Category: shopping

Don’t Blame Me

I wasn’t the one who came up with TACO Trade, but I am totally here for it.

I also love tacos, so there’s that, too. Who doesn’t love a good taco, really?

I’ve been trying to decide how to handle Pride Month posts this year, since June is just around the corner. Last year I wrote some newsletters about “my gay life”, and I think I may have done some on this blog, too. I’m not really sure how I want to handle it this year, to be honest. I can write about being queer and how that has impacted my life until the cows come home, of course–ultimately, I think being queer in a homophobic society has made me a stronger and better person, capable of empathy and being concerned about others in ways I probably wouldn’t be had I been born a cishet white man–and I can talk about queer art and culture and representation, or I could write some scenes from my gay life; experiences I’ve had and so forth. But I also kind of want my theme for the month to be more positive than negative; it gets so tiring reliving homophobic experiences and talking about inbred assholes…but I also know that, inevitably, there will be posts that are angry and negative about oppression we all face, not just queers.

Sigh.

It’s Remote Friday and I have things to do around here; on-line trainings and quality assurance paperwork and some data entry. Later on I have some errands–bloodwork, mail, grocery store, and a prescription, and I am also having dinner with a friend tonight as well. Busy Friday for one Gregalicious, and I’d like to do some of the chores today too so I can spend tomorrow focused on reading, writing, and organizing; I want to work on a short story or two this weekend, reread what I have written on the Scotty so far, and revise some other things, all while resting and relaxing. Yesterday was a nice day, really; there were some marvelous thunderstorms and I was able to get a lot done at the office, which is always a major plus. I was a bit tired when I got home, but finished the chores I didn’t do the night before so when I came downstairs this morning it was to a clean and neat kitchen. Huzzah! I just need to remember to not drink too much coffee this morning and become jittery–my caffeine tolerance is not what it was before I got sick, and that’s really not a terrible thing, in all honesty. I’m also feeling better–I’m walking better and not getting quite so fatigued as I was last week, which is definitely a good thing–and sleeping better, but trying very hard not to get impatient and rush things. My weight seems to have stabilized at 191-192, which is actually a good weight for my height and frame; I just need to trim some from the middle and add some everywhere else. But I have to get my strength back before I head back into the gym and slowly work my way back into better shape and conditioning. It won’t be easy because I am older, have lost muscle mass, and some bone density…patience has never been my strength.

But I am getting better with it, and it’s nice to not feel so fucking fatigued all the time.

I even made a to-do list for the weekend! Look at me, getting all organized again! As much as I hate to think about it, getting so sick forced a reboot on me, and I am actually better for it? In retrospect, it wasn’t such a bad thing, despite how much I suffered through it. Weird, isn’t it?

I also checked my drafts of the newsletters (and the blog) and I think I have enough stuff to finish and post for Pride Month, and yes, some of it is going to be angry. Sorry, you want to persecute me and people like me? Yeah, I’m going to get pissed off, especially given the extent of mediocrity we always have to suffer from cishet white people. Mediocre. Louder for the ones in the back! MEDI-FUCKING-OCRE.

But I don’t care.

We also started the TV series based on Alafair Burke’s The Better Sister, and it’s excellent.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Hope your Friday is as lovely as you are, Constant Reader, and I may be back later. One never can be sure!

Me with Wendy Corsi Staub in the hotel club room at Toronto Bouchercon: “Wendy, fetch me some wine!” Also, photobombed by Ellen Claire Lamb!

So It Goes…

Tuesday and back to the daily grind of up early and back to the office. It’s a short work week, after all, and the weekend will be here before I know it, right? I feel good and rested and centered, which was what I really needed from this long weekend, and that’s a good thing. We’re also supposed to have stormy weather all week, which is kind of fun; I’ve been wanting some rain and thunderstorms, so I can curl up under a blanket and read. I managed to get the kitchen cleaned and organized, and made some progress on the living room, which I’ll gladly take. There’s some laundry to finish and dishes to do and put away that I left for today (I was really sleepy last night and went to bed early), but that’s okay. I have to run some quick errands after work–mail, library, and of course I have to stop at the grocery store because the primary reason I made groceries yesterday? Was the one thing I forgot to get. Typical Gregalicious. I forgot my list, of course.

And moisturizing has been amazing. I’m no longer ashy, and I love how my skin feels. I may never stop! I am also getting stronger, slowly but surely, every day, which is also kind of nice, you know? The stairs are still a challenge, but getting to be less of one every time I go upstairs.

This weekend also gave me the time to think and reflect about my life.

I’ve been really lucky in my life, you know?

As I wrote my remembrances of my friends Felice and Victoria this weekend, I couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that I knew, and was close to, two of the most important queer voices of the last fifty years, and that I was able to learn from them. I know so many amazingly talented people, and can call some of them friends–the kind of life I dreamed of having all those years ago when I was miserable closeted teen in that hellhole known as small town Kansas–that I wish sometimes I could go back and tell that sad unhappy child that his dreams would, indeed, someday all come true for him.

I finished reading Christa Faust’s fantastic The Get Off yesterday morning (you can read my thoughts on it here) and started reading Laura Lippman’s Murder Takes a Vacation–what a lucky reader am I, right? Yesterday was a pretty good day, overall. I rested, did some cleaning, and of course did a lot of reading (I also read some more into Moonraker), which was really nice. I also tried a quick and easy chicken and dumplings recipe I found on-line (knowing it wasn’t going to be as good as Mom’s, and I really need to find her recipe) for dinner. It turned out pretty good, actually, and as always, I followed the recipe the first time to see how it was, and am thinking already of ways to improve it and make it my own. There was no milk or flour in it, for example–the dumplings were quartered biscuits from a roll can–so that could also make a difference, but who knew boiled and simmered biscuits could be so damned tasty? I was also kind of pleased with myself for trying something new, too–it’s been a hot minute–and now that I seem to be settling into a new, post illness phase of my life, I want to do more of that.

I wrote three newsletters this weekend, didn’t I? One per day. I am actually finding that I enjoy writing the newsletters, because I can take my time and think about them, putting a little more thought and effort into them than I do the blog, which I just dash off every morning over my coffee.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Happy Tuesday!

El Castillo at Chichén Itzá. I visited here in 1993 and was blown away by the Mayan ruins.

…Ready for It?

Sunday of the holiday weekend and I am feeling pretty good. I am up earlier than I would prefe, but it seems sleeping in later than six is something rare for me now and it’s okay; it gives me more awake time to get things done. I’m getting some reading done every morning when I get up, and yesterday I did do some chores, but tried to mostly relax while processing Victoria’s death. I also read a little bit, and mostly just tried to relax and gather my strength back. I have to run an errand today–a library book is ready for me, and I can swing by Fresh Market on the way home; oh, never mind, the library is closed for the holiday so that will have to wait until Tuesday after work, but I do need to go to Fresh Market anyway, maybe even wash the car while I’m on Louisiana Avenue. But I did get the bathroom and part of the kitchen under control and finished; so the downstairs looks a lot nice than it has since I fell ill, which is a lovely thing. I can finish it today and then work on the living room next, and maybe, just maybe, my house will finally be under control again and presentable and won’t make me groan with despair every time I walk in.

I also watched one of the few Hitchcock films I’ve never seen–mainly because it’s never been available before when I thought about watching: Suspicion, which stars Joan Fontaine (the only performer to win an Oscar for a Hitchcock movie, although she should have won for Rebecca and Anthony Perkins’ failure to be even be nominated for Psycho remains a hate crime) and Cary Grant. It’s based on the Francis Iles novel Before the Fact (of which I have a copy and have been assured it’s better than the film). It did make me think about a theory I have about domestic suspense and Gothics–that they are about women’s fears and therefore women’s noir of a type–and Suspicion is definitely one of those–does her husband–whom she catches in lies all the time and is kind of a bounder–love her or did her marry her for her money? (This is a very common theme in Victoria Holt novels, by the way, which I loved.) Something to write about for another time, methinks. The film itself was okay, and I am now more convinced than ever that Fontaine’s Oscar was a make-up for Rebecca, a far superior film in every way. (It may be time for my annual reread of Rebecca, in fact.)

I also read a bit more into Moonraker, which is fascinating in its casual misogyny, and it’s really hard-boiled attitude; as I said, Fleming’s Bond is so far removed from the Roger Moore/Timothy Dalton/Pierce Brosnan Bond that they may as well be different characters; Connery and Daniel Craig more captured the Fleming feel of the sociopathic killer/spy. The parallels between the villain in the book, Hugo Drax, and Elon Musk are so prescient as to make me wonder whether Fleming could see the future. More on that later, of course.

We finished watching Overcompensating last night, and it’s such a good show. It does an excellent job of depicting how terrifying it is to come out–to anyone and everyone–and how you wind up being a liar for self-preservation; I think all those lies is why I am so triggered by people calling me a liar these days, and I’ve never really seen this depicted in anything queer before–about how you can’t really be a good friend with people you can’t be honest with and have to lie to all the time. It really can’t be explained, but I still have a lot of shame from that time in my life, from when I was overcompensating and making an absolute fool of myself because no one was actually fooled and my true friends were delighted when I came out. The depression and faulty wiring in my brain certainly didn’t help.

And yes, I will always be grateful to those friends who were delighted.

I’m looking forward to relaxing some more today, to be honest. Paul has his trainer this afternoon, and when he gets home I am going to barbecue burgers and cheese dogs. Yes, I know you’re supposed to actually cook out on Memorial Day itself, but I’d rather do it today. I’ve been experiencing hunger a lot more lately than I can recall, and I am snacking on top of it all. I’ve been spending a lot of time looking at Door Dash to have something delivered, and I’ll probably pop that cherry next weekend. I’ve also been missing my mom’s cooking–her chicken and dumplings were sublime, and she made everything from scratch and from memory; her biscuits and gravy were to die for, and somehow she made the best pancakes I’ve ever had anywhere. I am going to make an easy chicken-and-dumplings recipe tomorrow; will definitely report back.

I am getting stronger every day, but I also still tire far too easily and am not even close to being back to 100% yet, which is fine. I just need to be patient–never my strongest suit–and let my body heal itself from the trauma.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Sunday, Constant Reader, and I may be back later; I hope to get my newsletter done today as well.

Bette Davis in the opening scene of her Oscar nominated performance in The Letter.

You Keep Me Hangin’ On

Work at home Friday, and I am exhausted. It was, over all, a pretty good week for me at the office, as I got a lot done and eased back into seeing patients. I have to get caught up on my homework today, so that should be a good thing as long as I can stay focused. I feel rested this morning, which is also enormously helpful; but we’ll see how long that lasts, shall we? Sparky let me sleep a bit more this morning, which was lovely of him, and now I have a few hours to do things around here before I start working this morning. I am not going to overdo it this weekend–trust me on that score, number one on the list for the weekend is relaxation and reading (and it’s a three day weekend at that!) and doing some chores to get the house back under control.

Last night we got caught up on both The Last of Us and Hacks (what a fucking episode! Jean Smart clinched this year’s Emmy, methinks, again), and now we’re going to be looking for something new for the weekend; I’ve heard good things about Overcompensating, so we’ll probably check that out–and Alafair Burke’s TV show, The Better Sister, will be debuting soon. I loved the book–seriously, if you aren’t reading Alafair you need to make better choices in your reading life–and the cast is fantastic. Huzzah!

Yesterday I got an ARC of Laura Lippman’s new novel Murder Takes a Vacation, which has moved up on the TBR list, and a copy of Frank Perez’s Rainbow Fleur de Lis: Essays on Queer New Orleans History. Frank is fantastic and knowledgeable; I also recommend his history of Southern Decadence. People think I know New Orleans? I don’t know shit compared to Frank! Frank is a repository of knowledge about queer New Orleans; in fact, I should consult with him about my 1994 New Orleans book. (adds to list)

I also cleaned the Keurig last night, and yes, my coffee is tasting much better this morning. Whew. I was worried I’d lost my taste for coffee during the illness, which was obviously not the case. Of course the Keurig needed cleaning–it needed cleaning when I got sick, and then it sat there unused for four weeks, and then I didn’t clean it before trying to use it again. Dumb dumb dumb, but I am glad I can enjoy my coffee in the mornings again. Huzzah! I may even try to get some writing done this weekend–at least work on a couple of essays and maybe finish that short story I started.

I’m feeling better, can you tell, Constant Reader? I feel like today just might be a good day, if not the best one I’ve had in a long time.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines to read for a bit before I start work. Have a lovely Friday, and I will check in with you again later.

British Olympic diving team, 2024 Paris

The Tears of a Clown

Well, in excellent news, my insurance did approve my treatment plan, and it looks like it won’t cost me a penny–I finally met my deductible for this year, so everything should be free for the rest of the year, which is terrific. Yesterday wasn’t a good day–I was just as tired as I was on Sunday, didn’t sleep well, and so, well, yeah. Unpleasantness, and exhaustion. My mind was foggy all day (but I managed to get my work done efficiently and correctly), but I was able to function despite being so tired. I did manage to get the dishes done when I got home, and ran the dishwasher, too. It’s nice having a kitchen that is more clean and organized than not, though. I was very tired, as I mentioned, so I also read some of the Vicki Barr’s The Silver Ring Mystery–she always finds mystery on one of her flights, which is kind of fun–and then just kind of chilled for the rest of the evening (Paul was working on a grant) and relaxed.

Stop pushing yourself before you’re ready, Gregalicious.

While it is kind of silly, one of the nice things about being so sick for so long is that I am reminded how many friends I actually do have. So many emails and texts and DMs and calls from so many people really made me feel blessed and lucky–because I am blessed and lucky. Sure, it’s okay to feel down when you’re not well or things don’t go the way you want them to, but I shouldn’t wallow in it, and give into the despair that is all too often a part of my personality (the new medications have made the despair and depression pretty much a thing of the past anyway). Yesterday I received a text message from someone who is very dear to me, just to cheer me up in case I was down. I wasn’t down, just tired, but it did cheer me up and make me feel warm inside. It’s the little things sometimes, isn’t it?

I did manage to get some chores done despite my exhaustion before Paul and I settled in to watch season two of The Last of Us, which I’d forgotten about. We’d only seen the first episode and then I got sick, so I forgot all about it–and how good it actually is. We watched three episodes last night before I had to stop and get things ready for today–and huzzah, I did sleep pretty well last night so I feel rested and like I can get through my first day of seeing clients in over a month today.

We’ll see how that goes, won’t we?

And on that note, I am heading back into the spice mines. Brief today, sorry; just not feeling a lot today but will be back tomorrow.

It’s the Same Old Song

Monday morning and back to the office with me today. Huzzah? Why not? Yesterday was a low energy day, alas. I didn’t sleep as well Saturday night as I did on Friday, and I think all the shopping and running around depleted all of my batteries and I needed to have a down day to recharge. I also think I overdid it. I don’t feel so great this morning, but it’s my Admin day so I think I can push through and make it. At least there’s a three-day weekend looming on the horizon; and yes, I am going to spend most of it resting, reading, and relaxing. I always get impatient with recovery and try to speed it up, which isn’t very smart. And I’ll have everything delivered; no grocery shopping for me for a while. I am also seeing my doctor Wednesday morning, so I can get some tips on eating and rest and so forth.

I spent most of yesterday in my easy chair, getting caught up on Hacks and The Studio (we also started MurderBot, which is interesting), and I don’t really remember much of last evening–an indication of how tired I was–and I didn’t sleep that great last night, either. Ah, well, these are the challenges that make life interesting.

I had a great ZOOM meeting with my editor yesterday–the book has now been pushed back and will be out in January, sorry, Scotty fans, just a little longer to wait–but I feel a lot more confident that once I am through with this recovery thing I’ll be able to whip it into something I can be proud of and Scotty fans can enjoy. I think my next read–as I try to get my brain unclouded and able to read again–will be a Vicki Barr Stewardess1 kids’ mystery that I’ve not read yet–The Silver Ring Mystery. At least I can use this foggy brain situation to my advantage and get those newsletters about kids’ mysteries done. I may even reread some old Gothics, too–my Kindle is filled with Phyllis A. Whitney and Mary Stewart classics–not to mention all kinds of other things I could reread. There’s also some great history books in there that I can dig into as well. I just never really think about reading on my iPad.

The house is also a mess; I was too tired to do the dishes last night after I made dinner and so left them, hoping I might get to them this morning. But alas and alack, I was much too tired to do so once I was up and so left them for tonight. It doesn’t take much to fill up both sinks, you know, which inevitably makes the kitchen look terrible. I also need to do the floors and the windows, get the filing done, and clean up my workspace. Slowly, slowly, slowly, of course, while taking breaks and resting so I do not wear myself out completely again. I have to swing Uptown to get the mail on the way home tonight–my box grater should be delivered today–and at some point, yes, I need to reorganize the pantry and the cabinets. I’m just going to make a to-do list without a date on it and see how that all goes.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a great Monday, and I’ll check in with you again later or tomorrow.

  1. Don’t @ me, that is what the series is called. ↩︎

Turn the Beat Around

Nottoway Plantation, one of the beautiful old homes along the River Road north of New Orleans, burned to the ground Thursday.1 But what that lovely old historic home actually was? Just a monument to enslavement and stolen wealth. I also can’t help but hope the backstory to the fire is some Gothic shenanigans, a la Rebecca and Manderly burning to the ground.

Nottoway before
Nottoway after

I’ve certainly come a long way from that kid who was raised to believe in white supremacy and the Lost Cause ideology, haven’t I? My relationship to the South has always been fraught, once I began to read more and understand more and deprogram myself from that horrific grooming as a child. I can remember, though, reading Gone with the Wind when I was ten or eleven for the first time and my hackles being raised by the happy, contented enslaved people and how they were described and how they talked. (I loved the story itself, but the racism was so unrelenting and unending and horrible; I need to do a deconstruction of that book sometime–as well as other “make white people feel better about racism” books.)

Nottoway was a beautiful home, but it was also one of the most monstrous sugar plantations in Louisiana with an excessively brutal history. I am not sorry in the least this horrific place–where they teach nothing about the true history of the place and rent out for weddings and parties for white people (“yes, you too can have a Scarlett O’Hara wedding on an old plantation! So what about the brutal treatment of generations of enslaved people?”). It really was nothing more than a monument to oppression, cruelty, and the evil that men can do.

I started dealing with the ghosts of my own Southern past in Bury Me in Shadows, and this new repurposed book from an old manuscript is also going to deal with race in Alabama, too. I just have to finish this damned Scotty book and get it out of my scalp. New Orleans also has its own dark, bloody and brutal history I have to deal with at some point, too. I was reading a piece about Madame LaLaurie and her abuse of her enslaved people, and wondering how to turn that into a short story–and likewise, my Sherlock story will also have to deal with race, because of the Voodoo Queen. I’m not afraid to address any of these issues, really; as long as I do it and am mindful of the potential for offense and/or getting it wrong (I have a great editor, thank God) and tread carefully. You really can’t write about the South authentically without talking about race.

After I finished working yesterday, Paul and I ran some errands (including Costco) and by the time we got back I was completely worn out and exhausted. I started reading a Dana Girls 2mystery (one of the kids’ series I collect) titled Mystery at the Crossroads, which was originally published in 1954–right around when the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books began being revised to remove problematic content–and ho boy, is there some problematic content in this book! It’s about “gypsies”–and every handy stereotype about the Romani people is crammed into this book. But it was easy to read, it engaged my brain, and now maybe today I can get back into reading something substantial.

I also rewatched two movies last night–the animated Beauty and the Beast (yes, I get that it’s problematic but I love it) and Jesus Christ Superstar before falling asleep in my chair. Paul woke me at one, and I managed to sleep through the night and this morning I feel rested and good. I have some errands to run today, but I am going to try to just clean and read and rest and relax as much as humanly possible. I am still not 100% recovered from the illness, but I am getting there.

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow, if not sooner.

  1. And yes, the Lost Cause traitors are weeping publicly of the loss. Since it was one of those destination wedding/party places that glossed over its hideous history…good riddance. ↩︎
  2. I will be writing about the Dana Girls for my newsletter at some point; I want to write about all the kids’ series I read growing up. ↩︎

If You Could Read My Mind, Love

Work at home Friday, with a Costco trip after I get my work done! I also have to get some blood work done today (yay! my arms will continue looking hideous before all these bruises heal at long last; good thing I am far too old to be vain anymore), but c’est la vie. Que sera sera, and all of that. I also have to run by the office–I forgot some paperwork I need to work on, and I can’t find my wallet. It’s not in the house and it’s not in the car, so the only place it can be is at the office; although I looked for it there yesterday and couldn’t find it. Sigh.

You may have noticed lately that the images I’ve been adding to my blog so there’s a thumbnail image on social media have not been muscular men. Honestly? I’m kind of bored of them, to be honest. There’s a gradual sameness after a while, and I also recognize that sharing images of impossibly built young men whose entire lives revolve around maintaining that look (that most people can never achieve) may be contributing to some toxic body image issues for some men; I know I spent years trying to be physically perfect and always coming up short because of my own body image issues (there are some pictures of me from when I was really lean that I originally saw and thought, maybe another ten pounds? but now I look at them and scream eat something bitch!). So I thought I’d take a break and start using other images that I find interesting–and I have tons of pictures I’ve taken around New Orleans over the years. Maybe I’ll go back to hot guys again, but right now I’m just not feeling that.

In other exciting news, I’ve been looking for Chapter Ten of the new Scotty and not been finding it anywhere…to the point I was beginning to think maybe I hadn’t written it after all. I FOUND IT YESTERDAY MORNING! Huzzah! I was worried, since I’ve blown the deadline and the extended deadline…which is why I am having a ZOOM meeting with my editor on Sunday. I really need to get back on the writing horse sooner rather than later. But the enforced break caused by my illness again gave me lots of time to think about things, especially my writing career, and also allowed the stirrings of ambition to start rising again. Not a bad thing, really. I have to finish this Scotty and there are two others that I want to finish drafts of by the end of the year–possible, always possible–and I also want to get back into writing short stories.

And reading. I need to get back to reading, and the sooner the better. Saturday I am planning on reading my own manuscript while working on the house, and hopefully I can also dig further into Christa Faust’s The Get Off, which is superb. Some people very kindly sent me books while I was in the hospital and they all look good: Vertigo by Boileau-Jercerac (yes, the basis for the Hitchcock film); They Bloom at Night by Trang Thanh Tran; People of Means by Nancy Johnson; On Spine of Death by Tamera Berry; The Lilac People by Milo Todd; and Disco Witches of Fire Island by Blair Fell; all of which look interesting…so I must get back to reading very intensely!

I made myself a cappuccino this morning and it is very good; the taste for coffee clearly coming back–and if not, hey, I can just make a cappuccino every morning, can’t I? Yum! I feel a bit more rested this morning–Sparky let me sleep an extra hour before becoming obnoxious. But he’s also sleeping with me now, which he didn’t used to do–mainly, I think, to track my movements in case I get up to feed him–but hey, I’ll take it.

If you enjoyed Andor, I highly recommend watching Rogue One again; the series enhances the movie significantly, and makes it even more powerful. Paul and I both agreed, and I love how the TV show flows into the movie and then into Star Wars (I will never call the original anything else). When Star Wars clicks, it’s excellent; unfortunately, it doesn’t always click, alas.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, and I’ll be back on the morrow.

Statue of Pharaoh Khafre, Egyptian Museum

When I Grow Up (To Be a Man)

Thursday! Wasn’t sure I’d make it this far this week, but here I am, wide awake and sipping coffee–the taste for it is coming back; I was rather jittery yesterday morning but am glad the taste is coming back because I’ve really missed my morning coffee. I am also getting stronger every day, which is nice. I walk around the office every hour or so, just to get my legs back under me. Eventually I hope to start walking in the neighborhood, and maybe someday I can get back to the gym to tighten everything back up again–everything just sags now. I was always afraid that I was destined, like all the men in my family, for Southern redneck body; where you look like a potato on tooth picks and have to wear suspenders instead of belts. I was never terribly worried about that outcome, as I have always had big legs and a big ass. NOT ANYMORE. My legs are all scrawny, and my ass is gone. Sigh.

Good thing I’m too old to be vain anymore, right?

I thought we’d finished Andor the other night, but was very delighted that the final three episodes dropped yesterday, so we got to finish it last night. Huzzah! (And yes, there will be more about that at some point.) I loved it–even more than The Mandalorian, which was a very high bar to clear. I think we may rewatch Rogue One tonight–which, outside of the original, is probably my favorite Star Wars movie.

I made a colossal mistake on social media the other day, but I thought it was something that bore making a comment. I read three or four consecutive threads by different “Christians” analyzing and trying to explain why people are atheists, which was kind of amusing because it isn’t that deep: most atheists believe in nothing. You’re born, you live, you die, and that’s it. It’s not about hating God or Jesus or authority. Sure, there are atheists who hate religion…but not the religion itself, but the organized version. So, I just posted It amuses me seeing Christians tie themselves up in knots trying to understand atheists. Why do you care? So, of course, “Christians” came at me with torches and pitchforks, almost every one of them assuming I am an atheist, which isn’t correct. The best description for me is something like agnostic; because I am not arrogant enough to think I know all the answers or what is true or not. It’s not for me to know, right? That’s what always bugs me about the cosplay Christians: the arrogance in their faith and lack of humility–which is kind of what your Lord and Savior was all about? Only two–two!–gave me an actual Christian response: we are taught to worry and try to save lost souls. Everyone else failed. SHOCK, I know. My own relationship with religion is complicated–I was groomed into Christianity since I was a baby by family and society, so I never had a choice until I was older: my ass was parked in a pew twice on Sundays and once on Wednesdays after we moved to the suburbs. I have, as I said, complicated feelings about religion, and I’ve been working on an essay about that very thing for a number of years now, so I may just get back to work on it for my newsletter, which has been dormant since I got sick. (UPDATE: Every day I feel better, but I am still a little on the fatigued side.)

I also realized that I am actually taking a steroid, which has made me a little more on edge than I’ve been since I started taking the anxiety medication. I got really angry in the car on the way home last night, and I was puzzling about it until I remembered, idiot, of course you’re feeling aggressive, you’re taking a steroid, dumbass. I also took some Vitamin b-12 this morning, so I am feeling very good. I still have a bit of a fatigue, but I feel so much better. I also started, of all things, moisturizing. I’ve always had pretty decent skin, but this illness has made it very dry and flaky. I commented on this when I saw my specialist last Monday, and he told me (he’s an older white man, but probably younger than me) that I was “ashy and needed to moisturize”–which took me aback, that he knew what “ashy” meant; I assumed he got it from The Real Housewives of Atlanta–so I asked some of the Black ladies I work with for recommendations (EOS lotion, and original Dove moisturizing soap) and I can’t believe what a difference it has already made! I told Paul I was going to have to come up with a beauty regimen since I’m older and can’t just coast on good skin anymore.

As you can see by the length of this, I am slowly getting better by the day. Huzzah!

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

The Pharaoh Akhenaten the Heretic, from the Egyptian Museum

Lean on Me

Wednesday! Wasn’t sure I was going to make it this far, to be honest. But I’ve put in two full days at the office, have started pulling the house back together and making my life orderly again. I need to be orderly in order to feel settled enough to write, for one thing, and when my house is out of order I get antsy and uncomfortable and anxious. The house is filthy, so I am going to spend some time on Saturday cleaning and getting everything back into the kind of order it needs to be in, you know? It makes me feel more content somehow, and trust me, my workspace is an utter disaster area. Sigh. Sparky, of course, is no help.

I was going through my short story files last night, and I really do want to write another New Orleans Sherlock story–“The Adventure of the Voodoo Queen’s Necklace”–about the great hurricane of 1916. That will predate the one I’ve already published (“The Affair of the Purloined Rentboy”), so some things that come out in that story will still be unknown in the new one. I’m getting excited about writing again, which is a very good thing, methinks. I think maybe the illness was kind of the enforced slow down I needed? I was getting pretty burnt out as it was, and sometimes I just need to chill out and let the batteries recharge. I did manage to make it through another full day at work yesterday, but the fatigue level was plenty high by the time I got home from work. But I managed to get things done, which was lovely (again, Sparky was no help at all) and we then settled in to watch Andor–which is amazing. I wanted all of Kyril’s clothes. I’ll probably talk more about that sometime, how much I loved the show, that is.

I was very tired when I got home last night–so tired. I did manage to work on the kitchen and make dinner–always a plus–and yes, I’m fidgety and unable to keep still (I guess I had enough of that in the hospital), so am always getting up to do something. I wasn’t able to read last night, unfortunately, because I am getting back into Christa Faust’s amazing The Get Off (there really is no other creative force and voice in the world than hers), so maybe tonight when I get home. I have to get the mail, too, and was thinking about stopping at Yogurtland, which is near the post office; I love soft serve frozen yogurt and should stop there more often. My appetite is back (with a vengeance) so I don’t think I’ll have too much trouble getting the thirty pounds back on. My skin has also dehydrated and become ashy and flakey, so I am going to have to start using a moisturizer.

This morning’s coffee is tasting better–I was worried I had lost my taste for it this week as it’s been tasting terrible–but I also changed the filter in the Keurig and that probably has helped some on that score. I am feeling a lot better, if still weak and fatigued, which is a relief. I am eating normally again (although as I said, hungry all the time), which is great. I need to eat more healthily, but I’ll worry about that when I start gaining weight again. I’m still under 190, which feels weird and yes, I look very gaunt and skeletal. But there are worse things, and at least I am on the mend at last, right?

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

David Florentine is a local photographer who takes incredible images of New Orleans. Follow him on social media!