Category: chores

Petite Fleur

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

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

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

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

Very exciting, aren’t I?

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

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

The Tijuana Jail

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tall Paul

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s Late

Wednesday and midweek, with only two days (inclusive) left in the office, can we say hallelujah? I am still struggling to adjust back to getting up early and going into the office, and this morning was a bit better than the others this morning in terms of getting up–my alarm went off, for one–but I am still struggling yet to adjust. I was low energy most of the day yesterday (I got all my work done, though) and then came home to do literally next to nothing the rest of the evening. I pretty much wasted most of the night, really, because I was physically and mentally fatigued. I fell asleep almost the moment I got into the bed, and I slept well for the night. But this too shall pass, and hopefully next week will be a return to my normality as far as sleep and work are concerned.

I continue to follow this Oklahoma suspicious death–the autopsy was recently released, and it’s horrific what happened to this kid–and also realized last night that I not only didn’t want to use All Their Guilty Stains as the title of the book that might grow out of this case; but didn’t know what to use instead, and I always have to have a title before I can do much of anything with the research etc. It hit me right in the face this morning; Justice for Abel, which is a stopgap name for the victim that I’ll probably change later. There are also several ways to write such a book–from the perspective of several people from the area impacted by the death; from a journalistic POV, of either a reporter or true crime writer interested in the case; or as a straight up cop story, like a deputy sheriff or something who becomes very aware there’s corruption in the area’s justice system (or a Kansas Bureau of Investigation agent). But I’m nowhere near ready to write this one, and so I need to just vomit out all the ideas and thoughts about it so I don’t forget them, and dig into the unfinished stuff I need to get done. I know what I am going to be working on next, of course, but I also need to get some of these damned short stories finished, too. Focus, Gregalicious, focus.

I also need to get back to my Scott Carson book, so I can move on to my next read, which will most likely either be the latest Kellye Garrett, Angie Kim, or something else out from the stack of books.

I’ve been up and down lately about my career; which is, of course stupid to think about right now. Of course your career feels a bit off this year–last year was horrific emotionally, spiritually, and physically–so it was kind of a lost year, and this year has been pretty much a wash. I seem to be coming out from under all of that at the moment (at least for the time being) and so I need to make a summer to-do list as well as one for this weekend and next week. It’s been a hot minute since I set any kind of goals for myself, and I don’t think it’s wrong for me to take it easy this week and put no pressure on myself to acclimate faster to my reality. So it takes a while to get back in the saddle and feel like I belong in my own life when I was able to bounce back from trips and breaks in routine faster. But I am in my sixties now and that does impact everything…even if I forget to account for it regularly. I do worry that I am simply justifying being lazy–something I’ve been accused of for so long now that I’ve simply accepted the fact that I am and don’t defend myself when someone says it anymore. But that’s a touch of anxiety, isn’t it? No one cares how hard I work when I am not at my day job, and as I often remind myself when I start to head down the path of self-recrimination, everyone else gets time off, so why shouldn’t I? And not taking down time to rest my creativity and my intellect and my body would just lead to burn out faster, and when I’m burned out there’s nothing I can do at all, so what is better?

So, here’s hoping I can make a to-do list today, get some chores done when I get home from the office, and read for a bit before Paul gets home. I am going to take my leave of you now, Constant Reader, before I head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday!

Along Came Jones

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

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

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

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

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

Goodbye Baby

Ah, Sunday. I slept in this morning–almost all the way to ten o’clock, it’s like I don’t even know me anymore–but it felt good and I am awake and enjoying my first cup of coffee this fine morn. I did some errands and chores yesterday, which was great, and watched a lot of nothing on the television while I was playing around doing research on-line. I did finish reading Carol Goodman’s marvelous The Bones of the Story (more on that at another time), and spent some more time with the Scott Carson I started reading in Kentucky. There’s still a lot that needs doing around here, but it’ll get done and I still am a little worn out from the drive home, so maybe today’s not the day to try to be super-productive. I also spent yesterday trying to catch up on the state of affairs in the country and world (glad to see people still dragging the puppy slaughterer), which was depressing but necessary. I am way behind on my emails, which is something I will have to address (tomorrow). Heavy sigh. But one can’t hide in their unreality longer than one can and still be functional, can one?

Ah, well.

I also got a signed copy of the new Lori Roy novel, Lake County, in the mail yesterday, which was marvelous. She’s one of my favorite writers, and has been ever since I met her on a panel at Bouchercon a million years ago and then read her Edgar Award winning debut, Bent Road, which was incredible, and I’ve been loving her (and her work) ever since. Once I finish the two novels I am reading, I am digging into the new Roy. Huzzah! I have so many good books on hand to read–I still have the latest Angie Kim, among many others, in that stack on the end table in reach of my chair–that it’s hard to decide what to read next, and then books like the Angie Kim (and the Celeste Ng, and the Angela Crook, and the Jess Lourey, and on and on and on it goes) end up not getting read in an expeditious manner. I have certainly been enjoying all the reading I’ve been doing lately, and need to stay on top of it as much as possible.

The more I look into the suspicious death of Noah Presgrove, the more intriguing the story becomes. It is, as Carol’s latest title proclaims, ‘the bones of the story’; obviously I am interested in what happened the last night the young man was alive and how he actually died, but the basis of the story, it’s fundamentals (small rural town; corrupt local justice system; three day long weekend party serving minors illegally; and of course the battered naked body in the fetal position on the side of the road) make for a fascinating and interesting foundation for a fiction novel, exploring the bitterness and old hurts and feuds and nastiness in a poor, small rural town in Oklahoma (which I will probably change to Kansas, naturally), and peeling back the layers of deceit and resentments and lies and relationships is kind of appealing to me.

It’s also Mother’s Day today, my second without one, and I am not actively avoiding it today, either, the way I did last year. Last year it was still too new and too fresh for me to even be on-line much on that day, but this year is easier. Seeing Dad around Mother’s Day (since it’s always the weekend after Decoration Day, or The First Sunday in May) also made it easier. We talked about her a lot, and Dad told me a lot about their teens and the early years of their marriage, when they were very poor (I didn’t realize how poor we actually were when I was a child and a teen until many years later; living in Kansas kind of twisted that as we were considered well-off there), which made me smile a lot. Obviously, I will always miss my mom, but it’s not as painful to think about her as it used to be. That’s progress, and now I can remember her without recriminations about being a bad son or taking advantage of her kindness or disappointing her. I think that’s normal when you lose a parent or a loved one; you regret time not spent together and think about all the times you were a shitty person. But…I was also horribly spoiled by my parents, and they never stopped trying to spoil me even after I was an adult, because to them I was always their baby and since I didn’t have kids…well, they never stopped seeing me that way. Then again, it may just be a parent/youngest child thing.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I’ll be back later–I have soooo many entries to catch up on; the books I’ve read alone need to be discussed–but I am also not putting any pressure on myself about getting things done today as I am still in recovery mode from the trip. So have a great Mother’s Day, everyone; hug your mom for me and if yours is also gone like mine, I am giving you a big virtual hug.

Just a Little Too Much

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

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

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

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

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

Bobby Sox to Stockings

Saturday morning and I am off to Alabama later this morning. I still have to make a packing list, finish some chores around here, and get gas on my way out of town, but there’s no rush and no need to stress about getting there. I’ll probably stop somewhere to eat lunch after I cross the Mississippi state line, and then will have dinner with Dad up there. I’m excited to see Dad again, but I am a little worried about the drive and my stamina. I am planning to drive back to New Orleans on Friday so I can have two days to recover from the lengthy drive, which will be exhausting. I am going to listen to Carol Goodman’s The Drowning Tree–which I started listening to on the drive back from Panama City Beach last October, but never finished; I need to start over but that’s perfectly fine; I love Carol’s work, and I am probably going to listen to Lisa Unger on the way home. I really wish I had started listening to audiobooks in the car years ago, you know?

Yesterday was nice and relaxing. I like working at home on paperwork and stuff because outside of an attention-needing kitten with BIG energy, I don’t have any distractions. I can focus in a way that I can’t when I’m in the office. But once my work was done I went out and ran my errands–picking up things for Paul while I’m gone, mail, prescriptions, etc.–and then came home and relaxed. We finished Dead Boy Detectives, which we both absolutely loved, and then caught up on Abbott Elementary before moving on to the new season of Hacks, which has not declined in quality at all. I did some cleaning around here yesterday, too–got the laundry finally caught up, and almost caught up with the dishes, too (last load needs to go in this morning before I leave), so I can leave with a clear conscience knowing I am only going to come home to Paul’s mess, and he really doesn’t make much of one in the kitchen anymore. He generally just uses the microwave or makes scrambled eggs for the most part while I’m gone.

I also signed and uploaded my tax returns yesterday–another refund, thank you, baby Jesus–and so that’s out of my hair. It’s always nice to not have to worry about things and go on a trip with a fairly clear conscience. I’ll probably take some stuff with me to read and work on, knowing I may not have time to do much of anything while I am there. Dad will have been gone for almost two weeks by the time we get up there on Monday, so he is going to have lots of chores to do–and he never allows me to help, which drove Mom crazy. This time it’s a stamina issue for me, which is truly sad given I’m sixty-two and he’ll be eighty-two later this year, but I also had two major surgeries since Labor Day and damn it, I am old. Twenty years ago I’d probably already be back to normal and going to the gym three times a week trying to burn off the fat I would think I had gained during my long inactivity. I put on a shirt the other day for work and wondered for the first time in years “does this make me look good or do I look fat?”–so maybe the vanity is coming back, which may not be an entirely bad thing.

I just checked the weather for both Alabama and Kentucky and looks like a lot of rain, warm during the day and cold at night. Well, we won’t be going anywhere at night but I’ll need to take a jacket of some sort with me just in case; a zip hoodie should do the trick.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely weekend, and I am not sure when I will be back. Possibly tomorrow, or who knows?

I Want to Walk You Home

Work at home Friday, and Trip Eve, since tomorrow I will be off to Alabama. I slept really well last night, and of course had to get up at six to feed His Royal Sparkiness. I went back to bed for another hour before His Highness decided I either needed to get up or he was going to cuddle with me. That was peaceful for about five minutes, before he decided he needed to either eat my watch or bite off my Breathe Right nose strip. Comfortable as the bed was, I was awake and finally decided to just get up. I have a nice day of work-at-home duties to do, a couple of errands to run later, and I also have to start packing and so forth for the trip. The house is also a mess I can’t leave in this condition, so I’ll need to get the place cleaned up at some point today as well.

After work yesterday I picked up the mail, where I got my copies of Missing White Woman by Kellye Garrett and The Bootlegger’s Daughter by Nadine Nettman. Both women are amazing people and amazing writers I get to call friends, which is another reminder of how charmed my life actually is. It’s so easy to get morose about life and everything because so many little things are there to get you down all the time, and those minor issues and concerns and irritations gradually build until you’re just grumpy all the time. I keep being hard on myself, but 2023 was a lot; one thing after another and I am still not completely healed from everything, and it’s okay to still have bad days now and then. At least there are more good days than bad.

And with the world burning down all around us, who isn’t having bad days?

I’ve pretty much decided on my reads for the trip. The audiobooks are of course going to be from Carol Goodman or Lisa Unger, and I am looking forward to listening to them in the car. I don’t know how much time I will actually have to read while I am up there, but I know when Dad is doing chores he refuses to let me help with (“you’re on vacation and you don’t do chores on vacation”–despite the fact that he always has) I’ll have some time to read. I’ve certainly spent more time in Kentucky and Alabama this past year than I have in probably ten years (Alabama is more like forty years), but I don’t mind. It’s nice to reconnect with your roots and your history, even after forty years, and every time I go up there I get inspiration for more stories and books about the county. Whether I will ever actually write them remains to be seen, but I do like the inspiration.

I also spent some more time down the Noah Presgrove wormhole. It’s just such a bizarre story, and that they still don’t know much despite the death occurring eight months ago. There were some more posts on the Facebook page yesterday, including one that triggered an outpouring from the page members about personal tragedies in their own lives–sons “murdered” by their wives; nieces and daughters and sisters whose murderers were never caught (I am really getting a bad opinion of the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation–the OSBI), and more hard feelings. It’s a litany of tragedy and sadness and lack of closure, and you can’t help but feel bad for them all, even from a removed distance. I don’t know if I ever will base a book out of this story–trying to explain the injuries alone would be an exercise in madness–and obviously, it wouldn’t be based on the actual case but would arise from the same kind of situation. It feels morbid to talk about writing about other people’s tragedies, doesn’t it? But…I am a crime writer and it’s a very strange case. And it’ll eventually be a true crime documentary, I bet.

I also had my soul recharged by a phone call with a very dear friend who is also a writer yesterday, and it really did feed my soul. It’s very easy to feel depressed and discouraged and isolated when you’re a writer who doesn’t get the chance to talk, either face to face or on the phone, with my writer friends very often, and it’s always so enriching for my writerly soul. When I got off the phone I was in a very cheery mood and excited about writing again for the first time in a while. I’ve been dissecting my writing process a lot lately, and my process–easier to do when you actually aren’t doing anything, really–trying to remember the last time I actually enjoyed writing (it does seem like a long time, but…2023 seemed to last an eternity), and trying to figure out what I am not doing that I used to enjoy. I think it’s partly been depression and stress and anxiety, and now that the anxiety and stress are gone, it’s just a matter of getting back into the habit of doing it every day again. I am finally used to my work schedule and no longer mind getting up early in the morning, and I am only sometimes tired when I get home from work. What I think of usually as laziness was also do the recovery from everything and the surgery; my stamina is way down and hasn’t built back up again. This is my first trip of any kind since the surgery, so we’ll see how I do with the driving…

And on that note, I need to get ready for my ZOOM meeting at nine. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll probably check in again later.

Since I Don’t Have You

Thursday morning last day in the office until Monday the 12th! GASP. But yes, I am meeting my dad in Alabama this weekend and then Monday the 5th we’re driving back up to Kentucky, from whence I shall drive back to New Orleans on Friday. I was very glad that I figured out that the trip hanging over my head was why I was a bit off this week, which was a very good thing to realize…I was getting worried about why I was off, you know? And at my age, sometimes (usually) it’s something. Sigh.

I went further down the Noah Presgrove mysterious death Internet wormhole, and the story just continues to gnaw at me. I also found a “Justice for Noah” Facebook group that is mostly people from the small town he was from (Comanche, Oklahoma) and the surrounding counties…and what a fucking gold mine that was, seriously. The town is only about 1300 people or so, and it’s a very rural area similar to the one where I grew up in Kansas. It was eye-opening, and a reminder of just how nasty small town/rural areas can be. The page is full of locals snapping and sniping at one another, accusing people of knowing more than they know, and when someone being called out responds to being called out, well, people go apeshit on them. One girl who was there telling people they had things wrong got buried with comments like “you were drunk so we can’t trust your memory” or “you’re in on the cover-up” and it’s wild how all these old hurts and resentments can come to the fore when something like this happens. I had been thinking about writing another book set in small-town Kansas (beyond the ones I’ve already talked about on here) called All Their Guilty Stains, but this story might be better than the one I dreamed up for that title.

That’s the “real America” for you, people. (Peyton Place and Stephen King’s Needful Things are excellent books about how stifling rural small towns can be, and they get the pettiness down perfectly. One of the reasons I love King so much is his ease at creating a realistic town with real people who basically harbor grudges and resentments until everything starts boiling over.)

But I definitely went down the wormhole with Noah’s murder/suspicious death last night; looking up podcasts and videos. And yes, I am well aware that I may not have even been interested in the story had the video that started the whole thing–a Banfield News report–not had a thumbnail of his senior picture and my first thought was that’s a very good-looking young man–he was possibly murdered? And then I went down the wormhole.

And of course, everything on the Facebook page I mentioned? You expect the family to of course talk about how marvelous and wonderful and kind he was, and that’s a lot of the posts on that page, too–basically, he’s been deified, and that American “don’t speak ill of the dead” custom often covers up all kinds of shit, and much as they like to believe they know everything about their kids, most parents don’t and are very surprised–as well as being in denial–about the deceased. I mean, no one is loved by everyone. And a good-looking star athlete in a small Oklahoma town? You can just bet there were kids with grudges and resentments built up over the years.

I felt good yesterday when I got up, as I do this morning, and I got a lot done at the office…but I started feeling tired and sleepy in the late afternoon. I had to also run errands on the way home (Sparky needs his treats!) and picked up my copy of The Dusk, a graphic novel co-written by my friends Elizabeth Little and the wonderful Alex Segura. I also had a royalty check waiting for me (huzzah!) and, of all things, a fan letter forwarded to me from Crooked Lane. I wasn’t really quite sure what to expect–the last time someone wrote me a letter it wasn’t exactly a fan letter, and I’d actually forgotten how nice that feels. I just glanced over it because I wanted to read it sometime when I could savor the ego-boast; which is something I’ve been needing, writing wise, for a long time. And you know what else it did? It kicked my fucking mind into gear. I’ve been struggling with this book I’m writing for a long time now, and it’s certainly taking me longer to write a draft than it usually does. Part of the problem was I couldn’t figure out the over-all point of the book, which I realized last night; there’s always got to be an underlying point to the story that I am trying to illustrate through the main character. It’s a satire of state-sponsored homophobia, and I of course created a homophobic group leading the armies against drag queens, transwomen, and queers. But that wasn’t personal, and that was why I wasn’t having as much fun writing it and why I was having so much trouble with this book. Last night, as I sat in my chair, digesting a gushing fan letter and Noah Presgrove’s murder/suspicious death, I started thinking about this some more and then it hit me: I need to know Jem’s personal story/growth through this book and it punched me right between the eyes–so much so that I scribbled it all down in my journal and hopefully, I can get back to work on this sooner rather than later.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for today. Have a great Thursday and I may be back later.