Category: health

Alone Again (Naturally)

Monday morning and up too early for PT before work. Heavy sigh. My body aches this morning–my back is especially tight–which means today will be exhausting. It’s a paperwork/admin day anyway–unless I have to cover for someone–and it’s also terribly cold this morning: 41 degrees, to be exact. I collapsed into bed last night somewhere around nine, and was dead to the world in a matter of minutes. It was a good night’s sleep, but I really need to sleep late sometime soon–probably not till this weekend, alas.

I did listen to River Road by Carol Goodman in the car both ways instead of The Drowning Tree, and as always, loved every minute of it. I still had some time left to listen to something, but only had a short time left, so I went ahead and started an Amazon Short by Zakiya Dalila Harris, “His Happy Place”, which was decidedly creepy but also extremely well done. More on both to come, of course, once I’ve gotten back into (what passes for) a normal routine around here. This will probably be a rough, tiring week, but I hope to manage. This weekend I am going to drop off beads and books for donations, and will also hopefully keep working on the apartment.

The coffee is starting to work, which is nice. My brain and body are starting to wake up, which is great. I’m also a bit hungry, so will probably make something to eat before I leave. I have dry noodles at the office to have for lunch, and will take some breakfast snacky things with me. Tomorrow I know we are going to be super-busy in the clinic, which will make for a rough day as well. Fortunately, I enjoy my job! But this weekend will be the hard reset I need, and I just have to make it through this week, which seems to be stretching out far into the distance and is a bit overwhelming to contemplate. I also need to make a grocery list, and today I have to run some errands after I get off work. Tomorrow I’ll make groceries after work, and hopefully I’ll start feeling more settled in. Sparky was a bit stand-offish when I got home yesterday–just mewed at me reproachfully for a while, but after a few hours he forgave me and was very affectionate, obviously having missed me while I was gone. I do kind of feel like our earlier cats were more Paul’s than mine, but Sparky is kind of mine. Of course, I was chair bound for almost three weeks, so he had a place to cuddle and sleep and hang out all day, and now of course no one’s home with him all day. Once the Festivals are over, he’ll be home more and then he and Sparky can bond some more.

So really, my return to normality after Carnival has been pushed back on the calendar because of the trip over the weekend. My word, how my imagination was out of control while driving and staying in Alabama. I remembered stories and ideas I’d forgotten about as well as having more ideas (just what I need, right?) and I also figured out how to finish off my short story collection. I am hoping to get some more stories finished this week and get off to submissions while working and planning my next book. I also have a shit ton of unfinished drafts here I’d like to get done at some point so I can clear out the drafts folder.

I also took a lot of pictures this weekend, to help me describe places when I write about Alabama some more. I also realized that fictionalizing the place where I was born means it doesn’t have to be exactly the same in my work than it is in real life, you know? But that’s also my own stubborn brain trying to make everything correct when it doesn’t have to be, which happens a lot. It’s not like New Orleans, which appears as it is in my work. Corinth County is based on where we’re from, but it’s not the same. I had an idea for something completely new on my way up there; there was an In Cold Blood-kind of slaying there in the late 1960’s; a couple who ran a corner store were brutally killed and robbed, and so when I got home I started looking for information about it on-line (I’ve done this before, but not for a potential writing project; more out of idle curiosity when I was writing Bury Me in Shadows) and interestingly enough, there have been any number of crimes down there over the last forty or so decades; in fact, in one article about another murder I read a quote from someone at a café in town that the county “seems to be cursed”–which I must have read before because that has always been the underlying theme of the fictional county; it’s even in Bury Me in Shadows with people saying “the history of this county is written in blood.” Anyway, I would be interested in writing about that 1967 shooting–either fictionally or as true-crime.

And on that note, I need to get ready for PT and then heading straight to work from there. Have a lovely Monday; I may be back later as one never truly knows.

Country Roads (Take Me Home)

I’ll be driving back to New Orleans in a little bit, and I am exhausted. I went to bed last night ridiculously early–so early that I don’t want to admit to it publicly. I was very tired when I got here Friday afternoon. I made very good time despite some highway construction stupidity in Mississippi (which is always) but for the most part it was a nice drive and I got up here relatively easily. I stopped to get gas and eat in Toomsuba, which I’ve not done in a long time, and as I feared, once I slowed down and sat down to eat lunch, fatigue set in. I did have PT yesterday morning and left afterwards (and a few errands for good measure) and so, like always, was worn out by the time I got here.

It’s also cold here, which is hard for me to get used to as I haven’t been here during the winter very often in my life, so I always think of home as being hot and humid and muggy and miserable (going to Murder in the Magic City and Murder on the Menu doesn’t count because that doesn’t involve my kin in any way). It was bitterly cold here today as we drove around with Dad showing me places from his and my childhood. We went down to the bottoms of the Sipsey River on what used to be my grandfather’s land, which I hadn’t been to since I was a kid, and the river was really high and rushing quickly because of all the rain. (It rained really hard on Friday night). I actually slept well–which should be an indication of how tired I was, as sleeping in a hotel isn’t usually easy for me. Maybe the new drugs have helped in that regard too? I was very calm as I drove and didn’t feel the pressure of the ticking clock or the need to get there as fast as I could and feeling frustrated and irritated by any delays en route. I do not miss my anxiety in the least.

But, oh the memories that came back to me as we drove past my grandmother’s house (now crumbling and in disrepair) which was an indelible part of my childhood. My grandfather’s house, where my dad was born and raised, is also gone. I was also getting all kinds of ideas, as I always do when I come to or through this part of the state, and started really getting into this idea of a sequel to Bury Me in Shadows, only with Beau Hackworth was the main character. I really do want to write more about Alabama, and several other ideas of stories that are either in progress or exist in a very rough draft. It even occurred to me that I could do an entire collection of short stories set in Alabama. I have already published a couple of them, and I have enough ideas for another collection just for those alone–but I suppose I should finish my next one first before I think about another one, right?

This place will always have a hold on me, and it does worry me a bit that once Dad goes, my last connection to the county and my childhood summers here. And yes, I am aware that I am looking back through the nostalgic rose-colored glasses of sentiment. But summers here–how to describe them? Hot and humid, dragonflies and dirt daubers and five o’clocks, fried baloney sandwiches and buttermilk, sweat tea and cobblers, mosquitoes and watermelon and fresh blackberries from the woods, trips to town to the Piggly Wiggly and the library, long rows of cotton and corn and watermelon vines, red dust and orange clay roads, heat shimmering up from blacktop roads and how everything was so still in the lazy heat of the mid-afternoon, ghost stories and Civil War legends and lost treasure.

I miss my mom. It’s hard to wrap my mind around the idea that she’s buried here, that her remains are there under the ground between the big HERREN headstone and the foot-stone with her name and the dates underneath. It was such a cruel twist of fate for her to go on Valentine’s Day, which was also the anniversary of their first date sixty-six years ago. But in this time since she died I’ve also spent a lot more time with Dad and have gotten closer to him, which is really nice. I’ve also spent more time with the rest of the family, too, which is even nicer.

I know I’ll be exhausted tomorrow and I am starting the day with PT, so I will be really tired when I get home tomorrow night. I guarantee when the weekend rolls around again, I am sleeping as late as I feel like on Saturday, period.

Well, I didn’t get to post this before Dad called my room to get me to come downstairs for breakfast, after which I helped him load up his truck, I loaded my car, and we said our goodbyes and I headed for New Orleans while he made a detour on his way to Kentucky to say goodbye to Mom again.

The drive back to New Orleans was easy, little traffic, and I made it in slightly under four and a half hours, which is excellent time. I was exhausted once I got home, and then Paul and I got caught up on Abbott Elementary, we watched an unsettling documentary (but really, aren’t they all?) and then I started watching Alexander. Paul went upstairs to work, and so I did some chores and then remembered I never posted this. Not really sure what I’ll write about tomorrow morning, if anything at all. It’s going to be a long, tiring day.

And on that note, I am going to go sit in my chair and finish watching Alexander on Netflix. Maybe I can talk about that tomorrow? Have a lovely evening.

Reunited

I am off to Alabama later this morning. I have PT in a bit, some errands to run, and then home to get cleaned up and hit the road. Carol Goodman’s The Drowning Tree is cued up on Audible. It should be a nice day for a drive, but it’s going to be cold in Alabama. I’ve not taken a nice drive in almost four months, and it’s always good for firing up the creative synapses and loosening the bindings on my imagination. The worst part of the drive for me is always getting out of New Orleans through the East and I am not a fan of the twin spans to the north shore or getting through Slidell. But once you get on I-55 North, it becomes a very relaxing drive through rural Mississippi. Not much traffic other than around the bigger cities (Hattiesburg, Meridian, Laurel) and then you’re in Alabama. Alabama is also beautiful, and of course it always always always makes my mind wander back to my childhood and stories of the county, histories and legends and gossip and tall tales of a time so different it may as well be an another planet.

I submitted a story yesterday, which felt like progress back into my career again. I finished editing it last night and sent it off without a second thought, logged it into my spreadsheet (which didn’t include my last sale, so I included it as well) and started working on my swamp ghost story again. I made some necessary changes (correcting the wrong geography by using a map) and moved on a bit. I am very pleased with the story, but it’s already very very long so there will be some necessary cuts and revisions in future drafts–but again, it felt good to be writing fiction again. I’ve also been getting things written in my journal–lists of things to get for the apartment as well as what stories to write and submit where; what books I want to work and finish this year and when I’m going to write them. It feels good, frankly, to be creative again.

Paul didn’t make it home last night before I went to bed, which was a pity, but I’ll see him before I leave today; he should be up by then I would hope.

I did watch this week’s episode of Feud last night. The performances are amazing, the show’s production values (particularly in set and costume design), but it’s also not a lot of fun to watch someone on a downward self-destructive trajectory, either, particularly when they’re as talented as Capote was. That seemed to be a lot more common place with writers back in the day–they all seemed to have substance abuse problems, but I suppose if you had to type everything…it would eventually drive you to drink.

I also slept really well last night, too. Sparky woke me up by clobbering me in the face this morning, claws out, so I now have a scratch on my nose and another on my cheek. Perfect timing, right? Heavy heaving sigh. I also have some scratches on my shoulders and chest, from him riding on my shoulders. We really do need to learn how to trim his nails. I also caught him last night trying to get on top of the refrigerator again. He really is a mischievous child. Sigh.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. I have to leave for PT in a moment, and I need to start getting everything together for the trip. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and bear with me–I may not be back until Monday.

Bad Girls

Thursday morning and I could have slept later for sure, LOL. But I did sleep well, which was nice despite being so rudely interrupted by my alarm. I have to get up early again tomorrow for PT before I drive to Alabama, but now I can listen to The Drowning Tree by Carol Goodman in the car (I started it when I drove to Florida last fall, but the drive was too short for me to finish, sadly), so hurray! And it’s better than driving to Kentucky, which I will be doing later this spring probably (unless airfares dramatically drop by then, which I rather doubt).

Yesterday was a weird day, obviously. I wasn’t feeling like myself yesterday. I didn’t sleep as deeply Tuesday night as I would have liked, and of course, it was probably sublimated grief. I managed to get my work done at the office, saw all my appointments and made groceries on the way home. The store was crowded, of course, because men were there buying flowers and chocolates and things for their significant others, which always makes me snicker to myself. I have a lot of thoughts about Valentine’s Day, most of them negative, but it’s going to always be the anniversary of Mom’s death from now on, and probably best to not talk about the so-called holiday going forward. The day will probably always be melancholy and sad going forward, and I really need to let go of the “stiff upper lip” thing and grieve. I have sublimated a lot of it by worrying about Dad, which I don’t think is all that healthy for me. Something else to work on for this year, I guess.

I was pretty tired when I got home, and so didn’t do a whole lot of anything. I had intended to empty the dishwasher and finish the laundry (it just needs to be folded and put away) but once I sat down, there was no getting back up again other than for necessities. Sparky is a bad influence, of course; all he wants from me when I get home is attention and it’s so easy to give in to quality time with my cat. He’s getting bigger and bigger every day, and getting smarter, too. Remember how I thought he turned the washing machine on by accident? Not an accident. If the washing machine lid is up, he’ll turn it on to watch it fill up with water, and stands on the dryer watching. So, not an accident, but deliberate. He’s also learned how to open the freezer, so I had to blockade the top of the refrigerator so he can’t climb or jump up there from the counter, which explains all those times I’ve found the freezer slightly open and not sealed and just thought need to be better about closing that.

Nope, it’s just Sparky. He is so lucky he’s adorable.

I also woke up this morning to yet another scandal about the Hugo Awards lighting up social media, making me glad my creativity doesn’t loan itself to the writing of science fiction. We do have our blow-ups in the crime fiction community (see Bouchercon 2024), but at least it’s never about the awards. Probably be more on that later–I’ve been itching to write about the Bouchercon 2024 kerfuffle and some other things going on in my corner of publishing, but it’s something that needs a gentle, delicate touch and probably needs to be more of an essay written off-line than an off-the-top of my head blog entry.

We finished season two of Abbott Elementary and started season three last night, which means we’ll be looking for something else to watch. I am intrigued by The New Look, which seems to be bent on portraying Coco Chanel as a resistance heroine, while ignoring her closeness to the Nazi occupation leaders during the actual war. It’s never been proven she was a collaborator, but it definitely tarnished her reputation a bit, and glossing over it doesn’t seem to be the right answer. I could be wrong, but I’ve never cared enough about clothes and fashion or Chanel to bother to read up on it and “do my own research”, as they say all over social media.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and head into the spice mines. Have a great Thurday, Constant Reader, and I’ll chat at you probably later on.

I Will Survive

Mom died a year ago today.

Sigh.

I didn’t sleep well last night, for the first time since getting the new night meds, and as I sit here blearily this morning drinking my coffee it occurs to me that anticipation of this day probably had a lot to do with it.

Yesterday was a nice day. I slept super-well and even a bit late, came downstairs, posted three blog entries throughout the day, and managed to get a lot done. I got some laundry done, cleaned out the sink and ran a load in the dishwasher, straightened up around my desk some, did some filing and organizing, worked on cleaning up computer files, and so came downstairs to a relatively clean kitchen. Huzzah! I also started making lists of things I need to write this year as well as the things I need to write this year. I am also trying to sort my short stories predicated on submission calls I’d like to send work to and establish some kind of timeline (just the remotest suggestion of one, knowing mood and energy levels will affect that and I won’t make all of them) for getting them done and keeping myself on track. I also want to finish this y/a novel that’s been languishing in the files for quite some time, and I even started thinking about Scotty X, Hurricane Party Hustle1 , which was kind of nice, too.

In other words, yesterday was one of the best days I’ve had since the surgery, and today will probably not be one of my better ones. I don’t feel grief-stricken or anything, but it’s still difficult. I’m glad I am meeting Dad in Alabama this weekend2. I feel good now that the caffeine is percolating through my veins and my body is responding to it. I don’t feel fatigued, but then again it’s also still early in the morning and I haven’t yet had the inevitable caffeine crash that will come this afternoon. I do have to make groceries again today (it really never ends), but I think after that I can just go straight home, which is great. Any other errands can wait until after PT on Friday, before I head up north to Alabama. I know I’ll be sad once I am around Dad, and it’ll be hard saying goodbye on Sunday and heading back south, but that is a lot easier than having to live in her house.

And really, I had my mother for sixty-one years. Thank God they started young, right?

We also watched The Last Voyage of the Demeter yesterday afternoon, and it was very entertaining, although it’s very hard to maintain suspense once you know it’s based on the captain’s log entries from Dracula, and the movie opens with the ship wrecked on the shore with no survivors. SPOILER. right? But it was a clever idea–I’m always a fan of expanding the mythology from books that weren’t addressed fully in the book, especially for movies and television (like Castle Rock and Chapelthwaite built out from the Stephen King universe), because I think it’s cool, it doesn’t take away from my enjoyment of the originals, and I’ve done some homage work myself (Timothy).

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day!

  1. I’m not sure of this wisdom of this title, honestly. It was supposed to be the fourth Scotty, and I had sent the proposal to my editor the week before Katrina. Certainly, there’s a lot of superstition involved in that kind of thinking, but at the same time I feel kind of squeamish and may come up with something else. ↩︎
  2. I was thinking about my next Alabama book, too. ↩︎

Le Freak

Happy Mardi Gras!

I woke up to a very cold apartment. The temperature dropped overnight and so, this morning I switched the HVAC from “cool” to “heat” and will wait to shower and so forth until the apartment is warm and toasty. I slept late again today–something I’ve done every say since Friday–but it felt good and every day I’ve felt rested and relaxed. PT was brutal yesterday and so when it was time for Proteus and Orpheus…the combination of exhaustion/fatigue along with the falling temperatures kept me very much inside. The good news is I am doing so well in PT that next week I am graduating to one PT session and one session at my gym on my own–I am trusted and recovered enough to try light weights for the arm and shoulder. This is nice, actually, and the transition from going to PT twice a week to going to the gym twice a week, gradually adding a third day, is going to be awesome. For me, it’s still going to be about fatigue and exhaustion until my stamina returns. And the only way for stamina to return fully is to…well, keep pushing myself, and isn’t that what exercises are about in the first place? It’s going to be a long and tough road, I reckon, but putting it off will only make it harder. And in all honesty, I actually enjoy going to PT. I love the endorphin rush, I love how I feel…it’s just been a while since I’ve felt exercise fatigue. and need to get used to it again.

I also made groceries last night after PT (and picked up the mail) and totally stocked up in a way I haven’t in a while; or it was just the most I’ve spent at the grocery store since my surgery. I also had the gods of Carnival parking looking out for me, as a spot in front of the house was open when I got back. On Orpheus Monday. That’s three times now that the parking gods have blessed me with ease. Paul apparently finished off our last king cake last night (I didn’t buy another, as you aren’t supposed to eat them on or after Ash Wednesday, so it would have had to be completely eaten today, and that’s a nope), which is great. I’ve maintained the weight loss from the surgery so far–my weight now fluctuates between 203 and 208, whereas before it was between 216-220; I’ll take it, thank you very much, and now that the Carnival “excuse” is over, I can’t really justify eating sweets and chips and things except as an occasional treat. I’ve been living on turkey sandwiches now for several weeks, for the most part. And if I start taking walks every night around the neighborhood (or on the nights where I don’t have to run errands), that will also help me sleep better (although that’s not been an issue since my new meds; apparently I slept soundly through a horrific overnight storm, which included hail in some places and flooding rains, on Sunday night). 2024 is my get healthy year, and by that I mean both mentally and physically.

Once I experienced the endorphin crash yesterday I was pretty much down for the day. I did do some cleaning and organizing, but then I crashed into my chair and pretty much stayed there for the rest of the day. I pretty much wasted most of the day, in all honesty, because I was definitely fatigued. I also got a book I’d bought from eBay that I had always wanted to read but never did, and thought of it recently for some reason I cannot recall right now: The Little Wax Doll by Norah Lofts. Ms. Lofts is very much forgotten today and never talked about much, but she was a terrific British mid-century writer who wrote historical novels, occasionally wrote about the romantic lives of royal women (some of her subjects included Eleanor of Aquitaine, Hortense de Beauharnais, Katherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, and Isabella of Castile, to name a few) and she also wrote modern stories, usually some sort of suspense novel. The Little Wax Doll is horror/suspense, and it’s kind of irritating that I’ve never read it. I picked it up and read a chapter, was sucked in, and read another few before putting it down. I loved her short story collection of ghost stories (Hauntings: Is There Anybody There?), and look forward to reading this book and talking about Lofts more.

Zulu is passing; one of the fun things about waking up on Fat Tuesday is hearing a parade passing at the corner. When I woke up there was a Whitney Houston remix playing, now I can hear a marching band. I’m kind of glad it’s cold today, because I won’t wax sentimental about staying in on Mardi Gras. It’s not like I wouldn’t collapse with exhaustion by the time we walked to Canal Street anyway.

We also watched some more Abbott Elementary last night, and I have to say I love this show. Everyone in the cast is fantastic and the kids are adorable for the most part. And it’s clever, character driven, and funny as hell.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. It’s still a bit cold in there, so the shower will definitely have to wait, but I can get some other things done in the meantime. Have a lovely Tuesday, everyone, and I may be back later.

Da Ya Think I’m Sexy

Lundi Gras, aka Orpheus Monday, and I have taken the day off from work. I have to make groceries and lay in supplies since we’ll be trapped in the neighborhood except for a brief six or seven hour window after Orpheus and before Zulu tomorrow morning. I am up early because of PT at ten this morning, and here’s hoping I can get this done before it’s time for me to fly. It looks like a lovely day out there already, which means a hopefully lovely night for parades. Orpheus is my favorite night parade, mainly because I love Ole Smokey, the Orpheus train float, which is gorgeous. Orpheus also throws a shit ton. I did very well at Iris on Saturday morning, and while my endurance was sapped, I am glad I started going to parades again this year after missing last year. My moods this year are all over the place, since this is when Mom was in hospice last year. The anxiety medication works, of course, but even it isn’t strong enough to conquer grief, I guess.

I worked on the house yesterday a bit but my mind was too fatigued to read, which was a real bummer. I want to write this afternoon after I get home; time really slips through your fingers the older you get. I do need to work on the house some more today as well. We also streamed more of Abbott Elementary, keeping track of the Super Bowl on my phone. I did watch the boring first half, so gladly changed the channel when Paul came downstairs to take a break from working. Ironically, the second half turned out to be a lot more exciting, with the Chiefs winning in overtime 25-22. That sound we all heard last night was MAGA heads exploding. They are still exploding this morning–especially the MAGA christians (lower c deliberate, not a typo)–who’ve decided that the only Black woman in the Kelce suite (Ice Spice), who was wearing an upside down cross, is a Satanist because of it. The horrors! Satanism!

I’m sure it has nothing to do with her being Black. Might as well include a side of racism, right?

Fucking idiots. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. Have fun in hell, apostates. I do love calling them on their sanctimony with a Bible verse. 1 Timothy 2:12 is my favorite when they’re women…

But then again, we’ve known they were dangerously stupid morons since 2015, and every day is a new lesson in their dangerous stupidity.

Heavy sigh.

I did do some good scribbling in my cool new journal yesterday as well. It’s always lovely when you’re starting a new journal, with all those fresh and clean pages to fill in, and there’s always a bit of sadness when I finish the old one. This last one was red, and one of the things I need to do either today or tomorrow is transcribe any notes on any story or book or essay that’s written in there that I haven’t already. I think I’ve managed somehow to get everything from the early part of the journal done, but you never know. If I don’t transcribe them, I need to at least put sticky notes on important pages so they are easier for me to find.

My memory continues to suck royally, but the lack of anxiety about it is nice (thank you, new medications!). I’m still trying to adapt to this new world for me; and of course I worry that my lack of anxiety is going to be a problem with motivating myself to write. I don’t think I’ve actually finished anything since the change in meds, but that was also correlated to my surgery and the recovery and the loss of stamina/endurance….which has me wondering how long I’ll be able to last at Orpheus, especially since I’ll be exhausted from PT this morning. I just checked the weather and it’s going to be windy and chilly tonight, in the low 50s, which is also unappealing.

Sigh.

Ah, well. It is what it is, I guess. So I am going to put on my PT clothes, finish my grocery list, and get a little more cleaned up before leaving for my appointment at PhysioFit. I will probably be back later. One never knows.

Hot Stuff

Sunday morning and everything aches. I went out to Iris yesterday by myself (see previous post) and had a lovely time. It was indeed a gorgeous day and a wonderful reminder of how much I love everything about Carnival–and why I put up with the challenges of living inside the box; because once you are safely home and have parked your car, the convenience of the parades being only a half-block away simply cannot be beat. I got a lovely haul of beads, caught numerous plushies and cups and various other toys–including a super-hero Iris cape–which I gave to the children who were near where I was standing. I also gave away a lot of beads. Despite my gradual exhaustion that came on slowly, it was marvelous and despite having to spend the rest of the day in my easy chair (and still feeling the muscle fatigue this morning) I do not regret going out there, just as I will not regret going out there for Orpheus tomorrow.

I guess the Super Bowl is tonight and I also suppose we may end up watching. I don’t really care about either team that much, honestly; I lived in Kansas so I have a connection to the Chiefs, and I also lived in California and San Francisco is the motherland of my people. Of course, I’ll wind up rooting for Taylor’s boyfriend because it is fun watching the MAGAts lose their minds over this. I also love that “liberals” have now ruined football for them. They can’t root for Taylor’s boyfriend so they’ll root for the queer homeland and Nancy Pelosi’s team?

Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha! Eat shit and die, MAGAts. You don’t own football, either.

Paul stayed up late Friday night working and so he was asleep until shortly after I came in from the parades to find a toy for Sparky on our doorknob from the neighbor ladies; it’s one of those serpentine tunnels for cats, and Sparky loves his already. I think I’m going to get him some more toys once i get the house back into some semblance of order. I am going to try to work on that today and work on some writing as well; I also want to spend some time reading Lina Chern’s book, which I’ll probably do after I finish this post. It’s quite good actually, despite my taking so long to read it–which definitely should not be seen as a criticism of the book, which will get its own entry at some point. Once he got up we watched My Best Friend’s Exorcism on Prime. It’s based on the Grady Hendrix novel, and I do need to read his work. (I really loved Paperbacks from Hell, which was his first book, about the horror boom of the 1970’s thru the early 1990’s.) He’s also openly gay, and the movie is terrific. It’s set in the 1980’s, and while I was a teenager in the 1970’s I was only in my twenties during the 1980’s, so all of it–cultural references, clothes, the music–was also pleasant nostalgia for me. (The 1980’s was a difficult time for me, but I really need to confront that decade and my memories and move past them at some point.)

I then showed Paul the pilot for Abbott Elementary, and we then binged the entire first season and well into the second before it was time for me to call it a night. This show is amazing, and I had always meant for us to get around to it. I’m glad we finally are watching, because the cast is fantastic; the writing is sharp, crisp and funny; and the characters are fun and interesting. Highly recommended, and looking forward to getting back into it before watching the Super Bowl (or not. I can certainly follow the game on social media).

And on that note, I am bringing this to a close. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I’ll catch you again later.

Dancing with Myself

We interrupt your regular Gregalicious morning blog post, but your host would like to pull a title out of the air and sermonize on why he loves parade season–especially after bitching about it for the last month or so endlessly.

It’s gloomy out there this morning, and I believe there’s rain in the forecast for later today. I saw some posts yesterday on social media about contingency plans for Bacchus tonight, let me check. Okay, pleasant temps all day, rain for the next hour, and then rain again tonight around ten…when Bacchus would still be rolling. Let me check my parade app. Hmm, they show Bacchus rolling at the usual time, post Thoth. I am not going out there today–yesterday’s Iris excursion, while absolutely delightful, exhausted me to the point where I rested in my chair for the rest of the day, fatigued and aching. My stamina is down, of course, and the PT is tough and exhausting. I have PT again tomorrow morning, so I am resting today because tomorrow night is the last of my favorite parades: Orpheus. After which I will spend Fat Tuesday resting and recovering and healing from the one-two punch of parade and PT. Laissez le bon temps rouler!

Yesterday was yet another reminder of why I love Carnival, why I love parade season, and why it never gets old (though I have). It was stunningly beautiful out there at the corner, and even though I was out by myself–which almost tempted me to not go–I wasn’t really by myself. It was in the low seventies with a low cool breeze, which was lovely. I wound up being absorbed into a group of friendly young people by proximity and throw catching, and I had a lovely time. At first I primarily people-watched, and then as dance groups and marching bands started passing, I started dancing by myself…and I realized that was the cool thing about Carnival. You can dance by yourself. You can put on a costume that might reveal another layer of your true self that you usually hide from others, or one that you wear to make everyone else smile and to be fun and silly and goofy. There’s no judgement during Carnival–or there shouldn’t be, anyway–and where else in the country can you drink (I didn’t) and get a nice buzz and dance in the streets by yourself…but you’re never really by yourself because everyone else is dancing and there are no strangers during Carnival.

My first beads caught at Iris were definitely a good augury of the parade. I caught the krewe’s signature medallion beads!

My first catch were the krewe medallion beads, which was a very good omen.

It was right about this time that I started talking to a lovely older African-American couple and their differently abled son, who was very sweet. There were also some couples with small children around, which brings me to a very important rule about catching throws as a grown man out on the parade route who doesn’t have kids: if you catch anything plushie or toy-like, you always should give it to a kid. (Plus, I don’t need more of that in the house.) Also, if you and someone else catch beads at the same time, you always yield them to the person standing more forward, and if you’re standing side-by-side, I always yield to the right. If the other person yields before you attempt, then you can keep them.

Another casual observation from the route? Mom jeans, and Daisy Duke cut-off Mom jeans. are definitely back.

I had also forgotten how nice it is to just be outside during the day, dancing in the street and having fun with total strangers, while drinking and maintaining a slight buzz. I didn’t drink yesterday because it’s too rough on me now.

Another casual observation from the route: there were an awful lot of women out there in full “glam”. Many of them were young and pretty, some were older and pretty, and some had made interesting choices in clothing and make-up and hair options. I finally realized, to my delight, that they were simply costuming as The Real Housewives of Metairie.1

Despite how fatigued everything in my body feels this morning, and how late I slept, I am definitely glad I went to Iris. Scotty’s sister is in Iris, and I remembered while I was out there how Mardi Gras Mambo originally had to do with Iris, which was why the parade opens the book. Maybe the next one will be built around Iris? You never know.

And now back to our originally scheduled blog post.

  1. Society women, or even those on the edges of New Orleans society, would never stoop to a reality show. The ones in Metairie definitely would. ↩︎

Vincent

Here we are on Iris Saturday and I feel fine.

PT was hard yesterday–it keeps getting harder every time–but I got through it, did very well with it, and then walked outside, my endorphins pumping through my veins and it was simply a beautiful, sunny day in New Orleans. I picked up my prescription before PT, and got the mail afterwards before driving home down Prytania Street. I did have trouble finding a place to park on the way there, so was a few minutes late–it’s close to Napoleon and people were already camping out on the parade route for the night parades–so I was certain I wouldn’t find parking when I got home. My spot was there Thursday night when I got home, so what were the odds I’d have parade parking luck two days in a row? But lo and behold, my spot was waiting for me when I got home.

Needless to say, that also dramatically picked up my spirits! And now the car won’t move again until Monday…which begs the question, will I have parking when I get home after PT Monday morning?

I spent most of my time out on the corner Thursday night just marveling at it, the way I always do at first–so many people, so many costumes, so much partying and so much joy; how dark it is here at night, so it’s like the dark is reaching down from the sky to absorb the lights from the parade and flames of the flambeaux, and everyone is a good mood. It’s so lovely to just go out and hang with friends and neighbors and strangers. You always end up talking to total strangers and having a good time, relaxed and a slightly buzzed (some people do overdo it and become Carnival tragedies) and watchings kids tossing footballs around on the street when there’s a break between parades (or a breakdown in the parade) and of course, the marching bands are fucking amazing. I am going to write about Mardi Gras again soon, so it’s good to drink it all in again and remember fun times of past seasons.

I was too fatigued from the PT yesterday to go out there last night, so we watched LSU Gymnastics beat Georgia last night and then just relaxed for the rest of the night. I did watch the first episode of Abbott Elementary, which I really enjoyed, so we’ll continue watching that, I think. Despite a great night’s sleep, I am still feeling fatigued this morning, which means I’ll be dead tired after Iris today. We’ll see how I feel about Tucks after Iris is over. Sunday is always insane down there at the corner, so we generally skip Sundays, and then it’s Orpheus Monday.

I did get some chores done yesterday, too. I worked on the laundry room and swept the living room, got all the bedding laundered, and rested after getting my work-at-home duties completed. I think since it’s Iris Saturday, all I will do today is read and watch television or some movies or something. I did finish reading Deliberate Cruelty, so I am going to try not to start another one until all the ones I am in the middle of are complete. I also need to make a series of to-do lists: one for the apartment, one for my career, and one for my every day life. I need to snap out of the lethargy, and I really need to dive headfirst into writing again. I want to get these stories finished and I want to get back to work on the book I’m in the midst of and has been stalled for quite some time.

And on that note, I am going to get cleaned up and ready for Iris to roll. See you later, Constant Reader, and may your Saturday be everything you desire in one.