Category: chores

Lost in Love

Saturday morning and we’ve at long last made it to the weekend! Huzzah! I have a lot to do this weekend, and I even have to leave the house both nights. This afternoon I am attending a co-worker’s wedding; tomorrow I am having dinner at San Lorenzo with my friend Ellen. Woo-hoo! Yesterday was a good day. I did my work-at-home chores, along with chores, and then ran some errands so I wouldn’t have to do them today–a decision I am very grateful for this morning, believe you me. I then read Angel Luis Colón’s Infested for a while, finished my reread of Death Drop, and watched an episode of Moonlighting. I also rewatched the last two episodes of Our Flag Means Death again–glad I did; I slept through most of them and they were most witty and clever and funny. When Paul got home we started the new season of Elité, but it’s more a habit and completionism to continue watching it at this point. It’s glory days are long past, I barely remember who any of the characters are, and I don’t really remember much of last season, to be honest.

Sigh. But those first three seasons are still epic television. This is kind of what I mean when I talk about shows that keep going because they’re successful when they should have stopped when they were ahead; the season three finale was an excellent stopping place–but at the same time I would have been terribly bummed had the show ended there, too. Be careful what you wish for, right?

The sun was bright and high this morning, just as it was yesterday morning, which leads me to believe the time change should have been this weekend instead of two or three weeks from now. It used to always be in October; and I don’t know why or when it was changed to November, but if we’re going to have to do this every year, can’t we at least have it happen when it always used to happen? I slept really well last night–I’ve been sleeping well all week, actually. I think the change in the weather has helped with that dramatically. I still feel a bit groggy this morning, but that’s okay. I am going to write this and read some more of Infested once it’s posted, and then I have some things to do around here. The wedding window period is from 4-9, with the actual ceremony around five. I am going to try really hard not to be that person who always arrives ahead of the scheduled time and has to sit around waiting for everyone else to show up–the story of my life–and I am quite determined not to even summon a Lyft until four o’clock.

I’m really enjoyed Infested, but I knew I would. I’ve been a long-time admirer of Angel’s work for quite some time now, and his narrative voice is absolutely perfect in this book. I’m not sure if it’s considered middle-grade or y/a–that line is always so blurry–but it’s quite engaging and I really like the main character. I’m also not entirely sure I’ve read a book before that’s set entirely in the Bronx? (And why is it “the Bronx”? It’s not “the Queens” or “the Brooklyn” or “the Manhattan”, but just saying “Bronx” without the article is weird…although I suspect that’s entirely from years of hearing it said with the article.) I am really enjoying it.

I’ve thought about writing for middle grade (I’ve literally thought about writing everything other than fantasy –I even have some science fiction, incredibly bad, in the files) but am not sure if I can do it, which is precisely the reason I should try writing it. I’ve always wanted to do my own kind of Nancy Drew-style series for kids, have wanted to ever since I was a kid reading those books, and I’d really like to at least give it a try at some point before I finally exit the planet or am unable to write anything anymore. Although can I really write for middle-graders when I don’t know any kids that age? Writing is writing, I suppose, and the best thing to do is try it and write the very best book I can with the very best characters I can; I do think two of my strengths as a writer are likable characters and a good narrative style that draws the reader in. Can that translate to middle grade mysteries? I guess I will never know unless I try–and maybe, just maybe, I could write one set in New Orleans?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines with my book to read. Have a lovely Saturday; I may be back later; you never know!

Brass in Pocket

Imagine my delight and surprise to discover that the meeting I thought I had to go into the office for later this morning had a virtual option, so I am not leaving the house today–other than to run a necessary errand later.

I may even put that off until tomorrow.

Yesterday was a lovely day at the office. Everyone was in a pleasant mood, and everything flowed well. I enjoyed all my client interactions and everything ran smoothly the way it is supposed to always run, and that was lovely. I wasn’t even terribly tired when I got off work, but knew I’d be in a mood by the time I got home. Why? Because there was a Saints game last night in the Superdome, and traffic in the CBD was going to be a nightmare. It was, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be, and I made an impatient decision about the route home that was a big mistake. It took me about forty-five minutes to get home from work–what usually takes at most fifteen minutes; Wednesday night, for example, I detoured up to the Carrollton corridor to go to the Rouses, and still managed to grocery shop and everything and get home less than an hour after I left the office. Saints game also meant crowd at the bar on the corner, which meant difficulty finding a place to park. No big deal, I did find a place to park and then came inside.

Heavy sigh.

So, we have guys here working on the roof and the gutters. There’s also a bridge from the patio upstairs over to the carriage house gallery. It had apparently rotted; so they’ve been working on that. The patio is directly over my kitchen. I came inside, and there was debris all over the stove and that counter. “Weird,” I thought, and actually said out loud, annoyed, “well, I’m glad I cleaned in here” before looking up to see a blue sky. Yes, while they were working on the bridge yesterday, they were trying to do something and the kitchen ceiling/patio floor gave way. Unable to help myself I yelled, “Oh, fuck!” Well, the thing about a hole in the ceiling is the poor workers–who hadn’t really done anything wrong; it wasn’t their fault that portion of ceiling/floor had rotted out, of course–heard me. And then I went outside to see what they were doing and one of them sheepishly asked me how I was doing, and I replied in full candor, “well, I’m not thrilled about the hole in my kitchen ceiling” which led to apologies and explanations and they even came by several times to apologize again. They also cleaned up the mess in the kitchen and put up a piece of plywood to cover the hole, reassuring me this was a stopgap measure and they’d repair it. It was amusing–well, it is now, not so much at the time–but I then found myself reassuring them I knew they didn’t do it on purpose, thanking them for cleaning up the mess and covering the hole, etc etc etc. I had intended to work on my short story in progress, “The Blues Before Dawn,” when I got home and maybe read some of Angel Luis Colón’s Infested, but that of course disrupted the entire evening so I grabbed Tug and he slept in my lap while I watched the last episode of the first season of Moonlighting (it was a late midseason replacement and the first season was only six episodes, including the pilot). Paul came home, he went through the stages of grief about the kitchen ceiling that I already had, and then we watched The Morning Show and Our Flag Means Death before I went to bed (I actually fell asleep during OFMD so have to rewatch at some point today or tomorrow).

I slept deeply and well, not arising this morning until eight (other than the usual “Tug needs food NOW” daily five a.m. wake-up) and now am facing my day. I am going to get this done and posted, probably work on some emails before starting my work-at-home duties, which will also include chores around the house (laundry’s first load already going in the laundry room) and hopefully, I will get some work done on that short story. I had decided to write this as a Sherlock-in-New-Orleans story, but not told by Watson–which is a risk on top of a risk–and then see how it went. In talking to a friend yesterday I also realized part of the reason I am having trouble writing and/or getting started on a new project is because everything is in limbo because of my arm surgery. I don’t know how long the recovery process is going to be and I also don’t know how much writing I’ll be able to do in a cast and sling (and not the good kind of sling, either–see what I did there?) I’m afraid to commit to a deadline knowing that I can’t even self-delude myself that I’ll make that deadline (I never do, but I never agree to one knowing ahead of time I won’t make it). It’s also been an extremely rough year for me, and there’s nothing wrong with not being as productive as you would like because other things are going on in your life that you simply can’t avoid dealing with–which is usually my preference, immature and childish as it is–and recognizing patterns of behavior within yourself. I’ve done a lot of self-examination and reevaluating my past as well as who I am along with why I am who I am, if that makes sense. A lot of that had to do with Mom dying, as well as me recognizing that probably my absolute best work inevitably always winds up being set in Alabama. That Alabama tie, those roots, run so deep inside me that they’re inescapable, really.

I also started reading Death Drop last night. Reviews are starting to come in, and friends are reading it and telling me they’re enjoying it, and the truth was I couldn’t really remember a lot about the book so thought it was probably a good idea to reread it. So much was going on during the process of writing the book–it and Mississippi River Mischief, which doesn’t even take into consideration the fact that I was actually writing two books at the same time (not recommended, aspiring authors, don’t be a Greg; be smarter)–that I couldn’t really remember much of it (I may need to reread Streetcar too) and being familiar with your own work that you’re promoting is usually smart. Now that my memory isn’t what it used to be, rereading my work is like reading something new by another author because I don’t remember anything about the book itself other than the drudgery of writing, editing, and revising the damned thing. But I was very pleased with it–I wasn’t able to finish the reread, but got pretty deep into the book–and it flows well and there are parts that are seriously funny. Of course, like always I started nitpicking at it, but after about chapter three I turned off the internal editor and just read it as though I was reading it for pleasure rather than reminding myself of what I had written. The characters are likable and all of them–even the minor ones–seemed fully realized and with their own agency; by which I mean they aren’t always just dropping everything to rush to help Jem out at the expense of their own lives and aren’t there to simply feed him information or help him work through his problems. I also liked the voice, and I really like my main character Jem Richard, the glam artist just dipping his toes into the world of drag performance. I intended it to be a drag queen origin story–the answer to the question “so how did you start doing drag?”–and it absolutely works in that regard.

And the book itself is gorgeous, simply gorgeous. I couldn’t be more pleased.

It’s also weird having two new books drop in such a short period of time. It certainly wasn’t planned that way, and entirely happened because my life blew up and I didn’t make deadlines for either. But I promised myself I would be better about promotion and so forth, so here we go.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later or perhaps tomorrow.

Steal Away

Thursday morning and the week is almost over.

I withdrew a short story I had submitted to a magazine in September of 2022; thirteen months is more than enough time to decide whether or not you want a story or not, and if you haven’t gotten to it by now, well, how long do you need? There’s a serious conversation about short story publishing that needs to be had at some point–but I think that aspect of the business isn’t taken as seriously as “book” publishing, and there aren’t many people who primarily focus on the short form for the abuses of writers that occur in that small part of the business to really be brought to public attention because, let’s face it, nobody really cares. I know that one of the big name prestigious crime short story publishers always takes twelve to fourteen months to respond to submissions…and when you know that going in, that’s one thing. This market I’ve published in before and it’s never taken even a fraction of this long to get a response to a submission; it had been pending on Submittable since the day after I clicked “submit.” It may be right for another market I am looking at right now–and I had wanted to include it in my next short story collection as a republished story. Heavy heaving sigh.

Maybe someday I will do a blog post about the slog publishing short stories can often prove to be. I was in one anthology that sat on my story (and everyone else’s) for at least three years (more like four, if not five); finally released the book but never sent me a print copy (I did get the electronic one) and I never did get the really nice check they offered me to get me to write the story. There were rarely any updates, either–and certainly none since it finally saw “print.”

Sigh. The glamorous life of a writer is mostly spent tracking down payments and author copies, seriously. Well, maybe not mostly, but it takes up a lot more time and energy than a non-writer might think.

I slept really well last night, with Tug making his usual five a.m. supplication, and I’ve already discovered a quirk: if I give him food, he will squeak at me until I dump out his water bowl and refill it–every single time. He won’t even start eating until he hears the water running in the sink. Granted, I always change out the water every time I feed him–but it’s part of his routine and he won’t eat until he knows he’s getting fresh water to go with the food. I think he’s completely settled into our lives as our house cat, too. He certainly believes he’s Lord of the Manor, and when he’s full grown he’s going to be a terror–because even pint-sized as he is now, he can get up to places you wouldn’t think; he’s a climber, so any possibility of a Christmas tree again is completely gone; which is fine, really. I do love Christmas, but it’s really for kids, and the older I get the more I care about the time off than holiday joy and gifts and things like that.

I made groceries on the way home last night at the Carrollton Rouse’s, which is becoming my favorite Rouse’s; the ones on the CBD and on Tchoupitoulas are convenient, but the one on Carrollton has more selection; which means going there I can get everything in one stop, whereas at either of the others I need to go to another vendor to get the rest of the things I need, which is very frustrating; and so even the extra time it takes to get up there and back is actually made up by the times savings of only going to one store. I was also very tired when I got home–we’d had a rather busy day at the office–so I didn’t read or do anything much other than put the groceries away; Paul had a board meeting so he didn’t get home until late, either. I did work on my story “The Blues Before Dawn”, and made some decent headway on it; the question is whether I want to make it another “Sherlock-in-New-Orleans” story, which I kind of want to do; I think I’ll do that for a draft and then do a second where the detective isn’t Sherlock, but I like the idea of writing a Sherlock story from someone else’s perspective, as well. I really like the idea of writing a bunch of Sherlock short stories in 1916 New Orleans, with Storyville (cliché, I know) and the Italian immigrants in the Quarter and the little Chinatown district on either side of Canal and illicit queer bars servicing sailors and so forth; how fun is that? And of course the Opera House was still there in the Quarter too–and people still spoke French in New Orleans, or at least the bastardized Louisiana version of it. I think my goal for the weekend is to finish a draft of the story and do some more work on the second Valerie novel.

And I have to go into the office tomorrow for my work-at-home day; which I may switch over to Monday; I’m not sure and I haven’t really decided yet, to be honest. I have to go in for a benefits meeting, and was thinking that maybe the thing to do would be to work in the office since I have to go there anyway; but….now I am thinking I should just go for the meeting and maybe work at home around it; I am not sure, and I suppose I will decide tomorrow morning when I get up–depending on when I get up, that is. Frankly, I am leaning towards just going in for the meeting and being done with it and coming back home. I like not having to get up on Friday mornings–even if I rarely sleep past seven as it is–but the lack of alarm going off is actually quite lovely.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Have a great one, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again later.

Breakdown Dead Ahead

Wednesday and the middle of the week, with the weekend inching ever so much closer with every passing minute. The excitement never stops, does it?

The other day when I was reading I just put some music on Youtube on the television and let it auto-play. At one point when I was putting the book down to write down another bit of really strong writing (furniture being embarrassed) when I realized the song that was playing was “Silver Spring” by Fleetwood Mac, one of my favorite songs of theirs (definitely in the top five, if not the favorite) and while I’ve loved the song since first hearing it and have even seen the exorcism performance live for “The Dance” television concert when it originally aired, I’d never really thought about or analyzed the lyrics in any great detail or in depth–but had always known it was a bitter break-up song, never really grasping just how bitter of a break-up song it is; it’s not about heartache at all; it’s a really resigned, “I tried everything I could but nothing was ever enough” type of song…but on Sunday it hit me right between the eyes: it’s not a fuck you break up song, it’s a “Oh, but no–I said fuck you and I meant it” song.

Those lyrics are chilling, seriously.

Yesterday was another “feeling off” day; primarily because of Monday not being a normal day. We were also busy in the clinic, which I don’t mind–but I was very tired when I was finished with my shift yesterday and it was time to go home. I picked up the mail–I had ordered forever stamps for Christmas cards (feeling ambitious, like I am actually going to buy some, address them, and really send them this year), so those had came, along with my replacement Pyrex glass storage container lids and Elizabeth Hand’s Hokuloa Road (I’m really becoming a big fan) and some stuff for Paul came–but by the time I pulled up in front of the house I was worn down and tired and primed for some Tug lap time. The little guy slept in my lap for most of the night while I watched Youtube documentaries about the Byzantine Empire. I even wound up going to bed earlier than I usually do. I hope today feels a bit more normal; it kind of does already since I woke up this morning. And it’s midweek; and while I was sort of feeling sulky about having to do things in the evenings this weekend, it’ll be fine. This Friday I have no medical things going on–at least not so far–but I do have to run by the office for a benefits meeting, which is kind of important. Our insurance carrier is leaving Louisiana after this year, so they are presenting us with our new options this week…why do I have the sinking feeling that our insurance is about to get a lot worse?

It’s not like things ever really get better on that front, do they?

And now I am getting bills that are due in November. My God, how has this year already flown by so quickly? It’ll be 2024 before we know it…I mean, I am already thinking about Christmas cards, for fuck’s sake, and not letting the time escape before it’s too late to send them. I also kind of need to get them done before my surgery, too–I am going to be one-handed for a while, which is going to majorly suck for a while. I was thinking about this very thing yesterday, to be honest (and that could be why I was so tired and drained when I got home; it’s a lot when you think about it) and started paying attention to what I was using my hands for as I drove home and picked up the mail. The guys at the post office are amazing–they’ll carry stuff out to the car for me if I’m unable; I’ve seen them do it for other infirm people before, but how does one grocery shop? Carry in the groceries? I think I need to buy a wagon or something, an old lady cart or something, to make that easier for myself.

I didn’t start reading Angel’s Infested last night because I was mentally fatigued, but am hopeful that tonight I’ll get home from work and feel not only inspired to do some writing but to do some reading as well. I did read the first few pages, and it drew me right in–Angel Luis Colón is a very good and very underrated writer–but my mind simply couldn’t focus last night very much (hence watching new videos about the Byzantine Empire last night). I just hate feeling scattered, you know? And I feel scattered this week–partly because of the difficult and different days both Friday and Monday were, and trying to settle back into the routine gets harder and harder the older I get, which I am not terribly fond of. Oh, and yesterday wasn’t normal by any means, either–our nurse was out and a new program started yesterday so things were kind of frantic around the office with this weird manic energy that I also don’t like–the sameness of routine at the office is one of its primary saving graces, and when that feels unstable….well, there you go.

It was also cold yesterday–colder, at any rate–and even right now. it’s not even sixty degrees outside. It’s going to be into the eighties later on in the week during the day, but at night it’ll be in the sixties, which is always pleasant.

And on thar note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, Constant Reader, and I will check back in with you again later.

Let’s Get Serious

Tuesday morning and I feel bleary.

It has turned cold (for New Orleans) here; the high yesterday was in the mid-sixties, and I felt cold all day. I had to run uptown to the Sports Medicine institute to get my letter for jury duty and then had to drive to City Park for a work thing. And, thanks to the strange vagaries of New Orleans geography, it turns out Tulane University’s campus is closer to City Park than it is to my house. I still can’t wrap my mind around that logic, but as it starts to spiral off I just think yes, but that weird geography is part of what makes the city unique and then I can stop thinking about it for a while. From there we went to the Dillard University campus for a training (they served us lunch) and from there to Ralph’s on the Park for a final presentation and dinner. I discover that I can eat pasta and meatballs and softer bread; I was able to have the soup and blackened redfish for dinner, which also worked. I would have rather had the steak filet, but I felt pretty certain that wouldn’t work for me. I then came home, and we started watching The Fall of the House of Usher, which spans a lot of Poe’s work, and repaired to bed relatively early. I slept well, but feel a bit under-rested this morning. I certainly don’t feel as awake and alert as I did yesterday. I think we have a busy day at the office, too. This weekend is also going to be a bit off for me; I have a wedding to attend Saturday afternoon, and I believe I have dinner plans with a friend from out of town for Sunday. I have to swing uptown after work tonight to get the mail; tomorrow after work I’ll make groceries, I think.

I’ve selected Angel Luis Colón’s Infested as my next read; it’s a middle grade or y/a, methinks, from the MTV Fear imprint of MTV Entertainment Books. I enjoy Angel’s work; I think we met in either Toronto or St. Petersburg? I could be wrong. But I know I read some of this short stories from his collection Meat City on Fire, and I always have meant to go back and read more. I am hoping to get through it this week, spending the weekend rereading The Dead Zone, and then moving on to Adam Cesare’s Clown in a Cornfield. I’d like to get to Elizabeth Hand’s Curious Toys after that, if there’s still time; I may let it spill over into November. I really enjoyed her A Haunting on the Hill and want to read more of her work, and apparently her backlist is pretty deep, which is cool. I also want to get to Lou Berney’s new one Dark Ride, and then I am definitely going to start working my way through the rest of the TBR pile, which is staggeringly enormous and deep.

I suspect I’ll be doing a lot of reading after my surgery next month, too. At least I hope so, at any rate.

As I was saying the other day, having my routines messed with always throws me off track. This weekend I got a lot of rest, did some reading, and cleaned and organized because of the unknown delivery time of the new refrigerator, but I was also clearing my mind and looking ahead to see what needs to be done, and when. I made a to-do list for the week on Sunday but yesterday not being a normal Monday messed me up, and I keep thinking today is Monday, which it most definitely is not. I want to get back to work on writing things; I know I have a short story to finish by the end of the month for a deadline and I know there are some other places open for submissions that I would like to get something sent in for. Whether that will work or not remains to be seen. LSU plays Army this weekend, and it’s a night game, so I should be able to get home from the wedding in time to catch at least part of the game, and then its two weeks until the next game–at Alabama; as usual, the game that can make or break the season. I have no idea how that will go, but Nick Saban’s Alabama has rarely lost to the same team two years in a row; the exceptions being LSU (2010 and 2011) and Mississippi (2014 and 2015). Obviously, I’d love for the Tigers to win out, take the West again and go to Atlanta to face Georgia–but I’m not sure how distant from reality that hope might be. I guess we will find out that weekend.

We also have a very busy week here ahead of me in the clinic, which can be exhausting.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and enjoy the colder weather!

Cupid/I’ve Loved You For a Long Time

My, what a gorgeous day it was yesterday–the kind that reminds me why I love it here so much and helps me forget the horror that is July-August (although I believe the summer horror began in late May this year). I made groceries in the morning and also retrieved everything from the carriage house to put in the new refrigerator; it’s lovely. I hadn’t realized what a pain in the ass it was making do with the shitty old one. I didn’t get all that filing worked on, but I did make some material progress that will help get me started working on it all again this week. I have more appointments this week–primary care doctor on Wednesday afternoon, and I have to actually go into the office on Friday for a benefits meeting. Our insurance is changing to a new carrier in the new year, which is why it was so important for me to get all this medical shit out of the way while I still have insurance that will take care of everything, or at least I understand how it operates. I absolutely hate the idea that I will have to relearn all my insurance stuff again in the new year.

It makes me tired.

I slept well today, and don’t have to go into the office at all. We’re having a “professional development day”, which starts at City Park at ten this morning and goes all day, from place to place–we go to Dillard University and later to Ralph’s on the Park–before coming home at six pm. Tomorrow goes back to normal. I didn’t want to get up this morning–Tug also wanted me to stay in bed; he followed me downstairs and is sleeping in my lap while I am typing this (Paul has started calling him Sparky, which kinds of fits…) but is also very sweet. He spent most of yesterday either chasing the laser light, playing with an old catnip toy of Scooter’s (catnip didn’t affect Scooter; Tug/Sparky is an entirely different story), or sleeping in my lap. I spent most of the day in my chair finishing Elizabeth Hand’s marvelous A Haunting on the Hill, which I will talk about in more detail in another entry. I also started reading Rival Queens as my new non-fiction read; it’s about Catherine de Medici and her daughter Marguerite de Valois, Queen of Navarre (aka Queen Margot) and of course, this is one of my favorite periods of history and two of my favorite, most interesting sixteenth century queens; Catherine de Medici is fascinating. A version of Game of Thrones played out in France between 1559 and 1594, and I’m always kind of amazed that it’s not written about more–but Americans are always more interested in English history, if they have any interest in history at all.

It’s a pity, because I’ve always found French history more interesting.

While I was reading A Haunting on the Hill yesterday an old idea of mine–a sort of sideways sequel to Bury Me in Shadows started developing in my mind; another Corinth County novel, only this time with Beau, Jake’s boyfriend from the University of Alabama and an archaeology/Alabama history major, as the main character. I’ve had this idea for a short story for a very long time–set in Corinth County–called “Children of the Stone Circle”, which I think I may have even written an entire first draft a long time ago; just could never tell how to make it work and make it real. It came to me while reading the Elizabeth Hand–I always get inspired when I read books that are well-written that I enjoy–and I made copious notes in my journal. That felt good–it felt good to power down my brain for most of the weekend and kind of relax. I am delighted to have finished the Hand–and for reasons that I will explain when I write about the book, I decided the reread of The Haunting of Hill House–which I still want to do–wasn’t a necessary follow up to the Hand. I am going to read Angel Luis Colon’s Infested next, and perhaps some more y/a middle-grade horror. I do want to reread King’s The Dead Zone, too; it’s been quite a while.

I also watched another episode of Moonlighting last night, which I am really enjoying the rewatch of. There were some cultural references to the time that don’t work–last night’s episode had Addison make a reference to a highly popular ad campaign that was already over but still very much a part of the zeitgeist when the show started–but overall, it’s still a great show. Cybill Shepherd was just stunningly beautiful, and she made a great straight man character for Willis to bounce his antics and humor off, and the chemistry between the two of them was simply off the charts. I had also forgotten how utterly charming the character of Miss DiPesto (“My name’s Agnes, but my friends call me Miss DiPesto”) as played by Allyce Beasley was; I was already a fan of hers when the show started because of her turn in one of the best episodes of Cheers, where she played Coach’s daughter.

“But Gregalicious, I thought you were rewatching Friday the 13th the Series this month in honor of Halloween?” I was, but the episodes are on Youtube, the quality of some are terrible (they were clearly uploaded and digitized from old VCR recordings, and for those of us who remember using VCR’s, we also still remember how bad some of those recordings were–especially when you were re-using cassettes) and it became annoying, and then Moonlighting dropped. So yes, I am not devoting myself to all things horror this month the way I had intended to, and no, I’ve not been taking the walks every night like I wanted to when the weather turned. Partly because I am tired when I get home every night from work, and partly because Tug/Sparky needs attention when I walk through the door and I am more than willing to give the adorable little kitty whatever he wants. He fell asleep in my lap yesterday once while still sitting up–his head was still up, not resting on anything, and he was sound asleep, which I’ve never seen anyone or anything do before.

And when he gets comfortable and is deep in dreamland, he sprawls in the most adorable ways. He also was happy in his sleep at one point, too–he started making biscuits on the arm of my easy chair while purring, but was sound asleep.

Yes, he’s adorable and yes, he is now master of the apartment.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I will see you later.

Little Jeannie

We have a new refrigerator, and it is marvelous in our eyes.

The delivery was actually two hours early and went incredibly smoothly. I did have to take the kitchen apart and rearrange a lot of things, which triggered the old your filing system is completely out of control and has been for quite time, and the duplicates, dear God, the duplicates. But having a new, working refrigerator (we really put up with the malfunctioning old one, which was never the same after whatever evacuation that was in 2008–Ike? Isaac? who knows. So, this kind of was the impetus for me to reorganize the cabinets, throw out a lot of stuff I didn’t even know I had (forcing me to recognize that I still have food hoarding issues), and do something constructive with the filing. This morning I am going to move the rest of the food over from the carriage house refrigerator, and make notes on what I need to get at the grocery store. My hope is to get that all done this morning, spend some time reading the Elizabeth Hand (which I am greatly enjoying), and then tackle the filing and get this under control once and for all.

And this is just a small step forward in a big journey I am taking–in which I need to organize and/or discard things I no longer need. I have more ideas than I will ever write about, or have the time to write; I get more ideas every fricking day. Do I really need to hold onto old file folders crammed full of ideas I don’t even remember that I have? And if I do remember it, and it turns into something–I will just create a new file rather than go look for the old. I should scan old contracts, shred tax returns, and who knows what kinds of treasures I may find in the files as they come together at long last? I’m still unsure of the system I am going to use, but I need to get all the things that are like each other together–files about Alabama, files about New Orleans and Louisiana, files about Kansas and California and Chicago and its suburbs and Houston and Florida and crime stories and all kinds of things; research versus actual fiction–book ideas v, short story ideas; fiction vs nonfiction–and so forth.

I also worked on the laundry room some, and also managed to watch a lot of football games–Alabama against Arkansas, Tennessee-Texas A&M, and finally Auburn-LSU. I still don’t know what to think about the conference race this year, other than both divisions go through Georgia and Alabama again this year, and I don’t see anyone beating Georgia during the regular season. Texas A&M’s loss at Tennessee is their second in conference and third overall; no division title or shot at the play-offs for them; yet they are a good team and can still play spoiler. Tennessee still has Alabama and Georgia and Kentucky. The West is pretty much still up for grabs, with Alabama in the catbird seat; still tied for first even if they somehow lose to LSU. I don’t know what happened to Auburn after the Georgia game–which they had a shot at winning–because that team didn’t show up in Tiger Stadium last night. LSU’s defense, which finally started playing at a higher level in the second half of last week’s Missouri game, looked really good…or was Auburn’s offense really that bad? I thought their defense was for real–but how good were they really, because they didn’t look like an elite SEC West defense last night. LSU does have an incredible offense, no mistake or question, but are they really forty-eight points on Auburn good? After Georgia escaped them with a 27-20 win on the plains? That’s why you play the games, people–anyone can win on any given Saturday.

I slept very well last night, which was awesome. I feel quite well rested this morning, and so today’s chores do not sound either ominous or terrible. The filing is indeed going to be a chore, as is moving the food back over and making two grocery runs, but better to get it all over with today, wouldn’t you think, so I can go home straight from work tomorrow? We’re having a “professional development day” that starts at City Park at ten in the morning, after which we go to Dillard for a presentation and then back to Ralph’s on the Park for another. Lunch and dinner are being provided, which means I am not going to be able to eat anything, most likely, which will be very unpleasant for me, I think, but I’ll deal with it. Tug is also settling in more–it’s very obvious that he knows he is home, and this is where he belongs. So bold, so curious, so playful, so adorable. He sleeps completely relaxed and sprawled out on whichever laps he chooses, and he’s started doing to Scooter thing where he’ll go back and forth between us for naps, which is adorable.

And he does love chasing the red dot.

He’s having particularly big kitten energy this morning, too.

And on that note, I am going to go start moving the food back over and making the grocery list. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; if not, then tomorrow.

Sexy Eyes

Well, we survived a Friday the 13th in October–terrifying!

It was actually a rather beautiful day in New Orleans, in all honesty. I had a bit of a morning–there’s been some anxiety building inside my head since I got home from work on Wednesday to discover a jury duty summons in the mail. (For the record, I am not one of the majority of Americans who hate doing this little part of their responsibilities as a citizen; I always think, these are probably the same people who bitch constantly about our flawed criminal justice system–which is not incorrect–but you don’t get to complain about juries and the system when you resent serving on juries or try to get out of doing it. The system is only as good as the jurors selected, after all. Anyway, I digress. I got the summons on Wednesday afternoon, and I was supposed to report this morning. Obviously, it was delayed or went out late or something, but the last thing I need to do is deal with jury duty between now and my surgery; all those tests and appointments and so forth that i have to do before the surgery, etc. etc. I decided to fill out the form on-line and ask for a deferment; alas, it wasn’t until I finished registering that I found out if I wanted to be excused, I needed to go to the courthouse and ask in person as well as provide a note from my doctor. Wow, I thought, kind of like being back in high school. I had an MRI scheduled Friday morning, so I figured I’d ask them then. Well, my surgeon wasn’t in the office and no one else wanted to do it, suggesting I check with my primary care. As my primary care office is near the courthouse and I had to pick up a prescription there anyway, I went by. Primary care wans’t in, and was advised to try my surgeon. Jesus fucking Christ, apparently I woke up in a Kafka novel. So, I decided to go to the courthouse and see what happened….and they literally told me to have my doctor email it to the court clerk, gave me a card with her name and email address, and sent me home.

Who knew the Orleans Parish Courthouse would be the easiest, “no big deal” part of this? Certainly not one Gregalicious, that’s for sure.

I came home and did my work-at-home chores, as well as my laundry chores, and then Tug settled in for a nap in my lap while I finished reading the Riley Sager (which I enjoyed; more on that later) and started Elizabeth Hand’s A Haunting on the Hill and am quite liking it as well. Paul and I watched a horror film from 2007 called Trick r Treat, which was kind of clever yet neither of us had heard of it before. That was in honor of both Friday the 13th and it being spooky season and all. I do love fall in New Orleans. It was lovely running around this morning doing all that stuff with lovely sunny but cool weather; the kind where you can wear sleeves and jeans outside comfortably.

The refrigerator is being delivered today, so I have to make room for the delivery guys and hope that they come earlier rather than later. I have no control over this whatsoever, so I am just going to roll with it and see where things wind up. While I wait for the refrigerator I am going to try to get this done as well as some other things; trying not to get anxious or worry about things that cannot be controlled. They have my cell phone number, after all, and if I keep it with me…it’s really irrational to get anxious about things like this, isn’t it? Just like it was irrational to get so worked up and tense over the jury duty thing this morning. It’s just wasted energy and it just leaves me tired, and I really don’t need anything else in my life to make me tired; I can do that quite well and need no further assistance with that, thank you very much. UPDATE: it is out for delivery and expected between 3:30 and 7:30, which means most likely groceries will have to wait until tomorrow and I can actually spend the morning cleaning up down here and making it not quite the disaster area it currently appears to be. A quick glance at Twitter shows that Tulane won at Memphis last night, and apparently Colorado blew a big lead and lost to Stanford.

I slept really well last night–and woke up at five, like always. I fell back asleep until Tug (Paul has started calling him Sparky because he gets the zoomies–but the next time he does I’m getting the laser light out–nothing like the red dot to wear your kitten out of his BIg Kitten Energy.) wanted his breakfast at six–can’t blame him, and I’m kind of awake already anyway. I stayed in bed until about seven before rising, thinking that was a lot m rore rational than trying to stay in bed–especially since I knew the delivery window was between eight and eight; hope springs eternal that it was going to be a morning delivery. DENIED. Tug now is completely at home and curious about everything; there are bottle caps everywhere from him chasing them around, and of course I always have to be careful with what I leave on surfaces. It’s also election day here in Louisiana, and I must go vote so I can vote against our evil attorney general’s bid for governor, which would be a disaster so great people would start remembering Bobby Jindal’s disgraceful tenure in Baton Rouge with nostalgia.

The salt intrusion has been slowed significantly–the last I heard the salt water wouldn’t be here until around Thanksgiving–a month later than projected, and there was a chance it would dissipate before then, too. I should probably pay more attention, but I have a flat of water and a two-gallon jug (which I will save for hurricane season in the attic, if the salt doesn’t get up here after all, and I should always be prepared for hurricane season anyway), but probably won’t have to buy any more of that.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. There’s a lot I can get done this morning, and I intend to do it before curling up with my book with whatever game is on at eleven in the background. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader; I’ll probably be back later.

Stomp

And here we are at work-at-home Friday again today. I have an MRI scheduled at Tulane Institute of Sports Medicine this morning, but other than that I will be here at home, getting prepared for the refrigerator to arrive and doing other chores around my work-at-home duties. It was an exhausting week, both for me personally and for the world politically. I generally don’t comment on world events, primarily because I am at best a distant observer who depends on news reports and because I don’t feel informed enough to have an opinion. I do know that I abhor brutality and think all death is unnecessary, especially in the name of politics, religion, and racism. The situation in the Middle East–volatile for my entire life–is one without answer, I fear. I also remember how foolishly we all were for thinking the Camp David Accords would bring peace to the region. The only peace it brought was between Israel and Egypt–and that has lasted. I don’t have any answers, and I feel making comments that are uninformed without solutions does not add to the discourse nor move anything forward in a positive manner, so I just keep my mouth shut and hope for an end to the death and slaughter and trauma.

Yesterday was an exhausting day overall. Everything at the office was some kind of haywire in an almost “Mercury must be in retrograde” kind of way, and most of it went on while I was the only person there–which was kind of unsettling. It was also Mom’s birthday so my subconscious was already raw and on edge. But I worked through it, there wasn’t a body count, and I stopped to get the mail on my way home–where I picked up the Box O’Books for Death Drop (yay!) and my Ben Pierce Photography calendar “Beneath the Waters: Images of the Atchafalaya Basin Drawdown”. Ben Pierce is an extraordinary photographer of the natural beauty of Louisiana. I follow him on Facebook and often share his work because it’s so breathtakingly beautiful and evocative; and doesn’t Atchafalaya Basin Drawdown sound like a Scotty title? I’ve been meaning to look into what precisely that means and why they are draining the basin since he started sharing images from it earlier this year; I should perhaps put that on the to-do list? While I was waiting for Paul and playing with Tug (trying to wear him out, in all honesty; he was wired like a circuit party queen last night), who met the laser light/magical red dot for the first time last night. He soon figured out where it was coming from, but still chased it none the less, and eventually when I set it down it also became a toy so there’s no telling where it is this morning. I watched another episode of Moonlighting last night which didn’t seem to hold up as well as previous ones–too much speculation about Maddie’s sex life, which was completely untoward and bothered me–and I also got caught up on Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, which I’ve never really watched very much but started this season at the urging of friends. I’ve yet to watch the reboot of New York, either. I think there’s a blog entry I need to write about reality television shows like these, which I had already started after the completion of the most recent season of Beverly Hills. The out-of-touch narcissism of the SLC women still seems fun and funny to me, while the other franchises have kind of gone off the rails with repugnant behavior (looking at you, Lisa Rinna)–but I’ll save that for the blog post about reality television; which is why I don’t really talk about these shows much on here.

I also read some more of Riley Sager’s Final Girls, which I am enjoying–even if it doesn’t seem like it. One of the casualties of the pandemic was my ability to read quickly; I don’t know what happened, but it’s entirely due to my attention span and not the quality of the books I’m reading; look at how long it took me to read Shawn’s book, which was fucking brilliant. It’s going with me to Tulane this morning so I can read more of it, and then I am coming home to work for the rest of the afternoon. I slept really well again last night. I woke up at six (I do that every morning now, regardless) but the alarm was set for seven so I stayed in bed for another hour, which felt marvelous, really. I feel very rested and centered this morning–which is lovely after the chaotic yesterday I had–and am looking forward to the weekend. I have my to-do list, which is necessary; the refrigerator is being delivered tomorrow, so there’s no point in making groceries until after it arrives (so probably Sunday morning, most like); and of course there’s always, always, always housework to do. Boxes started accumulating again in the living room in front of where the bead chest sits (and the floor’s not terribly stable), so those have to go, and I can do some cleaning before the refrigerator is delivered (we currently have an 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. window, which I assume will change tomorrow morning). The LSU game isn’t until Saturday night, and I am not certain there are any other games of interest this weekend…which doesn’t mean I won’t have a game on all day from eleven a.m. on, of course; I most likely will. (Of course, I just looked, and yes, several games of interest–Notre Dame-USC, Alabama-Arkansas, Texas A&M-Tennessee, and of course Auburn-LSU.)

And on that note, sorry to be so brief but I think I am needing to get headed into the spice mines this morning. I may be back later, I don’t know; but stranger things have indeed happened, so one can never rule anything out. If not, for sure tomorrow morning. Have a terrific Friday, Constant Reader!

Hurt So Bad

It does bother me sometimes that I become such a creature of habit, falling easily into ruts and the same-old same-old sort of routines all the time. “But Gregalicious,” Constant Reader might well reply, with at least eyebrow aloft, “you’re an author. A creative! How can such a person fall into a rut?”

It’s incredibly easy, just so you know, especially when you have all kinds of wiring issues in your brain–the kind that make completing tasks satisfying, for one example–and so there’s serenity and peace and safety in routine, in doing the same thing repeatedly, every day, that finds bliss and peace and an almost nirvana-like state while doing repetitive tasks, like making condom packs, filing, and so on. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, per se, but it also makes those ruts easier to get stuck in and that much harder to get out of. Take yesterday. I had my echo cardiogram (sonogram) yesterday morning, so I didn’t get to the office until later in the day than usual and thus felt off all day. It was fine; work was fine and I love my clients–I always have lovely experiences for the most part dealing with them and my co-workers–but because I didn’t get there until later, I felt off all day; not off the rails maybe, but like I was wobbling on those rails but staying on them. I thought about that a lot last night; but I did manage to get some things done. I edited a short story for a dear friend, so I felt like I did accomplish something in a cold, rainy, rather dreary day.

ANd it was a cold, dreary, rainy day. The rain started up around noon, and the temperature–already low–began dropping. I wore wear my office hoodie home–didn’t need the umbrella as it was just sprinkling when I left the office–but the wind had picked up by the time Paul went to the gym and came back. Our weather alert for yesterday was coastal flooding and dangerously high winds (gusts of up to 47 miles per hour) but once I was home I was fine. I did chores when I got home yesterday; laundry and dishes, oh my, and then basically wasted the evening scrolling through social media while watching Moonlighting on Hulu.

Sigh, Moonlighting. I loved this show when it aired originally, even if it did eventually jump the shark and the quality declined; it also had a big influence on me as a writer and is one of my influences that I rarely, if ever, acknowledge. I had already watched the pilot on Youtube over the summer, so now that it is finally streaming on Hulu, I decided to watch the second episode, “Gunfight at the So-So Corral,” and it holds up. The chemistry between Cybill Shepherd and Bruce Willis is absolutely off-the-charts, and David Addison was absolutely a star-making role for Willis. And the writing! So smart and witty and clever! I still love this show. I always loved how the show’s structure was basically very simple: each episode always began with David and Maddie arguing about something–a moral or ethical point–and absolutely refusing to see the other’s point. Then a case would land in their laps that illustrated the point they were arguing about–and by the end of the episode they were having the same discussion, only now they were arguing the other side but not quite as vigorously. I can’t wait to keep watching–I also want to reevaluate the episodes of the later seasons, which seemed lesser at the time but may not seem so now nearly forty years (!) later. I also had to giggle a little bit because this second episode was so much a part of the zeitgeist at the time–oh yes, I remember this show revived interest in some old music classics as well–I remember everyone was singing “She looked so good just a-walking down the street singing doo-wah-diddy-diddy-dum-diddy-doo” after it aired, and I also remember everyone watched and talked about the show. It was absolutely appointment television, and I am so glad I finally get the chance to rewatch one of the best crime shows every aired. Those of you who were too young to watch it the first time around, really need to watch it; I think you’ll be charmed as well as amazed at how far ahead of its time it was.

Today is also the four year anniversary of the collapse of the Hard Rock Hotel construction site on Canal and Rampart streets. Four workers were killed, and the nightmare of the disaster lived with us in New Orleans for months afterwards as they tried to figure out a way to not only recover the dead bodies (which is horrible to contemplate) but also closed both streets at the intersection because the site was dangerous. That final Carnival before the COVID shut down (and also a super-spreader event) seemed cursed; the parades had to be rerouted around the site and several people were killed at parades by floats that year. It seems like that happened to a different world, doesn’t it? That was also the year LSU fielded one of the greatest college football teams of all time–I remember thinking, after LSU won the national championship and the world shut down, jokingly but also a bit serious, “LSU fielded one of the greatest college teams of all time–so much so that it broke the world.”

We also watched this week’s episode of The Morning Show once Paul got home from the gym. I’m really enjoying this show, and the addition of Jon Hamm to the cast as an Elon Musk-type (only good-looking and sexy and charming) was really smart. We also binged the first three episodes of the second season of Our Flag Means Death this week, which is just genius. Sigh, I do love me some pirates.

I also ordered our new refrigerator yesterday morning, it will be delivered on Saturday and so on Friday I get to start moving the contents of the refrigerator into the carriage house refrigerator and will need to move shit out of the way Saturday morning. I’m hoping it comes relatively early so I’m not just sitting around all day waiting for them to come; LSU plays Auburn at night, so hopefully it will be in the apartment up and running by the time the sun finds its home in the western sky and it becomes SATURDAY NIGHT IN DEATH VALLEY. I don’t think we’ll be going to any games this year, but that’s fine. With all this medical stuff going on, it’s best that I spend my weekends at home resting and trying to get things done. I started making the list yesterday of what I need to get done and when it needs to be done by–I really need to finish revising that short story and writing the other one that’s due by the end of the month–and I want to finish the Sager this week so I can move on to my next Halloween Horror Month read.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will chat with you again tomorrow before my MRI.