Category: the apartment

Sea of Heartbreak

Well, we’ve made it to Wednesday, and the seasonal transition from Christmas to Carnival is now complete. I had my first piece of King Cake yesterday, and it was marvelous, as always. I’m a little more excited about Carnival this year than I have been in–oh, I don’t know how long. That last one before the pandemic–2020–was cold and wet and unpleasant and I didn’t enjoy it very much, and then of course the disease started kicking into gear and I’ve not really had much opportunity to enjoy it very much these past few years. Part of it is having to get up so early for work makes staying out late on the parade route counter-intuitive; and the other was of course being so fucking tired all the time.

I’m feeling a bit tired this morning. I’ve worked in the clinic for two days (I had to cover for someone on my Admin Day Monday), we’ve been busy, and I was alone yesterday and for the rest of the week and we’re going to continue to be busy today and tomorrow as well. Sigh. At least I am not fatigued! I was sleepy last night and went to bed early, but managed to get some chores done (I am really trying to stay on top of the chores so I don’t have to spend time on the weekend trying to get them done) before going to bed. I slept well last night, too, which was awesome. My 21 year anniversary is coming up (it already has passed in reality; I started working on the 2nd of January, but they have my “hire date” as one day next week. This mystified me for a while, and gradually figured that the date they have in the files for me was the first time I got paid), which is crazy to me–my temporary part time job somehow turned into a career of sorts, but I was reflecting on that yesterday while remembering previous jobs that I absolutely hated. But I got a lot done at work yesterday and am all caught up on everything, which is great. The goal is to always stay current, and since I am no longer fighting fatigue every day, it’s not that hard to do. Now to get back into the writing habit…

I also have a book coming out next month, and I really should start promoting it, shouldn’t I? I am so terrible at this, and I always forget that I really need to start doing some promotion until the book is almost ready to come out–or is already out. How do I still have a career in writing? One of those mysteries, I suppose, that will never be solved. Heavy heaving sigh.

And TWFest/S&S season is also kicking into gear, and I am about to become my annual period of Festival widowing. Paul will be working almost nonstop–or sleeping; that’s pretty much his schedule from now till April. Heavy sigh. But this is a good opportunity and time for me to get some things done that I need to get done. I am definitely pruning the fuck out of the books; many of them I will never get around to reading, and much as I like always being surrounded by books…until I am seriously reading regularly again I need to stop buying more books. I did an excellent job last year restricting myself from buying tons of books I’ll probably never read, but yeah–it’s time to clean everything out, methinks. There are also well over a hundred books on my iPad, too. I also think I’m going to start clearing out files, too; I can always make notes in a journal of anything that looks interesting or useful in the future. STOP HOARDING GREGALICIOUS!!!

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow for sure.

Smoky Mountain Rain

Epiphany! Twelfth Night! Carnival begins! I made groceries on the way home from work last night (we were busy all day), and picked up our first King cake of the season–it may be the last, actually, because Paul was home when I got home from work, and we spent a good portion of the evening getting caught up on everything and making plans. We both want to be healthier this year, and work on getting into better condition. He’s going to start by changing eating habits now; I am going to wait until after Mardi Gras to get started because that will fuck me up with going to the gym and so forth; it always does, and then I can’t get back into it again.

Or maybe I am just delaying working on it because I don’t want to really get started and am procrastinating again. It’s a mystery, as always. (We are interrupting this post to remind Gregalicious that he is not to be self-deprecating or hard on himself in 2026; and this is dangerously close. REBOOT! REBOOT!)

I’ve always loved today’s title song, and one night when I was driving to Kentucky through the Smoky Mountains, it started raining…and I remembered the song and a story popped into my head, about a woman fleeing a crime, heading north on I-75, and stopping at a rest area, where through no fault of her own other than having to pee, pulls into the midst of another crime. I’ve never written the whole story out, either–called it “Smoky Mountain Rest Stop”–but when I was driving up there this last time, one of the problems I had with the unwritten story was security cameras…and there was a rest stop that said NO SECURITY PROVIDED. I made a quick drive through their parking lot and sure enough, no cameras…and I renamed the story “No Security Provided,” which is a MUCH better title1.

I also finished my newsletter review of The Postman Always Rings Twice and got it out of the way; I am working on yet another to send out this weekend (hopefully). I was a little bit done in when I got home last night–not fatigued, but a bit tired–and so never made dinner last night, nor did I do any chores. I got sucked into The Cult of the Real Housewife documentary on HBO, about Mary Cosby from Real Housewives of Salt Lake City. It was…interesting. I still have another episode to go, but am not really sure about it. It’s highly entertaining, and I may have some unconscious bias going on (because I enjoy her on the show), but…I just don’t know. Yes, it is weird she married her grandmother’s widower and had a child with him. But that church is small. How could that fund her extravagant lifestyle, even if it is a cult and they are all giving her every cent of their money and so forth? It seemed like a lot of innuendo without concrete proof of anything; they did use some clips from Bravo, so they had to have permission, right? I’m not sure how that works, but there had to be some cooperation from the network. Curious that no one from Bravo is in it, though–co-stars, Andy Cohen, etc.–other than the clips.

It’s also interesting how many housewives have gotten the documentary treatment. Someday this will all be very fertile ground for a forensic social/cultural anthropologist, or a doctoral thesis: what personality disorders make for good reality television stars? I try not to watch shows that feature (and reward) criminal behavior; and I don’t know that I was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Mary Cosby’s church is a cult. Maybe episode three will be more damning? I’m not sure its against the law to be a cult? They usually wind up violating other laws, which is usually their downfall–or they all end up dead.

Not good options, are they?

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

I love how the colors of the illuminated stained glass glow in contract to the darkness and shadows

Something Like That

Monday and back to the spice mines for me today. It has been a glorious long weekend of sorts; and while I didn’t get nearly as much accomplished as I would have liked…it was kind of lovely coming downstairs this morning to a neat and orderly appointment. I woke up this morning with Paul on my right side and Sparky curled up around my feet, which was remarkably comfortable and cozy; I would have happily stayed there for hours. It certainly helped me sleep more deeply, methinks. I did spend a lot of time organizing and filing and cleaning yesterday, which was very nice. The twelve days of Christmas end tomorrow with the arrival of Twelfth Night, which officially kicks off Carnival season–which also means KING CAKE SEASON! Huzzah! I am going to pick one up on the way home tonight (since I have to stop anyway) but won’t be cutting into it until tomorrow morning which is TWELFTH NIGHT. And I won’t be using Christmas imagery any longer after tomorrow, either.

It’s dark outside my windows this morning, which feels a bit odd after getting up later for the last four days. The Saints also lost yesterday, but it didn’t bug me in the least; they seem to be gelling as a team behind this new quarterback, Tyler Slough and thus, hope springs eternal as ever for us Saints fans. I didn’t have the mental faculties to read very much yesterday, and I didn’t write a newsletter, as I had hoped to do. (It’s already started; I just need to finish it…) Part of this is Sparky’s fault; he was glued to me for the last two days–following me around, riding on my shoulder, wanting to sleep in my lap and cuddle.

It was also kind of interesting to just let the day happen, as I did yesterday. It was nice not being in a rush to do anything or feeling the ticking of the clock advancing as the day wore on and time passed. I didn’t do the living room floor–but I got the kitchen floor under control again. I also got a lot of filing and organizing of my work space done, too, which is terrific; I should be able to maintain the apartment easily from now on so long as I stay on top of it, or don’t let things slide for days or till the weekend. As I mentioned before, Sparky was glued to me yesterday and very needy, so I would do something and then have to sit so he could nap on me for a bit. Yes, I am Sparky’s bitch, but he’s such a dear little boy.

And of course, every time I think oh I can’t sit now, baby I’d remember all the times I’d said that to Skittle and Scooter and how I wish I could go back and love them even more than I did…and I am putty in Sparky’s hands. Skittle and Scooter did teach me how to love a cat. I doubt very much that it would work, but I wish I could have all three of my cats in the bed with me every morning. I suspect they were all meant to be only cats…but sometimes I think Sparky needs a buddy to play with…usually when he’s biting and clawing my arm in rough play. He does love to pounce…

I have to work in the clinic today, and we’re going to be extremely busy this week, so I sense I’ll be exhausted by the time the week ends. I know Paul wants to go to Costco this weekend, and since the house is clean, all I need to do is stay on top of things and then I don’t have to do anything major this weekend, and can start doing other things that need to be done. More books need to be pruned, more files need to be destroyed, and the attic needs to be thoroughly cleaned out.

And on that note, I best be going. Have a lovely Monday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow in the morning.

If We Make It Through December

Sunday, as we slowly transition from Yule season into Carnival, and I have to go back to the office tomorrow. Paul is coming home sometime today–I can’t find his flight schedule, but he usually comes back late in the evening; I may even go to bed before he gets home. Some greeting, right? But I have to get up at six tomorrow morning, he knows that, so I won’t worry about that now. I’ll see him after work when I get home from the office. I didn’t do a whole lot yesterday; I did some chores and ran a couple of errands (it was gorgeous yesterday) and when I got home, wasn’t terribly motivated to do much of anything. I did keep doing some cleaning and organizing and filing at various intervals throughout the day, but there’s still a lot to get done this morning/today. I feel more awake and alive this morning than I did yesterday; perhaps the drinks on Friday night and the walking did wear me out a little bit, even though I wasn’t expressly fatigued. My batteries were a little low, is all. I also have to be careful not to overdo anything because I feel better, you know? I also partly blame it on Sparky, who wanted to sleep in my lap all day, the sweet boy.

I also need to make a new to-do list.

It was surreal yesterday to check in and do my morning blog post and then check the news to see that “Donald the dove” (right, Maureen Dowd? How do you show your face in public, you tragically evil and clearly shameless hateful piece of shit?) had started a war all by himself! And people want to forgive his voters for being conned? No thank you–I’ll carry those grudges to the fucking grave. I am completely incapable of feeling empathy (and I am very empathetic) for the people who joyfully and gladly voted for every last bit of this agenda. Oh no, miss me with your “I didn’t vote for this.” Yes, you fucking did, and you mocked everyone who tried warning you before hand. Where are all those people who told me I was overreacting in 2016? In 2024? You deserve to be reminded of your gleeful ignorance and hateful disrespect every fucking day for the rest of your fucking lives. I sure as fuck didn’t vote for any of this bullshit, yet have to deal with it because YOU wanted to “own the libs.”

NO ONE IS LAUGHING NOW. HAPPY? No? Ever heard the phrase “you reap what you sow”? Well, now you’re reaping what you sowed and you don’t seem very happy with it. Live with the shame and utter humiliation of your public ignorance and stupidity, and you get no sympathy or pity from me–and there will certainly be no forgiveness ever coming from me.

Hope you kept your diapers, ear tampons, and golden shoes! Hillary was only wrong in underestimating how many of you were deplorable pieces of shit. Although, there is something almost comically ironic about the fall of the United States’ experiment in democracy coming from the small hands of an uneducated bigoted pedophile rapist. Well done, white people, well done.

And yet I still have high hopes that this will, all evidence to the contrary, be a good year. I feel weird about that, to be honest; how can I feel positive about the future in the face of all evidence to the contrary? It feels weird to be feeling good about myself and my life, making plans (tentative, as so much is out of my control) and just in general being happy and pleased with myself? I think I have one more year to stay away from conferences and so forth, to continue working on myself and my work and shaping up everything in the directions I want to take, before I return again to the wild world of mystery conferences. I think Bouchercon is in DC for 2027, and so I will probably go to that.

I did watch a lot of videos on Youtube yesterday–some historical stuff (the Ptolemaic dynasty of Egypt; Cleopatra’s sister1; the Valois dynasty of France), some interviews and reviews of Heated Rivalry, and sports “commentators” on the collapse of Alabama in the play-offs, or the SEC “not being what it was.” I also don’t–and have never–understood the mentality of “my conference is better than yours” arguments; they are pointless beyond any metric beyond winning the championships. The Big Ten has won two in a row, and could be winning a third in a row this year, with three different schools. That’s impressive, indeed. Of course, the SEC did that from 2007-2010 with four different schools…but that’s also the past. One of the biggest problems I have always seen with college football is the polls–because being a brand name is the most important thing with the polls. Ohio State was number one for how long, and how long was Indiana ranked behind them, only for Indiana to beat them? Indiana isn’t a brand like Ohio State or Alabama–although that may be changing now. Preseason polls are meaningless now, just like any polls before the playoff rankings and any bowl game that isn’t a part of the playoffs–which is why you cannot look at bowl results as a metric of conference strength. Many players opt out of the bowl games now because they are meaningless, so bowl teams are often not the same team from the season. Toxic fandom is just another phase of toxic masculinity–and women can be as bad, if not worse, than men.

And on that note, I am going to get another cup of coffee and a breakfast sandwich and see what all is going on in the world today, before I get back to work on cleaning.

  1. Arsinoë IV has always been of interest to me, as was Cleopatra’s older sister Berenice. ↩︎

Flowers on the Wall

Good morning!

I’m running a bit behind this morning–hence the tardiness of my daily blog–but I keep reminding myself you have no time constraints today; because I don’t. The post office closes at 2, but other than that, I can be anywhere at any time today. This is very nice, and the same is true for tomorrow. I do have some things to get done today, but again, there’s nothing pressing.

I had originally thought I was going to try to get a lot of writing and reading done this weekend; but yesterday, after I finished my work at home duties, I decided to clean up the apartment as well as get better organized with all the things I currently have in progress. I’ve been ill for so long (I no longer refer to the fatigue and brain fog as anything other than a part of the ulcerative colitis; henceforth I will think of the first half of this decade as anything other than “when I was ill”) that I didn’t have the strength, energy, or will power to do much of anything except try to keep current on the housework…and thus things slid. I think part of the reason I’ve not been able to write as much is partly because everything has been so cluttered and scattered and disorganized, and as I cleaned haphazardly yesterday afternoon, my mind started wandering and thinking about writing projects, which felt absolutely amazing.

I had dinner with a friend last night, which was quite lovely. It was a beautiful night for a walk–there’s nothing better than New Orleans on a warm winter night–and we ate in the restaurant courtyard. I remembered to wear my hearing aids so I could actually hear, and it was marvelous to catch up. I even decided to try having more than one cocktail, to see how it would play out, and it was fine. No gastronomical distress! And walking a total of about ten blocks or so was perfectly fine. My hips didn’t ache a bit, and I am not exhausted this morning, either. I got a little winded walking, but that’s from being out of condition–and a big reminder of how far I have to go to get back into decent shape…or what I call decent shape, at any rate. It’s just so marvelous to feel good again, you know? It makes me very happy. I also spent some time with the massage gun, working on the tightness in my left shoulder and the shoulder blade; it gets tight and sore since the surgery but feels great this morning. (Note to self: remember the use the massage gun every week.) I also want to start stretching a bit every day and maybe even taking a walk…once I figure out how to make the headphones work with my new phone.

So far, so good, 2026.

And on that note, I think I am going to get cleaned up and make a grocery list–I have to make groceries at some point–and get back to work on cleaning and organizing. Have a marvelous day, Constant Reader, and I will be back in the morning!

I just love when stained glass is lit up, don‘t you?

L. A. Freeway

And now we are on day two of 2026; so far so good, at any rate. I turned my brain off yesterday and spent the day doing chores and watching football games. The best game of the day was the final one, which saw Mississippi kick a last second field goal to beat Georgia and make it to the semi-finals. The day also saw a rather dull game with Texas Tech-Oregon, before Alabama got flat our embarrassed by Indiana. The Hoosiers are the number one team in the country–whatever that means, I don’t trust rankings that much anymore–but still. I don’t remember ever seeing Alabama beaten so thoroughly and decisively. They might lose, but they are always in it. This Alabama team looked like it couldn’t beat the Alabama team that opened the season getting beat by Florida State. I think that’s the biggest change to college football since the start of this decade–the “brands” don’t mean anything any more other than to pollsters, who are no better than any at-home viewer of the games. I mean, if someone would have told me as little as five years ago that Alabama would lose to Vanderbilt one season and then to Indiana in the next, I’d still be laughing. I would imagine Kalen DeBoer’s seat is kind of hot this morning in Tuscaloosa…four losses per year isn’t going to fly there.

That, I think, is the most interesting development in college football–showing everyone how useless and bogus the polls are. They’ve revamped and rebooted everything in the sport pretty much already; would ignoring and/or mocking the polls be too much of a stretch. The NFL doesn’t have polls, they have records–perhaps that is what college football should move towards. You don’t need polls to drum up interest in college football games.

Yesterday was very nice and lovely. I wound up deciding to shut off my brain and let it recharge for the day, and that’s exactly what happened all day. I didn’t think at all, which was terrific. I didn’t even brainstorm or do much of any type of thinking. I did start reading a nonfiction history of Alabama from the nineteenth century (Pickett’s History of Alabama and Adjoining States; my dad gave me a copy, which also reminded me of how much Alabama and Appalachian research I’ve done over the last few years, looking into legends and lore of the region for my own writing projects), but didn’t get very far into it. Today I get to work at home for a while–also have a meeting–and am having dinner with a dear friend this evening. That seems lovely, doesn’t it? I also have chores and reading to do today when I am finished working, but I am primarily going to try to get the house handled before dinner. There are no games tomorrow (Saints play Atlanta on Sunday), so I have all day tomorrow to do writing and reading around here. Huzzah! I’m enjoying all this extra time off, but readjusting to a normal work week is going to be a real drag. Yay for next week! But there’s also another holiday three day-weekend this month, too. And soon enough, it will be parade season.

Yikes, indeed.

But I am also thinking today is going to be a good, productive day, and so will this entire weekend. I won’t berate myself, though, if none of that happens. Taking it easier on myself is definitely one of the goals for the year; one of the best things about being healthy again is the forgetfulness is mostly gone; it still happens, of course, but not with the degree of frequency it used to have. I also am not tired all the time anymore, which has also been heavenly. Now that I am physically healthier, I’m having to get used to being anxiety-free all over again. It’s actually lovely, to be honest. I’ve never known life without anxiety, which was the root of so many issues for me, and my entire life was built around coping mechanisms to relieve anxiety and the concurrent mood shift. Now, I can choose whether to use that coping mechanism or not; and if my choice is a wrong one, I can just shrug it off and move on. I think part of the reason I am so optimistic about the new year is because I am facing it without a lot of the issues that have always made life so challenging for me.

I did have groceries delivered yesterday, so I am good on that. I might make groceries tomorrow, and get the mail, but other than that, I should be home for the weekend, and it’s not a bad way to see in this brand new year, is it?

And on that note, I am going to head into the spice mines and get some more coffee, maybe have some toast, too. I will be back tomorrow morning, so have a great day, Constant Reader!

Getting so close to Twelfth Night and the beginning of Carnival!

Younger Me

Happy New Year, everyone! We made it all the way through 2025, and finally said farewell to yet another shitty year for the world in general. How long will we continue to be hopeful about the promise of this new year? A day? Two? A week? I am not wagering anything on this, mind you; too many times in the last ten years have I thought oh thank fucking God this annus horribilis has ended, only for the new year to be even worse. Definitely not making that mistake again!

Sparky has been a cuddle boy–waaaay more than usual–since Paul left. He sleeps in the bed next to me, curls up on my pillow and goes back to sleep once he lets me know he’s hungry and I need to get up soon. When I am in my easy chair, he either sleeps in my lap or on my chest. Last night when I got home, he was all about being needy, which was sweet. He was in my lap during the entire Miami-Ohio State game (well done, Miami! Woo-hoo! Looks like you deserved to be in the play-offs after all, doesn’t it?), and rode on my shoulders when I went up to bed (I did fall asleep in my chair once the game was over).

It was cold again yesterday and will be again today. I’m going to do chores, read, and have the television on for the football playoffs, but no guarantees here that I will pay attention to any of them. I want to get the downstairs all straightened up, maybe even the upstairs, too–there is, after all, another television in the bedroom–or…I may not do a damned thing. Who knows? It’s a holiday, after all, and why should I actually work on a holiday? I don’t have any deadlines, other than some submission calls I might try to get something ready for; I missed all the December 31 ones I was going to try for (what else is new?) but hopefully, this year I will be better about things like that and will make lists to remind me and get everything organized.

I also forgot to mention, in yesterday’s 2025 round up, probably the best thing I did all year and probably the best thing I’ve done in decades: I was one of the organizing committee members for a fundraising auction to benefit the Transgender Law Center. Not only did we pass our goal, we passed it significantly. I always forget about it because the actual auction was during the same weekend as TWFest/Saints and Sinners, and of course that was also when I started getting sick, so yeah, two years or so of work slips my mind because other things were happening at the same time. I also had a lovely time that same weekend, even as my heath started declining. Anyway, thanks very much to the driving forces on the whole thing from the very beginning (Susie Calkins, Cheryl Head, Ed Aymar, Sandra SG Wong, and Jen Dornan-Fish; I think that’s everyone and if I forgot you, sorry) for including me on this special project, everyone who donated items, and those who bid on things, even those who didn’t win. I also would be remiss in not mentioning those who came into the committee later and did yeoman’s work to make the auction succeed: Robyn Gigl, John Copenhaver, and Brenda Buchanan; if I am forgetting someone, my apologies) The response from the crime fiction community almost made my desiccated heart grow three sizes.

Almost. Let’s not get crazy.

Goals for the new year are the same as they are for every year: getting better organized; be better about my writing career; getting into better physical shape; staying on top of everything; and making a plan for the year and sticking to it. I also need to be more consistent with my newsletter; it was originally intended to be at least once a week, with no more than three per week during a productive one…only now I seem to go a long time without writing one. It grew really nicely this past year, and this was also the year where I separated out daily reports like this from the newsletter and made it about topics I want to do a deeper dive into–there are lots of drafts, of course–which has made things a little bit easier. I also want to work further on myself this year, too–not just the physical stuff; I really need to continue feeding my brain and re-educating myself on everything I am unlearning.

And on that note, I am taking my coffee and a purring kitty to my easy chair, where I will probably spend most of the day with my brain turned off. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I do hope your new year will be marvelous and full of joy.

Old Hippie

Good morning!

Well, here it is New Year’s Eve yet again, with 2025 taking its last breath tonight at 11:59:50 p.m. I’m not going to celebrate the end of an awful year (it was pretty awful for everyone, I think) because who know what fresh horrors 2026 will bring in its dreadful wake?

I mean, the year wasn’t all bad, was it?

Let’s start with the bad, shall we, and get it out of the way first?

I lost four dear friends this past year, people who’d been part of my life since before I was published, and had always been active cheerleaders of mine, both personally and professionally. Their loss is still felt; I think at least every day I have a moment of oh I should email Victoria to see what she thinks and then have the jolt of remembering that I’ll never have another lengthy conversation via email with her (we stopped talking on the phone because we’d talk for hours and lose track of time; I can’t tell you how many times one of us was late for something because we were on the phone) again. We lost Dorothy Allison after the election in 2024, but I am counting that as part of 2025’s losses, because it was so close to the end of the year. And of course, Felice Picano and Patricia Brady. I don’t think I will ever not miss any of them.

Few things can make you feel your age like losing your loved ones.

I suppose the biggest thing that happened to me this past year was being diagnosed with ulcerative colitis and spending six days in the hospital. I know, I am certain you’re sick of hearing about me being sick; but it was something significant that happened to me this year and since this is a year-end round-up…you can, of course, also skip ahead if you’re sick of me being sick; God knows I was sick of being sick. We now think (we= me and my doctor) that the situation probably developed as long ago as 2019/2020; and I had bouts since then that I didn’t know was the ulcerative colitis and thought it was something else. Since it always cleared up, I didn’t worry about it. I blamed the brain fog, memory loss, and fatigue on having COVID in the summer of 2021. But those were also symptoms that something was wrong with me, just not identified as such, and of course, my criminally negligent previous doctor (who should lose his license to practice, frankly) couldn’t have cared less. But this last bout was bad and it was probably the worst five weeks of my life thus far, health-wise–and it did require hospitalization. I am now feeling the best I have in years, even farther back than the pandemic, and now I just need to rebuild my stamina and get back into better physical condition. Ultimately, that bad round of colitis turned out to be a good thing…

I think it’s pretty safe to say that it was a shitty year to be a US citizen on every political level. We have a jackass governor, an evil psycho for president, and the gang of idiots that are the cabinet, and don’t get me started on MAGA. There are signs, though, that it’s all going to collapse…just not soon enough. I just wonder how much of the country is going to get dragged down with them.

I read some excellent books this year, just not nearly enough of them. Some personal favorites are Murder Takes a Vacation by Laura Lippman, We Are Watching by Alison Gaylin, El Dorado Drive by Megan Abbott, Fever Beach by Carl Hiassen, O Jerusalem by Laurie R. King, The Hunting Wives by May Cobb; Holokua Road by Elizabeth Hand, The Get Off by Christa Faust, and Hall of Mirrors by John Copenhaver, amongst many others. I also reread some books that I always enjoy. I didn’t read many short stories, or essays, and that’s something I need to correct in the new year.

My favorite movie of the year was Superman. Period, no question, no arguments. There was also a lot of good television this past year, with lots of excellent queer representation across the board. Boots and Heated Rivalry showed that queers can be leads, and people will watch. (The enthusiastic reactions of some straight men to Heated Rivalry shocked me to the core.) While this fascist-adjacent administration tries to strip queer people of our rights, our dignity, and our citizenship, queer acceptance by the people is rising. Sure, there are still homophobic chodes out there, wrapping their bigotry (and ignorance) in the cloak of religious belief, but that will never change. The way MAGA took over evangelical Christianity, only to have regular church attendance fall sharply, is just *chef’s kiss* to me. Have fun in hell, apostates!

I wrote one book this past year, and it took me forever to do so, but… it will be out in February at long last. I also published three short stories in anthologies: “The Last To See Him Alive” in Celluloid Crimes; “The Spirit Tree” in Double Crossing Van Dine; and “The Rhinestone”, which was in Crime Ink: Iconic, edited by John Copenhaver and Salem West; a queer crime anthology I was very proud to be in. So, the year wasn’t a total wash; I just got seriously derailed last spring.

But again, I have to reiterate that getting derailed last spring was a good thing for me, because having enforced rest where I really couldn’t do much of anything–using my laptop was exhausting (I didn’t have a good place in my room to use it), I didn’t have any books with me (although I could have read on the Kindle app on my phone), and so my mind was wandering almost the entire time I was there (when it wasn’t focused on how horrible I felt). Lying in a hospital bed with literally no idea what is wrong with you (and none of the doctors or nurses know, either) is a major wake-up call; one that makes you have to sit back and take stock of your life and career and behavior, while recognizing/remembering how I used to put a lot of thought into my writing and my career and somehow, I just lost the thread of everything at some point in the 2010’s. I also got a hard dose of the reality that procrastination has always been my enemy, and I’d come out of the aughts kind of damaged; and rather than dealing with my ambitions or making plans to achieve my career goals.

My blog turned 21 yesterday, too; which is wild to me. My, how things have changed since I started blogging! It seems weird to have been blogging this long. I started while we were under the incompetent rule of George W. Bush, and before Hurricane Katrina, if that tells you anything. I don’t think there’s ever been a year where I posted every day, but still, even assuming I only did 300 entries per year, that’s 6300 entries, and averaging them out to 500 words each…that’s over three million words here alone.

Um, yikes?

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow with goals for 2026.

How beautiful New Orleans is at night always awes me.

She’s In Love With The Boy

Tuesday morning, New Year’s Eve Eve, as it were, and Paul is leaving today to visit his family. I don’t much care for it when he isn’t home; maybe the first day or two are kind of nice and quiet and peaceful, but it starts getting on my nerves after a couple of days. It’s also amazing how empty the house seems when he’s out of town. Although, I suppose one day it might be something I’ll have to get used to? I will cross that proverbial bridge when I get to it. So, I will come home to an empty house tonight, and Sparky will glue himself to me for the next six days. There are worse things, I suppose, than cat cuddles on cold nights, and having a little tortie shadow following me around and never letting me out of his sight. I’m glad I only have to work tomorrow–Friday is my work-at-home day still–because he will be very traumatized when I get home after work tomorrow. He’ll not be so bad tonight–he won’t miss Paul until he doesn’t come home tomorrow at all. He really is the sweetest boy, and I’ll have to give him a lot of attention.

Which I do not mind in the least.

I found out yesterday that one of my dearest friends (and biggest supporters) passed away a few weeks ago. She’d been ill for a long time, so I hadn’t seen her in quite some time, because she had low energy and heart issues, and I am a lot (I am). I had actually thought the other day about her and how we needed to get over there to catch up and say hello…too little too late. Heavy sigh. The worst part of getting older is losing loved ones to the angel of death. That was the part I never thought about; I guess I was assuming everyone I loved would outlive me.

Apparently, that’s not going to be the case and I’ll probably wind up living to a hundred. Which would be just my luck, you know? I just keep going on and on, shouting at clouds and forgetting what I went into the kitchen for. Hurray. But I will miss her terribly. Oh, how hard she could make me laugh! And so incredibly smart, too; I loved talking to her about books and movies and television shows we enjoyed. She was a huge mystery fan, as well as holding a PhD in History (I’d jokingly call her “Doc” every once in a while, which she hated–I don’t know why I enjoy teasing people so much; I should probably stop).

Sigh.

But with Paul gone, I can watch some things I’ve been pushing off but meaning to get around to–my re-watch of the Brendan Fraser Mummy movies comes to mind–and there’s no excuse for not being able to get back into reading extensively again. I’m enjoying the two books I’ve started, but am not making much progress. My Noirmas was a complete bust, but I did get to reread The Postman Always Rings Twice, and I have some essays to finish for the newsletter. Noirmas is technically not over until Twelfth Night, January 6th, so I have time to get some of these other choices read before starting my next reading project, whatever it might be. Maybe some non-fiction? I’ve got some awesome non-fiction books on hand; maybe I should dig into those? Nonfiction February? That could be a winner, and I can then extend Noirmas through January.

I also am not certain why I am so focused on projects, but it makes me happy, so there’s that.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely New Year’s Eve Eve, Constant Reader and I shall be back on the last day of 2025!

I really hate his bikini….but the rest is nice, isn’t it?

Don’t Let the Green Grass Fool You

And it’s back to the office with me this morning. Bleargh. There are worse things, after all, and I don’t have to go in on Thursday, so that’s something. But it’s been a hot minute since I got up this early, so it feels weird to be sitting here, a bit groggy, with dark outside. But my coffee tastes good and the incoming cold weather doesn’t strike until tomorrow. Paul is leaving to see his mom tomorrow and won’t be back until sometime Sunday, so it’s just going to be me and a lonely, needy cat here for nearly a week. That’s okay; I don’t mind having Sparky glued to me at all times when I’m home. He really doesn’t like being left alone by himself, and he really doesn’t like it when only one of us is home. He’s a spoiled little baby, but he’s our spoiled little baby, isn’t he?

I feel surprisingly good this morning; it wasn’t a struggle to get out of bed and I was also able to resist hitting snooze repeatedly until I had to rush around the house like a madman, either. Today is my injection day, so I need to take it out of the refrigerator to thaw out for forty-five minutes before attaching it to myself. I also don’t know if today is an Admin Day or a clinic day; in either case, we aren’t busy at all this week so it’s not a very big deal, one way or the other. The rest of the week is very slow, too–we kick back into high gear next week, after the new year, as everyone’s insurance resets for a new calendar year. Woo-hoo! But my mood is good, I don’t feel tired, the coffee is going down well, and I am getting a bit hungry and may have to eat my breakfast sandwich here in a moment.

I was really hungry! But that sandwich hit the spot properly. I also have to do my every-eight-weeks-injection–and I can sort of tell it’s almost time. My digestive system hasn’t been painful or anything, but…I can tell when the injection is almost due. I’ve been very dehydrated lately, so need to focus on replenishing electrolytes this week, too; this is all related, of course, to the UC (bastard that it is). I am sure everything will be fine once I pump the medicine into my abdomen for five minutes. So exciting!

We watched Cover-Up, the documentary about Seymour Hersh, which was very interesting. I hadn’t thought of Sy Hersh in years, but have always appreciated his reporting work. He does kind of come across as a bit of a dick in the documentary, but they don’t make journalists like him anymore, which is a pity. My formative teen years (the 1970s) was a decade of spectacular journalism, which made me think that the bad old days of yellow journalism and if it bleeds it leads were a thing of the past and all journalists were ethical and did things the right way and protected the public interest all these years…Fox and our current embarrassment of legacy media is definitely something that needs to be fixed in the future, but our system has become so corrupted that they don’t even bother trying to hide it anymore.

Brigitte Bardot, the Nazi skank who couldn’t act, died. Hope she’s enjoying the flames of hell like the racist homophobic piece of shit deserved. You didn’t become famous for your intellect, madam. After Anthony Geary and Rob Reiner, it was nice to not feel a bit sad when a celebrity died.

The long holiday weekend was lovely, even if I accomplished very little. I did run the dishwasher before I went to bed last night, so I need to unload it tonight, and pick up a few things around the apartment. I also have to make a bit of groceries on my way home from work tonight–nothing major, nothing much, just a couple of things to get me through the week. Tomorrow night I’ll need to swing by the post office to pay the rental and pick up the mail for the last time in 2025…2026 might be worse than 2025, but at least for now there’s the promise of things getting better somehow. I usually do start the year with optimism…

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely last Monday of the year, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back here for New Year’s Eve Eve tomorrow.