Category: errands

My Maria

Thursday morning and my last day in the office before a glorious three day weekend, which is lovely. It rained overnight–it started raining just as I got home from the office yesterday, and then off and on all night. It even rained a bit this morning while I was washing my face and doing the usual morning ablutions. I’m not even sure what the day’s weather forecast is! Although it would be lovely to have rain all weekend, wouldn’t it? I ran some errands after work on the way home yesterday and had some things delivered last night in the sprinkling, and I even did some chores when I got home before I plopped down into my easy chair with Sparky in my lap for the evening. I felt pretty good all day yesterday (I feel good this morning too–I’m getting used to getting up at six again), and probably could have done some more last night, but I am done berating myself for not getting everything done that I want to anymore. I am going to try to not be overly ambitious this weekend; if I am productive, great; if I just get rested, that’s also fine. I want to finish Jordan Harper’s A Violent Masterpiece, and dip into my reread of The Ivy Tree by Mary Stewart. I also need to get a newsletter ready to go for Saturday; my latest one went out yesterday; click here to read!1

I also have to run make groceries and get the mail uptown before I make it home for the weekend. Tomorrow morning I have to have labs drawn for my GI specialist, and have an online meeting before my quality assurance work. The apartment is a mess, but not nearly as bad as it was going into last weekend–I’ve managed to pretty much keep up with the chores this week, thank God; so tonight when I get home I have laundry to fold and a dishwasher to unload. I also have a recipe for tomato cucumber salad I want to try (it seems silly to have a recipe for salad, doesn’t it), which sounds amazing, and I also want to pick up a watermelon tonight.

After I settled into my easy chair, we finished The Boys and caught this week’s episode of Widow’s Bay, which is really wild; I am enjoying the slow burn, Gothic sensibilities of the show very much. (I’ve been feeling kind of Gothic lately, haven’t I?) I think I’m going to let my imagination and creativity run free and drive what I write for a while; I’ve been trying to force it–to no avail–these past few weeks , and so think it’s time to try something different for a while and see how that goes. As I said the other day, Paul’s going to be recovering for a while this summer which is going to hinder my productivity, but it’s also going to be the hottest, most miserable summer this year. (It’s always awful, I don’t know why I am quibbling about the degree of awful it will be.)

Our moronic governor’s trip to Greenland–where he fled after Louisiana harshly rejected and rebuked his MAGA agenda–went exactly as I thought it would. Why send someone who is resoundingly hated by the electorate that knows him best to try a charm offensive? It went as well as could be expected.

As I was scrolling through Youtube the other day I came across an old song from the 1970s I’d forgotten about–“She’s Tight” by Cheap Trick–and it was just as horribly sexist as it sounds from the title. (I only just now realized “cheap trick” is also a prostitution reference.) What would a man be singing about in a song called “She’s Tight”? Yup, you guessed correctly. There were so many of these horrible sexist songs back in the day–and the odes to jailbait are horrible; the list is far too long to even attempt making one. But the majority are about fucking some underage girl who’s sexy and irresistible to the adult male. Gross, but it was also taken as a matter of course and “how things are.” And don’t get me started on the male teen virgin and the experienced older woman–which was a subgenre of film and novels and songs for most of my life. (This will be explored at some point in the future in a newsletter.)

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for this rainy gray day in New Orleans. Have good one and I will check in with you again tomorrow morning.

Lovely Jacob Elordi for Chanel Bleu
  1. I’m really enjoying the newsletter, to be honest with you. ↩︎

When Will I Be Loved

Well, Pay-the-Bills Wednesday has rolled around again somehow, and I feel pretty good this morning. I didn’t want to get out of bed–it was so warm and comfy and cozy under the pile o’blankets–but I did and took care of the morning business and had some coffee. Sparky is rambunctious this morning–I had to walk around with him on my shoulders for a bit to get him to calm down a bit. I did do some chores when I got home yesterday, and I need to have some things delivered this evening…and should probably run an errand, too. I also did a little bit of writing last night, which felt great–even as the words came out of me like they were attached to barbed wire. I also realized it’s not going to be that easy to get writing done over the next few months because Paul is having two knee replacements this summer, so I am going to be having to take care of him, too, in the dead miserable heat of summer. Heavy heaving sigh. But…that’s okay. It’s always something, isn’t it?

I’ll survive, won’t I?

I finished watching The Traitors Canada’s third season last night, and it’s one of the best seasons, if not the very best. Now, I am out of Traitors to watch, sigh, until new seasons drop. I don’t know that I’ll watch them as they air or if I’ll wait till they’re all available to binge. We also watched the latest Euphoria, too, before calling it a night and diving headfirst into the bed. I have to have labs drawn Friday morning for my GI specialist (whom I am seeing next month) and I have an on-line team meeting, but I’ll be spending most of the day going over forms and correcting them. And then it’s a holiday weekend!!! Monday is Memorial Day! I am hoping to be either be productive this weekend or to get a lot of rest, one or the other, and I want to take some walks in the mornings before it gets too miserable out there. It’s already eighty-one out there this morning, and it’s still May, for Christ’s sake.

I get hate mail pretty regularly; you can’t be a gay man in 2026 who exists on-line and not get hate mail–whether it’s email or DM’s or tags (this is why I never look at my DM’s and it’s a terrible way to try to reach me because I do not like to read that drek–although some of it can be amusing in its illiteracy, ignorance, and illogic–and it’s not something you ever get used to. It was really bad when I was EVP at MWA (which clearly has a lot of homophobes in its membership), and I would turn off DM’s if I could. Most of the hate email goes to spam now and I don’t see it, but one slipped through the other day, and it was highly amusing. Someone, who really needs to wash his or her ass and legs, decided something–anything–I don’t know what–deserved a written email response, and yes, it made me laugh really hard. You’re coming at me because I am in favor of vaccines? Being called a “pro-vaxxer” isn’t the insult you think it is, inbred imbecile, and here’s hoping you never have to watch a child you love suffer and die because you’re a fucking idiot who doesn’t actually love them, really. You don’t put someone you love at risk of death because you’re incredibly stupid, because clearly, you don’t even know what love is; a cat is a better parent. Chew on that, asswipe, and be glad I didn’t just post a screencap of your email–and I wouldn’t black out your email address, either.

Because these people are stupid enough to use personal or work emails.

Yesterday, despite feeling a bit drained still mentally–physically I was fine–was a good day. It’s always nice to get unexpected money, isn’t it?

Remember last year’s bubble protest in the French Quarter? Sum up: a rich man moved into the Quarter across from a bar with a bubble machine which has been there for decades, if not generations, and decided the bubbles had to go. End result? A mob of people showed up with bubble guns and so forth and buried the Quarter in bubbles…and did it again on the one year anniversary! I love how petty this city is! I fit right in here, seriously.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Wednesday, and I’ll be back for my last day in the office for the week blog tomorrow!

Country Sunshine

You say you love me, and it’s inviting…to go where life is more exciting…but I was raised on country sunshine!

I wasn’t, of course, but those summer vacations to Alabama definitely shaped a lot of who I am, I think. I tend to think about it far more than I think about Chicago or our suburb or Kansas or California, or anywhere else I’ve lived besides New Orleans. It is where we are from, I suppose, and having grown up listening to stories–family stories, mostly–I am not sure what is actually true and what I invented in my imagination. Sometimes I think, if I outlive Dad and Paul, that I might move back there to live out my days; but who knows? I have five years to worry about where I may be in five years. But my plan is, for now, to retire when I hit seventy. I am not going to count down the days (weeks, months, years) until then, because that seems to make the time pass even faster than it actually does–which at this point is pretty fucking fast, no lie. But I slept deeply and well last night, which is good. I was still a bit drained yesterday, which I didn’t realize until I posted and got up from my chair to start doing things…which ended up not going well. As soon as I sat down in my easy chair yesterday morning, Sparky curled up in my lap and went to sleep, purring. I thought, oh I’ll just watch another episode of Season 2 and then I could do some things. Sparky didn’t budge and I got sucked into the show, finally getting up to go to bed at almost ten! There really is no worse influence than a purring sleeping cat, is there?

Oh, well. Like I said, I felt drained all day yesterday, physically and mentally, so letting everything just rest with another day of not doing much worked, because I feel pretty good this morning. I feel like this week I’ll get back on track–a normal four days in the office and a work-at-home Friday again–and start getting used to getting up and going to work every day and doing things when I get home at night. I don’t feel like I’ll be terribly tired (one never knows) so I have to push through in the evenings after I am home and feed/acknowledge/pet Sparky.

So, no, despite big plans, I didn’t get much done this weekend. I didn’t even run errands! I just stayed at home quietly and pretty much rested, other than doing laundry all day Saturday. The apartment is still a disaster area, which I need to do something about this weekend; Paul’s knee replacement is a week from Friday, so I need to clear out some stuff and get the place as organized and easy to navigate as possible. I do worry a bit about the kitchen rugs and how Sparky likes to pull them up, creating rug speed bumps, which won’t be fun with a walker.

Our evil, corrupt bitch of an attorney general is planning some “big announcement” for New Orleans today; there’s a reason she is being recalled (fingers crossed!). My personal favorite of the rejected amendments was the rejection of the creation of a new school district for St. George, the wealthy sundown town suburb of Baton Rouge that seceded from Baton Rouge–and also wanted to pull its tax money out of East Baton Rouge–you know, so they wouldn’t have to pay to educate Black children (fuck the St. George racists from now till the end of time). That amendment was soundly trounced by the voters. Sucks to be a St. George racist. Thoughts and prayers, upper middle class pigs living in tacky McMansions.

God, I am sick to death of our current national politics. I was thinking this morning, as I shaved, how this nightmare is really never going to end. Even with MAGA dying, it’s like the hydra; it’ll just grow another head, like how Sarah Palin and her racist Tea Party shenanigans (don’t forget that bitch Ginny Thomas was a big part of it, either–future historians of this time will not be kind to either of them) morphed into this bullshit to begin with; an astro-turf movement fueled and encouraged by the propagandists at Fox and Newsmax. (You know, the vast right-wing conspiracy Hillary warned about in the early 1990s only to be mocked and derided….she was right then, too, just like she’s always been right.) The Trumpers who are turning on him now aren’t becoming progressive; they’ll line up behind the next grifter who tells them what they want to hear; there’s a direct line from Palin’s grift to Trump’s.

But we never want to talk about how the 2016 election was a replay of the 2000–the results of which got us Roberts and Alito. May Susan Sarandon burn in hell for all eternity, thanks again, “liberal” media.

It’s really no wonder I don’t want to write, because I don’t want the poison of these times to leak into my writing, which is one of my joys in life. But…I am going to give it a try again this week. I think being out of my rhythm the last two weeks has also had a lot to do with it.

Sigh.

And on that somber note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and it’ll be tomorrow morning before you know it!

Half the Way

Saturday morning here in the Lost Apartment!

I am very worn down this morning, after our big day of appointments and picking up medications and Costco yesterday. I had an amazing dinner at Lilette with my friend Laura–I had sizzling shrimp and blackened onion and garlic soup; chef’s kiss, really, along with a very dry martini and a very delicious glass of white wine–and then came home, exhausted, and watched another episode of The Traitors Canada, which I’m really enjoying, before heading up to bed and sleep. It was a very good day, but I didn’t get any chores done and I never got irritated all day, despite all the driving an not taking my medications in the morning before leaving the house. Over all, it was a pretty good day, and I was most pleased with myself last night when I closed my eyes with my head on the pillow.

It’s also election day in Louisiana, and you can best bet I’ll be walking over to the International School on Camp Street and voting against everything our POS governor is trying to get passed; he and the rest of the racist trash in Baton Rouge need to be delivered a stinging rebuke from the voters–they need to know how sick we are of their fucking bullshit and their war on New Orleans. Maybe it’s time for New Orleans to withhold its tax revenues from Baton Rouge and give the criminal fucks nothing to steal for a year or two. I’d actually love for the IRS to audit every elected politician in the state, as well as being investigated by the FBI for fraud and bribery. I have faith in our newly elected mayor and city council to flip them the bird and refuse to knuckle under; history isn’t on their side. Baton Rouge has historically never been able to make New Orleans buckle under; I see no reason to infer our city leadership won’t defy the authoritarianistic racism coming from the capital. Fuckers, seriously.

I started reading Jordan Harper’s A Violent Masterpiece while waiting for Paul at his appointments, and whoa, it’s really excellent. It’s a continuation of some of the unresolved issues from Everybody Knows, which I thought was amazing. Good writing is always inspirational and aspirational for me; so I am probably going to spend some time reading it around all the chores and things I need to get done around here today. The place is a wreck, from top to bottom, and again I am very disappointed in myself for letting it get to this state over the course of the week. I need to empty the dishwasher and do the bed linens and a load of clothes today. I also need to have some groceries made and delivered. I also need to resist the temptation of Youtube wormholes today. I will watch some more of The Traitors Canada–Paul will be out of the house all afternoon, and we are thinking about starting Amadeus and House of Ashur this weekend. I also want to rewatch The Mummy Returns for a Mummy newsletter to add to my Egyptian series–and of course, I scheduled one to go out today at noon. I’ll probably spend some time working on newsletters today and a short story–that’s the plan, and to edit the first chapter of the new version/draft of Chlorine. Maybe a hair too ambitious, but I always think I can do more than I actually can. Some things never change, medication be damned.

Sigh.

Okay, I think it’s time for me to bring this to a close for this morning and get started on the cleaning and go vote and get cleaned up. I am not going to overdue it this morning, but I definitely want to get some things done. We’ll see how it goes. So have yourself a lovely little Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow, all rested and perky.

One would hope, right?

I’ve always blasphemously called this statue Drag Queen Jesus, because it looks like he’s dancing and the chorus of “It’s Raining Men” just started playing.

Passionate Kisses

Friday morning in the Lost Apartment after a very good night’s sleep,, and Sparky let me sleep another hour, which was delightful and felt fabulous. My dinner date is tonight–not last, as I had thought–so I have that to look forward to after a day of driving Paul from appointment to appointment and running some errands for him out in Metairie. (My reward is we’re stopping at Costco on the way back into New Orleans…I make it sound like we were are crossing the ocean deep, don’t I, rather than the fifteen or so minutes it takes for me to get there….it’s a New Orleans thing.) Tomorrow I need to go vote, and find out where the recall petition signing is for low-life scavenging scum skank Liz Murrill. (I have already signed the recall for the governor’s stupid ass.) I also need to drop books at the library sale, too, and swing by Fresh Market, so might as well do all of that tomorrow. I also am voting in the state election tomorrow, and planning to vote no on everything that is Janky Jeff’s agenda. I am actually feeling inspired by how many people are rallying here against the bastards in Baton Rouge. Maybe with some massive voter turnout for a change down here we can make the state better.

It wouldn’t take much.

The other day, when I was talking about New Orleans sinking, I did what so many people do–focused on what is going to happen to New Orleans only–when the entire state is sinking. The coastline keeps rapidly moving further and further inland, the barrier islands are mostly gone, and it affects the entire state. The loss of New Orleans tax revenue will certainly bankrupt Louisiana, but what will be left of the rest of the state as the Gulf continues to eat away at the coast and move north. This is a state crisis, not just a city one, but no one in Baton Rouge or Washington seems to give two shits. It really is astonishing how quickly this entire country has gone downhill, and everything eroded so rapidly. Again, I am glad I am closer to the end of my life than to the beginning, because there’s no telling what the fuck is going to happen in the next four years.

I was tired last night after work, and when I got home, I just sat in my chair and got caught up on the news before watching another episode of The Traitors Canada–which I am enjoying–and after Paul got home we watched the latest episode of The Boys, and I would imagine if they hadn’t already lost all their MAGA viewers, this week’s would do the trick. I am not really sure how an action adventure super-hero show that satirizes and critiques the current state of the country so blisteringly is airing on Amazon, the same production company that gave us the biggest bomb in documentary history, Melania. Obviously, no one has told Bezos or his lizard-wife about it.

I am hoping to have a good weekend. I am taking Jordan Harper’s A Violent Masterpiece with me this morning to read while Paul is being seen at his various appointments, and I am going to try to finish reading it this weekend. My next newsletter is scheduled to go out tomorrow morning, and so I also need to work on the next one, too. Then there’s all the cleaning and organizing I need to get done, too. Heavy heaving sigh. Just looking around this morning from my desk, the Lost Apartment looks like the wreck of the Hesperus. I do hate when I let things slide like this during the week, and I really need to just do the chores when I get home from work before relaxing a bit–I end up stuck in the chair with Sparky in my lap and nothing gets done. And I do need to be a lot more productive in the evenings, and resist the need to relax for a bit.

And on that note, this place ain’t gonna clean itself, is it? So I’d best head into the spice mines, and get this weekend started. I shall be back tomorrow morning, Constant Reader–see you then!

Very few pro wrestlers were built like this when I was growing up, or I would have watched a LOT more.

If I Die Young

It pleases me enormously that the “schedule post” function of the newsletter worked swimmingly and it went out yesterday at 12:30, just as I wanted it to. Sorry, you’ll have to forgive my cynicism about technology working the way it is supposed to, as I frequently find that to not be the case. But there it was, in my inbox, as planned, and yes, I felt very accomplished and smug and on top of things. It was something I started writing while in Alabama on the trip, after visiting cemeteries all day. You can read it by clicking here. (There are helpful subscribe buttons there, too, so you can make sure you never miss one.)

I was tired when I got home from work last night, running errands on the way home, and thus made a lap bed for Sparky for a few hours until Paul got home. I did watch another episode of The Traitors Canada, which I am enjoying watching so am doling them out one episode at a time. I am a bit tired this morning–great night’s sleep last night, just saying–but that’s to be expected after a busy day at the office yesterday and it is Thursday, after all; I’m always a bit tired as my days in the office for the week come to an end. I’m going to be driving all over the place tomorrow for doctors’ appointments, but am hoping to get some good rest this weekend and even maybe do some writing. Stop that crazy talk, right? But the apartment definitely needs to be cleaned and organized and made better for the aftermath of Paul’s knee replacement, which is coming up in two weeks. I have no idea what all that will entail–his recovery, that is–but I know he’ll be doing rehab for a while after. He’s going to have the other done later this summer, too. So, I will have quite a bit on my plate for a good while this summer, and having to be Paul’s nurse around everything else going on. Heavy heaving sigh.

The two Black women activists who launched the recall of Governor Janky have also launched a recall effort on our hideously evil Attorney General, Liz Murrill. GOOD, and as always, it’s the Black women who step up. Liz is currently threatening the Mayor and the city council with being “removed from office” because they are trying to appoint someone to the Clerk of Criminal Court position that the state removed after a wrongfully convicted Black man who served time for something he did NOT do and became a jailhouse attorney was elected. Well, the bigots in Baton Rouge weren’t about to have that voter-directed rebuke of the horrible system here in Louisiana or let it stand, so the fucks (all of whom hate New Orleans, a vital piece of the state economy) eliminated the position.

But yes, they are the true Patriots who looooove the Constitution. (Sarcasm implied.)

And the Christian hell isn’t horrible enough for these uneducated ass-wipes to spend eternity in. People here are pissed as fuck; I don’t think I’ve ever seen the electorate this enraged and activated here before. The recalls may not work–the racism runs deep with the mediocre here–but I am enjoying watching all of this unfold. I have signed both petitions, and you can bet your ass I am going to vote this Saturday, and I will cast each vote against whatever Janky Jeff wants–so you can kiss those constitutional amendments goodbye, shit-for-brains. He’s literally making Bobby Jindal look better–which I didn’t think was possible…actually, what I hoped was impossible. But we live in interesting times, don’t we?

Rex Reed died earlier this week, and is another one of those celebrities who frequently came to the Williams Festival. He never remembered who I was (we must have been introduced a dozen or more times), but he was always friendly and polite when we would inevitably be introduced again. He was a great panelist, and his stories about filming Myra Breckenridge were hilarious, once he got going. He loved nothing more than an audience, and always played it to the hilt. I read his collection of celebrity profiles Do You Sleep in the Nude? when I was a teenager, and everything else aside, he was a brilliant writer. His subjects often loathed the pieces he wrote on them, and him as well–but he had a reputation for showing them as humans, warts and all, not as gods from Olympus–and he could be quite bitchy. Despite not really understanding what it meant, I tagged him as a child as different–the same way I did Gore Vidal and Paul Lynde and Charles Nelson Reilly and Jim Nabors and Rock Hudson and Tony Randall and Joel Grey, which has always made me think like recognizes like as the real explanation of “gaydar” (and it doesn’t always work)–and I always enjoyed his bitchiness, even if sometimes it seemed like more of an effect than anything; this is what people expect from me so I have to give them what they want. He also had a great story about meeting Bette Davis in Baton Rouge as a teenager, too. He actually spent a lot of time in Louisiana growing up, and graduated from LSU. He aged really well, too. I felt a bit of a pang when I heard the news. I’d kind of like to read more of his work…I wonder if any of it is still in print or ebooks?

I am having dinner with a friend tonight, which I am also looking forward to very much…and that’s the note I shall close this entry on before heading into the spice mines. I will of course be back in the morning, so have a great day and I will talk at you then.

I used to buy candles here, a few blocks from my old office. I don’t know if it’s still there or not, but I loved this store. It always had such an interesting herbal smell.

Shadows in the Moonlight

Wednesday and halfway through the work week–although technically not true for me, as I am taking Friday off, for all the appointments and errands in Metairie. I’m by myself in the clinic today, without even my nurse, so heavy heaving sigh. This too shall pass. I wasn’t terribly tired when I got home last night, and did manage to do some chores before settling into my chair with a lap cat for the evening. I watched more of The Traitors Canada, this week’s Euphoria, and another episode of Widow’s Bay, which is really getting interesting; I really enjoyed last night’s episode, which was a terrific combination of truly sad but also fascinating. I don’t feel tired this morning, either–not sleepy, at any rate–so we shall see how this day goes, won’t we? I need to run errands on the way home tonight from work, too–just need to head uptown to get the mail, and drop off a copy of the latest book to a friend’s–and hopefully will have the time and energy to do some chores and writing when I get home finally.

Party!

I can’t say I am displeased with anything, other than our state legislature, which has apparently decided to only eliminate one majority Black district, and letting New Orleans keep ours. I’m a little surprised our lickspittle legislature stood up to both our janky governor and his God-Emperor (the golden statue is a little too on the nose, isn’t it?) and didn’t get rid of both, which was what I was expecting. The recall petition (which I will be signing this weekend) is really gathering steam; imagine what could change down here if the DNC decided to, oh, I don’t know, invest in Louisiana? Yes, change wouldn’t happen over night, but this gerrymandering bullshit has awakened the apathetic voters here, who’ve essentially given up to the continuation of one-party rule down here, and hasn’t that just gone so well for the state so far? I wish I could remember that T. Harry Williams quote about Louisiana being a banana republic to quote it here, but it was probably the most accurate description of the state’s politics and policies that I’ve ever seen anywhere. I should look it up and share it here, shouldn’t I? Louisiana’s corruption has been a national disgrace for almost as long as it has been a state, but really–are Mississippi or Alabama or Arkansas or Tennessee any better? Hmm, I wonder what else those states have in common.

Not even the much-maligned Huey Long was as corrupt as Janky Jeff. At least Long did things that were for the benefit of the working class and the poor. Janky Jeff doesn’t give a shit about anyone but his bribers donors.

The Weather Center (or what’s left of it) is forecasting El Niño conditions and an active hurricane season this year; I feel so confident in our federal government’s ability to respond to a disaster and clean up/rebuild after that it’s entirely possible the city would have to be abandoned. There’s been a lot of talk on-line about a new report from Tulane predicting the city could be underwater as soon as twenty years on the low end and maybe to the end of the century on the high end. The release of said report frightened those who don’t live here but love New Orleans–and they were also a little surprised that locals aren’t more concerned. Babies, that’s because we already know, and we also know that no one–from the capital in Baton Rouge to Washington–gives a shit. New Orleans had been screaming about the levees for years before Katrina, and nobody cared. (We also saw how much a Republican led government didn’t give much of a shit while it was happening and afterward.)

We have loooooooooooooong memories down here. And the findings of the Tulane’s study won’t change anything either, especially as our shitty governor wouldn’t piss on a poor person if they were on fire. He certainly has a hardon for bringing back Jim Crow.

I’m also hearing a lot of good things about LSU’s latest quarterback transfer from Arizona State (just like Jayden Daniels), so it should be an interesting new era for the Tigers. I’m kind of looking forward to football season, because a new era is dawning for the Saints, too.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Enjoy your mid-week Wednesday, Constant Reader, and adieu till tomorrow.

Better Man

Tuesday and here I am again, up before dawn and swilling coffee while Sparky slurps down his breakfast. It rained yesterday, and when I went to work in the morning it was so muggy and hot I despair thinking about the summer. Termite season also opened last night but I didn’t see any, thank the Lord. Yesterday was a nice way of easing back into the day job, really; it was slightly busy but very laid back, which was cool. It rained most of the afternoon and was rather gloomy when I drove home from the office; Sparky was also very needy when I got home. I queued up season one of The Traitors Canada (all three seasons were loaded onto Peacock recently), and watched a couple of episodes before calling it a night. I also managed to finish writing a newsletter that I scheduled for Saturday, so that’s this week taken care of. Today’s goal is to answer all my emails that have been lurking in my inbox for a very lengthy time. Friday is a doctor appointments most of the day, and in Metairie at that, which means a Costco trip on the way home–it’s been quite a while since we went to Costco–and I am actually feeling less groggy this morning compared to yesterday. I also picked out my next read, which will go with me to the appointments on Friday, and I am really looking forward to starting it.

It was, as I mentioned, an easy transitional day yesterday, while today is more of a “back to normal” kind of day. The good news is I wasn’t tired when I got off work yesterday–but the combo of a needy cat and new seasons of The Traitors to watch was a one-two punch that guaranteed I simply could not resist the lure of my easy chair, which means I’ll have to do some chores tonight when I get home before either writing or relaxing for the evening. We’ll see how it goes, I suppose.

I slept really well last night, so feel pretty rested and good this morning. Since I got back from the trip I’ve really been sleeping incredibly well, which is great. Usually I am very fatigued and worn out after a trip, but this one wasn’t so bad–which might mean that my recovery from–well, everything is progressing nicely. I’m not used to being unwell or being severely injured or any of that nonsense. It’s not something I’m familiar with, and all the minor stuff over the years I kind of bounced back relatively quickly from, if I am recalling correctly, so being older when I had my first serious stuff happen was a double-shocker, and of course, the ulcerative colitis was working and weakening my immune system…which also delayed recovery time. It’s been a year since I was hospitalized, and that is the worst I have ever felt in my life. I never ever want to feel that sick again. Horrible, simply horrible.

Now that I’ve come up with a five-year-plan for my retirement (hurray!)–which is really my five year plan to prepare for it–I should probably get together a plan for what to write for the next five years and set some goals, too. Ideally, I would like to get everything finished that is already in progress, a daunting task to be certain, because there are so damned many. Right now, I want to finish what I am working on so I can write another Scotty to be out next year, and I also want to revise and rewrite Sorceress into something new–which I’ve already figured out. And the novellas…Christ on the cross. I’d also like to get some short stories out on submission as well; I have so many stories I’ve not finished that I could actually get worked on, finished and revised and sent out. I only have one story coming out in an anthology this year (more on that later), which was one of those unfinished stories; I want to have more next year.

Look at me, feeling ambitious again. Who am I, and what have I done with one Gregalicious?

And on that note, it’s off to the spice mines with me! Have a lovely Tuesday, Constant Reader, and I shall be back on the morning tide tomorrow. Till then, stay fabulous!

Can you say HOT DADDY? Age truly is merely a number, isn’t it? I sure hope so, at any rate.

Another World

Monday, Monday, can’t trust that day…

And so today it is back to the office with me, lickety split. I slept well and had a nice, relaxing weekend, which was great. Yay! We shall see how my week goes, though, won’t we? I feel like I’ve not been in the office in months, while it was really only a week and I went in for a half-day on Friday, which wasn’t so bad. I also now kind of/sort of have a plan for the next five years–subject to change at any moment, natch–which is a good thing. I haven’t made a plan since Katrina blew my last one to smithereens, for obvious reasons, but if your plan is flexible and adaptable to change, there’s no reason not to have one, you know? Five years isn’t such a long time, either.

Imagine my joy and delight when making groceries the other day to discover they had Creole tomatoes back in stock, so they must be coming back into season and to that I say, huzzah! I love them! They are the best tomatoes, and…you know, I’ve been wanting to make fried green tomatoes for a really long time now, and why not make them with green Creole tomatoes? How delicious would that be? I ate one yesterday with some mozzarella cheese balls and Italian salad dressing and it was heavenly.

I was also very pleased to finish and send out another newsletter on Saturday, writing about Alafair Burke’s marvelous The Note, which I enjoyed thoroughly. I also got the next week done and scheduled it to go out on noon, Wednesday, giving me five days to think about, write, and edit the next one. I kind of like this “getting ahead” of things; it makes more sense and relieves any pressure on me about blowing the weekly deadlines I’ve set for myself. Despite being easier on myself now, I still berate myself for missing deadlines.

Like I said, yesterday was chill. I had some groceries delivered via Instacart from Fresh Market (including my favorite jelly beans, which I need to stop eating), and I did some cleaning up and organizing around the house. I got caught up some more on the news (which was as horrible as I figured it would be; don’t even get me started on Janky Jeff’s KKKLan redistricting plan, bootlicker that he is), worked on a newsletter a bit, and we watched some more of our shows; we had another two episodes of Hacks before moving on to Widow’s Bay, which we are getting more into. It’s a bit of a slow burn, but the more we get into it the more curious we become.

While all this was going on I was paging through my copy of In Cold Blood, which remains one of my favorite books. Capote was so talented, I always think about how he wasted his abilities focusing on being a social climber and the gay pet to his swans, whenever I pick up the book and look through it again. I remember watching the film on television while we still lived in Chicago; I don’t remember much of it other than Robert Blake. I picked up a used copy at a second hand bookstore in the late 1970s while I was living in Kansas–it hit a little close to home, as you can imagine. I got another trade paperback copy after we moved to New Orleans, but I currently have a second edition signed hardcover that I bought off ebay for a ridiculously low price (maybe only the first editions have value, but a second edition–printed before the official release date–might be worth a bit. It doesn’t matter because I’ll never part with it). Capote’s description of the lonesomeness of the Kansas prairie and its sparsely populated counties that is probably the best I’ve read so far. It seems weird to consider a true crime novel about the brutal murders of a farm family a comfort read, but there you have it.

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

This is one of my favorite buildings in the Quarter, on the corner of Royal and Orleans.

I’ll Go To My Grave Loving You

Sunday morning and it’s Mother’s Day again; the third since my own passed away back in 2023. It’s hard to believe sometimes that it’s been that long, and other times it seems like an eternity. In fairness, Mom died right before my health collapsed for several years–there’s been a lot of shit happening since Valentine’s Day in 2023–so it’s not surprising that it can seem so long ago. This one isn’t as hard as the first one was, or even last year, which kind of bugs me a bit, as it seems like (to me anyway) it’s getting easier, and I wasn’t sure if that was actually okay or not. As Dad says, there’s no instruction manual for life to tell you how to behave or how you’re supposed to react to things like this so we all kind of just have to find our own way, I suppose. Dad will never get over it or used to it, and in a perverse kind of way that is a double-edged sword; I knew he loved Mom, and his misery breaks my heart–but at the same time his unhappiness (“I just don’t have fun anymore”) makes me love him all the more for loving Mom so much? Does that even make sense? What does that say about me as a person? Do I even want to know the answer to that question? Probably not. One of the reasons I do all these things with Dad is because I don’t want him to have to do it alone. How can something make you sad but make you love someone more? Someday it will make sense to me, I suppose, but I also know I kind of cling to him now that she’s gone. I mean, he really is all I have left besides my sister and Paul (and Sparky).

Sigh.

It’s sunny outside this morning, so I guess yesterday’s rain has passed. It was lovely yesterday, raining all day and gray and gloomy. I decided going to the library sale to drop off books could be postponed another week–who wants to lug boxes of books through a heavy rain? Not me, certainly. Instead, after getting some things done in the morning, I chose to repair to my easy chair where I stayed and finished reading Carol Goodman’s The Sonnet Lover (which was superb; more to come later), which was a lovely way to spend a rainy day–my chair, a blanket, a purring cat in my lap, and a good book; who could ask for a more relaxing way to spend the day? Not me. Once Paul was home from the gym and his trainer and some errands, we ordered Chinese for dinner and caught up on Euphoria, The Boys, and Hacks. We also started a new Apple series, Widow’s Bay, which has a very interesting tone and is itself actually pretty interesting. I thought it was a thriller series–it stars Matthew Rhys, whom we really enjoyed in The Beast in Me–but it’s about a cursed island with a deadly history and it appears to be waking up primarily because those on the island have seemed to have forgotten its horrible history? It’s also a bit funny, too–but we didn’t quite get it completely; I am intrigued and will continue watching; I am not sure if Paul will, so we may need to find something else to watch this evening.

I think I’m going to cook out today, actually, which means placing an order for delivery–I need meat for the grill, and I also have some chores to do this morning–I need to do the dishes and the kitchen floor–and I am hoping to do some writing and reading today. I’ve picked out my next read from the TBR pile, but I want to finish rereading Listen for the Whisperer and my Rick Brant juvenile series mystery before starting on something new. I have another newsletter to write or two–I am doing one about the cemeteries in Alabama, and another one about The Sonnet Lover–and I definitely want to do some fiction writing today as well. I kind of need to get my mind reset and rebooted to my day-to-day existence, too. I slept late again this morning, which was nice, but I had kind of hoped to wake up earlier than I did. Ah, well, no sense crying over spilt milk.

And now, on that note, I am going to bring this to a close and get some more coffee, make some breakfast, and do come cleaning and organizing and a little bit of reading. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will be back again bright and early tomorrow morning. Till then, au revoir.