therapist. I have to say, having not had a lot of experience with medical stuff other than when Paul was having some procedure and my primary care visits (and having heard horror stories from other people about hospitals, treatments, insurance, etc.) this was extremely easy and simple. I have really gotten amazing care on every level, despite the misdiagnosis from my former primary care physician, and the insurance (knock wood) has been easy every step of the way; if there were any issues with it, it was handled by the medical staff and I didn’t have to deal with any of it.

The worst part of this entire thing–once I was able to disconnect all the things I was attached to for 72 hours after the procedure–was the antibiotics, which made me nauseous; they had also giving me an anti-nausea medication so I could handle those. But I absolutely hated them. The anti-nausea medication kept me from vomiting it all back up, but I could also tell when the nausea was occurring. I never had to throw up, but I could tell my body was fighting it with the help of the other pill, and while not as unpleasant as actually throwing up would be, it was unpleasant.

And you know, if that’s the worst thing to experience after this kind of major surgery, that’s pretty impressive. I got amazing care.

So, yesterday from shortly after I got home from PT until about six last night I was exiled from my workspace, and so I simply sat in my easy chair and read this year’s Christmas murder mystery from Donna Andrews, Let It Crow! Let It Crow! Let It Crow! and am enjoying it–Meg participating as a last minute replacement in a television reality competition blacksmithing show (which is actually a brilliant idea) was an excellent way to shut down listening to Sparky howl from upstairs while they worked on the ceiling. I didn’t get as far into it as I should have, or would have under ordinary circumstances, but I was often going upstairs to try to calm him down and there was a lot of sawing, drilling, and hammering noises. I got about a hundred pages in, which wasn’t bad at all, really, given all the distractions, and the book flows so smoothly…that’s one of the things that I love about Donna’s books–they are so smooth, everything flows nearly and cleanly into the next scene, chapter, clue, strange occurence, and that feeling carries back and forth between books. I counted the books listed at the front of this volume, and by my count, this is book thirty-three in the series; how many other series have exceeded that number? Ellery Queen? Nero Wolfe? Perry Mason? And all at the same publisher, too. That’s really a skill that should be respected.

We watched some more of Fellow Travelers last night and the show is very good; high production values, excellent writing, superb acting (Jonathan Bailey deserves at the very least an Emmy nomination, but I doubt he’ll get it; gay men playing gay parts seldom get recognized) and it’s an important story–showing how horrific it was to be gay back during the days of Eisenhower and McCarthy, and working in Washington; I’m glad Thomas Mallon wrote the book and even gladder Showtime made it and clearly spared no expense. But…it’s hard to watch sometimes. I won’t say it’s triggering, because that’s not the right word, but as i told Paul last night, this isn’t going to end well. The story flashes back and forth between the 1950’s and the 1980’s, in AIDS-devastated San Francisco in 1985, so…yeah, not exactly going to end on a high note, is it? As I was watching last night, I couldn’t help but think of Felice Picano’s Like People in History, which similarly flashed back to the past from the present–AIDs-ravaged New York in the early 1990s–through the entire progress of queer rights and the arrival of HIV/AIDS. That would also make a terrific mini-series, and these stories, hard as they are to read and watch and relive, are important because the memories of living through that time, and what it was like, are fading…and as those of us who survived the plague years get older and die from causes other than HIV/AIDS, I worry those stories won’t be told, or remembered, anymore. It’s bad enough that it’ll be thought of as distant history and not as horrific as it was, something that happened to other people a long time ago.

I remember when I first started writing, and in that time period for queer people there was always the question–do I write about HIV/AIDS? Does everything–all of our art–have to center HIV/AIDS? Even now, I wonder about whether I should or not in a book; do I have a responsibility to my readers and my community to talk about HIV, PrEP, undetectable viral loads and so forth? Or is that something people don’t want to read about, would find intrusive to the narrative? I’ve never wanted to write anything that even remotely hinted at that heavy-handed “a very special episode” way so many television shows handled social issues in the 1980s.

Heavy thoughts for a Wednesday morning before heading into the spice mines. Have a great day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back probably later, depending on the workers.

Shock the Monkey

Saturday morning, and feeling okay. I ran some errands yesterday–mail, prescription, grocery shopping–and instead of going to Five Guys I stopped and got a very healthy turkey-avocado sandwich for lunch instead, on wheat bread, and it was delicious. I used the wagon to bring everything back from the car to the apartment, but after putting the groceries away was very exhausted. I started reading my next book (Lisa Unger’s Christmas Presents) but didn’t get very far into it. I wound up watching the Oregon-Washington game (to see how their quarterbacks matched up against Jayden Daniels for the Heisman; I am biased but was utterly unimpressed with either of them) for a while, and then just kind of zoned out and watched documentaries on Youtube for a few hours till the game started. I am feeling better, but my energy levels still deplete quickly–probably why my surgeon didn’t want me to return to work just yet.

Last night I slept through–didn’t wake up at five like I inevitably always do and then go back to sleep–and woke up at eight, deciding to go ahead and get up rather than loll about in the bed. I figured I could write my blog entry, drink some coffee, and then head over to the easy chair to read the new book for a few hours before trying to get back into writing MY new book. I also need to do some self-promotional entries today to get back on track on promoting my two new releases, and I also kind of need to figure out where I am at with all of my in-progress projects and make a plan to proceed with everything. I think I am going to go back to trying to plan out my year and so forth, because this scattershot method I’ve been using for so long hasn’t really worked out the way I would have liked; but scattershot tends to do that. I have any number of short stories I’d like to get finished, and there are also the novellas; and I have at least two novels in progress that are up to five chapters but have gone no further than that. I also need to get better organized with everything else in my life, too–my desk area looks better than it has in years as far as clutter is concerned, but it needs to be cleaned and straightened up a bit, and there are other things in my desk–the stack of Scotty books, for example–that don’t need to be here. I rearranged the work space before the surgery specifically to free up space on the desktop, and it did work; this arrangement looks better than the way that it used to look. I want to write today–I think I am going to work on some things for the new book too, so I can really dive in headfirst; I don’t have much of a plan for the book other than I know what one of the driving forces behind the plot is going to be; who the villain is; and who is going to die. It’s all mapped out in my journal, but I need to write it all up into a word document so I can easily reference it. Plus, typing shit makes it seem more real to me, which makes no sense to anything other than my twisted brain.

Sparky has discovered the great joy of knocking over the recycling to look for bottle caps, which are his favorite toy and means I don’t need to waste any money buying him anything; why spend more money when every bottle comes with a plastic cap toy for the little darling? He’s inquisitive and he’s smart–he now scales the drawers like a ladder to get up on the counter when the drawers are closed; if he can’t get up there the usual way. He showed off this new trick to us yesterday when we were putting away the groceries; so there wasn’t a clear space for him to jump up, so instead he pulled himself up by climbing the drawers. This tells me there’s really no point to putting things out of reach because he’ll just figure out a way to get there. Scooter wasn’t especially smart, nor was he terribly interested in toys or playing or anything, but Skittle was smart–and I suspect Sparky is even smarter than Skittle, and he’s getting so big! I think he might even wind up bigger than Skittle. Do I want to have a big, incredibly smart cat? It scares me just a little bit, to be honest. But now he seems to have calmed down a bit, and is a sleeping kitten donut on my desk. He really is a beautiful cat.

We had a lot of rain overnight–flash flood warnings, tornado watches all around us in neighboring parishes, the usual–I slept through it all. I didn’t even notice it was raining last night–without my hearing aids, I can’t hear anything other than thunder–but I am sure the rain helped me sleep. I didn’t sleep for a full ten hours; it was only nine. I was thinking yesterday that I need to start getting used to getting up early again before I have to return to work on the 12th, so it won’t be as horrible as it might be. I had finally gotten used to getting up early, and now I have to start getting used to it all over again, which isn’t going to be very much fun at all. But this is a relatively easy month to ease my way back into work again, with the holidays and extra time off at the end, so there’s that. And then again, it’s Carnival shortly thereafter, which I think is late again? I haven’t looked, but I think we have a late Fat Tuesday again this next year.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the morning. Have a fabulous Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in again later.

destination unknown

Thursday, and I am so relieved that the recovery is going well, and that I can actually start fending for myself. The brace isn’t rigidly locked anymore, and I have a lot more freedom of movement–plus I no longer need that wretched sling, which I hated, and I am no longer attached to anything. Granted, I haven’t been since last Friday, when the pain ball1 was removed Later this morning I am calling to make my first PT appointment, and another referral to follow up on as well. I also slept in my bed last night for the first time since the surgery. I was sleeping super-well in my easy chair, and was a little worried about going back to the bed (I will worry about anything, thanks, anxiety!) because I usually sleep on my left side–which is the bad arm–but I fell asleep lying on my back and shifted to the right side and back a couple of times, but other than that, I was dead to the world. I also slept for another ten hours last night, and I am thinking that I need to get this rest. My body is demanding it, and it feels marvelous to sleep so deeply and restfully–this is what I am always longing for most of the time….but I’m not going to start going to bed at eight once I am back to work because yeah, that would be terrible.

I took it easy yesterday after getting home from my appointment and a couple of errands. The temperature has turned cold (for New Orleans, don’t @ me), which always makes the apartment feel a bit more snug. I did some straightening up, took a long hot shower (still not easy, but so much better than before), and then curled up in my chair with Sparky and J. D. O’Brien’s Zig Zag, which I enjoyed very much (more on that later). I’m still trying to figure out a way to comfortably type with the brace, which isn’t as easy as one might expect. because the brace raises the hand so it’s not flush with the keyboard. It just feels awkward and so I need to find a position to type that doesn’t feel awkward–or I need to get used to it. I don’t know that I’ll have the brace on long enough to worry about Carpal tunnel syndrome, but you know me–anxiety always on the starting line waiting for the starting gun. We also finished watching Bodies, which I also highly recommend. It’s extremely well done, and very clever. If you liked Dark, you’ll definitely enjoy Bodies. I haven’t picked out my next read yet, but I have some incredibly delightful options to choose from. Yay! I love having a massive TBR-pile filled with terrific books by great writers. I am leaning towards Christmas Presents by Lisa Unger; I do want to read some holiday themed novels this Christmas season.

Christ, it’s Christmas season already. I may have to have my annual viewing of A Charlie Brown Christmas soon. I feel more like being in the holiday spirit this year. We haven’t decorated in years (and what little decorating we did was kind of half-assed, anyway) because the one thing Scooter would–in his long, comfortable life as a lap cat–actually spring into action against was the tree. That first Scooter Christmas was the last time we decorated, and I feel pretty confident that Sparky would see the tree as an amusement park, since everything is a toy to him and all he wants to do is play. I didn’t notice until the other day–and maybe it’s a recent development–but Sparky has some orange in his coat. It’s more obvious when he’s lying on his back, but we did end up with another orange cat, even though we didn’t realize it! The string of orange babies continues!

I was also thinking some more yesterday about being a writer–and the many different ways there are to be one. What is the difference between an author and a writer? Are authors artists? What is literary art and what is not, and who decides? Can genre fiction be art (of fucking course)? This was triggered by one of those things on one of the social media platforms where you were supposed to “quote text” my favorite books by women, and right off the top of my head I rattled off five great ones…and then I started remembering more, and more, and still more. I’ve read hundreds, if not thousands, of marvelous novels and short stories and essays and columns written by women. Why were those the five that popped up into my brain at first, why are they so implanted on my brain that I would come forth with these titles; any such list from me will always include The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson and Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, and I will never apologize for that. Which left me with only four, and there were so many options. My mind immediately defaulted to four women writers I love, and then had to pick which of their canon was the best. Then I remembered a beautiful novel about friendship, love and loss that made me weep (Somewhere Off The Coast of Maine by Ann Hood) and thought, damn it, I loved that book and I want it on my list…and then started remembering all the others, the dozens if not hundreds, of other women writers whose works entertain, enlighten, and edify my life. There are so many great women writers, currently and in the past, who wrote so many amazing books that it would be hard to name them all, and I would certainly always forget scores of them. For some reason yesterday I was thinking about Taylor Caldwell–who used to write massive doorstopper books about rich people and industries, as well as interesting historical fiction. If remembered at all today, it would probably be for Captains and the Kings, but that wasn’t one of my favorites of hers–that would probably be Testimony of Two Men, which was about medicine in the late 1800’s and a courageous doctor who believed in modern breakthroughs rather than “we’ve always done it this way”–so of course the entire medical establishment was trying to ruin him as he bravely stuck to his principles and tried to modernize American medicine. I would probably hate it if I read it today for the first time–my politics, ethics, morals, and tastes have dramatically changed since I was a teenager, which was when I read Caldwell–but I do remember it fondly. And there’s Grace Metalious, who wrote Peyton Place; Jacqueline Susann and Valley of the Dolls; Jackie Collins and Hollywood Wives; any number of Agatha Christie novels–I mean, there have always been so many great women writers around. Does anyone remember Rona Jaffe? I’ve always wanted to reread The Best of Everything, and I think I have a copy of it somewhere. Then there’s the scifi/fantasy writers, too–Anne McCaffrey and The Dragonriders of Pern, Ursula LeGuin and A Wizard of Earthsea, the amazing Octavia Butler….as I said on whatever social media platform that was, I could sit here and name women writers who wrote books that I loved all day. Victoria Holt, Mary Stewart, Phyllis A. Whitney, Dorothy Eden, Susan Howatch…seriously. Maybe I should write a book of essays about women writers that aren’t remembered much today? ANYA SETON! How I loved Anya Seton back in the day–and all the crime women–Margaret Millar, Charlotte Armstrong, Dorothy L. Hughes, Mary Roberts Rhinehart, Helen MacInnes, Patricia Highsmith, and Mignon Eberhard, to start.

I bet no one else remembers Edna Ferber–and if they do, it’s for Giant and it’s because of the movie (many of her books became famous films: Cimarron, Saratoga Trunk, Show Boat, and So Big). Now that I think about it, I think she addressed race issues in both Saratoga Trunk and Show Boat….which may be worth revisiting. She was also a member of the Algonquin Round Table.

This entry sounds and feels more like me than the more recent ones have, doesn’t it? I am itching to dive back into the book this morning, after I pay some bills and do some other aggravating chores. I also have a prescription ready to pick up; so since I have to go to a Midcity pharmacy to get it, I may as well make a grocery run on Carrollton.

I didn’t realize what a difference sleeping in the bed would actually make, really.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Have a blessed Thursday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again a little later, as I really need to do a lot more promo. OH! That reminds me, here is a lovely review of Mississippi River Mischief; check it out! That absolutely made my day–and reminded me that I need to do more self-promotion.

  1. I had a contraption attached to my left shoulder that dispensed a nerve-deadener to the arm, so I wouldn’t feel pain. It lasted for 72 hours, and by the time it was empty, I didn’t have any pain, which was great. I also had to carry it around in basically a fanny pack, so it was one more thing I had to drag around those stressful first 72 hours. However, if you are going to have surgery, ask for one. It was amazing. ↩︎

Hard to Hold On To

So, here I am at my desk in the Lost Apartment and it’s not even quite noon yet. I had my follow-up appointment, ran an errand, and then stopped by the office to make sure my leave had been approved–it had–and then I came home. Sparky is being his usual Big Kitten Energy nuisance self, but luckily he’s adorably forgivable and I love him. Besides, he’s not going to stop until he feels like it in the first place.

Do not fight, or stress about, things you cannot control.

The good news is the recovery is going well, and my surgeon is most pleased with how I am healing. I’ve been freed up to do a lot more, and the primary focus from now on is actually rehabilitation–getting back the range of motion and then the strength. The physical therapy for strength won’t be until February, and he thinks I’ll be done with the range of motion–based on what I already have–before Christmas, which is lovely. I can do everything–within reason–that I usually do other than lift, push or pull heavy things. He actually encouraged me to type–as that will help with finger dexterity, which will help the recovery of the range of motion, and so on. I literally floated out of the doctor’s office, I was so happy and relieved to have the anxiety and stress of the past week gone (at least for now). I don’t have to use the sling anymore (it wasn’t the fun kind of sling anyway), and I can put on shirts, get dressed, shower, basically everything that doesn’t involved the aforementioned things. This is really lovely. I can even sleep in my own bed again instead of the easy chair, which is going to be so fucking amazing. I have been sleeping well anyway–which isn’t always the case when it comes to these things–but it was my body realizing it needed more rest.

I am still going to take it easy, though. I am going to get back to work on my book, clean out my emails, and try to get stuff as caught up as I can. As I have mentioned numerous times, I’ve had to spend a lot of time thinking while sitting in my easy chair this past week, and one of the things I’ve realized–recognized? acknowledged?–is that I don’t need to do volunteer work anymore. I’m getting older and my energy supply doesn’t seem to replenish as quickly as it used to; some days I feel like I am running on accessory and my batteries aren’t recharging to full capacity the way they used to. I’ve been volunteering for one place or the other for decades now, it’s time for other people to pick up the baton or pass the torch or whatever the hell metaphor you want to use for this. I’ve had a bad year personally–not the only person who has, mind you, well aware, and always aware that things could be worse at any moment–and that’s worn me down quite a bit, and I never really recovered my equilibrium after the pandemic started, and especially not since I myself caught the nasty coronavirus. My memory still isn’t as sharp as I would like, and I find myself forgetting things I can’t believe I can’t remember, but some of that stuff was just brain clutter anyway. I know I am going to be less sentimental about the books and will be boxing up more to donate when I am able; I am going to try to resist the urge to bring in more until I have made more progress on the TBR pile.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close, repair to the chair and read for a while, and then spring into get-things-done action after showering…a good, long, hot shower.

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What About Me

Well, here we are on Monday morning after my surgery, and I’m not really sure what I’ll be doing today. I really need to pick up a prescription in Uptown, and we need to pick up the mail at some point, but I’m not really sure how I’m going to do that. I don’t know that I should risk driving yet, because New Orleans drivers are so horrible, but it has to be done and I need the prescription. I suppose I could take a ride service, but I hate spending the money as well. I guess I don’t have a choice though, so I’ll deal with that later. I also need to make groceries.

We had had an issue a few weeks ago with the apartment. They were doing some work on the patio deck above my kitchen, and unfortunately there was rotten wood up there. The ceiling kind of gave way; they ended up nailing up a piece of plywood over the hole in the ceiling. Unfortunately the next time it rained, of course, it leaked , but they finished the work up there and never came back to repair our ceiling. We had a massive thunderstorm Saturday night, and so i woke up Sunday morning to water on the floor in the kitchen, on the stove, and on the counter. The carpets in the kitchen were also  wet; so I got out towels and a bucket for the dripping and hoped that the ceiling wouldn’t cave in. About two hours later, yeah, some of the plaster came down with a loud, startling crash, and so now there’s another hole in the ceiling. The insulation up there is soaked, so I had to leave the bucket for the dripping to continue. Needless to say, this is a really shitty time for this to happen and it spiraled me into a really bad depressive state yesterday. I have noted already that my emotions have been all over the place since the surgery — so something like this really sent me into a spiral. The anxiety really ramps up, so yeah, yesterday was just not a good day for me.

So, I repaired my easy chair with a Gatorade and Nurse Sparky and put on one of my comfort movies, Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade. I’ve always loved Indiana Jones, but I haven’t seen the most recent movie yet. I’ve always wanted to write an Indiana  Jones type book; I love historical treasure  hunts and have always thought that it would be fun to write those kind of stories with Colin as the main character — away from Frank and Scotty, to kind of fill in the blanks when he’s away from New Orleans. I have an idea that’s tied into the 4th crusade and the sack of Constantinople; a treasure hidden away in the Hagia Sophia since the Nicaean Council that established the dogma of Catholic Christianity. The Orthodox patriarchy had been keeping this treasure secret from the Pope and the Vatican for centuries, at least since the schism of 1052. My idea is that the Venetians and the Crusaders knew that the Pope would be furious to learn they had sacked Constantinople, but the Doge, Enrico Dandalo, not only knew about the secret but also knew presenting it to the Pope would get them forgiven. The primary problem with this is that I have never figured out what precisely was hidden in the Hagia Sophia; but I wanted to tie it into the Assassins and the Old Man of the Mountain. I thought that would make for a fun adventure, particularly setting it in a fictional Middle Eastern country. However, with everything that’s going on in the world nowadays, writing about the Middle East is probably not a good idea at this point.

I also read a lot of short stories over the weekend. I read all the stories in one of my Alfred Hitchcock Presents anthologies, Stories That Scared Even Me, and that was a lot of fun. The book was published originally in the 1960s or early 1970s and it is amazing how much attitudes in society and cultural attitudes have changed since that time. The contributors were almost entirely male — all of these anthologies are underrepresented with women — and there are a lot of really racist and patriarchal  tropes in some of the stories. Several, for example, are set in Mexico; I’ll let your imagination do the rest rather than quote what they said so casually. I’m also writing a story set in Central America — I was writing it to submit to a horror anthology — and it was one that I had started writing back in the 1990s, I believe. I was kind of horrified by what I wrote — I feel like by the 1980s I should have known better about these kinds of tropes  — but the story is salvageable; with some strong changes and a fictional country. But you can still get into trouble, even with that, and the last thing I ever want to do is write something problematic that will offend people. (I have already mentioned the story that I submitted to a anthology that’s not going to happen now about the South, which I recently  reread and was horrified by.)  A lot of these stories have those twisty type of endings that I always loved; that little hint of irony that really made the story sing. I always try to give my stories those kinds of endings because that’s what I grew up reading as far as short stories are concerned, and I often have to struggle to not try that with every story, because it’s not right for every story and I have a bad tendency to try to force things to work the way I want them to, instead of the way that they should work organically.

Dictating is much slower than typing, as I’ve noted before; this is taking me a lot longer to dictate then I would like. Where I actually typing this entry, I would probably already be finished by now. But you do what you have to do. I also started dictating my next book, figuring it’s better to get started on it while I’m at home recovering from the surgery, rather than waiting until such time as my left hand can be used for the keyboard. I’m still not having any pain  — my primary issue is mobility, not being able to use my left hand for  much, occasional nausea from the antibiotic, and the mood swings and depression. I wish I had already started on my anti-anxiety medication protocol before the surgery, but what can you do? Yesterday morning, I was thinking that I made a lot of bad decisions about this surgery and that I didn’t do it knowing everything that would result from it; but I was worried about not ever being able to go to the gym and workout again unless  and until this was done, and pushing it back to next year wouldn’t have changed any of these issues, I don’t think, other than possibly better planning on my part. But that’s also part of the anxiety—I always question my decisions, and never really believe that I made the right choices afterward. I guess it is just a part of that hindsight being 20/20 thing that always drives me crazy. I never really am confident in the decisions I make, so I always try to not second-guess or doubt myself afterward; there’s no point in rehashing things that you can’t change. Why obsess over something I have no control over anymore? That’s the easiest way to drive yourself crazy, I think.

We’re also really enjoying the show Bodies on Netflix. It has everything that I like; a bit of science fiction, crime, surprise twists, and gay content. You can never go wrong with me when you have gay content. (That’s not entirely true; there are some really terrible shows in movies with gay content that are basically unwatchable) I also finished watching a Jane Seymour series on Acorn called Harry Wild, which wasn’t great but was entertaining enough. I don’t know what all I’ve been watching to be honest with you, Constant Reader, but I’ve been watching  an awful lot of television.

I did watch a terrible adaptation of Agatha Christie’s The Mirror Crack’d, and the less said about that the better.

I’m hoping today or tomorrow to be able to read a novel; I’m really enjoying the one that I was reading before the surgery and would like to finish it, but my mind is all over the place and has been since coming home from the surgery. I haven’t even been able to focus on the TV I’ve been watching as much as I would like. Part of it is the depression, part of it is the holiday without Mom, and of course, the surgery. You see how I am? I’m being hard on myself after a major surgery for not getting anything done or being productive. Heavy sigh. Welcome to the wonderful world of what goes on inside my head.

And on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and see if I can figure out what I’m going to do for the rest of the day, and what I can do about these errands. I hope you have a lovely Monday and as always, thank you for checking in and thank you for reading.

Love Come Down

AH, the surgery is this morning. I won’t finish this before I head out to the hospital and I doubt very seriously that I’ll be able to finish this after I get home today–whenever that may be. So it’s kind of a pre-surgery time capsule here.

I was extremely anxious yesterday–all weekend, really–but of course last night it just kept getting worse and worse. I knew it was anxiety, I knew it was adrenaline from the anxiety, and I wasn’t certain I’d be able to sleep. Sleep wasn’t a problem, after all; somehow I managed to fall into a deep sleep and woke up right before the alarm went off at five. Tug was his usual loving and purring self, rubbing all over me once the alarm did go off–because he’s Pavlov’s cat and associates the sound of the alarm now with getting fed. I am also really hungry, but can’t eat until after the surgery, of course. Last night was a total, absolute perfect storm of anxiety–but I staved off the panic attack and brain spiral so it wasn’t that bad. We finished the first series of Happy Valley and started the second; it really is quite good and the actress in the lead (Sarah Lancashire? Susan Lancashire?) is phenomenal; all the acting is terrific, frankly, and the writing is exceptional. It’s also very weird knowing that when I am back in the apartment I am going to be in a weird loop of pain and recovery and pain meds and anesthetic hangover, probably heading directly to my easy chair and getting under a blanket and dozing in and out of sleep all day. It’s going to be weird to be out of the office for three weeks–this is the longest period of time I’ve been out of the office since I started working. I don’t think I’ve ever taken three weeks off from work–other than times between jobs, of course–my entire life? It’s going to be weird. I just hope my brain won’t be too fuzzy to read or follow along with a movie or television show. I think I’ll be fine–the painkillers won’t make me fuzzy if I am in pain, after all; they’ll just take the pain away–and that’s actually kind of a tip-off; if the painkiller makes me loopy, then I probably don’t need them anymore.

I’m allowed to drink black coffee this morning and yikes–how dreadful. They told me I could have two cups, maximum, but I have to say, I don’t even think I am going to finish this first cup.

I am going to be starving when we get home because I am starving right now, to be honest. I just hope I’ll be able to eat when it’s all over. This is my first time ever having surgery since my tonsils were out as a child–I’ve had some in and out procedures, like wisdom teeth and a lesion removal–but not surgery that requires recovery time and physical therapy, which is also kind of terrifying, to be completely honest. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, I guess. My post-operation appointment is a week from tomorrow, so that’s when we find out when I start PT and when and how often and all of that kind of stuff. The day job is being very accommodating, which is nice (I still need to get that damned form filled out and turned in; taking it with today). I am curious as to whether or not I’ll be able to test people once the three weeks is up, but I think I will be able to–I only use my left hand to hold theirs when I am sticking their finger, so I will have to figure out how to do that once I am back in the office. Driving one-handed is also going to be an issue when it comes to parallel parking–thank God I have a car with power steering now; I’d never be able to drive that old Buick one-handed.

Well, what do you know? There’s enough here to make a post, so I guess I am just going to go ahead and finish this and post it as a kind of fare-thee-well until I am able to post again. Have a great Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in with you again later at some point. Try to do without me as necessary, dearest reader.

You and I

Sunday morning after a relaxing Saturday in the Lost Apartment. I went by to get the mail and stopped at the Fresh Market, then went back later to CVS to get my booster vaccine for COVID-19 and pick up my post-operative medications (my BASTARD insurance refused to cover the oxycodone, of all things. I hope this surgery costs them a fucking fortune). The games on television weren’t very interesting, frankly, and the only one that had any potential at all turned into a blow-out (Georgia-Tennessee). It was kind of a laid-back bland boring kind of day, which was kind of necessary. The prescription issue–I stopped by CVS on my first trip uptown, but one of my prescriptions wasn’t ready (the one I had already called to approve over the phone) but it turned out the reason they kept not filling it was because the insurance wasn’t paying for it and I had to say, “yes, I will pay out of pocket for it, thank you” which was why I had to go back later in the afternoon–so I figured I may as well make a vaccination appointment for when I do go back. You know me, always trying to be as efficient as possible and to utilize my time more effectively; seriously, I know now it’s an anxiety thing. I never quite understand my anxiety and what triggers it or causes it, or how many coping systems I have engineered over the course of my life to work around it–which turns into compulsive behavior.

I’ve yet to figure out how the obsessive part of me comes from the anxiety, but I am sure I will at some point.

My arm–the one I am having the surgery on–is sore this morning because I figured I might as well get used to that arm hurting and had the booster shot in that arm. I slept deeply and well last night; I went to bed shortly after the LSU game concluded with a 56-14 score with Jayden Daniels tying the school record for most touchdowns in a game (the other was Joe Burrow’s eight against Oklahoma in the 2019 play-offs…but Burrow scored seven in the first half and the eighth on the first drive of the second half before sitting out the rest of the game (LSU could have scored a hundred that day had they been so inclined; that game still boggles my mind that it actually happened–as well as how). If there’s any justice in the world Daniels will win the Heisman Trophy (he is clearly the best player in the country), but welcome to 2023 and college football. An impressive showing against Texas A&M won’t hurt his chances, for sure–but the fact LSU has a terrible defense this year shouldn’t overshadow what he’s accomplished with our offense. As an LSU fan, it boggles my mind that we have one of the best offenses of all-time, and yet our defense–always a point of pride in Tigerland–is one of the worst when our defense has historically always been vastly superior to our offense. We used to lose because the offense couldn’t score; now we lose because our defense is terrible. Even last night at first it looked like “same-old same-old,” with Georgia State scoring on their first two possessions before the defense clicked into gear and they never scored again.

Tulane also won again yesterday. Well done, Green Wave!

I spent some time reading Lou Berney’s Dark Ride yesterday and I am loving this book so much. Hardly, the stoner burnout loser main character, is probably one of my favorite characters I’ve read in quite some time; he resonates with me, especially with his newly awakened sense of right and wrong–which does not, I might add, change anything for his normal circumstances–he’s still a stoner burnout, still gets high as he puzzles his way into figuring out what to do next, and whether he should keep carrying about these random two kids he saw one day that might be victims of physical abuse. He reminds me in some way of a modern day American Don Quixote; I don’t know if that was what Berney was going for, but I can tell you this–he has nailed the voice of this character, and the story itself is quite good–and of course the writing, as always with Berney’s work, is spectacular…and it’s quite inspiring.

It also feels weird knowing I don’t have to go into the office tomorrow. Tomorrow is the last day I have to get everything ready in the apartment before the surgery–laying in supplies and getting everything ready to go for Tuesday. I suspect that I am going to be in some kind of drugged stupor for the first two days at least, and maybe by next weekend I’ll be lucid enough to be able to write a blog post; I don’t know. I suspect yesterday’s low energy was in some ways triggered by the knowledge of the surgery coming along with slight irritation over the prescription issue. But I made my meatballs last night (Paul astutely pointing out that I really make meatball stew rather than meatballs in gravy, and that is a very thin line) and they were very good. I also did some straightening up around here–I was expecting Paul to go work with his trainer and then go to the office for the afternoon, but his trainer canceled on him and he stayed home–moving down to lay on the couch and (hopefully) make a bed for Tug/Sparky; unlike Scooter, Tug’s a little more restless and he’s kind of gotten used to using my lap in the easy chair as his bed–and sure enough, he spent most of the day sleeping in my lap as I lazily scrolled through social media, looked things up on Google, and basically did nothing productive while watching yesterday’s (mostly boring) games. I probably should have watched Kansas-Kansas State, which the Wildcats won in a shoot out 31-24 (when was the last time both teams in the rivalry game had winning records? The futility of the college football teams in the state of Kansas is astonishing, even with KSU turning things around in the last thirty years–they’ve beaten KU fifteen straight times now). I’ll go look at what happened around the country in the sport once I finish writing this and move on to the easy chair to finish Lou’s book so I can write about it later. And I need to do some more blatant self-promotional posts before I wind up not being able to post anything at all for who knows how long?

Heavy sigh.

And on that note, I am taking my coffee and Dark Ride to my easy chair, only to emerge from it to get more coffee until I am finished reading it, and have started my next read, Zig Zag, by J. D. O’Brien. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably be back later on today at some point as well….and I just remembered there is no Saints game today, so I have no excuses.

The Look of Love

It truly is incredible what a shithole of a site The Site Formerly Known as Twitter has become under the tenure of that brilliant modern thinker Elon Musk (Narrator voice: those adjectives were meant as sarcasm). Every time I go there to cross-post the blog or something, it only takes a moment or two before I am getting the fuck out of that hellish place. I know I should probably just deactivate and be done with it as it fades away into memory like MySpace did once upon a time, but something keeps me there–despite knowing its immoral to even scroll a little bit, and definitely against my own personal ethics–but I think it’s more along the lines of watching a slow-motion disaster movie, frame by frame.

If only it would bankrupt him financially, to go along with his moral and ethical bankruptcies.

Yesterday wasn’t a very good day around the ranch. I was low energy all day, and while i did get all of my work-at-home duties taken care of and handled, after running errands and having a ZOOM call with three very dear friends (who undoubtedly are sick of me talking too much on ZOOM calls), I was just flat out exhausted and simply collapsed into my easy chair with my purr kitty for the evening. I did watch a lengthy documentary about the Eastern Roman Empire, and how the Holy Roman Empire was western Europe’s attempt to recapture and regrasp the legacy of Imperial Rome, to the point of rebranding the real Roman Empire as the Byzantine, or Greek, Empire. (The history of “western” civilization is full of these sorts of reclaimings and rebrandings, as the West sought to basically claim the history of civilization in general.) It just goes to show you–the history we all learned in public school was biased and written to enhance and create a foundation for white supremacy to rest upon. There’s a rather lengthy personal essay to be written about having to relearn everything I learned as a child as an adult because it was all wrong–or people could just read Howard Zinn’s work.

Today I do have some errands to run and vaccines to get injected into my arms; I also have things around the house I need to get done. I am going to make Swedish meatballs today in the slow cooker, I think; that’ll be a nice treat to go along with the LSU game tonight against Georgia State. There really aren’t many great games today–everyone has an “easy” game scheduled for the weekend before the Thanksgiving rivalry games, many of which this is the last go-around for. It’s weird to think LSU won’t be playing their most hated rival, Florida, every year any more (but how delightful to go out with a five game winning streak over them, ha ha ha ha and fuck off, Gators), or that other classic games won’t occur anymore. I don’t know why or when LSU’s Thanksgiving rivalry weekend opponent changed from Arkansas to Texas A&M; that was a fun rivalry with the Razorbacks pulling off some upsets over the years–why is it that everyone plays lights-out when they play LSU?–but that was also a manufactured rivalry that didn’t exist before Arkansas joined the SEC.

I also want to spend some time reading this morning; Lou Berney’s Dark Ride is calling my name and I am really enjoying it. The fun thing about Lou’s work is everything is always different; no two books are ever the same, or even the same kind of voice or style. Every book is an original in every way, and I will go to my grave with The Long and Faraway Gone as one of my favorite crime novels of all time. The one thing I am looking forward to after this surgery is more time to read, and if need be, I can read on my iPad–it’s not like I haven’t downloaded hundreds of books over the years. I’m still enjoying The Rival Queens–man, I love that period of French history–and I think my next read after Lou’s will be Zig Zag, by J. D. O’Brien; since it’s about a weed dispensary heist, coming after Lou’s stoner noir seems like the proper pairing, and then after that I am moving on to the new Angie Kim.

I was exhausted last night so I slept incredibly well. I even slept in this morning, not getting out of bed before eight-thirty like a slag. I feel much more rested and emotionally even this morning, which is a very good thing. I want to get a lot done today–I really need to move furniture and figure out how to make my work station more Big Kitten Energy proof, which is possible but will take some figuring out, and I won’t be able to move anything after Tuesday’s surgery, after all, so I have to get all this stuff done before hand. I don’t feel like I’ve had the chance to think everything through the way it needs to be thought through, nor do I feel like I am prepared for the aftermath and recovery period–which I think was the explanation for yesterday’s low energy; created and maintained completely by my anxiety.

I also want to read this original text version of The Mark on the Door, a Hardy Boys mystery.

We watched Blue Beetle last night, and I really enjoyed it. First, it was lovely seeing a Latinx family centered in a super-hero movie, and to have a super-hero of Mexican ancestry. It had some really funny moments (as well as some that made me go huh?), and as far as DC/Marvel movies go, it was one of the more solid plots and origin stories, but I’m also not terribly familiar with the Blue Beetle character. I primarily remember/knew him from the Justice League comic books of the late 1980’s/early 1990’s, and he was often teamed up with Booster Gold for comedy. I don’t know what has happened to the character with all the reboots since then, but I appreciated seeing something different from a comic book movie. The lead actor, young Xolo Maridueña, was handsome and appealing and charismatic, and the rest of the cast is fine other than the old witch who gave us Presidents Nader and Sanders because she doesn’t vote with her vagina (maybe you should have, you fucking piece of trash, since your mouth and going everywhere all over 24 hour news to trash Hillary helped give us the current Supreme Court, and you should be shunned and forced to take a Game of Thrones walk of shame down Pennsylvania you fucking hateful bitch–I will carry that grudge to the grave, skank). Seeing that fucking trash was in the cast made me seriously reconsider watching, frankly, and her “acting” was a joke and so horrific that Paul and I spent a good hour recasting with actresses who wouldn’t have just cashed the check and phoned it in the way she did.) The movie is actually strongest when it focuses on the Reyes family and their dynamic (Nana is the absolute best), and while it didn’t pull down the kind of financial numbers a movie like this is intended to (and odds that it’ll be blamed by Hollywood on centering a Latinx family are pretty strong), I do think this is one of the movies that in the future will be reclaimed as a classic and one of the best in the field. I hope there will be a sequel, as was teased at the end.

But I think they’re rebooting the movie universe for DC, so who knows.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a marvelous, marvelous Saturday, Constant Reader, and may whatever teams you’re rooting for today have a nice win–unless you’re a Georgia State fan, of course.

Heartbreaker

Work at home Friday and a good night’s sleep. I did have to get up just before six to feed Tug, but went back to bed for a very cozy hour or so of additional napping on top of the sleep. It felt marvelous, and I feel actually very rested and good this morning, which is always a lovely surprise. I have work-at-home duties to get taken care of and errands to run later when I am finished with them, and then I am going to just rest and relax and read and try to write and edit and clean and organize all weekend. Monday is pre-surgery prep day, and then of course I go under the scalpel on Tuesday (don’t know what time yet). As of today I have to stop taking some of my medications and vitamins to get them out of my system by Tuesday–so really, prep work is beginning today, really. I am also still adjusting to my new teeth. I kind of laughed as I got ready for bed last night–as I took out my teeth, my hearing aids, and removed my glasses; when I am bed I can’t see, hear or talk; I definitely have mush-mouth when I take the teeth out.

I came directly home after work last night; I had to stay later than I usually do because I had to take a longer lunch on Wednesday to drive out to Jefferson Highway to get the teeth. It was already dark when I got home, and Tug of course had wreaked destruction on the workspace during the day–which is yet another reminder of how I have to a) not let the filing pile up anymore and b) might need to reorganize the workspace to limit Big Kitten Energy destruction and/or mess. That could be a very good project for this weekend. LSU is playing Georgia State Saturday night (big deal, right?) and I am not even sure the game is going to even be televised, frankly, or if it is, it’s probably one of those minor SEC network “plus” channels I always have to figure out how to get every single time (it’s an on-going thing with the LSU gymnastics meets), and even glancing over the schedule this weekend there’s really not much of anything, other than Georgia-Tennessee and Kansas-Kansas State; all the big rivalry games are next weekend, so this is kind of a lull weekend before the Thanksgiving weekend extravaganza, which hopefully I won’t be too zonked out on medications to enjoy. I was thinking I might try to make pulled turkey in the slow cooker for Thanksgiving, but I wouldn’t be able to pull it apart. I’m not really sure what our food situation is going to be, in all honesty, until after I am off the painkillers. I’ll have to put some thought into that and make groceries at some point before Tuesday. I know we have things in the freezer that can be thawed out and/or cooked; but it also wouldn’t hurt to have other options available, either.

I got caught up on my reality television shows last night–Real Housewives continue to have this weird hold on my interest and imagination which I can’t really explain; particularly because these women generally are examples of everything I think is wrong with American culture and society–and then got sucked into some more Youtube documentaries about the fall of Rome, the war between Rome and the Gauls, and more about the schism between the Catholic and Orthodox churches–the original split of Christianity and dogma. My fascination with the Eastern Roman Empire continues unabated, as well as my interest in the Hapsburgs and the sixteenth century (I am loving The Rival Queens, my current non-fiction read, and need to read more Nancy Goldstone histories). I also want to finish reading Lou Berney’s Dark Ride this weekend, and get started on my next read before the surgery. I also need to remember to keep hitting save as Tug keeps waltzing over my keyboard and wreaking havoc on my screen. I do feel hopeful that the time out from the office will give me time to do more reading and writing and start working my way out from under everything; one can always hope. It can get overwhelming sometimes just thinking about everything I need to do and get done.

I was also thinking the other day about how I always say I “compartmentalize” my life and my personal history..and wondering if the word I should be using when I say that is “repress”; because isn’t that what you’re doing when you are deliberately trying not to think about your past and things you’ve experienced? Especially when those events can be traumatic? Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest way to deal with things, but I also think setting personal boundaries for behavior you will and will not accept from friends and acquaintances is healthy. I am pretty easy-going, or at least deceive myself into believing that, because I have this insane and unhealthy need to be liked. As a general rule I tend to not get angry when people cross my boundaries. It takes a while for it to start to get to me, but when I am angry it’s because I care and the behavior has offended my sensibilities in some way. When you get to the point where the reaction you get is for me to go completely cold and stop caring? You’ll never come back from that with me. Once I stop caring, I stop caring–and if that hurts you, it isn’t my problem–because by that point you’ve crossed my boundaries so many times despite multiple warnings (narcissists never listen to warnings because no one would ever give up the AMAZING gift of their friendship–ha ha ha ha ha, Keep dreaming.), yet you continue to throw additional chances given back in my face.

Bye, Felicia.

And on that note, I am going to start getting some things done around here before I start my work for the day. Have a great Friday–and be warned there will probably be Blatant Self-Promotion to come.