Category: short stories

King of My Heart

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment and all is well–at least so far. Sparky is behaving himself (for now; I am sure he’ll be attacking my ankles and feet at any moment before going to sleep for the rest of the morning on the couch, because that’s just how he rolls, you know?). He got me up before six yesterday morning, which was fine. I managed to tumble out of bed and head to the kitchen and poured myself a cup of ambition; and I got the chores caught up that I had left so that I don’t have to play catch-up this morning. I also finished my Vicki Barr newsletter, but won’t be posting that until after Pride because, for this entire month, my newsletter is all gay all the time! Woo-hoo! I’ve also been picking up new subscribers, which is kind of nice, too–I generally don’t pay much attention to that kind of stuff because it makes me nervous, and I worry about writing for the audience instead of writing what feels right for me at the time–that kind of thinking is anathema for a writer, and it happens much too often for me when I am working on a novel or a short story than I would prefer.

But it was a good, productive day, and we did make it to Costco–we even got out spending less than four hundred, a rarity indeed–and the traffic on the way home wasn’t bad other than the usual occasional stupid white man nonsense. I read some more of Summerhouse, and The Dark on the Other Side, both of which I am enjoying thoroughly (I don’t remember the plot of the reread of the Michaels, so it’s like reading a whole new book), but also fell asleep in my chair after I finished the laundry–not really asleep, actually, but just sitting there kind of staring into space while my mind raced around, and before I knew it, it was seven and time to make dinner. But…I got a lot done around here, I got my work done, and we were able to get in two episodes of Department Q last night, which was lovely. The characters are all so interesting and complex! I think I am watching more for the characters than the cold case (which, to be fair, is interesting) they are working on.

And that’s saying a lot for a crime show, but of course, it’s British, not American.

I am feeling a bit tired and low energy this morning. Sparky the Alarm Kitty let me sleep till quarter past six this morning, which was odd, but my coffee is tasting good. The kitchen is still kind of a wreck–I still have stuff to put away from Costco, the dishwasher needs to be unloaded and reloaded, and the rugs are all messed up–but I can get that all taken care of in a jiffy before retiring to my chair to read some more. LSU plays at 1 in the super regional, and I am going to have some food delivered today from the grocery store so I don’t have to leave the house. We had a marvelous thunderstorm and downpour last night (while the sun was out; it’s very disorienting to have it be so bright in the evening while the walk is covered in water and it sounds like a waterfall outside, the sound of falling water only disrupted by the occasional clap of thunder) but much as I hoped it would last all night, it did not. The heat index for today is forecast to be 105 (!!!!), which is another reason I don’t want to go outside if it can be helped today.

But the first part of my breakfast, already eaten, is making me feel more alert and awake and alive, which is, of course, quite marvelous. I want to write this weekend, too–I have two short stories that I want to finish first drafts of, I need to reread some old manuscripts to get back into writing them, and I need to make another to-do list. I’ve also organized all the short story submission calls I want to submit to–one of the new stories is for a deadline on June 20th, so I need to get moving on that one, for sure; I have something already that might be able to be tweaked and revised to fit, but that requires me sitting with my butt in my desk chair writing, doesn’t it?1

And on that note, the writing and cleaning and organizing (I also cleaned out my inbox and filed some yesterday like a good Gregalicious) isn’t going to do itself, so let me get my bowl of Cheerios, bring this to a close, and head into the spice mines. Have yourself a lovely little Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back on the morrow.

Ballerinos have always fascinated me with what they can do with their incredible bodies. I’d like to write a ballet noir at some point, bec
  1. Which is why I don’t mind getting up early the way I used to; I’ve been able to get so much more done on the weekends not sleeping in, plus it makes it much easier to get back into the swing of getting up early on Monday. Win-win? ↩︎

Red

Lovin’ him was red…

My favorite Taylor Swift jam is “Red,” by the way.

Remote Friday and all is quiet and well in the Lost Apartment this morning, other than Sparky complaining ( as always) that his breakfast wasn’t enough food. (He always insists he is starving to death, the little beast. And his plaintive cries are so convincing, too–until I ignore him and he goes back to sleep.) I had a good day yesterday; I had another marvelous night’s sleep on Wednesday and felt really good yesterday. I did some writing–not much, mostly some prep work and editing

Yesterday at work I decided I didn’t want the lunch I brought with me after all, and decided to use one of the food delivery apps to get Five Guys. This was a brand new experience for me, one I had been wanting to try since I was housebound and sick, and yesterday I just decided fuck it, I want Five Guys and DoorDashed it. It went swimmingly, I might add, and I am going to have to be careful now–this was so easy it will be very tempting to do this a lot more often–like Saturday for lunch. Stop it, Greg, keep it under control. I know, I am a late adapter, but I always have been. And the temptation to get food delivered all the time is going to be a struggle for me. All I do since the illness is think about food, and what would be good. There are all kinds of places on those delivery apps that look interesting and I want to try–maybe I’ll splurge again this weekend. See how easy it is to give into temptation.

The combination of Canadian wildfire smoke and the Saharan dust has made things weird here in New Orleans. It smells like burning rubber outside, and the dust has made for some terrific sunrise/sunset photos by the intrepid local photographers I follow on social media, who always manage to come up with these incredibly beautiful shots of the city. But it’s murder on my eyes and my sinuses–neither of which need much assistance in making me miserable.

I was a bit on the tired side when I got home. I went to get the mail and pick up a library book (about the Red Scare of the 1950’s, so it’s research), and by the time I got home and fed Sparky I needed to sit down for a bit, and I even dozed off. Paul came home later and we watched another Department Q and the most recent Murderbot, and then I tried to do some chores before going to bed later than I usually do. I didn’t read anything, either. Gotta get back on that horse soon. I did work on the writing a bit last night, reviewing some things for revision and making notes. Maybe I’ll actually write-write this weekend. I do want to get some short stories written, and I don’t have many errands to do–but I do need to clean this house for sure. Sheesh. And of course LSU plays in the super regional this weekend, so I’ll have that on while I do things (read, most likely).

But yesterday was another good and efficient day for me at work, which was nice. I got all my Admin work caught up that I have to do at the office, and here’s hoping I can get caught up on all my Remote Admin work today; we do have meetings this morning, and I also have some on-line trainings to do that are required to be done every year. I know all the answers because I’ve done them now every year for ten years, but the refresher is not a bad thing at all, and it also works as a test of my memory–which has not been the greatest in quite some time. Heavy heaving sigh. It’s a bitch getting older, even if I am feeling better every day. The getting up early, thanks to the Sparky-alarm, isn’t my favorite thing, either, but I am not groggy and sleepy in the mornings since I have time to eat breakfast and drink more coffee before I leave the house; and yes, I am very glad that my coffee tastes good to me again. I do enjoy my little breakfast at home, and other than my being sleepy earlier in the evening (I was asleep in my chair when Paul got home tonight), it’s not the worst development in my life by a long shot.

And on that note, my toast has popped up in the toaster, one piece crying out for peanut butter, the other for strawberry jelly (what is the difference between jelly and jam? They didn’t have preserves, which is what I actually wanted), and so I am going to bring this to a close, take a breakfast break, and then head into the spice mines. Have a lovely Friday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning with a full report. (I think we’re going to Costco later on this afternoon, too.)

I’ve never been sure why I’ve always been interested in abandoned places, but they’ve always stirred my imagination.

Gorgeous

Well, yesterday was a disruption from the usual routine, wasn’t it?

The water was out at the office, as I may have mentioned as an addendum yesterday, so we couldn’t see patients and we all got an unexpected remote day. I hadn’t slept well Sunday night, so I was a bit tired and not a bit sorry to work from home, shamefully. I did get some work done, and I also loaded the dishwasher and got that chore finished. I also cleaned out the refrigerator, got rid of some old things close to turning, and reorganized it in there. I was still tired for most of the evening, but am pretty pleased with what I did manage to get done.

I hate starting out the week tired like that. I also was, I think, in calorie deficit and hadn’t brought near enough food to work to stave that off because I was starving when I got home. I stopped on the way home to get peanut butter and Creole tomatoes (they are sooooo good; I love Creole tomato season), and made a massive gyro when I got home. And was hungry for dinner, later, too. I can’t remember eating this much, ever, in my life before. And since I have disordered eating habits1, I do worry about eating so much and trying to gain weight, since it has been antithetical to my mental state and self-image of you need to lose some weight for so fucking long.

It’s very weird to be in my mid-sixties, yet still thinking about my disordered eating and body image issues. I used to think when I got older that would all go away. But it really didn’t, did it? I slowed down and did gain weight, of course, between fifty and sixty, and wondered if that was it, you know? But it would rear its ugly head in bad eating habits again, always. Conferences are dangerous for me because I will literally forget to eat–although I am doing better about that (he says, despite falling into the worst illness of his life after his last conference–but they were not related, much as I thought they might be; the dehydration and exhaustion exacerbated the UC).

But I did sleep well last night and feel good this morning. LSU managed to come back from the 5-1 deficit they faced after the second inning to win 10-6 (GEAUX TIGERS!) and now it’s on the Super Regional to see if they make it to Omaha and the World Series. How exciting and fun for them! Thanks, boys! A few more weeks of baseball are in the offing, which is always fun.

I did actually get some writing work done last night, too–not actual writing per se, but prep work. I also did some thinking about other stories and projects that I am currently working on, which was very cool, and I started reading Summerhouse, which was a very pleasant surprise, as the main characters are older and have been together for forty years; the book opens on their fortieth anniversary, and it’s kind of interesting read. (I’ve been thinking about writing about older characters since reading Laura Lippman’s Murder Takes a Vacation, and so that’d been on my mind.) I’ve not gotten very far into it, but will read some more of it tonight when I get home, as well as advancing in both The Dark on the Other Side and Mystery of the Haunted Mine.

And maybe–just maybe–I can get some actual writing done. I almost finished today’s Pride newsletter last night; I need to look it over and make changes and write probably another paragraph or two.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Happy Tuesday everyone, and I’ll be back tomorrow or perhaps later. No one knows.

The gorgeous Steve Reeves, mid-twentieth century bodybuilding champion and star of Italian muscle movies.
  1. Not the same thing as an eating disorder; disordered eating is simply a bad relationship with food and eating, which I have had my entire life–there will be more about this to come. ↩︎

Dancing with Our Hands Tied

Yesterday was a decent day. I didn’t get as much done as I would have liked, but I did get the first Pride newsletter out, as well as my review of Murder Takes a Vacation, as well as my future newsletters about James Bond and Vicky Barr. I had groceries delivered, did some chores, but only started my rereads of The Dark on the Other Side by Barbara Michaels and The Mystery of the Haunted Mine, but didn’t crack the spine on Summerhouse. I did feel a trifle tired mentally and physically, so basically just took it easy for the rest of the day. I slept well last night, which felt great, and I am curious to see what this week will bring.

I also remembered an old short story that I couldn’t get to work–the premise was just really “no one could ever be that fucking stupid”–but now? Now I have a much better idea for said premise, because it happens all the time. I am interested in pursuing that story, because the dynamic between the two main characters is something I did enjoy writing, but…like I said, the premise that led to their meeting was kind of too stupid to believe, but technology has advanced enough now that the ‘on-line accident’ is believable now.1

I watched television for most of the day. We finished both The Better Sister (superb, highly recommend) and Big Mouth, which is now over for good, and we’ll need to find something else to watch. We started something called Adults, but after two episodes I am not sold on it. I also had the LSU game on in the evening, while I finished some chores so the Lost Apartment wasn’t a complete disaster area this morning when I came down for coffee, toast, and cereal. (All I have to do is load the dishwasher and turn it on tonight and I’ll be all set.)

I am hoping to get back to writing fiction this week. I want to finish this one short story and then look at some submission calls I’ve bookmarked. I am kind of excited about writing again, and I really need to be getting back to it. As I said, the ideas and creativity are running rampant in my head, and I really need to get those muscles back into shape so I can get back to actually writing my ideas up. The will is there, of course, the question is whether or not my brain and typing fingers will cooperate.

I guess we’ll see.

Well, we get sent home from the office before I could post this; we don’t have water–and without water we can’t operate or see clients (not to mention the bathroom situation) so I get to work at home the rest of this low-energy day, so let’s see how it goes, shall we?

I’ll be back on the morrow….thanks as always for stopping by.

Italian ballerino Roberto Bolle
  1. I do find it interesting that something that would have been so stupid of a mistake to make with technology eight years ago could easily happen today; isn’t that sort of thing supposed to become harder with more tech advances? One would think, at any rate, and it does make you wonder about these “tech geniuses”, doesn’t it? ↩︎

Delicate

Saturday in the Lost Apartment and all is well. I slept incredibly well last night, and feel energized and rested this morning. I am up at six again this morning, thanks to my alarm cat, but I don’t mind in the least. I have some chores I left for this morning to do; and I want to spend the day reading, doing chores, and relaxing…and maybe, just maybe, writing some more. #Madness, right?

Yesterday I was up before six–so much for sleeping in, but my body clock was clearly reset during my illness and I am now a morning person for the first time in my life–so I did some chores and even some writing (!!!) before it was time for me to start Remote work for the day. When I finished with work, I ran some errands–had to have bloodwork done again, made groceries, picked up the mail and a prescription–and relaxed a bit before going to dinner with a very dear friend. I didn’t get many chores done around the house other than laundry and a load of dishes; but I even wrote more on that short story that’s proving to be harder to write than I thought it would be. There are several short story calls I have bookmarked that I would like to try to write something for. Yes, I am feeling a bit more ambitious, and am also thinking a lot more clearly. There’s still fog in my brain sometimes, and there are times when my attention span is all over the place, but I also feel like when I am clear-headed, I am thinking a lot more practically, confidently, ambitiously, and pragmatically, which is the best mental space to be in to reflect on yourself, where you are in your life, and what you want this inevitable third act of your life to be like. I am making plans again…and while life has a way of throwing a monkey wrench into plans at the worst possible time with the plans having to be completely discarded entirely sometimes and replanned all over again, but it helps me feel like I have some control over my life and my career and everything that goes along with that.

And I do like feeling like I have some control over my life, you know?

I need to get back to writing, but I am being patient and letting my brain and my body dictate what I do every day. There are days when my job takes all my energy and all my brainpower. So be it, you need to rest when you get home–if you’re not too tired to focus you can read, and of course, there’s always something to watch on television. (I am itching to finish bingeing The Better Sister, for example.)

I had dinner with a dear friend of several decades standing last night at a delightful restaurant on Magazine Street that we go to whenever we dine together, Lilette. I even had a solitary cocktail, the Lilette Rouge, which was delicious, and I do recommend the Kobe burger with cheese; it’s mouth-watering good. The conversation was wonderful, and I kept thinking to myself all evening about how lucky I am. I do have the most amazing friends–smart and talented and witty and fun to be around. I am tired of drama and want no part of that anymore–sort yourself out, thanks, but I won’t be a part of that process. Even the three friends that I lost recently; my God, they were Dorothy Allison and Felice Picano and Victoria A. Brownworth–queer writing icons. It’s so very easy to get down about my life, especially when I’m not feeling well (I was so morose when I was so sick and in the hospital; it was why I wasn’t really responding to anyone or posting–so much maudlin self-pity about how everything sucked!!!), but the truth is I’ve had quite a marvelous second act, which made the horrors of the first act so worth experiencing and living through. Every dream I had as that lonely terrified gay kid with no friends that was bullied and shamed daily, has come true for me. No one can ever take away the writing I’ve published, the awards I was short-listed for, or anything I’ve ever accomplished in my publishing career. I got my first by-line in 1996, in Minneapolis, and from there I built a haphazard, all over the map, hard to define career that has given me endless amounts of satisfaction, pride, and joy for the last almost thirty years (yes, in January of next year I will mark my thirtieth year as a published writer! It’s been an interesting journey).

And yet my first college creative writing professor told me I would never publish anything, ever.

But yes, dinner was lovely. I should make plans and do things with people more often–when I’ve gotten my strength back. I’ve increasingly isolated myself since the pandemic; I think I went into hermit mode during the shutdown and never really emerged from it. I also had dehydration sickness that first summer of COVID, before vaccinations; and somehow managed to stave off COVID itself until the summer of 2022, and I’m still not sure I ever completely recovered from that before the next thing, which was my arm injury, the ten month wait for the surgery. And then Mom died, and I had the oral surgeries before the arm surgery, and then I was in rehab/PT for the arm, trying to recover from that trauma, and I think I just burnt out from everything, because I was also still writing on top of all of that. In a way, this sickness and physical/mental collapse was necessary, for me to get some rest and recuperate and stop focusing on being miserable all the time because I’m not and have no reason to be, and remember to keep seeing things as challenges to best rather than something else I need to do.

See what having dinner with a beloved friend who is just a radiant flame of positive energy can do for me? It’s wonderful to have friends who make you feel like you can do anything, and I actually have a lot of those in my life.

Like I said, I need to keep reminding myself to focus on how fucking lucky I am and what a truly lovely life I lead. I get to write, you know? I love writing. I love creating and making new characters and inventing places and coming up with the inevitable story from who those characters actually are and behave is my favorite thing to do, and I also love to challenge myself when I am writing. This little story I am working on–for which there is no market that I am aware of–is really about faith, and how far someone who considers herself devout will step outside of that when presented with a horrible situation; but I have to make sure that, morally challenged as she may be, why she makes the choices she does. It’s been slow going so far, but if I pull it off, “The Witch Bottle” will be a good story. See? This is what I love. I commented the other day that I seem to be having better luck writing the blog and the newsletter rather than fiction lately, but I’m having some very good ideas, and I do think my next revision of Hurricane Season Hustle will turn it into quite a fine piece of work.

I really can’t wait to get back to writing fiction again.

Damn. I am so fucking lucky.

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

A marvelous panel I was on (see? Lucky!) at Minneapolis Bouchercon the morning after the airline lost my suitcase. Attica Locke, Karen Dionne, me in the back, Edwin Hill, David Heska Wanbli Weiden and Nancy Johnson. My imposter syndrome was off the charts that day!

End Game

Ah, Monday of Memorial Day and all is well in the Lost Apartment. I finished cleaning up the kitchen yesterday, which was amazing to walk down into this morning, and I swear I will never allow it to get that bad ever again–do it every weekend, Gregalicious, and it will get easier as it goes. I am trying to keep up with my chores throughout the week rather than pushing them to the weekend–always a recipe for disaster–and if I can keep up, life will be better and I can get other, deeper cleaning that needs to be done taken care of.

Yesterday I started getting creative again. I got up early, around six–don’t ask me why, it’s apparently a thing for me now, which is great since that’s when I have to get up for work–and had breakfast, wrote my blog and a newsletter about Victoria’s death (which reminded me I’d never eulogized Felice Picano, so I started working on that), and then read The Get Off for a while (it’s so excellent) and also more of Moonraker. I worked on the kitchen and get it taken care of–just some minor touches for my workspace tomorrow, and then I can slowly get the living room into order as well. I gathered everything I need to have handy when working on the Scotty book (the older volumes with post-its stuck throughout the pages, and yes, they are color-coded; the notebook with everything written thus far in its most recent draft; the cast list; and my thick folder of notes and research, most of which won’t be used); I should have done this months ago. I started writing the prologue, with a very short homage to Valley of the Dolls, and even started putting the tarot reading together. Not bad for a rest day where I also got the kitchen floors under control and barbecued, don’t you think? After dinner, we watched Fountain of Youth on Apple–John Krasinski and Natalie Portman and a treasure hunt, which was just a little too silly to be enjoyable–and the season finale of The Last of Us. This morning, I have to do the dishes and run the dishwasher, and then start picking up the living room while I swill coffee and listen to Taylor Swift while also taking reading breaks. I also started reading something new for non-fiction, Old Man River: The Mississippi River in North American History by Paul Schneider, which I am already loving. As you can see, my creative ADHD is exploding off the charts again so I am going to need to start writing more than just the blog and the newsletter soon, else I’ll explode.

I’m also up before seven today, with a good night’s sleep behind me and facing the last day of this holiday weekend. I do have to make a little groceries today; so I am going to try to do some things around here before I head over there. Dishes and the living room, mostly, as well as some self-care and reading. I feel pretty good this morning, only slightly physically weak, and I actually made it all the way upstairs last night without having to stop and rest on the way up. I’m eating more and more every day–and trust me, after worrying about gaining weight for 2/3rds of my life, it’s nice to eat whatever I want whenever I want without fear or self-loathing about it.

And it’s a short work week, which will be nice. I don’t think we’re booked heavily in the clinic this week, but I am pretty much caught up on everything at the office so the week should be a fairly simple and easy one to ease back into the regular routine. I’ve gotten up early every day of this holiday weekend, so getting up early to go to work isn’t going to be an issue tomorrow morning. Huzzah!

And I’m enjoying my morning coffee again. I don’t drink nearly as much as I used to before the illness, because I get shaky and jittery, but at least it is tasting good to me again. Normality seems to be slowly returning to one Gregalicious, but it is slowly happening, and I am very relieved on that score. I am also feeling ambitious again, which hasn’t happened in a long time, and I feel pretty good about that as well.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines for the day. Those books aren’t going to read themselves, nor are those dishes going to wash themselves (self-cleaning dishes would be amazing), and Sparky is acting like he wants my desk chair or my lap or both, so I may as well repair to the easy chair. Have a lovely Memorial Day, and remember to toast those we lost in service to our country.

You know, the suckers and losers.

What can I say? I was hungry!

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.

Stoned Love

Sunday and here we go. Yesterday was a decent day, even if I did wear myself out. I couldn’t find my wallet Thursday, and couldn’t find it anywhere. So, as much as I wanted to put off dealing with until Monday, I got a wild hair of responsibility and took care of things. I canceled my credit and debit cards, then Paul and I drove out to ABC Title in Metairie for me to replace my real ID (and get him one). We picked up the mail (and the chopping/slicing/dicing device I’d ordered arrived), we went to the grocery store since I had no way of paying for them, and then came home. As Paul lugged the groceries in because I was exhausted, he checked our mailbox…

And my wallet was in there. (Thank you, whoever found it and put it there.)

I’d checked just to be safe on the way out to do everything, and it wasn’t there.I am glad it was returned, but man! If only a few hours earlier a lot of hassle for me wouldn’t have been necessary. And I have to wait for my credit and debit card replacements to arrive in the mail over the next two weeks. Ah, there are worse things, and at least they didn’t take the (now invalid) cards, you know? I even ordered a new wallet on line, which is fine. The old one has been pretty beaten up and trashed over the years.

Oh, and the new Real ID? With my weight loss, it is easily the worst state picture for an ID I have ever taken.

My brain was scrambled and tired when we got back, so I kind of didn’t do as much as I could have yesterday. I did some cleaning and straightening, but I also rewatched Aladdin, and finished reading that abominable Dana Girls mystery, Mystery at the Crossroads, which will be featured in my newsletter soon. My mind and creativity are trying to make a comeback–I did take some notes down for an essay I am writing, trying to get my thoughts better organized and even had a breakthrough on how to open it. But my energy reserves are so low, it’s hard for me to even think about doing anything once I get the necessary things done every day (like going to work; I’ll be seeing clients this week–we’ll see how that goes as my job duties start picking up again).

I slept decently last night–I also fell asleep in my chair again last night and Paul woke me up to go to bed–so I am hoping today will be a good day. I did manage to get some things done around here yesterday (progress is progress, however slow it may be) and I do have a ZOOM call with my editor this morning at eleven, so I’m hoping to get some things done this morning since I am up so early. Coffee is starting to taste better, but I need to clean the Keurig out since it sat unused for so long. That probably has something to do with the coffee taste, you know?

I hope this is going to be a good week. I have to take it one day at a time, of course–some days are better than others, and I need to pace myself and take things easier and not try not to be Energizer Bunny Greg and wear myself out, you know? The kitchen still needs work–as does the filing–and maybe I’ll try to get some writing done today, if my brain doesn’t end up scrambling on me.

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

The view from the Vieux Carré Room in the Hotel Monteleone

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. ↩︎