Category: working out

Whole Lotta Trouble

Tuesday in the Lost Apartment, and a lovely day was had by all yesterday. Today is MY PUBLICATION DATE FOR HURRICANE SEASON HUSTLE!!! Woo-hoo! Honestly, sometimes I thought that book would be the death of me, my writing career, or both. (It’s a lengthy story I’ve bored you with many times already, Constant Reader, and won’t again.) But now it’s out and I get to be happy for a little while before the reviews start coming in.

And no, I don’t read the reviews. Anywhere. I don’t mind bad reviews as long as they are thoughtfully critical; give me something I can use to improve my writing, thank you. But I have no patience for people who just want to score points off authors–or use their reviews to avenge themselves for some perceived slight, and that has happened to me more than once. It’s one of those things I never forget, you know? I remember my editor sending me a bad review copy with a post-it note attached with the words this one reeks with the stench of failed author–something I’ve kept in mind ever since. One of the reasons I don’t review books negatively or to score points off someone I dislike is because who has the fucking time? There are better uses of my time, and I’d rather not write something negative as an author, especially about another author, no matter how awful they are (I do always make an exception for Stephenie Meyer, though. She deserves far worse). If I genuinely hate a book that much I usually don’t finish it, and why talk about it? I’d rather uplift other authors and talk about books I loved, you know? Doesn’t that make more sense? I love books, I love to read, and I appreciate the work any author puts into writing a book.

At the very least, it’s a big commitment of time and work–and it isn’t easy for anyone.

I felt pretty good yesterday. My Achilles tendons felt sore by the end of the shift again, so I iced them when I got home (as well as other places that were sore and achy) and woke up this morning feeling pretty good physically, for a change. I hope it lasts! Yesterday was lovely, temperature wise, and I ran errands on my way home–mail, prescription, made groceries–and tonight we are going to Costco after I get off work, which I assume means I will be terribly tired when I get home and put everything away. Oh, well. I don’t work full days the rest of the week, as tomorrow night the parades start up again and I have to leave work early. Friday I work at home, Monday I took off, and Tuesday of course is a holiday. Tomorrow is also a “pay the bills Wednesday,” too. All kinds of things going on around here, right? I even managed to work on my short story yesterday and got another hundred words down. The writing is still very slow going, but something is better than nothing, or so I’ve always believed. Besides, it’s Carnival and it’s hard to do anything during the parade season, even on the days when there are no parades because scheduling life around the parades is exhausting in and of itself. I’m hoping after tonight there won’t be any need to make groceries unless I run out of something–hopefully nothing I can’t get by walking to the corner Walgreens, since the car won’t move from Thursday afternoon till Monday morning, if not later. I don’t know if I will go out for parades on Wednesday night, but I definitely will go out for Muses on Thursday night. I love me some Muses. I may be out on Friday night, too, for d’Etat and everything else, but for sure I will be out for Iris this Saturday and Orpheus on Monday night. Bacchus is always a zoo, and so I’ll most likely skip that one.

Parade planning!

I think we’re finally going to get rid of all the beads in the house and utilize Paul’s toy chest for blankets and pillows or something. I love catching throws, but it’s all just stuff to add to the already heavily cluttered apartment. I am very proud of the fact that we’ve been clearing stuff out in the last six months, but we’ve barely scratched the surface–but it’s already looking neater and tidier. Huzzah! Maybe this will turn out to be the year that I clean out the attic! Woo-hoo! Stranger things have happened, after all.

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

Uncaught beads end up as parade debris!

Ghosts

Sunday morning. It’s yet another incredibly bright and sunny morning, and I slept late yet again this morning. Sparky let me sleep till past eight again this morning, and now I am up–a little bleary-eyed, but awake. I didn’t get a lot (anything) done yesterday, and who knows? I may not be able to today, either. There’s nothing wrong with being tired and taking a day of, as we all know, and my lack of anxiety in general is making it less necessary for me to make excuses for myself, or rationalize doing nothing. I mean, I cooked and everything, doesn’t that count? I broiled some chicken tenders to keep on hand and so I can make jambalaya at some point this week, and I also have the makings for some potato leek soup. I spent some time icing my Achilles tendons, which made them less achy and sore–they are a bit this morning, too, so will be icing them again this morning. My legs are bone-tired this morning too–they were yesterday, but this morning they don’t ache like they did yesterday. I really need to get going on building up my stamina again. As for today, I am not making plans. I have my lengthy to-do list, after all, and I do need to pick up some around here, too. If I read, I read; if I write, I write…but am not terribly worried about anything.

Better living through chemistry is so the way to go, Constant Reader.

I hear Sparky creeping around somewhere–which means he might be in attack/play mode; so I might be attacked at any moment. He really is the most adorable kitty, and it’s cute (if bloody and painful) when he goes into apex predator attack beast mode.

I was exhausted almost the entire day yesterday. I slept late, as I mentioned yesterday morning, but was physically worn down; the combination of walking so much when I am not used to it, plus the end of the week. After I posted yesterday morning, I took my coffee and a piece of king cake into the living room with me, determined to do some reading after I caught up on the latest insanities in the news. It pleased me to no end to see the Olympic crowd at the opening ceremonies cheering for our athletes as they walked into the stadium only to have the cheers turned to boos as Pseudonym and Wife appeared on the Jumbotron. Best get used to it, Vances–this is the rest of your miserable grifting fucking lives. Paul came down early to watch the figure skating with me, and we went from the Olympics to finishing His and Hers (a lot of fun, with a great surprise twist) and then this week’s The Beauty. (I was highly amused to see that Vincent D’onofrio was the “before” for Ashton Kutcher’s character; once the transformation was complete, Paul said, “why didn’t it give him an ass?”) I was very tired, and fell asleep in my chair for a couple of hours in the late afternoon/early evening, and then we watched Twinless, with Dylan O’Brien, which was really good but also very sad.

I am not as exhausted and tired as I was yesterday physically, but I might head out to the corner to watch King Arthur–which has lots of gay riders so I get a lot of stuff thrown at me–later this afternoon, depending on how I feel. I also have to walk over to Walgreens this morning to buy some bread and ice cream and chips or something to snack on; I am going to not worry about my weight until after Mardi Gras. I don’t know how cold it is outside, either–it’s very sunny, though–but I think I am going to ice my legs for awhile before I do anything.

And on that tedious note, I am heading into the living room to read while I ice my ankles. May your Sunday be a fun day, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning before the sun rise.

The Nightmare

Saturday morning and there are a ridiculous amount of parades today out at the corner–Pontchartrain, Freret, Mars, and Choctaw during the day, followed by Sparta and Pygmalion, which is crazy–next Saturday there are only two. Nevertheless, I slept in this morning before an insistent cat demanded I get up and feed His Majesty just after eight, so I tumbled out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen to fix myself a cup of coffee. My legs are a bit achy this morning (more on that later), and I am also very physically tired. Mentally I am good–or what passes for it around here again–so I think this morning is going to be a “read in my chair under a blanket while resting” kind of morning. As for the parades today, well, it looks beautiful outside again this morning (yesterday was stunningly beautiful and got up into the 70s; today is supposed to be slightly cooler but yesterday was also not supposed to get that hot–we had to switch the air system from heat (it wasn’t on) to cool last evening; it was 78 degrees upstairs! I also wound up falling asleep in my easy chair, waking up just before midnight to head up to bed. I woke up feeling tired yesterday morning, and after running my chores–and dealing with Carnival traffic all over Uptown–I was done with everything. When Paul got home from the gym, I was like, we can go to Costco Tuesday night after work and he agreed.

I did watch some of the Olympic figure skating yesterday (the crowd booing the Vances at the opening ceremonies needs to be done as a reel so it can be replayed over and over again–it’s not just Americans that hate them, and it’s always lovely for them to be reminded they are pariahs all over the world), which was lovely. The men’s team short program is today, as is the ice dance final. I do love the Olympics, and I am glad that the fans in attendance–at least thus far–are showing respect and love to our athletes while despising our leadership. If only most Americans were capable of that sort of discernment…

I walked to dinner with a friend last night, which is why my legs are achy this morning–they aren’t used to that much exercise and are complaining about it to me today. I got my marvelous ice machine down from the attic yesterday and used it on the Achilles tendons, which helped tremendously. I also changed the inserts in my shoes, so the walking wasn’t as bad as I feared it would be. We met at Pesche, in the CBD on the corner of Julia and Magazine–and walked back up Magazine to Terpsichore before cutting over to Coliseum Square and then home. I had not been to Pesche before–I’ve driven past any number of times–and highly recommend. I had the hushpuppies, an interesting dirty martini with both vodka AND gin in it, with a sprig of dill; called a “Mother of Pearl,” and ground shrimp with noodles, which was insanely delicious–imagine flat noodles covered in a red sauce with shrimp ground up like hamburger in it. I need to figure out how to make that at home, frankly, because it was fucking amazing. I was pretty tired physically by the time I was slipping my key into the gate while a marching band passed at the corner–one of those Carnival season things that always makes me smile. It is inconvenient but I do love parade season and living inside the box. Despite the aggravation of all the traffic and stupidity that went along with it as I drove around, I did kind of get a kick out of seeing people driving around with their Carnival colored ladders in back, or watching people set up their viewing spaces along the Avenue and along Napoleon, too. There really is no resisting Carnival, no matter how much you try, unless you literally leave town for it all.

And this is just the warm-up. Everything kicks into gear this coming Wednesday night.

And on that brief note, I am getting another cup of coffee, a slice of King cake, and heading for my easy chair and the ice machine. Have a marvelous Saturday, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back tomorrow morning.

No Spoken Word

Thursday, and Parades’ Eve! The fencing and bleachers are up all along St. Charles Avenue, and last night I got to drive the slalom course they turn the Avenue into ever since the terrorist attack onNew Year’s last year. Tomorrow there are two parades, there are six or seven on Saturday, and I think three on Sunday. This is the warm-up weekend before the big final weekend, so we’ll see how it goes. I have to run a bunch of errands tomorrow, too–once my work-from-home duties are completed. I don’t know how productive I am going to be, either. I don’t know that I have the stamina to be out there as much as I could be, either. We shall see. It’s also in the thirties again this morning–it got up in the seventies yesterday, which was weird–and I could feel the floor getting colder last evening through my house shoes. I think the parade weather is going to be in the fifties/sixties, but sunny. We shall see, and we shall also see if my Achilles tendons can handle it just yet–they still are sore and achy. Note to self: look up what to do with sore Achilles tendons.

I wasn’t terribly tired when I got home last night. I was able to fold laundry, do a load of dishes and put them away, and reload the dishwasher to run tonight when I go to bed. The kitchen is in much better condition than it usually is on Thursday morning, so I am not going to have to spend time over the weekend catching up on all those things. We watched another His and Hers (we’ll probably finish it tonight, as there are only two episodes left. There’s also another episode of The Beauty, which I am hate-watching. Paul doesn’t care about that show anymore, so I’ll probably watch it while I am relaxing into my easy chair and bonding with my Sparky. We still haven’t watched the final season of Stranger Things, or the new season of Bridgerton, either. We’re also in the midst of the final countdown to the festivals, the Olympics are starting, parade season, and AUGH. I need to stop procrastinating, don’t I? MY to-do list keeps growing, but very little ever seems to come off of it–which would have led to a complete breakdown before anxiety medication.

Better living through chemistry is definitely a thing I embrace whole-heartedly.

Neil Gaiman tried to come back to social media in light of the Epstein horrors, and I am not really sure what he was thinking. I believe he was driven off social media yet again, but this led to some serious conversations about other author/predators, which led to me discovering precisely why Marion Zimmer Bradley had been canceled, and I might add, ew. I knew it was something bad but I never paid much attention; I’d never read anything of hers other than The Catch Trap, her gay circus romance between aerialists, which…I had some issues with. I have my original copy of it around here somewhere, because I’d always meant to go back and read it again. Overall, I’d enjoyed it, but there was something terribly off about it to me, that kind of made me uneasy as I read it. I also knew that her Arthurian novels were very popular with women, because she told the story through the point of view of the women; but I loved Mary Stewart’s Arthurian novels so much I didn’t think I would enjoy the Bradley novels–and would always be comparing them unfavorably, and there are lots of other things to read, you know. Now, I’m glad I never did, and a critical reread of The Catch Trap knowing what Bradley and her evil husband were doing to their own children will color it. It also makes some of the stuff that didn’t sit right with me in the book make a lot more sense to me now. Anyway, thank you, Karin Kallmaker, for letting me know.

Okay, I looked up the Achilles tendon stuff and the recommendations are rest, ice, and stretching, which means getting my ice machine down from the attic tonight, and we shall see how that will go.

And on that note, y’all, I think I am going to head into the spice mines. Enjoy your day, Constant Reader, and I will be back tomorrow morning.

So pretty!

Imperial Hotel

Sunday morning! It’s seventy degrees outside this morning, with the cold front not quite here yet; it’s going to start raining soon (per the forecast) which is part of the front’s arrival, along with shockingly low temperatures later on today. It looks very gray outside, the ground is wet, and I am incredibly happy I don’t have to leave the apartment today other than to take the recycling out, which I should do right now before the rain gets here. Hang on, I’ll be right back.

Okay, I’m back. My legs are strangely tired and a bit sore this morning–the Achilles tendons in particular again–so I think when I finish this I might do some stretching, which I should start doing regularly again. I never really had to when I was younger–being naturally freakishly flexible meant I didn’t need to, but it was bad to never develop a regular stretching routine. I wonder, if now that my anxiety is under control, maybe the gym won’t be such an anxious experience for me. I’d conquered gym fear back in 1995, but after so long away from it I always had that anxiety whenever I would go back and try to get done as quickly as possible. I am going to return after Carnival and hopefully stick to it; I definitely need more stamina, and I’d like to shave off some extra weight (but without the assistance of the damned ulcerative colitis, of course). I know I’ll feel better the stronger and healthier I get, too.

Yesterday was definitely a day of odd energy. I got up a little later than I should have, and wasn’t as motivated as I had hoped. I would be. I think it was partly the oncoming storm on the horizon that was unsettling? I did run some errands (seven boxes of books to the library sale) and had some things delivered. I also braved the grocery store the day before a horrible winter storm descends upon us here in southeastern Louisiana. It was pretty hectic and crowded, and the check out lines were lengthy. But they were checking people out with a high degree of efficiency (for once), so it didn’t take nearly as long as I had feared it might. It was a very gray day, too–it was just gray and windy and chilly. I got home and unloaded the car and put everything away and relaxed for a bit. Sparky curled up in my lap and I spent some time catching up on the latest horrors from the current administration of fascists and liars and murderers. I also spent some time rereading one of my favorite books of history–Barbara Tuchman’s A Distant Mirror. We also watched the first three episodes of Ryan Murphy’s latest pretty production of a disjointed narrative, The Beauty.

In all honesty, I am not sure what to think. of The Beauty. It could easily have just been another season of American Horror Story rather than a stand-alone series. I also could do without child sexual abuse supporter and a friend of Diddy who regularly attended the “freak-offs” on my television screen. I’ll watch, but we’re not giving Ashton Kutcher a redemption arc, thank you very much. I’ve also not seen his ex-wife’s The Substance, but there seem to be an awful lot of similarities between the two. There’s a lot of things that could be said about our American obsession with youth and beauty, but I seriously doubt we’re going to get it from a Ryan Murphy show. It’s also my thought that the show will go off the rails and stop making sense, the way so many of the Ryan Murphy seasons do, before long. One day I may be able to break my hate-watching need for Ryan Murphy’s deeply flawed productions, but we aren’t there yet. After we caught up on it, we switched to the Australian Open and watched that until it was time for bed. I also made dinner last night, so the kitchen is a bit messy this morning. I do think, though, that once I finish and post this I may go read for a bit before getting cleaned up and getting the house under control yet again.

And yes, we’ve had another murder of an American citizen–a male nurse, at that–in Minneapolis by the tax-payer funded Noem thugs. She, and the rest of them, all lied about it, of course; which she should be civilly liable for; I do think the victims’ families should be able to file wrongful death suits against Noem, Homeland Security, and this administration. So glad y’all couldn’t bring yourself to vote for the highly qualified Black woman because you didn’t believe she worked at McDonalds and had a stranger laugh you didn’t like. Fuck you all, now and forever. There can be no forgiveness without atonement and genuine remorse. I’ll probably carry that grudge to the grave. Have fun in church today, Pharisees.

It’s funny, because one thing I’ve been researching for a future book is the 1970s and its pop culture, which is fun and interesting–although the clothes and hairstyles can be safely left to the past and memory. But one of the biggest things I can remember in the 1970s was the Bicentennial; many now aren’t old enough to remember that. I’ll probably write an essay for the newsletter about the Bicentennial at some point. Remembering what a huge fuss was made for the Bicentennial makes it kind of surprising that no one seems to give a shit that the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence is this July 4th. Kind of ironic that it was written as a result of years of authoritarian British colonial rule and justice…while on a major anniversary of the signing we have elected our own authoritarians and tyrant to abuse our freedoms and liberties. The way they can bald-faced lie despite the overwhelming video evidence that proves they lie about everything and anything.

The lengths they will go to in order to distract from the Epstein files is pretty telling, isn’t it? It’s worse for them for the epstein files to come out than shooting American citizens dead in the streets.

That’s a pretty big fucking tell, isn’t it?

Well, the rain has arrived and it’s very dark now, so I am going to repair to my easy chair and my coffee and read some more Ken Holt and Eli Cranor. Stay safe and warm wherever you are, Constant Reader, and I’ll be back in the morning. Thanks for stopping by!

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

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?

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.

The End of the World

Don’t they know, it’s the end of the world…it ended when you said, goodbye…..

Saturday morning in the Lost Apartment, and a lovely day, indeed. I slept really late this morning, after a big day of getting things done and running around town. I got up in the morning and did some chores (still need to unload the dishwasher), so have a bit of touching up to do today to make it look nice again. I ran some errands in the morning, picking up the mail and getting my present to myself (new LSU house shoes), caught up on the news, and then we went to Costco, where we got our new television…it’s ENORMOUS, and today I am going to spend a little time getting it all hooked up, trying to remember passwords, and hopefully it’ll be operational for the LSU bowl game this evening. We didn’t do a BIG Costco run, but we picked up a few things. Paul is leaving Tuesday and coming back on Sunday, so there wasn’t any point to doing a big shop there. I ordered pizza from That’s Amore in Metairie to be delivered, and we settled in for a nice evening watching the season finale of Heated Rivalry (more on that later), before Paul went up to work on the upstairs while I watched research videos on Youtube.

As I said, Sparky let me sleep in until after nine this morning, which was wild, but doing all that yesterday wore me out, I guess. I wasn’t tired at all yesterday, but clearly went to bed and slept for over ten hours. So, 2026 is clearly going to be, and needs to be, about getting myself into better physical condition, which isn’t going to be easy at sixty-four going on sixty-five. But I look forward to this new challenge! One of my primary goals for 2026 is definitely going to be getting myself into better physical condition. I don’t care about losing weight or how I look; I just want to be able to do things and not exhaust myself. Now that the over-arching fatigue has finally come to an end, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem anymore, but I need stamina more than anything else. The stamina is getting better–I didn’t have to collapse into my easy chair last night when we got home, for an example–but clearly, I depleted energy reserves that needed to be recharged over night. There are some things I need to do that I could do today, but I don’t know that I’ll get to them or have the motivation to do them. I mean, the television itself is going to be an enormous, if necessary, pain in the ass–just remembering the passwords for streaming services and other apps is going to be nightmarish and will undoubtedly wind up with me having to reset any number of passwords. Heavy heaving sigh. I do want to get some reading and writing done today, too. I think I’ll finish this, put the dishes away, and read for a while before getting cleaned up and setting up the television.

So, Heated Rivalry. I wasn’t sure what to expect from this final episode (until 2027), but what we got was a very sweet episode that ended with the boys ultimately coming out to Shane’s parents. This is a perfect set up for the next season–they are a couple now, with a plan to keep things quiet publicly, coming up with a charity they can start together as well as Ilya changing teams to Ottawa, so they will live only a few hours apart–which I was wondering about. I know the book series focuses on a different couple with each new story, so I was wondering how that would work–would they do a Bridgerton, or will they continue to focus on Shane and Ilya? I enjoyed this show a lot more than I expected to, honestly; I would also recommend it highly. I’m not going to go into more detail because I am going to do a newsletter about it, trying to ground it within the realm of queer media representation…and how glad I was that it wasn’t an American show, which never seems to really (with a few exceptions) get things right.

And I still have another day off! Whee!

And on that note, I am going to let Sparky have my desk chair and head into the spice mines to read for a moment. Have a great day, and I’ll be here tomorrow–probably earlier.

I love misty nights in New Orleans…