Category: goals

Take a Bow

Sunday morning in the Lost Apartment and I slept well–I wanted to stay in bed for another few hours, but got up anyway and am now sitting in my kitchen remembering that there was a time change and it’s actually later than I thought. Sigh. So I didn’t get up early after all, did I? I hate Daylight Savings Time and wish we could do away with it once and for all; didn’t Congress take this up last year or something, and didn’t it look like this pointless time change was going to be a thing of the past, or was that merely a fever dream brought on by the pandemic or something?

Yesterday wound up being a wasted day for me. I had some things to do yesterday morning that had to be done–some emails I’d been putting off because I knew they would be triggering, and I was right. I’m still not certain the most important one was worded correctly or the right thing to say at all, but when I finally finished it–it took me several hours to compose it and myself–I was emotionally drained and in a grief spiral, so I decided to spend some time with Scooter sleeping in my lap to make me feel better. I wound up actually drained and exhausted and fatigued, so I simply stayed there. Paul didn’t go into the office yesterday (he is going today) and we finally spent some time together last night, getting caught up on Servant (which is really phenomenal; Lauren Ambrose doesn’t get near the credit as an actress that she should; there’s a scene in the second to last episode–the series finale is this Friday–that can be Ms. Ambrose’s Emmy reel; the scene where her husband and brother finally come clean with the secret they’ve been keeping from her since the first episode is a master class in acting, and it’s all done with her facial expressions, and it’s a tour-de-force), and then the first episode of Outer Banks. We were both getting sleepy, so we put on a true crime documentary series (Two Shallow Graves, which is quite interesting; we figured if we fell asleep it would be okay because we could rewatch it if necessary without necessarily spoiling anything) and finally repaired to bed (later) than I thought it was (stupid time change), which is already throwing me off this morning.

I am still digesting Cheryl A. Head’s marvelous Time’s Undoing, which I finished yesterday morning and greatly enjoyed. I was hoping to spend some time with my next read this morning….but I’ve already lost an hour. Maybe instead of reading this morning, I’ll finish this and get cleaned up and write for a few hours before curling up with a good book later on this afternoon. Paul is going to see his trainer this morning and then to the office, so he’ll be out of my hair for most of the day so I should be able to get a lot of editing and so forth done, as well as some planning for future writing. There’s also always cleaning and filing to get done; yesterday after the depression set in was pretty much a wasted day. But I’m not going to beat myself up over the lost day; it is what it is and nothing I can do now can ever change that, so I am going to be kind to myself and recognize that, while still disappointing, there’s a significant difference between deciding to be lazy and blow off the entire day as opposed to being so overwhelmed that you can’t do anything. (This being kind to myself thing I am trying this year is such an outlook change that it’s not reflexive and I always have to process myself into it; maybe at some point it will become reflexive and…yeah, I don’t see it becoming reflexive any time soon)

Oh, yes, and the Oscars are on tonight. My interest in awards shows has declined as I’ve gotten older; sometimes I wonder if my gradual growing antipathy for awards shows I used to look forward to when I was younger has anything to do with my own eligibility for awards since getting published? Don’t get me wrong; I don’t object to awards by any means, but they also aren’t why I do what I do. It’s always nice to be recognized, especially by your peers and especially when you’ve always felt like an outsider rather than a peer. But while winning an Oscar (or even being nominated) can change a film industry member’s career for the better, do book awards make a difference to someone’s career if they aren’t the National Book Award or the Pulitzer Prize? I do think it’s important to recognize excellence in the field, but awards are just as subjective as anything else, and when an award is decided by a panel of judges..well, a different panel of judges might not come up with the exact same shortlist and winner, either. It isn’t like you can campaign to win an Edgar–but there are awards for mystery novels that you can campaign for, and the campaigning always makes me uncomfortable. In the beginning, I hated asking people for votes and wouldn’t do it. Then I started adding my eligible stuff to Gabriel Valjan’s awards-eligibility lists, which he compiles every year for every award as their nominations period open up.

Last year was the first time I actually made a little announcement on social media that hey, Bury Me in Shadows is eligible for the Anthony for Best PBO because there wasn’t a children’s/young adult category on the ballot. A second ballot was sent out at the almost last-minute because they’d inadvertently left that category off the ballot, so…figuring I didn’t have a prayer at a Best PBO nomination, I asked people to write me in on their ballot for y/a. IMAGINE my shock to wind up nominated in both categories (I lost both, PBO to Jess Lourey and Y/A to Alan Orloff; it’s lovely to lose to friends because you can be happy for them rather than disappointed at losing–losing to someone you don’t like or respect is an entirely different situation); so this year I figured I had nothing to lose by asking for votes–and wound up nominated for a Lefty for A Streetcar Named Murder and an Agatha for #shedeservedit, so go figure, you know?

Another reason I stopped caring or watching the Oscars is because they’ve become so predictable in every category in every year that there are no fun surprises, or if there are any, they are so few and far-between that watching become tedious (although one delightful surprise was Olivia Colman’s win for The Favourite a few years ago); but there doesn’t seem to be a clear cut winner in every category this year, even though I will go out on a limb and predict Oscars for Brendan Fraser (everyone loves a comeback story), Michelle Yeoh, Ke Huy Quan (another comeback story), and Jamie Lee Curtis. The two actresses will not only be rewarded for their work in the film but also for lengthy, glorious careers that have never been recognized before; while the two men are feel-good comeback stories. I’ve not seen Everything Everywhere All At Once, but I do think it’s trending to win everything. (If I had to chose, Barry Keoghan probably deserves an award for The Banshees of Inisherin; to me his was the strongest performance in a film I really disliked.)

And on that note, I am going to get another cup of coffee and head into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in with you later.

Don’t Stop the Music

Ah, it’s marvelous having a dryer again. And it’s an upgrade from the last one, which actually cost more, so winning on chore fronts here in the Lost Apartment.

Which says a lot about how spoiled I am. My grandmother used to wash the clothes in an agitator on her back porch that she had to fill with hot water and had a ringer to crush excess water out of the clothes before hanging them on the line. IMAGINE how long that must have taken, and how long it took for the clothes to dry in the heat and humidity of an Alabama summer when it could also rain at any moment without notice. Modern conveniences are quite marvelous, really, and I don’t think we appreciate how much time they actually do save us. Granted, I could load all the laundry up in the back of the car and go to a laundromat and get it all finished in about two hours; but that’s two hours where I would have to sit in a laundromat and either read/ or stare at my phone…and it’s never really quite comfortable in a laundromat anywhere. Also, the one around the corner closed due to the pandemic so yeah, I’d have to get in the car and take it somewhere, and have coins and all that nonsense; although I suppose with all the marvelous modern technology that has sprung up since the last time I went to a laundromat (when the washing machine was broken and we were waiting for its replacement) would enable people to use electronic payments? I don’t know, and I’d prefer to never find out, quite frankly.

But you know something? Sitting at my desk doing data entry to the washing machine agitating and the dryer tumbling and heating was weirdly comforting; a return to my normal Friday routine of chores and day-job duties–almost like the world has been slightly tilted off its axis for a while and has finally settled back into the way it’s supposed to be around here. I also wound up having to run my errands after work yesterday, because I remembered (fortunately, thank you, Facebook) that today is the St. Patrick’s Day parade, which makes access to everywhere I would need to go nearly impossible or an enormous time-consuming pain in the ass. So I picked up the mail and made groceries after I finished work yesterday, and will see about washing the car on Sunday (and possibly a trip to the Fresh Market, since it’s right there). Saturday will be my day of not leaving the house, which is probably for the best–although I do need to take clothes to the dry cleaners. Hmmm. They aren’t open on Sunday. Hmmm. *adds dry cleaning to Saturday to-do list*

I had to disassemble the bottom shelf of the laundry room so they could remove the non-heating dryer and install our new one, and once I finished my work for the day I started putting the room back together again–I have framed covers of my books on the walls in there, and I had taken those down too. I started putting the covers up not remembering where they were originally and I thought well, who wants it to look the same again for the next ten years anyway and so I just started hanging them wherever. The same with the books. I had to put the shelf back and then the books; so I started reorganizing and pruning, and then started working my way through the upper shelves to make it at least look neat, if cluttered. The fun thing about doing this sort of thing is you start unearthing treasures–“oh, there that is!” and “Oh, I’d forgotten about you!” and “oh yes, I still want to write that story this was research for” and “Oh, yes, definitely want to reread that sometime” and “Oh, I am so far behind on her series!” that makes it kind of like an adventure and less like an odious chore.

Plus, making it all neater looking to the eye pleases my OCD, and I can fold my arms with a smug sense of satisfaction when I look at them. Now if only I can accomplish the same in the living room…

I slept really well last night, and even stayed up later than usual. Paul came home last night (!!!) and we watched the LSU-West Virginia gymnastics meet, which was way fun, and then this week’s The Mandalorian. I did wind up staying later than I would have preferred–not sure how that happened, to be honest–but I feel very rested and relaxed today, which means I think it will be a good and productive day. Paul has his trainer later this morning and then will head off to the office, so I have the day to myself to clean and write and read and do Gregalicious things. Once I finish this I am going to repair to my easy chair with my coffee and Cheryl Head’s Time’s Undoing, which I am looking forward to finishing–it’s sooooo good–and getting my act together. This week I am seeing my doctor about my toe (appointment on Thursday afternoon) and I need to make the ENT appointment as well as try to get my dentistry needs taken care of, and I should probably make an eye appointment, too. Maintenance becomes increasingly important the older you get, you know. The toe is much better–still hurts, but not throbbing –and of course, by the time I see the doctor, it’ll probably be all fine and he’ll think I’m completely insane, not that he doesn’t already.

Most people do, at any rate.

But the new dryer just beeped which means the last load from yesterday has finished drying, and I am going to go fold some clothes, perhaps put some dishes away (there’s a load in the dishwasher, too, clean) and then read while I swill the rest of my morning coffee. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I may check in with you again later.

S. O. S.

Work at home Friday and waiting on my dryer to be delivered and installed, which is quite lovely and exciting. Huzzah! I am probably going to be getting caught up on laundry all day once it arrives. There’s something zen about folding clothes, seriously. I do have to move some things around, but I have some time yet to enjoy my coffee and type this before they get here. I am really excited about my new dryer–but the one I am really looking forward to is the new refrigerator. The window period is 8:45 to 10:45, and if I remember correctly, once they are here they’ll be in and out in twenty minutes, tops.

It is sad how forward I am looking to doing some laundry.

I was tired again yesterday when I got off work, which is really par for the course this week. My body had that “relaxed-you-should-still-be-in-bed” feeling all day, and it was also a slower day without as many clients. The day just seemed to drag on endlessly, and then I came home to terrible exhaustion. I did start watching a documentary about Caril Fugate, The Twelfth Victim, which is interesting and i am looking forward to watching the rest. (I also love how one of the examples of the ‘simpler times’ which ended with whatever horrific true crime the show is about, they will always, always say “why, people never bothered to lock their doors!”) Was Caril a hostage or a participant? She was barely fourteen, and Starkweather was about four or five years older than she was; is it so hard to believe that she wasn’t a co-conspirator? But I need to watch the rest of the documentary to get a better idea of the facts of the case.

I am awake much earlier than I wanted to be; I had set the alarm for seven but woke up around five thirty, as usual, and finally gave up and got up around six thirty. I’ve cleaned off the bottom shelf in the laundry room and will probably need to take the shelf down entirely. I have to go outside and make sure the dryer will fit along the narrow footpath alongside the house and move things (garbage bins, planters) that might wind up being in the way. I may even have to roll the bins all the way back here to our little courtyard. I feel rested and well and relaxed this morning; last night, I must confess, was a little rougher than others have been this week, but Paul came home last night before I went to bed so I got to spend some time with him, which is rare and lovely when it happens this time of year. I do feel a bit of mental fatigue though; my emotions are still all over the place and I am still not entirely sure how I am supposed to be feeling, and what normal is in this situation; but I’ve also never been normal my entire life so why am I worried about it now? But today I am hoping, as I said, to get some cleaning and organizing around the house done today around and after my work-at-home duties, of which there are quite a few. The lack of a dryer, which has absolutely nothing to do with whether the apartment can be cleaned up or not, has made me feel off about the entire apartment ever since it broke; unsettled somehow, if that makes any kind of bizarre sense. But am I simply blaming that unsettled feeling on the dryer, when it’s actually part of the post-funeral grief still surfacing every now and then? Heavy heaving sigh. But I am looking forward to getting a lot done this weekend. I want to get the car washed and of course, as always, I have to make groceries at some point and pick up the mail (probably tomorrow, along with washing the car). I also need to drop books off at the library sale tomorrow, so I’ll need to be packing up some books today as well.

I also want to finish reading Cheryl’s book, which is quite marvelous and I’ve been itching to get back at it, irritated at being so tired when I get home from work that I can’t focus on reading it. I’ll make some time for it after I finish working today, and maybe I can get it finished tomorrow morning with my coffee.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. I need to get some stuff picked up and put away and of course go move things off the narrow walkway alongside the house. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check back in with you later.

Umbrella

It’s funny, but the word umbrella is now forever linked to Tom Holland in my brain because of his brilliant lip sync of it.

I overslept this morning; I hit snooze when the alarm went off and the second time, I usually turn it off and get up. This morning I turned it off and fell asleep again. Fortunately, I woke up ten minutes later so no harm to my day, other than the off-balance feeling that comes from it not being the usual get up before dawn morning. (I easily could have slept another two hours, at least.) Tomorrow my work-at-home day will be built entirely around the delivery of the new dryer; they’re supposed to call me tonight to give me my “two-hour window” period for planning purposes. On the one hand, I kind of hope it’s early so I can get it out of the way and start catching up on laundry; on the other I kind of want it to be later so I don’t have to get up early yet again tomorrow. My coffee seems to be working, though; my brain is alert even if most of my body is still relaxed into sleep mode.

I made groceries yesterday on the way home from the office, and I broke down and bought some frozen Lean Cuisines to bring for lunch, as back-ups for when I don’t want to cook anything or things get out of whack the way they have been lately. Yesterday I brought a salad and by the time I got off work was so hungry I almost felt sick; naturally, by the time I shopped and got home and put everything away the hunger had gone away. I did empty the dishwasher and refill it to run another load; I still have some dishes in the sink and so hopefully tonight I will get the dishes caught up. I’m sure deliverymen have seen apartments in much worse shape than ours, but I still don’t want it to be disgusting when they bring the dryer tomorrow (really glad I cleaned out from behind the dryer when I had it moved; I should do that more than every seven to ten years, probably). Scooter of course wanted a warm lap and didn’t really give me much chance to get things done before the howling commenced, and he pretty much spent the entire evening in my lap. I know he’s missing Paul, who is hardly ever home in these weeks leading up to the Festivals, which is yet another reason I always commute between the hotel and the Lost Apartment over that weekend.

I turned in a story yesterday for an anthology that I am not entirely sure it’s right for, but I like the story and would love to see it finished and in print at some point. I also started pulling together another short story collection yesterday–just to see how much material I had and how much new material would be needed, and lo and behold, the collection currently sits at 72, 143 words without an introduction or conclusion; the sweet spot is always between 80 and 100k words. So, apparently not much more is needed; as little as two or as many as five to six stories, or one single novella. It’s going to be called This Town and Other Stories, and I also realized yesterday that, like Daphne du Maurier, the category of fiction where my short stories fall is macabre–a combination or cross between horror, suspense, and crime. (Maybe the title should be This Town and Other Macabre Tales?) It felt good to turn the story in–even if it’s wrong for the anthology–because I also had to edit and polish it before turning it in, and it felt good to be doing that kind of work again. I want to get a lot done this weekend–going to make lists for every day to keep me on track like I did last weekend–and will probably try to get any and all errands finished on Saturday so I can relax, sleep in, and just hang out around the house working and doing stuff on Sunday. I’m beginning to enjoy my weekends again, because while yes, I have a lot to do and a lot to get done, it’s nice to not feel stressed on my weekends with the sense of impending doom just out of sight–but visible out the corner of my eye. It’s nice to get relaxing sleep and rest for a change.

The toe is still painful but now I can walk without limping or wincing. I’m aware of it, and of course the longer the days goes and the more I walk on it the more it starts hurting–I made it till almost bedtime last night without limping–but I am seeing my doctor next week. If it is either psoriatic arthritis or gout, at least there’s treatment and medication options. I already take enough medication that I am hesitant to add more to the mix…but then again, I am over sixty and have never taken care of myself so I should be grateful that there are still treatment options.

Tonight after work I am going straight home. The mail can wait until tomorrow, and I don’t have any other errands that are necessary before Saturday, anyway. I hope to put away the dishes, do another load, and possibly even start doing some laundry. I know there are at least two loads of clothes that need doing (always a joy) and I can still use the dryer in the carriage house–and since the toe isn’t so bad, walking over there and climbing the steps to the second floor isn’t as bad as it was. I want to read more of Cheryl’s book so I can write about it here (as well as start preparing for the panel I am moderating), and I need to get back to writing and editing and all of that fun stuff.

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

Respectable

I don’t think I have ever been a respectable person, at least in terms of what the mores of American culture and society are currently and were in the past. Being born gay took care of that; coming out finished off any chance I may have ever had at being respectable to a vast swathe of my fellow Americans. Fortunately for me, at a certain point in my life I stopped caring what those people thought–I mean, tell me not to rub your nose in my sexuality and I’ll rub your entire fucking face in it, thank you very much–and while I do care about the opinions of those I genuinely consider friends…why would I care if you don’t matter to me? I have always been a pleaser–which was part of the gut reaction to having people ghost me when I was a kid, while harboring a secret I was certain would make everyone turn on me should they ever find out, so I worked even harder at pleasing people because I wanted to be liked. It’s also incredibly annoying to know this about yourself, and yet you constantly and consistently hear yourself agreeing to do things you don’t want to do because you want the person to like you or you don’t want to disappoint someone.

Although it is obvious people don’t mind disappointing you.

As though friendships should be transactional; or measured in terms of favors granted and help given. I try not to be transactional with my friends or writers I like; I promote authors whose books I enjoy and, if I do know them, I like. I generally won’t read books by people I’ve met that I’ve disliked because inevitably my personal antipathy inevitably bleeds over into the book. I know it shouldn’t; the work should stand on its own. Patricia Highsmith was a dreadful, horrible person, but the bitch could write and I love her books. I guess it helps that she’s dead? I’m sure if I had the misfortune of knowing or interacting with any number of writers I greatly admire that are now deceased I wouldn’t admire their work quite so much anymore; Highsmith was horrible, and apparently Daphne du Maurier wasn’t exactly a charmer, either.

But I am finding now that I am getting up in years I am not all that terribly concerned with pleasing people anymore. After all, as I said, if I say no to something and that means that person asking won’t like me, so be it. Sure, I want you to buy my books and I want you to like them enough to keep reading and buying more of them as they come out…but I don’t need you to like me, if that makes sense? Probably not. I would never be rude to a reader of mine, and I try not to be rude to potential readers…but sometimes I am just okay with some people not finding joy or pleasure or comfort in my work.

I was a reader long before I was a writer, although I started writing very young. I was thinking about this the other night–how my identity is so entrenched in being an author (or writer, whichever you prefer, although I think there is a distinct difference between the two–but I was a reader first; and I will always be a reader–I’ll keep reading long after I stop writing; I’ll read as long as my eyes work and even if they should cease to work there’s audiobooks so I never ever have to give up on reading. For me, as a lonely child who was very well aware he wasn’t normal or like other kids (boys or girls), books opened the world to me. I could escape my horrible reality into the wondrous world of a fictional universe where the characters were like my friends and the bad guys were my enemies but it was okay because they wouldn’t win in the end. When I talk about retiring with people who’ve already retired and they knowingly tell me with that nod of the head that I’m going to be bored…it’s all I can do not to laugh. I’m never bored when I am at home. There’s always another book to read, after all; my apartment is filled with books I’ve not yet read; I’ve slowly but steadily broken the hoarding impulse so when I finish a book I donate it to the library sale or give it away to a friend; I realized the other night that holding onto books you’ve already read is kind of like holding them hostage when they could be giving someone else the same (if not more) amount of joy and pleasure the book gave me–and inevitably, the ones I’d like to keep forever to reread at some point (or study the art and work that went into its creation), well, at some point it’ll be on sale for Kindle for ninety-nine cents and I can store lots of books in my iPad…more than I can store in my apartment for sure.

It grieves me when I get home from work and I can’t spend the hour or so decompressing from the day with a book–usually because there is stuff I need to do or I am too tired to focus. I picked up the mail yesterday on the way home–nothing of import, but a thank you card I sent to a friend was returned because the stamp had come off (stupid forever Star Wars stamps), and some more sympathy cards. I was doing quite well with sending my thank you’s in response, but kind of fell off and now things are getting lost in the “to be filed’ inbox. I guess I can spend some time looking for the cards I need to respond to while filing and getting organized. I slept really well last night–Scooter only woke me up once or twice with his howling–so I feel better than I have all week. The toe is still throbbing but the swelling has gone down (naturally, since I made an appointment to see my doctor next week; but I have a picture of what it looked like when swollen). We were also really busy in clinic yesterday, which was actually a good thing; it’s been a while since we saw that many people in one day, and today looks to be about the same, which again–it’s a good thing. I’m also managing to stay on top of my day job duties outside of seeing clients, which is also a good thing.

I’ve also started pulling together another short story collection; pulling the stories into a single document. I don’t have enough completed and/or published stories to fill out the book, I don’t think; but I have a significant amount and would only need to finish writing a few more to have a collection complete–or I could finish a novella to fill out the book. I did work on a short story last night for an anthology, but am not entirely sure it’s a good fit for them. I am going to read it one more time before sending it off to the editor (along with a it’s okay if you don’t want this because it’s a stretch for the call; let me know if it doesn’t work and I’ll send something else note); I was trying to finish another story that did work for the call but I just can’t get the fucking thing to come together for me, which is, of course, incredibly annoying. I also found a great title yesterday–“To Mourn a Mischief”, isn’t that a terrific title? I don’t have a story to go with it, of course–at least, not yet–but that’s a terrific crime story title, methinks; probably would need to be about kids or teenagers.

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

Can’t Stop the World

Monday morning has rolled around again and I am up before the sun rises yet again. Neither brain nor body wanted me to get up and heed the siren song of the alarm, but there was no escaping the inevitably of getting up and heading into the office yet again. Yesterday was a mixture of days; I got things done in the morning but after making groceries, I was oddly tired and physically exhausted. I did manage to read a few more chapters of Cheryl Head’s marvelous Time’s Undoing, which is very good and I’m enjoying it a lot, even as I wince at the past sections set in 1929, at its unerring and accurate depiction of the Jim Crow South. I honestly, as a Southern man, see no problem with reading about Southern history accurately; and certainly, seeing Jim Crow through the eyes of people of Color is a reminder than no matter how bad I may have thought things were, it still wasn’t a reality I would have had to either face or deal with, and it was so much worse than I can ever imagine it–and I have a very vivid imagination. Yesterday’s exhaustion was unexpected and out of nowhere, particularly coming in the wake of two pretty good days and a good morning as well. But grief is sneaky like that, is never linear, and can literally come from nowhere. There’s also the issues involved with my bout of long COVID from last summer and how my energy levels have never really recovered from that, either.

And don’t even get me started on the memory issues.

I am hopeful for a good week; I know I’ll eventually start experiencing being tired from exerting myself at work; it’s interesting that someone with shyness issues like me has wound up working as a counselor–but one-on-one and with a purpose to the conversation makes it much easier than having a conversation with someone I’ve just met at a party. Small talk is literally my Kryptonite, and of course, being socially awkward is my lifelong jam.

I did rewatch Mildred Pierce last night on TCM after Paul went to the office, and once again I marvel at what a terrific film it was–melodramatic and over-the-top, for sure, but the addition of the murder rescued the movie from not working. I need to reread the book–it’s been a hot minute–but the one thing I’ve never really gotten from either is a sense of who Veda is and why she is the way she is; spoiled and rotten and manipulative. In order for Cain to get his point across about Mildred and her own obsession with mothering, Veda turns out to be horrible and one-dimensional; everyone sees that Veda is horrible except Mildred–obsessed with being the perfect mother and giving Veda everything, it’s also a smothering, all-encompassing kind of love that most teens would rebel against and struggle to get away from. I remember about ten years ago I wanted to write Veda’s point of view; either a retelling of the story from her point of view or a sequel to the novel (no murder, remember?) which picks up with Veda some years later, having parlayed her singing and musical talents into a film career. That’s one of the things I love the most about Cain’s work, really; so much can be read into it, and so many great ideas can be inspired by rereading his work. I’ve not read the entire Cain canon–that “never want to run out of books to read by any author” thing I struggle with–but I’ve read quite a bit. Chlorine is really my first real attempt to write a noir; I cannot wait to get back to work on that. It’s already been delayed for far too long, and once i get through these contracted books, Chlorine is going to be my focus.

Finally, right? LOL. But I do eventually get around to the projects I talk about writing for years, don’t I? I talked about the Kansas book for well over a decade before #shedeservedit saw print.

I think today is going to be a good day. I feel rested this morning, and I slept really well. The toe is still twinging; I am beginning to suspect it really is gout. I went to WebMD (which I always tell my clients not to do) and the list of foods to avoid? Everything I eat, basically. So, I am going to have to bite the bullet, schedule an appointment with my doctor, and get on with things, you know? I don’t why I’ve dithered and dicked around about this for so long, either. Just another thing I didn’t want to have to deal with so I kept kicking the can down the street, which isn’t wise. Nothing ever fixes itself, you know; a lesson I keep having to relearn over and over again. I also need to schedule an appointment with the hearing specialist, a dentist, and make an eye appointment while I am at it. Yay. But I need to start and keep up with all this routine maintenance, especially if I want to start going back to the gym in April. I also need to start doing push-ups, crunches, and stretch every day too. Maybe I will climb back on that horse this evening when I get home from the office; stranger things have happened in the past and will probably continue into the future as well. The kitchen is a mess, too; I made dinner last night, so when I get home tonight I’ll have to clean the kitchen again and maybe even get the rest of the straightening up taken care of as well. I am definitely going to be taking books to the library sale this coming Saturday, and I also want to wash the car this weekend and vacuum it all out. I also want to spend some more time with Cheryl’s book this evening. So, so much to do and work on and get done. I also have to start preparing for moderating panels for the two Festivals coming up in a couple of weeks…yikes.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Hope you have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.

This Town

And here is it Sunday.

I woke up yesterday around eight, with the positive attitude I went to bed with on Friday night virtually intact. I felt very rested and ready to go, and it was lovely to come downstairs to a kitchen/office that was already very well organized and not needing a whole lot of additional work to look, you know, presentable, which was very lovely. I made myself coffee, posted yesterday morning’s blog, and then spent some time cleaning out my inbox and writing emails to send off on Monday morning (I do not send emails on the weekends; emails beget emails and the weekends are, at least in my case, about multi-tasking and getting things done as well as getting rested, and emails are always a stressor.) I was also quite pleased with the job I had done on the living room as well; it still needed some more work, but the Lost Apartment is starting to look…habitable again? I know, I know, stop that crazy talk already, right?

I also ordered our new dryer, which will be delivered and installed on work-at-home Friday, thus ending the dryer drama that’s been going on for well over a month or so; I think it started when I got home from Wetumpka? I don’t know, but I think that’s what happened–the load of clothes I took to Alabama that weekend wouldn’t dry, and that was that. I also realized that this past weekend was the first weekend this year I’ve had a chance to really relax. In January I was killing myself writing a manuscript, then I turned that in and went to the library events in Alabama that weekend, and then of course the Mom stuff started. I was actually in New Orleans last weekend, but I was still dealing with the initial shock and loss after the funeral that weekend. This was my first kind of free weekend this year. Yesterday morning I spent some time reading Cheryl Head’s new release (it’s very good, for the record), and then spent some time on my own work for a while. I also cleaned and organized and filed a lot, too. Today I have to make groceries, but am probably going to do that this morning after perhaps a second cup of coffee, primarily to get it out of the way more than anything else. I have a lengthy to-do list for today as well, and hope to get some decent reading time in, too. (Hilariously, I looked at the delivery window for the dryer and it’s 7 am till 9 pm–now that is a delivery window!)

I feel well rested this morning. I was dozing off in my easy chair last night around nine, and while it was still relatively early, decided you might as well go ahead and go to bed if you’re falling asleep rather than stay up just to stay up, and there was definitely some wisdom in that thought so I went up to bed around nine thirty. I think my body clock has sadly, and finally, shifted to being used to getting up early and going to bed before ten. This is not something I am thrilled about, I must add. But it’s life, one supposes, and must adjust accordingly. I must say I miss the days when I could sleep until noon. But those days are long in the past now, I am afraid. I like this make a to-do list for every day of the weekend thing I started this weekend; I made a list yesterday morning of the things I wanted to get done yesterday; I got most of them done, and so hence I made a similar list of the things I want to get done today, which will then extrapolate into the to-do list for the rest of the week. I’m getting organized again, people–and I think what I was actually feeling yesterday was the relief of feeling almost on top of everything again for the first time since 2020.

I also finally watched All That Jazz last night, at the suggestion of a friend, and I have to say I was a lot more impressed with the movie than I thought I would be. I wasn’t much into Bob Fosse when I was younger. It took me several viewings before I finally saw Cabaret for what it was–and I don’t think it was a coincidence that it took the 2016 election before I realized and recognized the movie’s message and came to appreciate it as the classic it actually is. (I also greatly enjoyed Fosse/Verdon when it aired.) Who knows? Maybe in my old age I am finally beginning to appreciate musicals? This morning I am going to enjoy my coffee for a bit, read for a little while and then make that grocery run to get it over and done with, then coming back home to put the food away and get cleaned up and take a shower and get back to work. I do have a load of laundry to wash here and then lug over to the carriage house to dry (the last time I will have to do this, huzzah). I also have a bit more organizing and filing that can be done (my computer files are an epic disaster area and probably always will be), and there’s always cleaning that can be done. I need to pack another box of donations for the library, and probably need to clean out some more beads to be donated, which I’ve been meaning to do since last Mardi Gras; as always, there’s always plenty of things that need to be done around here. I also framed some things that should be hung at some point, if only I knew where to put them. And if the weather’s nice next weekend, maybe I can do the windows? It’s been years since I’ve cleaned the windows, or so it seems.

And on that note, I am going to go read for a bit while elevating and icing my toe, which still aches a bit. I hit it accidentally yesterday when moving one of the trash bins alongside the house and holy Mother of God did that hurt like a motherfucker. I’m beginning to think it is gout. But one of the things I need to put on the list for this week is getting in touch with my doctor about the toe. Who knew gout was even still a thing? I assumed it was something we had renamed or something, but no, it’s still a thing, just not as common as it used to be. And apparently one of its triggers is emotional stress. Gee, wonder if I’ve had anything like that lately? Heavy heaving sigh. But I’d like to at least get this taken care of before Saints and Sinners, you know?

And on that note, I am repairing to my easy with Cheryl’s book and an icepack and the pillows needed to elevate said foot. Have a great Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.

You Can’t Walk In Your Sleep (If You Can’t Sleep)

Saturday!

The bad news is that the dryer’s issue wasn’t the thermal heating fuse, alas. I did manage to get the back off the dryer so I could replace said fuse, but even once I’d accomplished this feat, there was still no heat. So the problem is with the heating unit itself, and after pricing that, seeing how long it would take to get it in (assuming I could do it myself, but I watched a video and frankly, not comfortable with that)…I don’t think it’s worth me trying to accomplish. Realistically, we would need to call a technician/repairman whatever (minimum $200 just for showing up), and since the part also costs almost $200, it would only take another few hundred bucks or so more to get a new one. (Our dryer is 11 years old; dryers traditionally last on average, per Google, 7-10 years so we got more use out of this one than the last one.) Disposable society, remember? And if we get it from Costco, everything is included–delivery, installation, hauling away the old one–so….I guess we’re getting a new dryer at some point. Yay. We’ll also be getting a new refrigerator, too, at some point, probably after the Festivals are over. Hurray for new appliances.

Sigh.

But I’m proud of myself for at least trying to repair the dryer myself, and I am kind of proud that not only was I able to move the thing by myself but I was also able to take it all apart and put it all back together again without any issue or problem and it was much easier than I would have ever dreamed it would be. I suppose that comes from my longstanding feeling of not being particularly or especially masculine, so things like appliance repair and so forth seem like they’re out of my wheelhouse; primarily because I was always told I was clumsy and fumble-fingered and not dextrous at all, when the truth is I can pretty much do anything I want to do, if I put my mind to it and want to do it badly enough. (My mom was like that, too–she could literally do anything she decided to do. She decided to play golf, took some lessons and started winning golf tournaments. I was always terrible at golf, but like tennis–if I took lessons, wanted to do it badly enough, and put my mind to it, I’d probably be decent at it.) And now we have a definitive answer: yes, indeed, we need a new dryer. And I feel much better about spending the money because I tried to fix it and couldn’t because what needs doing was beyond my skill set comfort level. The heating coils and unit are too complicated for me, and they’re also too expensive to risk buying and then fucking them up–and I would be livid if I spent that money and fucked it up.

I think it’s also important to recognize one’s limitations and plan/live accordingly.

After failing to fix the dryer (but tried! I tried! I get credit for trying!), and sank into my easy chair to give Scooter a proper cushion to sleep on, I started the usual flipping through Youtube videos and began finding myself falling into a proper malaise and panic about any and everything and the usual spiral down into the pit of despair and I grabbed my spiraling brain with both hands (properly cleansed and sterilized first, of course) and said no you’re not going to do this snap out of it and get to work and I popped out of my chair and came into the kitchen and started. I filed, I created new files and put ones away; I put things that need priority attention this weekend into the nearest inbox; put books away and wiped down counters. I reorganized books in the laundry room and found places for things. I threw things away that were no longer of need, unless I need dusty things lying around, which I do not. I swept the living room and put things away and straightened up in there. I made a plan of action for today which I plan to stick to resolutely. And if I should start feeling lazy, or take a break that begins to turn into something longer and perhaps counter-productive, I plan to slap myself silly until I snap back out of it and dive back into, if not writing, then at least rereading and editing along as I go. I am way behind, way off schedule, and I can still get what I need and want to get done this year as long as I don’t allow distractions and other things draw my focus away from where it needs to be. I will still continue being kinder to myself than I have been most of my life–that horrible self-criticism default and dreadful little voice in my head seriously can go fuck themselves–because I don’t think I need to be so hard on myself to drive myself anymore. I am not the “loser” I was convinced that I was for so long. I don’t have to keep proving my worth and my value anymore. I may not be the best person that I can be–I can be a judgy bitch, without question or doubt–but I am competent and efficient and I work very hard and can produce good work.

I don’t need to prove anyone wrong anymore.

That was a lovely realization to come to, and I am glad that I had that lightbulb moment last night. I also know that I am probably still overly raw emotionally and in the midst of the inevitable mood swings that come in the wake of grief. I remember how it was after Paul was attacked, and after Katrina; there were good days and there were bad days, but the good days eventually began to outnumber the bad and things got better. And that’s how life works, isn’t it? (How profound.)

So, this morning I am going to drink coffee and after sending some emails, I will spend a couple of hours with Cheryl Head’s Time’s Undoing. After that I will get cleaned up thoroughly and get to work on my own work, which I will do (whilst cleaning around the writing and editing and revising) until five or six o’clock in the evening, at which time I will finish for the day and make Swedish meatballs for dinner. That sounds, to me at least, like a lovely plan. I hope you also have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later, or tomorrow; one never knows, does on?

Automatic

Friday and working at home. I slept in a bit–almost to eight–but of course, the primary problem of getting up at six four mornings per week has of course trained Scooter that he gets breakfast at six every day, so at six every morning if he hasn’t been fed he raises holy hell. For a sweet cuddlebug of a cat, he can certainly yowl quite loudly when he puts his mind to it. So I got up and fed him before going back to sleep for another hour or so. I feel rested this morning, which is quite lovely when you are heading into a weekend with lots and lots to do; it’s nice to not feel tired in such a situation. I am going to try to fix the dryer this morning before I start working–wish me luck–and of course, the Lost Apartment, as always on Friday, has become a disaster area over the course of the week. But the weekend dawns anew, and so maybe, just maybe, I can maybe even get sort of caught up on what I am behind on?

Perish the thought, perchance to dream.

I am also looking forward to digging into Cheryl Head’s Time’s Undoing, which looks fantastic and I’ve been itching to read since I first learned of it, and of course, Bobby Mathews’ Living the Gimmick, which I am also excited to dip into. So many good books on hand to get through, so little time. Heavy heaving sigh. And of course, if I fix the dryer and it actually works–I am very nervous about this, as one can probably imagine; but I am equipped with Youtube videos to help and I do think it’s kind of sad that I am so unskilled with tools and so forth. The three things I wish I could do over? I wish I had taken Auto Shop and Typing in high school, and I wish I’d learned how to build things with, you know, hammers and wrenches and so forth. I hate not being able to feel confident about doing simple repair work, like replacing a fuse in a dryer (which may not be the issue with the dryer, but this is the only thing I can potentially do myself without calling in a repairman, at which point it’s probably less expensive to simply replace it–which is disgusting. We’ve really become, over the course of my life, a disposable society where it’s easier and less expensive to simply replace something rather than get it repaired), but I am also looking at it this way: even if the fuse wasn’t the problem–and I do think that’s what it is–if I can successfully move the dryer out, disassemble the back, and replace the fuse, I am going to take that as a win even if that doesn’t fix the problem, because at least I tried before simply replacing it.

Today feels like it might be a good day. Grief isn’t linear, as I am constantly being reminded by those who have been through this already, and I also instinctively know that; I can remember other traumatic life events in the past being this way; one day or two is a good day, then you have a low, shitty day, and so it goes, on and on ad nauseum, ad infinitum. I also kind of feel like I can actually get something written after work tonight? I do have some errands I need to run at some point later today–which is always exhausting–but I think I can get away with staying in most of the weekend. I do want to wash the car and vacuum it out; I’ve put nearly three thousand miles on it in February, so there’s a lot of wrappers and trash and debris in the floorboards, plus dirt tracked in from rest stops and so forth. I want to be better about taking care of the car, if that makes sense? I am doing a great job with it as far as maintenance (the fact that newer cars don’t require as much regular maintenance as the old ones I am used to is an enormous help in that regard) is concerned, even having the tires rotated regularly. The car is dented and dinged up, and perhaps someday I will get those dents and dings repaired, but on the other that does not keep the car from functioning properly and therefore that’s not a priority for me. Maybe someday, but certainly not now.

Ugh, the kitchen/office is such a disaster area. I really need to do something about that…and that is probably the proper and best way to transition over into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll check in with you again tomorrow morning.

We Got the Beat

Thursday and my last day in the office this week. Woo-hoo?

I slept really well again last night and feel very rested. Yesterday was a good day; today feels kind of like it might be one, too. I suppose we shall simply have to wait and see how it all plays out, won’t we? But when I got home last night I felt pretty good. I picked up my copy of Cheryl Head’s Time’s Undoing, which I really want to spend some time with this weekend, since I’ve been looking forward to reading it once it was announced to be forthcoming. Cheryl’s a terrific writer and a wonderful person, and it has been a pleasure and joy watching her career take off since we first met all those years ago.

I didn’t get much done last night, nor did I even get to read much either; not sure what happened to last evening once I got home, to be honest. I know I worked on the dishes for awhile, but never finished. Scooter was, as always, feeling needy and screaming for attention, and once I get in the easy chair and he starts sleeping/purring in my lap, I’m a goner. I know I watched a lot of Youtube videos but I honestly can’t remember doing much of anything other than going down Internet wormholes on my iPad. Today I believe is a slow day at the office, which should help me get caught up on things I am behind on there, and of course tomorrow is my work-at-home day. Tomorrow morning I am going to try to replace the dryer fuse–I do remember debating about trying to do this last night and finally deciding not to try, because of the extreme frustration that would result from that not being the thing that is actually wrong with the dryer, plus it’s not going to be terribly easy to begin with; I have to pull the dryer out from where it is snugly place beside the washing machine in a very small laundry room; it has to come all the way out and be turned around so I can access the back of it (I am dreading seeing what it looks like behind and beneath the dryer), which is going to be an irritating pain in the ass.

And of course, there’s always the chance Scooter will go back there and won’t come out. Heavy heaving sigh. But I am looking forward to being in New Orleans this weekend, and I am starting to feel a lot better about everything. It still sneaks up on me now and then–when people offer condolences, it becomes problematic as I tend to choke up when talking about it with people face to face–but when I am on my own, I tend to be able to handle it without breaking down, if that makes sense? It’s when I talk about it with kind people that it overwhelms me; I know they are trying to be a comfort and it’s coming from a very good place…but it’s rough. Everything’s rough, really, and I’m still trying to figure out everything and processing it all. I am definitely not over it yet, acceptance is beginning, but it still sneaks up on me from time to time.

Sorry to be so dull and keep going on about it. It is what it is, after all, and no amount of moping or sadness is going to change anything. I do think I need to spend some time writing about my mom, though; writing always helps, and fictionalizing things is always the best way for me to handle things that happen to me. Writing my essay “I Haven’t Stopped Dancing Yet” and Murder in the Rue Chartres was enormously helpful to my healing process in the years after Hurricane Katrina; even last night as I was thinking about the Title IX issue in my old school district in Kansas (which I am becoming more and more obsessed by) and thought, you could write a book about this, and from the perspective of a queer adult from that school district who goes down a rabbit hole after his mother dies and…

Kind of pulled back a bit from that one as it developed, but it’s not a terrible idea.

And I already have so much else to write on the agenda. I’ve got to get these two manuscripts revised, I need to move on to Chlorine and the other one I have in progress, and of course I wanted to get all those novellas finished this year and I don’t think that is going to happen unless I get out of this malaise and affix my nose to the grindstone again. And there are short stories I need to get written.

Okay, on that note I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.